Chapter 5  

When Xue Feifeng returned, he found Shen Qingran already asleep, his body buried in the bedding with only half his face visible—fair and clean, tinged with a faint blush, his long, thick eyelashes making him look like a pampered young lady who had somehow ended up sleeping in a cold, damp farmhouse. In his dreams, he occasionally tugged at the blanket to pull it higher.  

The thatched cottage at the foot of the mountain was old and poorly maintained. The floor was paved with rough bluestone bricks, and even laying two layers of bedding wouldn’t make it comfortable.  

Xue Feifeng watched for a while before sighing. He must have been out of his mind to let Shen Qingran stay. His hearing was sharp—he could even hear Shen Qingran’s snores from the next room, let alone when they were sharing the same space. He tossed the thicker quilt onto Shen Qingran and lay down himself, still fully dressed.  

Contrary to his expectations, no snores came that night—an unusual yet peaceful evening.  

…  

When Shen Qingran woke up, he found two quilts piled on him. Xue Feifeng was already gone, so he naturally assumed the man had given him the extra blanket after waking.  

Yawning, he stepped outside and immediately noticed a pile of firewood by the door. Xue Feifeng was chopping wood—with a sword.  

Xue Feifeng spotted him and asked without much hope, “Where’s the chopper and axe?”  

Shen Qingran scratched his head sheepishly and pointed weakly toward the mountain. He hadn’t chopped a single piece of wood and had left the chopper up there. As for the axe, he had no memory of it—probably stolen by someone back when the original owner was still around.  

What a waste!  

Scolding himself inwardly, Shen Qingran offered an ingratiating smile before slipping into the kitchen to make breakfast.  

Thick smoke billowed from the corner kitchen, nearly choking Shen Qingran before he managed to steam a pot of rice—enough for three meals in one day.  

He also fried a plate of eggs, shells and all. When he brought the eggs and rice to the table, he found himself desperately craving vegetables.  

He went to check on the goose in the coop. It seemed to have recovered from its dazed state and was now lively as ever. Shen Qingran secretly tossed it the burnt layer of rice from the bottom of the pot—evidence destroyed.  

Xue Feifeng looked puzzled at the untimely breakfast.  

Shen Qingran naturally reached for his hand, only for Xue Feifeng to turn his wrist and place a small bowl of water in front of him.  

“Write on the table with water.”  

Shen Qingran complied obediently: “Let’s eat three meals a day—it’s better for healing.”  

Xue Feifeng stared at him silently.  

“Alright, I’m the one who gets hungry easily,” Shen Qingran admitted. “Is that okay?”  

Xue Feifeng shook his head. “Eat if you want.”  

Shen Qingran’s eyes reddened. Xue Feifeng was so good to him—no wonder the original owner had grown increasingly spoiled. He almost wanted to tuck his hands in and play the young master again.  

“From the stone mill east of the village, count three fields to the right. I remember there were some vegetables planted there. If you…” Xue Feifeng wanted to say, *if you haven’t ruined them*, they might still be there.  

Shen Qingran’s eyes lit up. The original owner had just arrived and wouldn’t have known about that spot—it was probably untouched.  

Before Xue Feifeng could finish, Shen Qingran dashed off.  

Vegetables! He hadn’t seen any in days!  

Standing before the massive stone mill, Shen Qingran watched a family grinding soybeans. With each scoop of soaked beans poured in, fragrant white soy milk streamed out.  

It was his third day here, and so far, his diet had consisted only of rice and boiled eggs. He had refused the morning’s fried eggs because of the shells, but Xue Feifeng had eaten them without batting an eye.

He smacked his lips, wondering when he could also change things up a bit. Xue Feifeng really suffered by marrying someone like him. He even thought, why couldn’t the female lead have transmigrated into the original owner’s body instead? That way, Xue Feifeng could at least eat better.

Shen Qingran carefully counted twice to confirm that the field planted with corn and some other unknown crops was indeed theirs.

Two slovenly young men casually hopped into the field, yanking up a bunch of lush greens and pulling out a small white radish. “Tsk, too small to be worth eating,” one said, tossing it aside before reaching for another.

Someone was stealing their vegetables!

The vegetables Xue Feifeng had worked so hard to plant!

Furious but unable to shout, Shen Qingran grabbed a bamboo pole and swung it, knocking the two thieves flat on their backs.

“Who’s there?!” Li Chunsheng scrambled up, rubbing his backside. When he saw Shen Qingran, his eyes flashed with disdain, and he sneered mockingly, “Oh, it’s Sister-in-law Shen. The vegetables in your field are ripe—if you don’t harvest them soon, they’ll rot.”

Li Qiusheng chimed in with a condescending tone, “We brothers knew you don’t like working in the fields, so we came to help. How about this? We’ll pull up all the radishes and corn for you. Since we’re neighbors, we won’t charge you—just split the harvest: two for you, eight for us!”

Two for him, eight for them? What was the point of farming then?

Shen Qingran pressed his lips together and used the bamboo pole to shoo them away. The brothers yelped as he poked at them.

“Don’t be ungrateful! After today, you’ll have to offer us a whole chicken before we’ll even lift a finger!”

All the chickens had already been eaten by them—where would he get another one?

The thought of those chickens made Shen Qingran’s heart ache. The original owner had eaten at most two chicken legs a day, but this group slaughtered two chickens daily, feasted on rice at every meal, and helped themselves to whatever they wanted from the house without even asking.

Li Chunsheng, recalling that Li Feng had returned home yesterday—likely with more money—narrowed his beady eyes and tempted Shen Qingran, “Brother Li’s back, right? That means you’ll have to cook for yourself now. Why not bring some silver and come eat at our place?”

Li Chunsheng and Li Qiusheng were a pair of unmarried brothers with no elders or children at home. Anyone who went to their place was an idiot.

Scram!

Shen Qingran flicked a clump of dirt at them, covering their faces in dust. Seeing that Shen Qingran wasn’t as gullible as before, the brothers exchanged a glance, each grabbing a handful of radishes before running off.

Shen Qingran watched them flee with his radishes, unable to chase or shout after them. He was livid.

One day, he’d have abs. Just wait.

Sitting on the ridge to rest, Shen Qingran decided it was best not to tell Xue Feifeng about this. These people targeted them precisely because Xue Feifeng was disabled—there was no point in adding to his worries.

A while later, another young man approached, stopping right in front of Shen Qingran and holding out a string of copper coins.

“H-here, payback.” The young man, Li Yue, had borrowed money from Shen Qingran a few days earlier when his elderly mother fell ill and needed medicine. Encouraged by some village youths, he had gone to Shen Qingran for help. The original owner had refused, but the lawless freeloaders in her house had taken it upon themselves to “help a fellow villager” by snatching Shen Qingran’s money pouch, giving Li Yue twenty coins, pocketing a few silver fragments, and returning an empty pouch to the original owner.

Stealing under the guise of charity. The original owner had been furious but, fearing no one would cook for her, had pretended nothing happened.

Shen Qingran didn’t know the backstory, but free money was free money.

What was this if not a gift from heaven?

Shen Qingran happily accepted the money. Li Yue probably knew the process of borrowing wasn’t exactly righteous, so after exchanging a few words, he quickly found an excuse to leave.

It had been quite a lively morning. When the fourth person approached, Shen Qingran almost blurted out, “Are you here to repay me too?”  

At this point, he was so broke that everyone looked like they owed him money.  

Upon closer inspection, it was Aunt Zhang.  

The field was a mess, with many immature radishes pulled out and scattered everywhere. Aunt Zhang sighed as soon as she arrived, lamenting, “What a waste!” She pointed to a patch of land and said to Shen Qingran, “These radishes should be pulled after winter. The bottle gourds in my field are ripe—take a few home to cook.”  

Seeing Shen Qingran’s clueless, pampered appearance, Aunt Zhang patiently advised, “The radish leaves are edible too. Or you can steam them for a couple of days and pickle them—they’ll last a whole year.”  

Shen Qingran was stunned. He had been planning to throw the leaves away.  

Under Aunt Zhang’s guidance, Shen Qingran went to her field to pick a bottle gourd and then carried a large bundle of radish leaves home.  

At noon, Shen Qingran washed the bottle gourd three times with great reverence before cutting it.  

He didn’t peel it.  

He tried his best to slice each piece evenly, then poured oil into the pan and stir-fried it. The sizzling sound of the oil was somewhat satisfying to him.  

But why wasn’t it cooking?  

Confused, Shen Qingran checked the stove—the fire had gone out.  

He crouched down to relight it. By the time the flames roared back to life, he suddenly realized something was wrong and hurriedly stood up—only to find the gourd already burnt.  

“…” Well, it would have to do. After all, Xue Feifeng seemed to eat anything. The army cooks probably had worse skills than him.  

Chang Bai had spent half the night chopping firewood for his master and hadn’t had time to split it before dawn. Xue Feifeng ended up splitting it himself all morning.  

It had to be said—Shen Qingran wasn’t much of a cook, and he used up firewood like nobody’s business.  

Finally, some green vegetables appeared on the table. Shen Qingran, completely unaware of his own shortcomings, pushed the dish toward Xue Feifeng.  

Eat.  

Xue Feifeng’s lips twitched. “You’ve worked hard.” He picked up a piece of bottle gourd and took a bite, his brow instantly furrowing.  

Bitter?  

He was prepared for Shen Qingran’s tendency to burn food, but where had this bitterness come from?  

Shen Qingran watched Xue Feifeng expectantly. It should be edible, right?  

Xue Feifeng swallowed it without changing his expression. Unable to comment, he simply pushed the dish back toward Shen Qingran.  

Try it yourself.  

Shen Qingran picked up his bowl. He was picky—if something didn’t taste good, he wouldn’t eat it, preferring plain rice instead. Every day, he went out of his way to cook unappetizing dishes, all for Xue Feifeng’s sake. He thought today’s dish should be passable, but the incident with the brothers in the field made him a little guilty, so he politely refrained from eating.  

Only when Xue Feifeng stopped eating did he finally take a bite.  

The moment it touched his tongue, Shen Qingran’s expression changed.  

He forced himself not to spit it out in front of Xue Feifeng, maintaining the last shred of dignity a cook could have. Instead, he discreetly lifted his bowl and spat it into the bottom.  

While clearing the table, Xue Feifeng accidentally caught sight of the contents at the bottom of Shen Qingran’s bowl. Noticing the string of copper coins jingling at his waist as he moved, Xue Feifeng gave him a puzzled look.  

Shen Qingran covered his bowl, flushed with embarrassment, and hurried off to wash the dishes.  

Did Xue Feifeng have no sense of taste?! How could he eat that?!  

…  

After washing the dishes, Shen Qingran cheerfully tossed the copper coins that had fallen from the sky, a smirk playing on his lips as he headed out.  

Earlier, he had spotted a carpenter’s workshop in the village. He planned to get Xue Feifeng a wheelchair. That way, Xue Feifeng wouldn’t have to rely on crutches at home, and his arm muscles could finally rest.

The carpenter, Old Yu, shook his head when Shen Qingran pointed at the wheelchair and offered only forty coins. “Not selling.”  

“Mmm…” Shen Qingran pouted. He had no other money. He fumbled around and finally slipped off a pair of silver bracelets from his wrist, handing them to Old Yu along with the copper coins.  

Is this enough?  

Old Yu puffed on his pipe, eyeing Shen Qingran. He had long heard that Fengzi’s wife was wasteful and flirted with men everywhere, but today, it was clear he was buying the wheelchair for Fengzi.  

“I was planning to sell this in town for a higher price. But since you’re sincere, how about this—help me sort those soybeans, and we’ll call it even.” Old Yu pointed at a pile of soybean pods nearby.  

Shen Qingran gave him a blank look.  

Old Yu clicked his tongue in frustration. “First, use this to thresh the beans out, then break off the ones still stuck on the stems by hand. Finally, clean them up and winnow them.”  

“Got it?”  

Shen Qingran nodded vaguely.  

For the next hour, under Old Yu’s increasingly loud instructions, Shen Qingran clumsily worked, ending up covered in fuzz and even pricking his fingers.  

“Just go,” Old Yu waved him off. “Watching you work makes me anxious.”  

Shen Qingran gazed longingly at the wheelchair.  

“Take it, take it.”  

Overjoyed, Shen Qingran bowed deeply three times to Old Yu before struggling to carry the wheelchair home.  

The village roads were all dirt, but to keep the wheelchair as pristine as possible for Xue Feifeng, Shen Qingran lifted it the whole way, not letting it touch a speck of dust.  

“Whew—” Shen Qingran wiped his sweat, then suddenly felt his stomach churn and his body grow weak. He stopped to rest for a while until the discomfort eased.  

What did I eat today that could’ve caused this?  

…  

An hour after lunch, Xue Feifeng realized he had been poisoned.  

Dry mouth, fatigue, headache, nausea, a racing heartbeat, and a foggy mind. His thoughts immediately went to that strangely flavored plate of bottle gourd.  

The one dish Shen Qingran hadn’t touched…  

And the unexplained money that had appeared on him…  

Shen Qingran’s sudden change in attitude had made him suspicious, yet he’d still fallen for it.  

Memories surged—the battle at Puyang, his trusted deputy’s sudden betrayal, Xue Lifeng’s lethal strikes, the cold indifference of the imperial court… All of it drenched in the blood of a setting sun, ruthless to the core.  

He shouldn’t have softened toward anyone… No one could be trusted.  

Fighting against his heavy consciousness, Xue Feifeng rummaged through the medicinal herbs he’d brought back, the veins on the back of his hand bulging violently, his palms layered with calluses from sword hilts and reins.  

Finally, he grabbed two detoxifying roots and, without bothering to brew them, chewed them dry.  

Outside, a faint dragging sound reached his ears—like something heavy being pulled along, eerily similar to the night assassins had rolled oil-soaked barrels toward the military camp.  

Xue Feifeng’s eyes sharpened. In one swift motion, his sword left its sheath, shattered the window, and shot straight toward the figure outside.