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Days passed swiftly in the midst of busyness, and soon it was nearing the twelfth lunar month. The wedding of Zhou Song and Shen Qingzhu was only a dozen days away.
The preparations grew in number; since the banquet was to be held at home, Zhou Song had to think about everything from borrowing tables and chairs to arranging the banquet menu. There were also decorations to consider, like red silk, the character for “happiness,” and various wedding items—a seemingly endless list that made him forget one thing while remembering another.
Thankfully, Aunt Qian was there to help manage everything. She explained clearly what was needed and what to avoid, along with plenty of other people lending a hand. For example, they’d need a wedding matron to help comb Shen Qingzhu’s hair, a woman to support the bride during the procession, someone to look after the new house when Zhou Song was outside greeting guests, people to welcome the guests and serve them, and, most importantly, someone skilled to handle the banquet. All these details added up, and each required Zhou Song to personally visit and make arrangements to avoid any lapses in etiquette.
With so much to remember, Zhou Song was actually able to put his reading and writing skills to use. Although he still didn’t know many characters, he could at least jot down notes. While it seemed like there was still plenty of time, things had already reached the point of needing intense preparation. Especially when it came to notifying people, a guest list needed to be drafted. Qi Shan Village had about a hundred households, but not all were close enough to warrant an invitation, so he had to confirm carefully who should be invited.
Aunt Qian hesitated, asking if he intended to invite his family from the Zhou household. Zhou Song’s reaction was minimal; he simply said he would inform them. Since his last visit home, none of them had come looking for him. He’d even heard that Zhou Xiaofu had calmed down significantly in recent days, perhaps fearing any further trouble. If they attended respectfully and followed the customs, Zhou Song wouldn’t turn them away.
With everything thought through, all that remained was running errands and making purchases. As for the banquet, there was a family in the village known for catering events with excellent culinary skills. If Zhou Song trusted them, they could handle buying the ingredients; otherwise, he could purchase them himself. Many in the village vouched for their good reputation.
As the day drew closer, Zhou Song grew more and more anxious each day, fearing any misstep that might upset Shen Qingzhu. This led him to visit Aunt Qian frequently, questioning her about every detail.
However, before this joyous event could arrive, an unexpected surprise came first.
Liu Fang went into labor.
It was late at night, and Zhou Song had already gone to bed when a loud “bang bang bang” on his door woke him up. He hurriedly put on some clothes and opened the door to find a flustered Lin Erzhu.
“Brother Song, I need to find a midwife. Could you help me fetch the old doctor? I’m really worried,” he said, clearly panicking as Liu Fang’s cries of pain had left him in utter disarray.
Seeing Lin Erzhu so distressed, Zhou Song patted his shoulder and said, “Don’t panic. You go find the midwife; Liu Fang needs you. Leave the old doctor to me.”
This reassurance seemed to calm Lin Erzhu a bit, and without another word, he turned and ran off to find the midwife.
Zhou Song quickly changed and rushed out the door. The midwife, who Aunt Qian had previously recommended, didn’t live far, but the old doctor was in the western village, which would take some time, especially since he was elderly and moved slowly. Zhou Song practically sprinted to the doctor’s house. The old doctor, clearly accustomed to midnight calls, said little after hearing his request, merely dressed, grabbed his medicine box, and followed Zhou Song.
Seeing the doctor struggle to walk quickly, Zhou Song offered to carry him on his back.
Upon arriving at Lin Erzhu’s house, they could hear the commotion from afar. As they entered, Liu Fang’s painful cries filled the air. Anxiously pacing outside, Lin Erzhu quickly ran up to the doctor. “Doctor, the midwife said my wife might be having difficulty. What should we do?”
The doctor raised his hand. “Calm down; let me have a look first.”
“Yes, yes,” Lin Erzhu replied, quickly leading the doctor inside.
At a time like this, with lives at stake, there was no room for worries over gender propriety. Although he’d wanted to stay inside with Liu Fang, his nerves had him fidgeting, so Aunt Qian had shooed him outside.
Zhou Song, as a man, knew it wasn’t proper for him to intrude either, so he found a spot in the courtyard to wait. He didn’t plan to leave, just in case he could help. If things turned critical, he was ready to fetch ginseng from home.
Liu Fang’s labor was indeed difficult, as the doctor stayed inside for hours. Aunt Qian came out several times with bloodstained basins, bringing fresh hot water back in. Worried that there might not be enough water, Zhou Song went to help boil more. Even he started feeling tense as he watched the scene unfold.
Liu Fang’s cries grew weaker over time, likely due to exhaustion. When Aunt Qian entered the kitchen to get a bowl of chicken soup, she didn’t even stop to speak.
It wasn’t until dawn that a newborn’s cry finally pierced the silence. The midwife came out with a smile, announcing that it was a big, healthy boy, and both mother and child were safe.
In that moment, Lin Erzhu’s legs gave way, and he sat down, his face a mixture of tears and laughter. After wiping his face, he stood and hurried into the room.
With both mother and child safe, Zhou Song felt relieved. After the doctor emerged, he escorted him home without disturbing the family.
The doctor, weary from the long night, simply waved goodbye and went straight to rest. Zhou Song, rubbing his temples, started his way back to the eastern village.
Along the way, he passed the village well and saw Wu Lanshu drawing water. He hurried over to help.
“Zhou boy?” Wu Lanshu looked at him, then glanced in the direction he’d come from. “Why are you back from the western village so early?”
Her tone softened as a thought struck her. “It wasn’t those Zhou family people again, was it?”
“No,” Zhou Song shook his head, lifting the water bucket. “Lin Erzhu’s wife gave birth last night. I took the doctor over and just now brought him back.”
“Had a baby?” Wu Lanshu gasped. “And they were up all night? She must’ve suffered; I’ll go prepare something to bring over.”
Seeing Zhou Song was ready to carry the bucket to her house, she reconsidered suggesting he go home to rest, deciding instead that he might as well stay for breakfast.
Once they got back, Zhou Song planned to set the bucket down and leave, but Wu Lanshu insisted he stay for breakfast. With no other choice, he agreed and sat in the main room as she went to the kitchen.
Just then, Shen Qingzhu came out with a water basin. He had just finished washing up, and his hair was loose around his shoulders, a few strands framing his face, which looked even more refined.
Surprised, Shen Qingzhu asked, “Zhou Song, what are you doing here?”
Zhou Song had never seen him like this; while he wanted to admire him a little longer, he also felt it would be rude. Instead, he quickly averted his gaze and took the basin. “It’s cold. Why are you dressed so lightly?”
Though Shen Qingzhu hadn’t put on an outer robe, his clothes weren’t particularly thin, as they were lined with cotton. He had only come out to empty the water and would be back inside soon. Still, he smiled at Zhou Song’s concern and went back to bundle up and tie his hair.
After setting down the basin, Zhou Song didn’t wander around but sat quietly in the main room.
When Shen Qingzhu came in, he found Zhou Song leaning on the table, sound asleep. Pausing, he approached quietly and, seeing Zhou Song’s calm breathing, smiled. He must have been up all night.
Since Shen Qingzhu felt the cold easily, there was a stove prepared in the room, making it quite warm. Deciding not to wake him, Shen Qingzhu returned to his room and brought back a cloak, draping it gently over him.
In his sleep, Zhou Song caught a familiar scent of orchids and instinctively nuzzled against it, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Shen Qingzhu withdrew his hand, his delicate eyes smiling softly.
“Zhou Song… Zhou Song…”
In a hazy state, Zhou Song heard someone calling him, accompanied by a faint orchid fragrance and a gentle shake of his shoulder.
He opened his eyes, his mind still foggy, and was greeted by Shen Qingzhu’s face. In his half-awake state, he almost thought he was looking at an immortal.
Shen Qingzhu, noticing his dazed expression, found it a bit endearing. With a smile, he asked, “Still sleepy?”
Zhou Song slowly woke up, realizing where he was. He sat up abruptly, and something slid off him. Looking down, he saw the familiar cloak he’d often seen Shen Qingzhu wear.
Realizing he had fallen asleep in Shen Qingzhu’s house, Zhou Song felt slightly embarrassed.
“What are you thinking?” Shen Qingzhu lightly tapped his forehead. “Breakfast is ready; go wash your face to wake up.”
Zhou Song touched his forehead, which didn’t hurt, and nodded, heading outside, smiling lightly.
Wu Lanshu had prepared small wontons with a golden, slightly crispy edge. This, combined with a hot stove, was perfect for a cold morning. Zhou Song felt much more alert.
“So last night, Sister Lin gave birth?” Shen Qingzhu looked up in surprise.
Zhou Song nodded. “Yes, it was a difficult birth, and they were up all night. The midwife said it’s a boy.”
Such a difficult night meant it would take a while for her to recover, but fortunately, both mother and child were safe.
“Then let’s wait a few days before visiting, to avoid disturbing them,” Shen Qingzhu suggested.
“That’s what I thought too,” Wu Lanshu added. “Today, I’ll prepare some red eggs and something to replenish her energy. She must be quite drained and needs to recover well.”
Shen Qingzhu nodded in agreement. Though he hadn’t personally seen a childbirth, he knew it was no easy feat. Moreover, as a Kun Ze, he might face it himself one day, and he couldn’t help but feel some empathy.
Holding his bowl, Zhou Song glanced at Shen Qingzhu, thinking to himself that if Kun Ze would endure such hardships in childbirth, he’d rather have no children. He had originally intended to live alone for life, and having someone like Shen Qingzhu as a companion was already a blessing. Children weren’t necessary.
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