That day, after they discussed it, the plan to buy a pig didn’t pan out. Shen Qingzhu felt that the two of them couldn’t eat that much, especially since they had just held the wedding banquet, which had already taken a lot of work. With the New Year approaching in just a few days, he didn’t think there was any need to get so busy again. If Zhou Song really wanted to, they could wait until next year; there was no rush to join the excitement right now.

Zhou Song thought about it and found the reasoning sound, so they set the matter aside.

Once that was settled, however, another thing needed their attention. Three days after the wedding, they were supposed to return to visit Shen Qingzhu’s family.

Zhou Song had already prepared the gifts the day before, but he was busy again at dawn that morning, feeling the need to add a few more things. Shen Qingzhu, on the other hand, was far more relaxed and didn’t mind what gifts Zhou Song had prepared, nor was he concerned with whether he would be presented in an impressive manner.

Once he was all dressed and ready, he saw his husband still bustling about and reached out to pull him back. “Alright, Aunt Wu lives alone; if you bring too much, she won’t be able to finish it before it goes bad. We can always visit again later. Or are you planning on only letting me go back this one time?”

He knew how to handle Zhou Song well; as soon as he said that, his husband stopped fussing and quickly replied, “You’re right. We live close by, so we can visit frequently.”

Shen Qingzhu found him adorable and reached out to pinch his cheek. Zhou Song didn’t resist, feeling no pain from Shen Qingzhu’s gentle touch, and was instead more worried about his own rough skin hurting Kun Ze’s fingers.

After a bit of playful back and forth, they finally set out with their things.

For the past few days, the snow had been falling intermittently. Today, the weather was slightly better, though the half-melted snow made it feel colder than when it was actively snowing, with the frozen slush on the road making it feel hard and solid underfoot.

The elders weren’t wrong when they said, “It’s colder when the snow melts than when it’s falling.”

A few villagers clearing snow from their doorways saw the young couple heading out with gifts and asked with a smile if they were going to visit the bride’s family.

Zhou Song, not much of a talker, simply gave a short reply. Shen Qingzhu, on the other hand, smiled warmly and always exchanged a few words, patiently chatting with people.

After they’d passed by, those villagers would often sigh with admiration, saying, “Young Zhou really married a good husband; not only is he handsome, but he’s also got a good temper. And now, Young Zhou seems more personable too.”

When they arrived, Wu Lanshu happened to be shoveling snow outside. Zhou Song quickly stepped forward to take the shovel from her.

“Aunt, let me do it.”

“I figured you’d be here soon and thought I’d clear some snow to welcome you,” Wu Lanshu said, looking over her young master. Seeing that he looked healthy and rosy-cheeked, clearly well cared for, she felt much relieved. She reached out to take back the shovel, “Alright, go on inside. Let’s not bother with this for now.”

But Zhou Song handed the gifts he was carrying into her outstretched hands, saying, “Aunt, take Qingzhu inside first. I’ll be done in a few scoops.”

Wu Lanshu couldn’t argue with him, though she didn’t want to leave him alone at the door either, so she looked to her young master for guidance.

“It’s fine, let’s go inside,” Shen Qingzhu smiled. Zhou Song was quick with his work, and it wouldn’t take long, so standing around waiting would only distract him.

Wu Lanshu nodded and took the gifts inside.

Before following, Shen Qingzhu patted his husband’s arm, “We’ll make some tea and wait for you.”

Zhou Song nodded and got to work as soon as they went in. He was much stronger than Wu Lanshu, scooping up large shovelfuls of snow at a time, clearing it away far faster than she could have.

Wu Lanshu had lit a fire in the main room in advance. The moment they entered, the warmth was almost overwhelming. Shen Qingzhu rubbed his hands together, set his cloak and scarf aside, and asked, “Have you been alright on your own these past few days?”

Being alone can be lonely. At first, Wu Lanshu hadn’t liked it much; sometimes, while she was busy, she’d look up expecting to see someone reading nearby, only to feel a pang of emptiness. However, Aunt Wang from next door had taken to visiting her for chats, likely out of concern for her loneliness. Having someone to keep her company had indeed made her feel much better.

“Don’t worry about me; I’m doing well. What about you, Qingzhu? Are you getting used to everything?”

Marriage changes things, after all. Wu Lanshu didn’t worry about Zhou Song treating her young master poorly; she was only concerned that he might find it all a bit strange.

“I’m eating well, sleeping well. What’s there to get used to?” Shen Qingzhu paused before adding, “You know how Zhou Song is; he’s very good to me.”

“Then that’s good, that’s good…” After all, she’d watched him grow up, and although she wasn’t fully accustomed to him being someone else’s husband, knowing he was doing well eased her heart.

“Oh, I should go make a pot of tea. You warm up a bit.”

Realizing she hadn’t even served them a drink, Wu Lanshu hurriedly excused herself and went out of the room.

Zhou Song was indeed efficient. By the time Wu Lanshu had brewed the tea, the snow outside was cleared. He walked into the room, just as she placed the teapot on the stove to warm.

Seeing him enter, she waved him over, “Come have a cup of tea to warm up.”

Zhou Song walked over, took a seat beside his husband, and accepted the cup of tea Wu Lanshu handed him. He wasn’t used to drinking tea; in the village, few people brewed it, as tea was expensive. Most people weren’t willing to spend money on it, and Zhou Song himself felt that plain water was just as thirst-quenching, so why bother?

The few times he’d had tea were at Shen Qingzhu’s place. The first time, he found it a bit bitter and not particularly special. But seeing how much Kun Ze enjoyed it, he’d gotten used to it. Before they got married, he’d even bought tea leaves to keep at home so that Kun Ze would always have tea available whenever he visited.

Now he was accustomed to the tea’s initial bitterness, finding a hint of fragrance in its aftertaste.

Just as he set down his cup, a pale hand reached over and touched his cheek, warm against his skin. He looked over and held the hand, pulling it away. “Don’t get cold.”

In winter, even with his internal warmth and his recent exertions keeping him from feeling cold, his face was still a bit chilly. Kun Ze, after sitting indoors, was comfortably warm, and he didn’t want him to catch a chill.

With one hand restrained, Shen Qingzhu used the other to touch his face again, “I’ll help you warm up.”

Zhou Song simply held both of Shen Qingzhu’s hands in his, brushing his thumb gently over his soft skin. “I’m not cold. There’s a stove here, so I’ll warm up soon.”

With his hands held, Shen Qingzhu relented but reminded him to sit closer to the stove.

Wu Lanshu watched their interaction with a smile, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. Seeing the young couple so close and harmonious, she no longer had any lingering worries.

As New Year’s approached, the village atmosphere grew more lively. Several households were preparing to slaughter pigs.

Zhou Song, an excellent hunter, was often asked by two households for help. During the busy season, local butchers couldn’t attend to every family, so villagers would often help each other out.

Zhou Song went twice without Shen Qingzhu, as he thought the scene was loud, bloody, and with many unfamiliar faces. He knew he’d be busy and didn’t want Shen Qingzhu to feel uncomfortable alone.

One family, Lin Erzhu’s, was especially eager this year, having just welcomed a new baby. Aunt Qian had booked a pig early on and asked Zhou Song to lend a hand.

This time, Zhou Song did bring Shen Qingzhu along, as it was at Aunt Qian’s place, and Aunt Wu would also be helping out, so he’d have company.

The pig had been delivered the day before—a big, plump one, probably weighing around 300 pounds. Unaware of its fate, it was still dozing peacefully in the pen.

When the men began their preparations, Zhou Song led Shen Qingzhu over to sit with Liu Fang, who was holding her baby. Then he joined Lin Erzhu outside.

Shen Qingzhu was quite curious about the pig slaughter, but Zhou Song was insistent that he shouldn’t watch something so gory, fearing it might give him nightmares—just like Zhou Song’s first experience as a child.

“Erzhu used to say that Brother Song had a cold personality and wouldn’t be gentle. He was worried that whoever married him would be scared away. But now it seems there’s no one gentler than him,” Liu Fang chuckled as she watched Zhou Song settle Shen Qingzhu down and insist he stay put.

Shen Qingzhu laughed at this, remembering how he, too, had thought Zhou Song looked fierce and intimidating the first time he saw him. But after getting to know him, he realized that the “big bad wolf” was more like a puppy that wagged its tail once petted.

He didn’t say this, though; his husband’s adorable side was for him alone to know.

Shen Qingzhu reached out to tease the baby in Liu Fang’s arms. The baby was growing to look more and more like Lin Erzhu—a soft, white dumpling who smiled easily.

Seeing Shen Qingzhu’s fondness for children, Liu Fang remarked, “Once you and Brother Song have a child, your home will be lively, and they’ll have a playmate. Xiaobao here can be the big brother.”

Shen Qingzhu was reminded of Zhou Song’s words about having children. He asked, “Does Zhou Song like children?”

Liu Fang adjusted Xiaobao’s blanket and said, “He probably does. Sometimes, I see him making slingshots for the village kids. And… I’m sure you know his situation, Qingzhu. I think he would want a complete family.”

Shen Qingzhu’s fingers gently touched Xiaobao’s soft cheeks, his thoughts lingering on something unsaid.

Noticing his silence, Liu Fang reassured him, “But there’s no rush. From the way Brother Song looks at you, he probably wants to enjoy more time with just the two of you first. Kids can be a bit of a handful.”

Shen Qingzhu just smiled and replied, “We’ll leave it up to fate.”

“Exactly, it’s all up to fate,” Liu Fang agreed.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the pig’s heart-wrenching squeals from the yard. Poor Xiaobao, frightened by the noise, burst into tears, and Liu Fang hurried to cover his ears and soothe him.

In the back, Zhou Song and Lin Erzhu, along with the other men, had tied up the squealing pig, lifted it onto poles, and carried it to the front yard.

In the center of the yard was a large iron cauldron with hot water already prepared. The women who were preparing for the feast moved aside to make room for the men and the pig.

Zhou Song, the one holding the knife, quickly plunged it into the pig’s neck while someone brought a bowl to collect the blood. When it finally quieted, they carried the pig to the cauldron to remove the bristles.

As Zhou Song stepped back to wash his blood-stained hands, he turned and unexpectedly met Shen Qingzhu’s gaze through the open curtain of the hall. Instinctively, he hid his hands behind him and frowned, “Why did you come out?”

Realizing his tone sounded harsh, he pursed his lips, wanting to soften his words.

But Shen Qingzhu walked right over, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing his chin. “I didn’t hear any noise, so I thought I’d come check.”

Seeing the red stains on the handkerchief, Zhou Song realized his chin had splashed with blood. Regretful about dirtying the cloth, he looked into Kun Ze’s gentle gaze and paused before saying, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound harsh.”

Shen Qingzhu, folding the handkerchief, looked up with a smile. “I know you’re just worried I’d be scared. It’s alright.”

He glanced at Zhou Song’s hidden hands, “I’ll go get some hot water from the kitchen.”

Zhou Song opened his mouth to refuse but closed it when Shen Qingzhu patted his head, silencing him.

“Be good and sit over there.” Shen Qingzhu nodded toward a bench under the eaves and tucked the handkerchief into Zhou Song’s belt. “It’s dirty now, so you’ll wash it for me later.”

Watching him head into the kitchen, Zhou Song looked down at the edge of the handkerchief poking from his belt and thought of Kun Ze’s affectionate tone. Slowly, a small smile crept onto his face.