With the farming work in full swing, one task followed another. Once the wheat was sown, it was time to fertilize, water, and irrigate the fields, all labor-intensive jobs. By the time they’d finished, the weather had already turned warmer.

Zhou Song finally had a bit of time to rest, work on his bow and arrows, and go hunting in the mountains. Sometimes, if he came down from the mountain early, he’d go home, drop off his things, and then head to Qi Shan School to pick up Shen Qingzhu.

In their free time, they would visit Wu Lanshu or Aunt Qian, or sometimes everyone would gather to share a lively meal, chatting about daily life. Zhou Song cherished these peaceful days; even when he thought of his parents, he no longer felt so alone.

That day, he came down the mountain early, and the sun hadn’t set yet. The remaining warmth of the day bathed the horizon in a soft orange glow.

He stopped by the river, crouched down to splash his face with cool water, and looked at the distant sunset with a sigh. Without realizing it, summer had arrived, and it was already June.

This time last year, he had been alone, never imagining that he would one day find someone to share his life with.

And now…

He smiled, hoisting his hunting basket onto his back and stepping across the stones in the river. Shen Qingzhu’s class likely hadn’t finished yet, and it was time for him to go pick up his husband.

As he neared their home, however, he noticed smoke rising from the chimney. He wondered if Aunt Wu had come over to cook for them again. Since the busy planting season had started, she had often helped tidy up the house, so Zhou Song had given her a key. Every so often, she would come over to cook them a meal.

He opened the door, calling out as he walked toward the kitchen, “Aunt Wu, is there anything I can help with…”

Rolling up his sleeves, he walked into the kitchen. But his words trailed off when he saw the person inside.

Shen Qingzhu, with his sleeves rolled up, was standing at the counter kneading dough. Hearing Zhou Song’s voice, he turned around with a smile. “You’re back.”

It took Zhou Song a moment to gather himself, and then he quickly walked over, looking down at Kun Ze’s fair hands, now covered in flour. He asked, rather foolishly, “What are you doing?”

Shen Qingzhu couldn’t help but laugh. He looked down, continuing to knead the dough as he replied, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m kneading dough.”

“That’s not what I meant…” Zhou Song wanted to ask why he was kneading dough.

Shen Qingzhu knew what he meant and was teasing him. “I wanted to make something to eat.”

In response, Zhou Song finished rolling up his sleeves and turned to get some water to wash his hands. “Let me do it if you want noodles.”

“I want to do it myself. Don’t worry about it,” Shen Qingzhu said. “Once you’ve washed up, go rest and have some water.”

Pouring two ladles of water into the basin, Zhou Song replied, “I’m fine, not tired.”

Shen Qingzhu paused his kneading, turning to look at him. “Zhou Song.”

That got Zhou Song’s attention immediately. He stood up straight. “Yes?”

Shen Qingzhu pointed to the door with his chin. “Take the water basin outside. And don’t come back into the kitchen, or I’ll ignore you.”

His warning was effective. Zhou Song immediately picked up the basin and went outside.

Satisfied, Shen Qingzhu turned back to kneading the dough.

After washing his hands and setting the basin against the wall, Zhou Song still couldn’t sit still as instructed. He hovered by the kitchen doorway, calling out, “I’m not coming in.”

Shen Qingzhu, seeing he wasn’t going to cross the threshold, let him stay and focused on rolling out the dough, picking up a rolling pin.

Zhou Song’s heart skipped a beat. “Be careful not to hurt your hands.”

Shen Qingzhu shot him a look, effectively silencing him, and continued rolling the dough.

He was a bit clumsy, but he knew the right method. Slowly and carefully, he rolled the dough thin.

Zhou Song watched, a bit surprised. He hadn’t realized Kun Ze could actually cook. He’d never seen him do it before and didn’t know if he was naturally talented or just quietly skilled.

That novelty faded, however, when he saw Shen Qingzhu grab a knife to cut the noodles. His instinct was to step in, but another look from Shen Qingzhu stopped him in his tracks. “Knives can be dangerous…”

Seeing Zhou Song’s helpless expression, Shen Qingzhu softened, reassuring him, “Don’t worry. I’ll cut them slowly. I won’t hurt myself. If you really want to help, you can light the fire.”

Watching Shen Qingzhu use the knife made him too nervous. Assigning Zhou Song the “dangerous” task of lighting the fire seemed a way to ease his mind.

“Alright.” Zhou Song’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he stepped into the kitchen to start the fire.

As Shen Qingzhu carefully cut the noodles, he could feel Zhou Song’s watchful gaze. It amused him and also warmed his heart. It was nice to have someone who always cared for him.

When he finished cutting the noodles, Zhou Song already had the fire going, sweat glistening on his forehead in the summer heat. He wiped his brow with his sleeve and poured water into the pot to boil.

Shen Qingzhu scattered the noodles on a cloth to keep them from sticking, then noticed Zhou Song’s sweaty face. He went over and gently nudged him toward the door. “Go wash up and cool down. I’ll finish the rest.”

Zhou Song wanted to insist on helping but didn’t want to risk upsetting Shen Qingzhu. After a brief hesitation, he reluctantly headed out, glancing back at every step.

While washing up, he couldn’t help but wonder why his husband suddenly wanted to cook and why he’d come home earlier than usual instead of staying at the school.

Worried, he only splashed a bit of water to cool down before hurrying back to the kitchen.

Inside, Shen Qingzhu had already finished cooking the noodles and had placed them in cool water. Given the warm weather, cold mixed noodles were a better choice than hot soup noodles.

Hearing Zhou Song return, Shen Qingzhu looked up and smiled, “Perfect timing. It’s almost ready.”

Leaning against the doorway, Zhou Song watched him prepare two bowls of noodles, carefully adding seasonings and blanched vegetables. The smaller bowl had one fried egg, while the larger bowl had two.

“Come carry these,” Shen Qingzhu called, gesturing to the bowls.

Zhou Song obediently walked over.

Dusk had settled by the time they lit a candle in the main room. In the flickering light, Shen Qingzhu’s face was slightly flushed, with beads of sweat on his forehead. Despite his aversion to the cold, the summer kitchen was hot enough to affect anyone.

Zhou Song reached out, gently touching his warm cheek. “You don’t need to do things like this anymore.”

Shen Qingzhu wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and smiled. “Try the noodles first.”

Zhou Song took his chopsticks, mixed the noodles, and took a big bite, savoring it silently.

“Not good?” Shen Qingzhu raised an eyebrow, tasting his own noodles. They weren’t extraordinary, but they were definitely decent.

Zhou Song looked up and said, “They’re delicious. The best noodles I’ve ever had.”

Shen Qingzhu beamed, nodding with satisfaction. “Glad it was worth asking Aunt Wu for a lesson today.”

Zhou Song paused, “You specially learned it today? Did you skip school?”

Shen Qingzhu nodded. “Yes, I took the day off.”

“Just to make a bowl of noodles?”

“Mm.” Shen Qingzhu leaned his chin on his hand, watching him with a smile. “I wanted to make you a bowl of birthday noodles.”

Birthday noodles? Zhou Song blinked. Today was his birthday?

He hadn’t celebrated his birthday in years, not since his parents had passed. Aunt Qian had tried to celebrate with him for a couple of years afterward, but he had found it only deepened his loneliness. Eventually, he had told her he didn’t want to celebrate anymore. As he grew older, he paid even less attention to his birthday.

If not for Shen Qingzhu’s reminder, he would’ve completely forgotten.

Seeing him lost in thought, Shen Qingzhu continued, “I thought about gathering everyone to celebrate, but in the end, it felt better to spend it with just the two of us.”

On Shen Qingzhu’s birthday earlier in the year, Aunt Wu and Zhou Song had also wanted to celebrate, but Shen Qingzhu felt that without his parents, there wasn’t much reason for a big celebration. They had ended up simply sharing a meal together. He figured Zhou Song probably felt the same way.

Zhou Song clutched his chopsticks, his throat tight. Unsure what to say, he simply lowered his head and took big bites of the noodles.

Shen Qingzhu watched him, resting his chin on his hand, a soft smile on his face before he picked up his chopsticks to eat.

Zhou Song finished his bowl down to the last noodle, then looked over at Shen Qingzhu, who was eating slowly. In a quiet voice, he said, “Thank you, Qingzhu.”

Shen Qingzhu glanced up, “If we had to say thank you for everything, I’d be thanking you ten times a day.”

Zhou Song was at a loss for words again.

Shen Qingzhu lowered his gaze, smiling faintly. He truly adored this earnest side of his husband.

After finishing his noodles, Zhou Song insisted on doing the dishes, and this time Shen Qingzhu didn’t stop him. While Zhou Song was in the kitchen, Shen Qingzhu headed into the bedroom.

With only a few dishes to clean, Zhou Song finished quickly. When he stepped back into the main room, he saw Shen Qingzhu standing under the eaves, gazing up at the stars.

It was a clear night, with the sky full of stars. Zhou Song walked over and looked up at the stars with him.

They stood together in silence for a while before Shen Qingzhu turned to him, a small, rectangular box in his hand. He handed it over.

Zhou Song accepted it, and under Shen Qingzhu’s gaze, he opened it.

Inside was a simple wooden hairpin, carved to resemble a pine branch.

“I thought for a long time about what to give you. You gave me a hairpin, so I thought I’d give one in return.” Shen Qingzhu touched the jade hairpin in his own hair and continued, “You’re always working in the fields and climbing mountains, and a jade hairpin would be easy to break. So I asked Aunt Wu to help me find some rosewood and carved this myself. I’m not good at such things, so you’d better not complain.”

Zhou Song ran his fingers over the carved hairpin, feeling each stroke, each mark. He could imagine Shen Qingzhu carefully crafting it, and his heart trembled. He suddenly thought of something and pulled Shen Qingzhu’s hand into his own.

There, on his once-soft palm, were small, faint cuts. Gently touching them, Zhou Song’s heart ached, though he dared not press too hard. “Does it hurt?”

Shen Qingzhu didn’t answer. Instead, he asked softly, “Do you like it?”

Zhou Song felt a warmth in his chest, placing Shen Qingzhu’s palm against his cheek as he nodded. “…I love it. Very much.”

Shen Qingzhu smiled, taking the rosewood hairpin and, standing on tiptoe, placed it in Zhou Song’s hair, holding his face in his hands to inspect him. “Mm, it suits you.”

Looking into Shen Qingzhu’s smiling eyes, Zhou Song could no longer hold back. He set the box aside and bent down to kiss him.

Shen Qingzhu wrapped his arms around his neck, but when Zhou Song grew more intense, Shen Qingzhu gently pushed him away.

With a slightly dazed look, Zhou Song murmured, “What’s wrong?”

Leaning against him, Shen Qingzhu raised an eyebrow. “I spent so long in the kitchen. I’m sweaty and feel uncomfortable.”

Zhou Song wanted to say he didn’t mind. To him, Shen Qingzhu smelled sweet, like freshly bloomed orchids. But he didn’t argue. “I’ll go heat some water for your bath.”

But Shen Qingzhu shook his head, gazing at him. “I’m tired.”

“Then…” Zhou Song suggested, “perhaps we should rest early?”

Shen Qingzhu shook his head again, his fingers grazing the sensitive spot on Zhou Song’s neck, making him tense. He leaned closer. “I meant… why don’t you help me bathe?”

With his last words, the scent of orchids seemed to deepen around them, making Zhou Song’s throat dry. “Qingzhu…”

“My husband…” Shen Qingzhu whispered close to his ear, lips barely brushing his earlobe, tantalizingly close. “On our wedding day, we never completed the ceremony. Let’s do it tonight.”

“What?” Zhou Song’s mind went blank.

Shen Qingzhu kissed his earlobe. “Let’s consummate our bond.”

His words brought Zhou Song back to his senses. “No…”

Shen Qingzhu pressed a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to hear any refusals.”

Zhou Song looked down at him with a mix of emotions in his eyes. They stood there, gazing at each other in a quiet standoff.

The faint orchid fragrance wrapped around him, clouding his mind and teasing his nerves.

Seeing Shen Qingzhu’s slightly watery eyes, Zhou Song finally relented, lifting him gently and carrying him to the bath.

Shen Qingzhu leaned against Zhou Song’s broad shoulders, lips curving into a smile.

Above them, the night sky sparkled with stars, with the moon hanging like a silver plate, shining full and bright.