By the time Yu Tingwan woke up again, the sky was already bright.
What Yu Tingwan hated most was rainy days. Damp and cold, it clung to the body and couldn’t be brushed off, and it was easy to catch cold from it.
She half-lowered her eyelids, expression growing more and more indifferent.
She didn’t know when this harsh winter would pass.
“Wan Niang, Wan Niang.”
Someone was calling from outside.
The old house had no rain gear or straw raincoat. Yu Tingwan looked around; there was no other way, so she could only lower her head and run to open the door.
This distance wasn’t long, but the rain was simply too heavy to bear.
When Hui Niang saw her, she immediately passed the umbrella she was holding to above Yu Tingwan’s head.
“I brought you some vegetables.”
Seeing Yu Tingwan frown, she found it amusing.
“Farm vegetables are cheap. If you don’t take them, I’ll have to refund you two wen. But I thought this weather is truly odd—colder than any past year. You surely can’t still go up the mountain every day.”
“Oh right, we made tofu at home, and also made some doufunaor. Just came out of the pot, still steaming hot. I don’t know if you eat sweet or savory, so I didn’t bring it over.”
Yu Tingwan, who had been eating boiled vegetables every day, swallowed her saliva.
Living next door to the Wei family, she knew better than anyone the cooking skills of Hui Niang.
The doufunaor she made must taste really good.
Hui Niang: “The savory kind has chopped scallions, drizzled with the sauce we simmered earlier. Inside there’s also chopped wood ear fungus and pickled vegetables.”
“The sweet kind is sprinkled with osmanthus honey—that honey was gathered half a year ago on the mountain by Dalang’s father.”
Since Wei Zhao didn’t eat much of it, she just kept making it in different ways.
Yu Tingwan was starting to waver.
But she couldn’t just eat the Wei family’s food for free. She only had six copper coins left on her, and she really couldn’t bear to spend them.
She suppressed her craving, voice muffled and low: “No, thank you.”
Perhaps having guessed she would refuse, Hui Niang wasn’t surprised.
“There’s one more thing I’d like to mention.”
Hui Niang: “You’ve seen A’Lang’s condition. He can’t go without medicine. In a few days, his father has to go out to earn money, but A’Lang can’t be left alone. I heard from Doctor Qian that you know how to dig medicinal herbs.”
“Wan Niang, what do you think about this—”
“As long as it’s herbs A’Lang can use, I’ll buy them from you.”
Doctor Qian’s medicine was expensive. In the county town it would only cost more. Either way, the money had to be spent. Hui Niang wanted to help her.
Yu Tingwan understood clearly, and also knew the Wei family had many places they needed money for, so she didn’t decline: “Then I’ll charge Auntie a bit less.”
This could also be considered mutual help and mutual benefit.
When Hui Niang brought up the tofu pudding again, Yu Tingwan didn’t refuse anymore.
The tofu was made in the kitchen house.
The roof still leaked; underneath it, they used a basin to catch the water. When it was nearly full, it would be poured outside.
Wei Shouzhong looked at the basin—just for a moment—then turned back, and the person who had been sitting in the chair behind was gone.
Wei Zhao had gone out into the rain.
Wei Shouzhong realized something was wrong and chased after him. Seeing that persuasion was useless, he could only hold up the umbrella to shield him.
It was at this moment that Yu Tingwan followed Hui Niang inside.
Rain poured like a curtain. He clearly wasn’t doing anything—just stood in the courtyard, brows and eyes indifferent, gaze cold and distant. Yet that figure looked especially lonely.
His long ink-black hair hung loose, dripping from hair and clothes alike. He looked disheveled, yet carried a kind of inescapable nobility.
As if he didn’t belong in this remote countryside at all.
The wicked wind sent bean-sized raindrops crashing into his body, smashing heavily against his face.
The sky was heavy, lightning flashing across.
Wei Zhao, however, gave a low laugh, his voice hoarse:
“It’s really… not as satisfying as blood splattering on the face.”
The rain was icy cold—
but blood, it was scalding hot.
Hui Niang’s pupils shrank violently, her voice trembling again: “Why must you always ruin your body like this!”
Wei Zhao’s calm gaze looked over, and for the umpteenth time, he repeated—tired of it.
“I…”
“Really am not Wei Shen.”
His very bones carried cold indifference.
“There’s no need for you to waste your thoughts on me.”
“After all… no matter how much you give, you won’t get anything in return.”
The current him was nothing more than a body barely still breathing. Covered in blood, riddled with wounds.
What could Wei Shouzhong do? Wei Zhao said he wasn’t his son—he still admitted to it:
“Fine, fine, fine, you’re not.”
Wei Zhao: …
He had no intention of going back, nor did he find Wei Shouzhong, who stood behind holding an umbrella for him, to be in the way.
Wei Zhao seemed to be puzzled.
One word at a time, he asked:
“If there is a heaven-shaking injustice, if one carries a deep sea of blood vengeance yet cannot kill the enemy with his own hands… will the heavens bleed?”
His voice was very light, as if he were asking himself—
and never once thought anyone could give him an answer.
But someone ahead suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.
“Won’t.”
Yu Tingwan’s tone was so flat, there wasn’t the slightest ripple.
“The twelfth year of Da Jin, droughts year after year. Whatever was planted in the fields died. The court’s disaster relief funds were long delayed. The common folk couldn’t afford food, skin and bones, uncountable numbers starved to death.”
“Even if there are gods in the heavens, it doesn’t necessarily mean they have merciful hearts.”
In the end, Yu Tingwan was pulled to the kitchen house to warm herself by the fire. She drank tofu pudding, and for a brief moment, felt like crying.
This—this was food meant for people!
Yu Tingwan ate very seriously, spoonful by spoonful into her mouth. Even though she was very hungry, she ate quickly, but still looked very refined.
Wei Zhao was forced to sit across from her by the fire.
He had already changed into dry clothes, looking listless and dispirited.
Hui Niang said: “This time we made a lot of tofu. Master of the house, make a trip and bring some to Doctor Qian. He’s worked hard these past days too.”
Wei Shouzhong agreed, put on his straw raincoat, and left with a few pieces of tofu.
Hui Niang boiled an egg for Wei Zhao every day, and today was no exception. She stuffed it into his hand.
Wei Zhao turned his head, wanting to throw it away.
But Hui Niang would definitely nag—just thinking about it was annoying.
He looked toward the other side, at Yu Tingwan, who was treating tofu pudding like a rare delicacy.
She ate very contentedly, her eyes shining.
While Hui Niang was busy at the stove, a boiled egg suddenly appeared in front of Yu Tingwan.
She was a little dazed, looked toward Wei Zhao.
Wei Zhao saw she didn’t respond, lost patience and threw the egg straight into the fire pit.
Yu Tingwan: !!!
This was a precious food item!
The Hu family’s hens laid eggs, but they all had to be saved up. Half were for Hu Yaozu’s body to be nourished, the other half were taken to the county town to exchange for money.
She quickly used a twig to poke the egg out of the fire.
Yu Tingwan thought to herself: he really does have something wrong with his brain.
She placed the egg on the table and went to find Hui Niang.
Hui Niang: “Want another bowl?”
“No, thank you.”
She was already very full.
“There’s a basket on the table—don’t forget to take it with you later.”
As she spoke, she turned her head to look at Wei Zhao, who had his eyelids drooping, and once again reminded him:
“A’Lang, hurry up and eat the egg. After eating, you still have to take your medicine.”
Then she said to Yu Tingwan: “There’s nothing much inside—just some tofu, and pickled vegetables I made myself.”
Wei Zhao’s face was expressionless. Without even thinking, he tossed the egg into the basket covered with cloth.
After thinking for a moment, he also threw in the candy that Wei Shouzhong had forced on him to sweeten his mouth.
Yu Tingwan kept feeling like the basket was strangely heavy.
After returning to the old house, she opened it to take a look.
She saw the tender white tofu, pickled vegetables packed in a ceramic jar, the boiled egg whose shell had already cracked, sugar in the corner, a few stones, pieces of roof tile that had fallen down…
And—
The young girl’s breath hitched.
Why was there a bowl of medicine in the basket too!
She didn’t even need to think to know who did it.
Did Wei Shen really take her for a ragpicker!?