The Second Young Master’s Obedient Husband : Chapter 10

After Su Qingyu left, Liang Yu sat in the main hall for quite a while.

The cup on the table still bore a faint water stain, left by those slender white hands. Liang Yu thought of that face from earlier. When he cried, the red mole at the corner of his eye turned so crimson it seemed about to drip blood. The tears rolled down, sliding along his cheeks and into the collar of his shirt, disappearing from sight, yet making one unable to stop wondering where that drop of tear had ultimately fallen.

Liang Yu let out a scoffing laugh, cursed himself, and got up to go warm breakfast in the kitchen.

He squatted in front of the stove to tend the fire. The firelight illuminated those sharply defined features, yet between his brows and eyes there was an indescribable restlessness. That face kept surfacing in his mind.

The boiling water bubbled and gurgled. Liang Yu stirred the porridge in the pot, and suddenly remembered that faint sweet fragrance he had smelled when Su Qingyu walked past him. The sweetness was subtle, yet it hooked at one’s heart, itching maddeningly.

Liang Yu cursed himself again.

The porridge was ready. He ladled it out and ate two large bowls with pickled vegetables. After finishing, he cleaned the bowls and chopsticks, then skinned and butchered the roe deer he had caught yesterday. He stretched the hide to dry and cut the meat into strips, rubbed them with salt, and hung them from the kitchen beam. Keeping busy finally cleared his mind somewhat.

But the moment he had leisure, that face surfaced again.

Liang Yu leaned against the kitchen doorway, looking at the hides drying in the courtyard, and suddenly remembered Su Qingyu’s jade white body, his soft and yielding waist and hips…

Liang Yu took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Twenty two years old. Men his age already had children running all over the place. And him? He had spent years in the army, then come back to be a hunter for more than a year. Forget children, he had barely touched a woman’s hand a few times. It was not that there had been no opportunities. The matchmakers from the village and town had come to his door no small number of times, speaking of the daughters of the family to the east, the widows of the family to the west, making it sound as splendid as flowers falling from heaven. But looking at them all, he always felt something was lacking, and so he kept putting it off.

Putting it off until now, the pent up frustration grew harder and harder to suppress.

When he could not sleep at night, he had thought of simply settling for whoever was available. But when dawn came and he looked at those misshapen, ugly prospects, he could not bring himself to do it.

Su Qingyu was different.

That face, that body, just looking at him made one’s heart itch.

Liang Yu licked his lips, and suddenly recognized one thing: he was a damned scoundrel.

What love, what responsibility, it was all nonsense. When he looked at that little face crying as prettily as pear blossoms in the rain, what he thought of was not helping people, but pressing that young man down onto the kang, stripping off that worn padded jacket, and tasting whether that young man’s body was truly as exquisite as they said.

Liang Yu spat and cursed even more harshly than before.

After cursing, he leaned against the doorframe again, looking at the hides in the courtyard, and thought for a long time.

What Su Qingyu lacked was nothing more than silver, medicine money, firewood to last the winter, and grain to carry him through to next year. What were those to him? A good hide could sell for three or four taels of silver, a few pheasants could be traded for several dozen wen, and one trip up the mountain could earn at least one or two taels. Raising a young man, plus a sick mother, was merely a few extra mouths to feed.

Moreover, this young man could work. He could cook, wash clothes, do embroidery. He had heard that southern style embroidery fetched high prices here. If his skills were truly good, he could even earn some silver back. No matter how you calculated it, it was not a loss.

As for the other things…

A clean young man, a pretty face, a soft and tender body, willing to obey everything.

Liang Yu suddenly smiled, a smile that was somewhat roguish, somewhat wicked, and carried an indescribable anticipation. This transaction, no matter how you played it, was not a loss.

As for love, as for responsibility, as for status and name, those things could be set aside for later. Right now, he simply had his eye on this young man, wanted to taste this young man’s flavor. Taking advantage of someone’s misfortune, kicking someone when they were down, call it what you will. He had never been a good person anyway.

Could a good person let that orphaned widow and her child live in such hardship? Could a good person stand by and watch that young man be bullied by those scoundrels like Zhou Jia and Ma Dan?

Liang Yu did not consider himself a good person, nor did he intend to become one.

He stood up, stretched, and walked toward the house. Passing by the drying hides, he casually felt one. The fur was thick and could sell for a good price.

Entering the house, he lay on the kang, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

To hell with love, to hell with taking advantage of misfortune. Get the person first, then talk.

He lay back, and this time he did not toss and turn again. Staring at the ceiling, the corner of his mouth slowly curved upward, smiling somewhat wickedly.

After holding it in for so many years, he could finally taste what it was like.

Early the next morning, Su Qingyu went to the apothecary to settle the bill, bought medicine, and returned. He also bought some meat and rice.

While the medicine was brewing, someone knocked on the courtyard gate.

Opening the door, he found it was the Liang family’s young servant Shuanzi, carrying a large back basket on his back. Seeing him, he grinned: “Brother Su, Second Brother Liang told me to bring firewood.”

Su Qingyu stepped aside to let him in. Shuanzi carried the back basket inside and headed for the woodshed. Su Qingyu followed behind and saw Shuanzi set down the basket. Besides the split firewood, there were things pressed underneath.

“This…”

“Second Brother Liang says the weather is cold, and burning only firewood is not enough. Mixing in charcoal makes it warmer.” Shuanzi unloaded the charcoal as well, then pointed to the top of the firewood pile. “Here are two pheasants, caught yesterday. Fresh.”

Su Qingyu looked and saw that indeed two pheasants had their feet tied with straw rope, their feathers bright and vivid.

After unloading everything, Shuanzi clapped his hands and was about to leave. Su Qingyu grabbed him, pulled a few copper coins from his chest, but Shuanzi refused to take them no matter what, and ran off in a flash.

Su Qingyu stood in the woodshed doorway, looking at that pile of things, standing there for quite a while.

He cleaned and stewed the pheasants into soup, then carried it to Su Mu’s bedside. Su Mu was awake. Her fever had mostly subsided, and though she was still somewhat dazed, she could drink the soup herself. After drinking half a bowl and eating some meat, her complexion looked much better.

“Where did this come from?” Su Mu asked in a hoarse voice.

Su Qingyu lowered his eyes: “Borrowed.”

Su Mu opened her mouth, wanting to say something. Su Qingyu took the bowl away: “Mother, don’t ask. Getting well is what matters.”

Su Mu sighed and asked no more. She could not stop Su Qingyu.

The young man looked soft, but his temper was stubborn. Su Mu did not want to be a burden to Su Qingyu. Before, when she had wanted to stop taking the medicine, he had stubbornly refused to eat himself, hugging Su Mu and crying that he did not want to be an orphan without a father or mother. Mother and son had cried together in each other’s arms, and the medicine had to continue.

These things must have been exchanged for much suffering on the young man’s part. There was nothing she could do now except recover her health as quickly as possible, so she could help with the work and not let the young man bear such a heavy burden alone.

Two days later, Shuanzi came again to deliver firewood. This time, besides the firewood and charcoal, there was grass lining the bottom of the back basket, and hidden inside the grass were two hares, cleaned and prepared.

“Second Brother Liang says the pheasants are finished, time to change the flavor.” Shuanzi winked.

Su Qingyu pressed his lips together, stepped aside to help carry the things inside, his eye rims red yet bright and sparkling, carrying a light within.

A few more days passed, and when Shuanzi came again, he brought several packages of medicinal herbs, all nourishing tonics like codonopsis and astragalus. There was also a small box. Opening it, he found a box of fragrant balm, osmanthus scented, fine and white.

Su Qingyu held that box of fragrant balm, stunned in place.

Shuanzi leaned in and lowered his voice: “Second Brother Liang says, take good care of your face, and says…” He paused, then imitated Liang Yu’s languid tone: “That face is the most valuable thing on your whole body. Don’t ruin it.”

Su Qingyu’s earlobes instantly burned, burning so hot that even that red mole felt feverish.

Shuanzi chuckled and ran off.

Su Qingyu stood in the courtyard, holding the fragrant balm box. The fragrance was faint and ethereal, drifting into his nose, sweet and silky.

That evening after washing his face, Su Qingyu scooped out a little of the balm, melted it in his palm, and rubbed it on his face. The balm was fine and smooth, carrying the scent of osmanthus. He also rubbed some on those frost cracked hands. These past few days of using badger oil daily, the cracks had already improved considerably.

Facing that small bronze mirror, the person in the mirror had somewhat more color in his face, his lips were no longer so dry, and that red mole at the corner of his eye set it off, unexpectedly showing a few vivid traces of allure.

Su Qingyu looked for a moment, set down the mirror, and blew out the lamp.

Another day, the sky had just barely brightened, and Su Qingyu got up to sweep the snow. When he swept to the back door, he found something stuffed beneath the door crack. Opening the door, he saw on the ground a string of cured pork, a small jar of pickled vegetables, and a large jar of badger oil.

Su Qingyu looked down both ends of the alley. It was gray and dim, with no human figures. Only a trail of footprints in the snow, heading east.

That was the direction out of the village, toward the mountains.

Su Qingyu stood at the back door, looking at that trail of footprints. Snow continued to fall, landing on the footprints, slowly covering them.

From the distance came a sound of knocking on a gate, very light, as if deliberately meant as a reminder, or perhaps merely a casual touch.

Su Qingyu lowered his head to look at the jar of oil in his arms. It was heavy, even larger than the previous jar.