The Second Young Master’s Obedient Husband : Chapter 2

From Mian Village to the county town, it was more than twenty li, but it still had to be done.

Su Qingyu thought to himself, Mother’s medicine would only last until today, and there was no grain left at home either.

Once outside the village, the road became difficult to travel. The dirt road was pitted and uneven, so he could only walk slowly, step by step.

By the time he reached Mian County town, Su Qingyu’s face was flushed red from exhaustion. He caught his breath and entered through the north gate.

The county town was livelier than the village.

Shops on both sides had their doors open. Some had thick curtains hanging at the entrance to block the wind, while others stood wide open, with shop assistants standing at the door, breathing into their hands and rubbing them together. Food shops steamed with heat, hot vapor drifting out. Su Qingyu smelled it and felt even hungrier. He swallowed his saliva, lowered his head, and walked east.

On East Street there was a cloth shop, Manager Zhou’s, just as Mother had said.

The shop front was not large, with two wooden plank doors and cotton curtains hanging on them. Lifting the curtain and entering, a wave of heat mixed with the smell of fabric hit him. A charcoal brazier burned in the shop, warm and cozy. The counter was piled with cloth of various colors, and finished garment samples hung on the walls. A man of about forty stood behind the counter, clicking abacus beads, and looked up when he heard movement.

Su Qingyu walked over, placed his bundle on the counter and untied it. The fabric was revealed: two bolts of plain silk, one moon white and one ivory yellow, all goods brought from the south that Mother had kept at the bottom of her trunk for many years. There were also two embroidery patterns, embroidered with hibiscus and mandarin ducks, Mother’s needlework dense and fine, the color matching elegant.

Manager Zhou looked down at them, picked them up to feel them, then set them down.

“Your mother’s things?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t she come herself?”

Su Qingyu paused, then said, “She’s ill.”

Manager Zhou nodded and asked no more. He turned the fabric over and over several times, then picked up the embroidery patterns to examine them closely, his fingers tracing the embroidery threads. After pondering for a moment, he said, “The fabric is good fabric, southern goods. In those days it would have been worth quite a bit of money. But in these times, who can afford to wear this? I can buy it, but the price won’t be high.”

“How much can you give?”

Manager Zhou held up two fingers. “Two taels.”

Su Qingyu was stunned for a moment.

Mother had said that back home, any one of these pieces of fabric could have sold for more than a tael of silver. With the embroidery patterns added, it should be worth at least four or five taels at the minimum.

“That’s too little.”

Manager Zhou glanced at Su Qingyu, then lowered his head again, turning the fabric over and over. After a long while he said, “Fine then, two and a half taels, not a penny more. These embroidery patterns of yours, even if I keep them they’ll just sit in storage. Nowadays nobody wants these old styles; everything has to be fashionable patterns.”

Su Qingyu pressed his lips together and said nothing.

A candle burned at the corner of the counter, its flame flickering and swaying. Someone walked past outside the shop, their footsteps crunching in the snow, then the footsteps faded away.

“Done,” Su Qingyu said.

Manager Zhou nodded, turned around and took money from the cabinet. A string of copper coins plus a few pieces of broken silver, counted out and placed on the counter. Su Qingyu put the money into his chest, his eyes rimmed red, the worry between his brows even deeper.

“Wait.”

Manager Zhou suddenly spoke. He pulled out a small cloth bundle from under the counter and opened it. Inside were several scraps of fabric, palm-sized, each with different patterns.

“These are leftover cuttings from making clothes. Take them back for your mother, perhaps she can piece something together from them.”

Su Qingyu accepted them and thanked him, tucking them into his bundle.

Exiting the cloth shop, snow was still falling.

There were fewer people on the street. At this hour, those who should be heading home were already home. Su Qingyu stood at the cloth shop entrance, touched the money in his chest once more, and went to the medicine shop.

The medicine shop smelled of bitterness. The resident physician was not in, only the assistant who dispensed medicine. Su Qingyu described his mother’s symptoms, and specifically asked for more medicine to be prepared. The assistant listened and nodded, then turned around to pull open those small drawers, measured out the medicine, and wrapped it into several large bundles piled on the counter, enough for several months.

“One tael.”

Su Qingyu took out the money and placed it on the counter. The assistant counted it, then looked up at him. Su Qingyu hung his head and said, “The money has been owed for a long time, I don’t have much in hand, so I’ll repay part of it first.”

The assistant scratched his head and called out toward the inner room. The curtain lifted, and an old man emerged, wearing a grey cotton robe with a goatee. It was the resident physician, Doctor Chen. The doctor looked at the money on the counter, then looked at Su Qingyu.

“Has your family member recovered?”

Su Qingyu fell silent.

Doctor Chen, seeing his appearance, sighed. “Repayment is not urgent. Take it back.”

The assistant moved swiftly, pushing the medicine bundles and the excess money toward him. Su Qingyu hugged the medicine to his chest, then tucked the money away safely, his voice trembling slightly, “Thank you.”

Su Qingyu knelt down and kowtowed to them, then turned and left. Doctor Chen sighed and returned to his consultation room.

Su Qingyu also went to the grain shop to buy some grain. His stomach was cold and empty, and smelling the drifting aroma of steamed buns, he wrinkled his nose. Struggling, he carried the grain sack and walked toward the city outskirts.

The sky gradually darkened, and the wind blew even more fiercely. Seeing the large stone at the village entrance, Su Qingyu set down the grain sack to catch his breath. Someone brushed past his shoulder, stirring up a gust of wind. Su Qingyu looked up at that figure’s back and recognized him. It was Liang Yu. He didn’t know when he had returned. The pheasants in his hands were gone, replaced by a slab of cured meat he carried, and a back basket on his back as he walked up the mountain.

Liang Yu walked up the mountain path, then suddenly stopped and turned back, looking at the young man at the foot of the mountain who was supporting himself on his knees, head bowed as he caught his breath. He thought for a moment before remembering that was Su Qingyu, who lived at the end of the village.

Su Qingyu was excessively slender, his waist wrapped in a washed pale old padded jacket, yet one could still see that section of fine, resilient curve. The jacket was somewhat short, exposing a small section of wrist, so white it was dazzling.

Liang Yu’s gaze slid down from that birthmark of fertility, landing on that waist.

That waist was so slender, it seemed like it could be grasped in one hand.

Liang Yu’s Adam’s apple moved.

In the military camp he had heard those coarse soldiers talk nonsense, and at the time he had only listened to it as idle vulgar talk to pass the time, feeling nothing. Now, looking at Su Qingyu’s back, those words suddenly became vivid, burrowing into his mind, impossible to drive away.

Liang Yu licked his somewhat dry lips. Remembering the rumors in the village about Su Qingyu’s family situation, he cursed himself inwardly, “He’s a widowed orphan with his mother, Liang Yu, you really are a beast.”

Liang Yu never considered himself a good person, but he wasn’t a rotten person either. That bit of desire, it rose quickly and dispersed just as quickly. He looked no more at Su Qingyu, and continued up the mountain path.