The Second Young Master’s Obedient Husband : Chapter 9

The door curtain rustled, and Liang Yu returned.

He carried a cloth bundle in his hand, which he tossed onto the table with a heavy thud. The bundle fell open at one corner, revealing a pile of gleaming white silver inside. There had to be at least twenty or thirty taels.

Su Qingyu had already tidied his clothes and was sitting obediently in a chair waiting for him. Hearing the noise, he looked up and stared at the bundle of silver, pressing his lips together, but did not reach for it.

Liang Yu sat down at the table, this time a bit closer. His long legs stretched forward, almost touching Su Qingyu’s toes. His eyes slowly traveled over Su Qingyu’s body, finally coming to rest on his lips.

“The silver is for you,” Liang Yu spoke, his voice languid. “But I never do business at a loss. I always collect some interest.”

Before Su Qingyu could react, a hand clamped around the back of his neck, pulling him forward.

Liang Yu’s lips pressed down again, grinding against his lips, and then the tip of his tongue pushed through the seam of his lips, sweeping across the roof of his mouth and hooking around his tongue to toy with it. Su Qingyu’s whole body trembled, and a muffled whimper escaped his throat.

Liang Yu seemed to find this amusing. The hand on the back of his neck tightened, while his other arm wrapped around that slender waist, pulling him into his embrace. Su Qingyu was forced to tilt his head back, kissed until he could not catch his breath, his eyelashes damp with tears, his face flushed crimson.

After who knew how long, Liang Yu finally released him.

Su Qingyu gasped for air, his lips swollen and red from the kissing, glistening with moisture, unable to close for a moment. His eyes were rimmed with red, misty and watery inside, utterly pitiful.

Liang Yu stared at those lips for a moment, his gaze darkening, though his tone remained that same languid drawl: “You can’t even take this much? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Su Qingyu pressed his lips together and lowered his eyes without speaking.

“Too thin.” Liang Yu reached out and pinched his waist. “You hurt my hands when I hold you.”

Su Qingyu kept his head down, that red mole hidden in the shadows.

Liang Yu withdrew his hand and leaned back against the chair, his eyes still roaming over him, though his words were unkind: “With your frail body, if we actually did it, I’m afraid you wouldn’t survive it. If you end up dying in my bed, I can’t afford to pay with my life.”

Su Qingyu raised his head, biting his lower lip and remaining silent.

Liang Yu looked at his appearance and suddenly let out a scoffing laugh. He stood up, walked to the door, and shouted outside: “Shuanzi!”

Someone answered from outside, and after a moment, a half-grown boy ran in. He was a young servant bought by the Liang family.

“Go, get twenty jin of white flour, ten jin of meat, and carry a bundle of firewood. Pack a bag of charcoal and deliver them to the Su household.” Liang Yu gave his instructions, then remembered something else. “And bring that jar of badger oil from the storeroom.”

Shuanzi acknowledged the order and left.

Su Qingyu stood up, his lips moving: “Second Brother Liang, this…”

“This what this?” Liang Yu walked back and stuffed the bundle of silver into his hands. “Take it. Buy medicine for your mother, buy food, and take care of yourself.”

Su Qingyu held that bundle of silver, so heavy his hands sagged downward, and looked at Liang Yu with wide eyes.

Liang Yu bent down, leaning close to his ear, his warm breath blowing against the shell of his ear: “Get better. Get plumper. Then I’ll collect my payment.”

Su Qingyu’s earlobes instantly burned.

Liang Yu straightened up, looked at his expression, and smiled roguishly. He raised his hand and pinched Su Qingyu’s face, not gently, pinching hard enough to hurt.

“Go back now. It’s not safe to walk after dark.” Liang Yu turned and walked out, tossing over his shoulder, “Be careful on the road. Don’t lose the silver.”

Su Qingyu stood there, watching that figure lift the door curtain and go out, listening to the footsteps fade away in the distance, before slowly tucking that bundle of silver into his chest.

Once outside, Shuanzi had already hitched up the ox cart. The cart was loaded with white flour, meat, firewood, charcoal, and a large jar of badger oil. Seeing Su Qingyu come out, he grinned: “Brother Su, climb aboard. I’ll take you back.”

Su Qingyu climbed onto the ox cart and sat in the middle of all those things. The snow falling on his body no longer felt cold.

The ox cart creaked forward, rolling over the freshly fallen snow.

Su Qingyu turned and looked back. The Liang family courtyard gate had already closed, and the blue brick high wall was nothing more than a black silhouette in the twilight.

When the ox cart stopped at the Su family courtyard gate, the sky was already completely dark.

Shuanzi helped unload the things, carrying them trip after trip into the house, piling the rickety table full to bursting.

“Brother Su, is there anything else you need help with?” Shuanzi asked, rubbing his hands together.

Su Qingyu shook his head, pulled a few copper coins from his sleeve, and handed them over: “Thank you for your trouble. Take this for tea.”

Shuanzi quickly waved his hands: “I couldn’t possibly. Second Brother Liang would scold me if he found out.” With that, he drove the cart away in a flash.

Su Qingyu stood in the courtyard, watching the cart disappear out the gate, before turning back to the house.

He first went to the inner room to check on his mother. She was sleeping fitfully, her brow furrowed, muttering something indistinct. Su Qingyu touched the kang. It was ice cold. He hurried out to bring in the charcoal, broke it into pieces, and added it to the kang stove, lighting a fire. Then he went outside to bring in a bundle of firewood, lit the kitchen stove as well, and boiled a pot of hot water.

While waiting for the water to boil, Su Qingyu sat in front of the stove and took the bundle of silver out from his chest. He untied the cloth bundle. The gleaming white silver shone in the firelight. There had to be at least thirty taels.

Su Qingyu stared at the silver for a long time before wrapping it up again. He moved aside the brick in the corner, stuffed it into the deepest corner, and put the brick back in place. Only then did he feel somewhat secure.

The water boiled. He ladled out a bowl and carried it inside, helping Su Mother drink some. Then he used a cloth soaked in warm water to wipe his mother’s face and hands.

Perhaps because the kang had warmed up, his mother’s complexion looked somewhat better.

Su Qingyu went out again and rummaged through the pile of things for that jar of badger oil. He opened the lid, and a fragrant oily aroma wafted out. This stuff was precious. Hunters used it in winter to rub on their hands and faces to prevent frostbite. It was expensive in town, and ordinary families could not afford to buy it.

Su Qingyu scooped out a small lump, melted it in his palm, and rubbed it onto his own frost-cracked hands. The oil seeped into the cracks, stinging sharply, but after the pain came warmth.

After rubbing his hands, he thought of Liang Yu’s face, thought of that sentence whispered in his ear, and his earlobes burned again.

Su Qingyu closed the jar and set it on the table. His gaze swept over the pile of things. How long had it been since this room was so full?

The fire in the stove crackled, and the room gradually grew warm.

Su Qingyu got up and went outside to stack the remaining firewood neatly, then brought in another bundle.

He closed the door and slid the bolt into place.

Su Qingyu put the medicine on to brew, scooped out half a bowl of white flour, and cut some cured pork. He made a large pot of radish, cured pork, and hand-pulled noodles. When it was cooked, he first carried a bowl to his mother’s room, called her to take her medicine and eat before sleeping. After his mother finished eating and fell asleep, he returned to the kitchen, sat in front of the stove, and ate his own bowl bite by bite. He even drank the noodle soup clean.

After eating, he washed the bowls, then went to the inner room to check on his mother. Su Mother was still sleeping, her breathing steadier, and the phlegm rattle in her throat had lessened.

Su Qingyu sat down on the edge of the kang, leaning against the wall, looking at his mother’s face. The firelight shone through from the kang stove, reflecting on Su Mother’s face. Her complexion did not seem as gray and withered as it had been during the day.

He reached out and touched Su Mother’s hand, rubbing badger oil on it as well, kneading until her hands were warm, before tucking Su Mother’s hands back under the quilt and tucking the corners tight.

He stepped out lightly, washed up, placed a small charcoal brazier in his own small room, wrapped himself in the quilt, and his eyelids gradually grew heavy. In the warm room, he soon fell asleep.