Because Jiang Chun had to enter the city today, Jiang He went to the town to set up a stall.
When he came back from town, Jiang Chun immediately told him about the locust plague in Yanzhou Prefecture.
Of course, to avoid making him worry, she didn’t mention the matter of her being robbed, only saying that she met a group of refugees halfway and asked them for some information.
Jiang Chun didn’t ask for permission from Jiang He, the head of the household, when buying the grain, afraid of being scolded, she blinked her pair of big apricot eyes, and said weakly:
“Dad, I was afraid that later the grain prices would skyrocket, and the three of us would starve to death, so I directly went to Aunt’s family’s grain shop and bought five sacks of wheat, five sacks of millet, and five sacks of soybeans…”
Song Shi’an saw the situation, and hurriedly helped her speak a good word: “Dad, wife thought it through very well. If we don’t stock up on grain now, when the prices skyrocket later, we’ll have to spend a huge sum of silver to buy, and we may not even be able to get any.”
Jiang He was different from Jiang Chun; he had lived through a famine.
Actually, Li-shi had given birth to four children, two sons and two daughters, the youngest daughter had died during the famine years.
So when Jiang He heard his daughter had stocked up on grain, not only did he not scold her, he even praised her a bit: “Chun-niang, you did the right thing. Our family has little farmland and relies on buying grain to make a living. Although during the summer harvest, Dad already bought ten dan [100 liters] of wheat, but who knows how long this famine will last? We really do need to store more grain at home.”
Jiang Chun smiled cheerfully and said: “As long as Dad doesn’t scold me for making decisions on my own, it’s fine. Don’t worry about the grain-buying matter, I’ve already thought up an excuse. These next few days, I’ll buy more grain from Aunt’s family’s shop, and aim to stock enough grain for the New Year next year.”
“Alright.” Jiang He nodded.
After thinking for a bit, he cautiously asked Jiang Chun: “Chun-niang, do you think I should tell your Sixth Grandpa about this?”
Jiang Chun didn’t even think before replying: “Just tell him. The matter of the refugees can’t be kept secret. In a while, everyone will know. If you tell Sixth Grandpa now, he can even notify the clan families who are short on grain to quickly stock up.”
Song Shi’an added: “It’s best to have the clan head say a word to Lizheng [Village head], so that Lizheng can inform the villagers to store grain. Otherwise, when the famine breaks out, if no one else has grain but the Jiang clan does, I’m afraid a big problem will arise.”
Jiang He nodded like pounding garlic: “Son-in-law still thinks things through thoroughly. I’ll go say it now.”
Then he lifted his foot and went out.
Jiang Chun saw that it wasn’t early anymore, so she began preparing lunch.
Jiang He went to Jiang Zhaonian’s house to talk about matters, and since it was such an urgent matter, he probably wouldn’t come back for lunch, so she just simply stir-fried two dishes.
While looking through the vegetables, she saw the pile of Chinese yams she had bought earlier.
As for having the leisure time to make the famous dish from Dream of the Red Chamber—jujube paste yam cake—forget it. Anyway, they’re all good for nourishing the body, so she just stir-fried them into a dish and ate them.
She peeled a yam and made a stir-fried dish of yam slices.
Then cut half a Chinese cabbage, made a vinegar stir-fried shredded cabbage.
Also cut up two salted duck eggs leftover from yesterday.
And just patched together a simple lunch with Song Shi’an.
After the meal, she put the silver ear fungus and lotus seeds that had been soaked earlier into a clay pot, threw in a few goji berries that the Qiu family had sent, and also added a small piece of rock sugar.
Then she placed the clay pot on a simple stove propped up by stones, lit firewood, and let it slowly stew.
Taking advantage of the time, she carried the space heater that had been temporarily placed in the courtyard back inside, placing it by the wall next to the west room’s doorway, connected to the kitchen.
She had already made a hole in that wall earlier, so now she only needed to insert the short section of tin pipe that came with the stove into the hole.
After finishing that, she picked up a few more tin pipes, went into the west room, and attached a bent tin pipe to the pipe mouth sticking out of the wall.
Then connected another tin pipe to the end of the pipe mouth.
Just like that, one pipe connected to the next, winding along the wall in the house in a large half-circle, and finally extending out from a hole pre-made at the southeast corner.
Just relying on the tin pipes connecting would easily fall apart, so she hammered two nails underneath each tin pipe section as supports.
To prevent smoke from leaking at the pipe joints and causing carbon monoxide poisoning, she even went outside to scoop some dirt, mixed it with mud, and carefully plastered the gaps with mud.
Song Shi’an saw that Jiang Chun was setting up the heating stove, so he deliberately got down from the kang, ready to lend a hand. Who knew, from start to finish, he wasn’t needed at all.
It had to be said, she truly was efficient in doing things—someone who had eyes for work, hands and feet nimble, and a brain that had a plan.
A person like this, no matter where she was, surely wouldn’t live too poorly.
After Jiang Chun finished plastering the mud, she turned her head and saw Song Shi’an staring fixedly at her, not knowing what he was thinking in his head.
She smiled and teased: “Husband, are you mesmerized by my heroic bearing as I plaster mud? Aiya ya, your taste really is a bit unique.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
Such a diligent and capable wife—what a pity she has a mouth.
Jiang Chun shook her two muddy hands, jumped down from the kang, washed her hands, then went to the courtyard and waved the axe around, chopping a pile of small wood pieces.
Right after, she found a broken wooden basin with a large crack along the edge, went to the woodshed, and carried back a wooden basin of coal.
She first stuffed a handful of wheat straw into the stove chamber, used a fire striker to light it, then fed in small wood pieces.
Once the small wood pieces were burning well, she then added coal.
As a result, she didn’t manage the amount well, and added too much coal, so the stove chamber started billowing thick black smoke.
Jiang Chun pushed Song Shi’an, who was leaning against the west room doorframe watching the show, into the west room, then bang—shut the door.
Then she ran to the east room, dug out the palm-leaf fan used in summer, and ferociously fanned the stove’s lower door.
Her strength was no joke—although the wind wasn’t exactly a tornado, it was strong enough to be called a gale. After fanning for a bit, the black smoke gradually disappeared, and red flames emerged.
Jiang Chun stopped fanning, and let out a small breath of relief in her heart.
Having little experience in lighting a stove didn’t matter; she could rely on brute force to turn the situation around.
She couldn’t help but feel a little puffed up inside.
She even pushed open the west room door, ran over to Song Shi’an, and showed off: “Hmph, in this world, apart from not being able to make men give birth, what is there that I, Jiang Chun, can’t do?”
Song Shi’an: “……”
This person really dares to think about anything, huh!
Good thing she doesn’t have the ability to make men give birth, otherwise, he himself would be doomed.
But being able to light a stove was indeed something worth bragging about—after all, he didn’t know how to do it.
He genuinely praised from the heart: “Wife, you truly are amazing.”
“Words of praise are worth a few coins at most. You need to take actual action.”
Jiang Chun threw out this sentence, then decisively leaned her head forward, closed her eyes, and slightly puckered her red lips—
A look of waiting to be kissed.
Song Shi’an’s mouth twitched.
This fellow, truly could never forget that matter no matter the time.
He perked up his ears and listened to the sounds outside. Not hearing anything, only then did he lean over and give her a light “bo” kiss on the lips.
Right after kissing, he immediately retreated.
But Jiang Chun was not someone so easily dealt with. She persistently stuck her head forward, closed her eyes, and shouted: “So perfunctory, you must have had a change of heart, and don’t admire me anymore.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
When did he ever say he admired her? This kind of slander is uncalled for.
He said blandly: “Don’t be so insatiable.”
Jiang Chun gave a light hum: “I’ve always been insatiable. Didn’t Husband just learn this today?”
Song Shi’an: “……”
What she said was so reasonable, he actually had no way to refute it.
With a light sigh, he reached out and pulled her into his embrace, his mouth covering her lips, sucking and nibbling.
Originally he only wanted to kiss her lips and leave it at that. But thinking of her insatiable nature, he still extended his tongue into her mouth…
The two’s lips and teeth tangled for a full quarter of an hour.
When their lips separated, there were even threads of saliva pulling between them.
Song Shi’an glanced at Jiang Chun’s lips that had been bitten by him until slightly swollen, with shiny, clear saliva still clinging to them.
And the owner of that saliva—was precisely him.
Song Shi’an’s face immediately flushed bright red. He quickly turned his face away, unable to look any longer.
He said in a low voice: “Wipe, wipe your mouth.”
Jiang Chun’s eyes turned mischievously, and she directly stuck out her little pink tongue, licking her upper lip, then licking her lower lip, then let out a “gudong” swallowing sound.
She chuckled: “Husband’s taste is really good.”
Song Shi’an: “……”
Now not only his face turned red, even his ears and neck were red.
How could this person be so, so…
For a moment, he didn’t even know what to say to her.
He reached out to cover his forehead, wishing he could be like those mice and dig a hole in the wall to crawl into.
Too embarrassing.
Jiang Chun saw him lower his head and hold his forehead, looking like he wished he could find a place to disappear into, and said speechlessly: “It’s just a kiss. Other places you’ve kissed too, haven’t you? So how come you’re still acting all shy like this?”
Song Shi’an said speechlessly: “That was at night. Now it’s broad daylight—how can it be the same?”
“Pfft.” Jiang Chun was directly amused by his words.
She laughed and said: “In the daytime, you have to put on the righteous gentleman act, and at night in the pitch-black, you can let yourself go—is that it?”
Song Shi’an pressed his lips together, not making a sound.
At night, in the pitch-dark, when she forced him to kiss her neck and chest, it indeed didn’t feel as shameful.
Jiang Chun hooked one hand around his neck, softly laughing by his ear: “Looks like Husband still needs more practice, after all, in the future we’re going to broad daylight do the bedroom act. If you’re so stiff like this, it won’t do.”
Song Shi’an: “???”
Broad daylight do the bedroom act?
She actually wanted to do it in the daytime?
To even think of doing such an outrageous thing—she really didn’t know the meaning of shame, did she!
Song Shi’an straightened his face, about to lecture her with all seriousness, but when the words reached his mouth, he couldn’t open it.
She treated him so wholeheartedly, had no other demands of him, it was only in matters between man and woman that she was a bit greedy. If even this small request he couldn’t satisfy her, wasn’t that rather ungrateful?
Besides, she probably just said it casually—it wasn’t yet clear whether she was teasing him or serious. No need to rush to oppose her.
When the cart reaches the mountain, there will be a road; future matters can be dealt with in the future.
Song Shi’an turned his head and gave her a sidelong glance, saying indifferently: “If you keep sticking to me like this, watch out—the stove will go out, and the silver ear lotus seed soup will turn into charcoal.”
His phoenix eyes were long and narrow. If he really got angry and glared at someone, there would be cold glints flashing in his eyes. But when he glared at Jiang Chun, it was different—it was a helpless and slightly doting expression.
The new silver hairpin she’d just bought swayed gently as he turned his head, the little gourd-shaped pendant dangling slightly, making his ink-black long hair look even shinier.
Jiang Chun directly stared blankly, almost drowning in his gaze.
If it weren’t for the silver ear lotus seed soup simmering outside, she would have pounced on him directly and kissed him hard.
Ah, beauty can bring down a country. What’s more, she was already deeply infatuated with this tragic, strong, beautiful male supporting character that she had worked so hard to write out.
It took great effort for her to steady her mind. She let go of his shoulders, opened the door, and went to the kitchen.
Then she let out a cry: “Ah, my silver ear lotus seed soup!”
Luckily she came out in time—the soup in the clay pot was almost at the bottom, but at least it hadn’t burned.
She quickly added water, then threw in a few more sticks of firewood underneath, and let it stew again.
—
One had to say, the craftsmanship of ancient blacksmiths was truly amazing.
The heating stove had been burning for half a day—not only was the west room warm and cozy, even the kitchen where the stove was placed was nice and toasty.
That night, Jiang He sat by the stove to warm himself, smiling as he said to Jiang Chun: “At night, you just go to sleep. Dad’s a light sleeper—getting up once an hour to add coal is enough.”
Jiang Chun quickly said: “No need, Dad. I learned a stove-sealing method from Blacksmith Gou—add a full chamber of coal, then cover the inner and outer lids, and there’s no need to add more coal all night long. That’s how they do it for the big forges when they’re smelting iron.”
Actually, this method was something she had learned in her past life from Great-Grandmother. It didn’t have much to do with Gou the Blacksmith.
When Jiang He heard this, he laughed happily and said: “Well, that’s great—this way, none of us need to get up in the middle of the night.”
Then he got up and went back to his room to sleep peacefully.
Jiang Chun lifted the stove lid, added a full chamber of coal, placed the inner lid on top, then covered it with the outer lid.
Then she washed her hands clean in the wooden basin, and only then went into the west room.
After climbing onto the kang, she first laid her own quilt at the foot of the kang, then walked to the head of the kang to pick up her own blanket.
Song Shi’an was just struggling over whether or not to ask her to stay. Seeing her not even say a word, just directly hugging her own blanket away, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he held it back.
Jiang Chun laid out the bedding, took off her cotton-padded jacket and cotton trousers, got into the quilt, and let out a satisfied sigh: “Ah, so warm.”
It was even a bit hot.
Hearing this, Song Shi’an pressed his lips together.
After a moment, he said quietly: “Is that so? Then why are my hands and feet still ice-cold?”
Jiang Chun paused, surprised: “The room’s already almost as warm as spring, I’m even finding the blanket too thick. How are your hands and feet still ice-cold?”
Song Shi’an was silent for a moment, then suddenly sighed and said lightly: “Maybe it’s because my body’s too weak.”
Jiang Chun couldn’t help but feel a pang of heartache, and tentatively asked: “Maybe it’s because the new heating stove has only just started burning, and the heating isn’t quite keeping up yet. Otherwise, how about I go sleep in your blanket for a few more days, and once the heating is stable, I’ll come back?”
Song Shi’an sighed again, helplessly saying: “I suppose it can only be this way.”
Seeing he had no objections, Jiang Chun got out of her quilt, picked up her blanket, and came over to the head of the kang.
She climbed into his quilt, laying her blanket over his blanket.
After lying down, she reached out to grab his hands, wanting to warm them up for him, but ended up finding his hands were warm, even slightly sweaty in the palms.
Jiang Chun raised her eyebrows in puzzlement.
This was called “hands and feet ice-cold”?
She lifted his hand and pressed it to his own face, snorted and laughed: “Your hands are even sweating, and you call that ‘ice-cold’? Husband, you actually lied.”
Song Shi’an didn’t argue, but instead lifted a foot and pressed it against her calf.
Jiang Chun instantly let out a “sssss” sound.
It was so cold she shivered.
It really was ice-cold—like an ice block, not the slightest bit of exaggeration.
This left her somewhat confused, unable to tell whether he was lying or not.
After a moment’s hesitation without a conclusion, she decisively chose not to dwell on it.
The reason she wanted to sleep in separate quilts was because she was afraid that sleeping together would be too sticky, and bad for both their bodies.
But Song Shi’an’s body was too weak, with no internal heat. Even with the heating stove, he was still barely getting by.
If he caught a chill again, it would be another miserable ordeal.
Forget it—better to keep sharing a quilt. At worst, she’d hold back a bit and only let him kiss her once a week.
She said helplessly: “Since Husband’s hands and feet are ice-cold and can’t be without me, then from now on, let’s keep sleeping in the same quilt, and when spring comes and it’s warm, we’ll separate.”
Song Shi’an, his head buried in her embrace, hooked up the corner of his mouth, revealing a triumphant smile.
It wasn’t in vain that he secretly stuck both feet out of the quilt and froze them for a long while—he finally got her to stay.
She was so soft-hearted—so long as he grasped her weakness of feeling sorry for his frail body, if he sold a bit of misery at the right time, there was nothing he couldn’t achieve. (T/N: Just look at this guy)
Good thing it was himself, with no bad intentions toward her—otherwise, with her such a simple nature, who knows how others would have schemed against her.
In the future, he could only take more care of her, not letting others have the chance to scheme against her.
But this couldn’t really be considered much of a difficult matter, after all, looking across the entire capital, there really weren’t many people who dared to scheme against Song Shi’an’s niangzi [wife/lady].
If they really did manage to succeed, then wouldn’t the several decades he lived in his past life have been lived for nothing?