The man looked at him faintly: “Is the new bow working well?”
Fan Jing frowned slightly: “Where did this new bow come from?”
“Didn’t that young man just give you a new one? Even an outsider like me can tell it’s a good one.”
Fan Jing caught the odd tone in Kang He’s voice.
He glanced at him, not wanting to argue, and turned to head toward his own room.
But Kang He stood up and followed him, asking knowingly: “Who was that guy just now?”
Fan Jing said: “A hunter.”
“What kind of hunter is that close to you?”
Fan Jing stopped in his tracks and asked Kang He: “Why are you asking so much?”
Kang He was silenced by Fan Jing’s question.
“You mean I can’t even ask about your business?”
Fan Jing glanced at Kang He: “We used to be close.”
Getting an answer, Kang He paused, his words tumbling in his mouth.
“So you want me to leave, just to make room for him?”
Fan Jing’s brows furrowed; he couldn’t fathom where Kang He was getting these wild ideas.
He answered patiently whatever Kang He asked, but the more he asked, the less sense it made.
Fan Jing couldn’t respond to such words and said: “Why do you have so much to say?”
With that, he stopped talking to him, went into his room, and closed the door.
The door wasn’t latched; it could be pushed open with a nudge.
But Kang He stood at the door and didn’t follow him in.
He thought, if the man didn’t even bother to answer him, wasn’t that clear enough?
Why keep chasing him with questions?
For a moment, his heart felt heavy.
Why was he still shamelessly sticking around him?
Let each go their own way—save up enough money, leave far away, and stop being a bother.
Inside the room, Fan Jing waited for a while but didn’t see Kang He come in.
Instead, he heard footsteps moving away, and his brows tightened.
He couldn’t understand—what did his affairs have to do with someone busy saving up to leave?
What was he upset about now?
At night, Kang He was busy slaughtering fish and washing vegetables in the kitchen, working diligently.
Chen Shi watched his swift movements as he killed and chopped the fish, her eyes wide with amazement.
Tying up her skirt, she decided to help him out.
As night fell, a tantalizing sour aroma wafted from the kitchen.
Kang He had prepared a large pot of fragrant pickled vegetable fish.
Fan Shoulin, who was feeding the pigs outside, caught the scent, abandoned the feed bucket, and made three or four trips to the kitchen.
“It’s just pickled vegetables—how do you make it smell so good?”
Chen Shi looked at the steaming fish soup simmering in the pot, the sour fragrance making her mouth water.
“To make sour fish, the key is the broth. Fry the pickled vegetables a bit—it brings out the flavor.”
“Your skills are so good; Master Kang must be even more impressive.”
Kang He just smiled: “I’m no good, just picked up some basics. Enough for home, to eat something warm.”
Fan Shoulin lingered by the stove, thinking about how nice it’d be to have some wine with the fish later.
Hearing Chen Shi praise the man, he added his own: “I reckon most small-time cooks don’t have your skill.”
The two girls also hovered around Kang He, one moment fetching the salt jar, the next grabbing a clay bowl.
The kitchen was lively, and Fan Jing, in his room, could hear the noise.
He walked over from his room and saw Kang He, speaking in less-than-fluent local dialect, somehow chatting and laughing with the whole family.
Fan Jing stood in the room for a while, but no one spoke to him.
His family was one thing—he wasn’t much for talking, and the household didn’t often speak to him unless there was a reason.
But the one who usually had the most to say acted as if he didn’t even see him.
“Where are the clothes brought back from the mountains?”
Fan Jing suddenly spoke, and the room fell silent.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Truth be told, Kang He had noticed him the moment he entered the kitchen.
But he’d resolved not to bother with him anymore, and this wasn’t just empty talk—he wasn’t going to fawn over him like a puppy anymore.
Kang He tossed a handful of green onions into the pot, not looking at Fan Jing, his manner cold: “What?”
“Wash them together.”
Kang He raised his eyes at that: “You’re washing clothes?”
“Wash them early, they’ll dry early.”
What did he mean, wanting to wash his clothes… with an injured arm, still thinking of washing his clothes?
Kang He’s eyebrows arched higher and higher.
Before he could speak, Qiao’er said: “Big Brother, give us your clothes. Second Sister and I will wash them for you and Brother-in-law. We’ve got new soapberries in the box.”
Kang He quickly said: “Mountain clothes are dirty. How can we let you two girls wash them?”
Chen Shi backed the girls up: “No trouble at all. The girls always wash the household clothes. You two have been working hard in the mountains—why should you bother with these small chores?”
Outdone in the task, Fan Jing said nothing and turned to leave.
Seeing this, Kang He hurriedly put down the ladle and chased after him.
Lowering his voice, he said: “Your arm’s still injured—why wash clothes? I’ll do it. Give me yours to wash too.”
Fan Jing, hearing this, didn’t speak, but his face softened.
After a while, he said: “My arm’s probably fine now.”
“How could it heal that fast? After dinner, I’ll check it for you.”
“Mm.”
Fan Jing wasn’t upset and gave a soft reply.
Chen Shi, craning her neck, saw the two talking as they went back to the room and let out a sigh of relief.
“What are you looking at? The fish should be ready—the girls are hungry.”
“All you think about is eating. Don’t you see how Big Brother and Kang Sanlang are doing? You don’t know, this morning that Qin kid came looking for Big Brother, and Kang He saw it. They haven’t spoken all afternoon.”
Chen Shi scolded: “Such a fine son-in-law—if this falls through, what then?”
Fan’s father, hearing this, was also annoyed: “Why’s that Qin kid still coming? Doesn’t he know Big Brother’s already married?”
He added: “I told you we should’ve held a big feast. A quiet marriage like this—nobody even knows it happened.”
Chen Shi, seeing Fan’s father still harping on this, glared at him: “You love a spectacle. If you could get Da Jing’s new room properly fixed up, I’d call you capable.”
“Don’t think you can stump me. Yesterday, I was drinking with my buddy Wang, and he’s so loyal, he said he’d make us a bed and a dressing table.”
Chen Shi grabbed him, asking: “Carpenter Wang’s really going to make furniture for us? How much is he charging?”
Fan’s father, tongue loose, said: “Don’t you worry. With our friendship, would he cheat us?”
Chen Shi was skeptical—a bunch of drunkards, she didn’t trust them much.
At night, the family shut the doors and ate a hearty, delicious meal.
Fan’s father had thought to have Chen Shi save a fish to send to the elder brother’s side, but seeing how little was left in the pot and how long it’d been since the family had meat, he let it go.
After dinner, while the family cleaned the kitchen and tended to the animals, Kang He, as promised, checked Fan Jing’s injury.
He didn’t let the family know he was hurt, keeping it to himself.
Thankfully, the wound was indeed healing.
Kang He gave him a few instructions, telling him to let it heal fully to avoid complications later.
After spending some time in Fan Jing’s room, the two packed what they’d need for the mountains, and Kang He returned to the west side room.
When he got there, he found the small bed he’d set up earlier was gone, leaving him stunned.
“This room’s spacious, but the window’s old and lets in drafts. We’ve been meaning to fix it these past few days to make it a proper new room for you two, but we haven’t had the time yet.”
“It’s getting cold—not like before. Sleeping here now, you’ll catch a chill!”
Chen Shi had seen Kang He go to Fan Jing’s room after dinner, and the family assumed they’d share a room, so no one said anything.
Even Fan’s father, who’d previously insisted they sleep separately, didn’t object now, won over by Kang He’s pot of fish soup.
He was growing fonder of this son-in-law, and after a couple of drinks, he was already thinking about grandchildren.
Besides, the two had been living together in the mountains for so long—they’d probably shared a bed already.
Why bother with formalities at home?
But, unexpectedly, they still wanted to sleep separately.
Hearing Chen Shi’s words, Kang He didn’t know how to argue.
He only found an excuse: “I toss and turn in my sleep. Da Jing’s bed is small—I don’t want him catching a cold either.”
Chen Shi, hearing this, grew suspicious.
Da Jing’s bed was small, sure, and both men were tall, so it’d be a tight fit.
But they say a couple’s bed should be small—back to back, feet touching, that’s how affection grows.
She felt they were still upset over that Qin kid.
Chen Shi wasn’t about to let them hold a grudge overnight.
She said: “I’ll grab another blanket. You each cover yourselves—no worry about stealing the covers. Make do for one night. Your father says he’s getting Carpenter Wang to make a big bed—things will be spacious then.”
With that, she went to the cabinet to fetch a blanket before Kang He could say more.
Kang He couldn’t stop her.
Soon, he stood at Fan Jing’s door, holding a blanket, giving a dry smile to the man who opened it.
Fan Jing didn’t ask; he knew what was up and let him in.
Kang He, though, felt awkward.
Though they’d slept in the same room in the mountain cabin, that open space was different from the separate rooms here at the Fan house.
“I’ll make a bed by the door.”
Fan Jing said: “Sleep wherever you want.”
The bed couldn’t fit two people unless they were tied together with a rope.
Fan Jing’s room wasn’t sunny and was colder than the others.
A floor bed here wouldn’t be as warm as in the mountains.
He lifted the bedsheet, pulled out a handwoven palm mat from the bed, and took down a bear pelt from the wall to give to Kang He.
Then he left the room.
Kang He didn’t know what he was up to, so he found a corner and quickly laid out the mat.
When Fan Jing returned, he had a charcoal brazier in hand and placed it beside Kang He.
The village night was less noisy than the mountains, more peaceful and serene.
After the candles were snuffed out, the room grew quiet.
Kang He lay on the floor bed, the furry bear pelt beneath him, a charcoal brazier at his side, feeling quite warm.
He rubbed his feet against the pelt.
Fan Jing, who wouldn’t even use it himself, had given it to him, and Kang He couldn’t help but think—Fan Jing was really good to him~
Kang He wasn’t sleepy, his mind drifting back to the Qin kid from earlier that day.
Fan Jing hadn’t mentioned anything about the Qin kid, but now Kang He felt he’d wronged him.
There was probably nothing between them—at least Fan Jing likely had no other intentions toward the Qin kid.
If he truly still cared for the Qin kid, why would he refuse the bow he sent?
He clearly liked those things.
That Qin kid was now living alone, and after what happened before, he surely didn’t have the same high spirits.
If Fan Jing had any interest, things might have worked out—why else would the Qin kid have left disappointed today?
Calming down and thinking it through, Kang He’s heart opened up.
He thought, when he had more money, he’d buy an even better bow for Fan Jing, and have the blacksmith make him a finer knife… but as he thought, he let out a sigh.
Why had he told Fan Jing he was going to leave?
Kang He felt a surge of frustration.
But it wasn’t like he’d said it himself—Fan Jing was sharp and had figured it out.
He was honest, too, and didn’t deny it when asked.
If he hadn’t admitted it then… Kang He rolled over, looking at Fan Jing’s bed.
Would he have tried to accept him, treat him as a husband, and walk that path together?
Kang He didn’t know—didn’t know about things that never happened.
But right now, in his heart, he clearly and firmly knew one thing.