Ch 23: Guide to Feeding a Villainous Husband

Couple’s Date

Qin Xia initially resisted the urge to hold Yu Jiuque’s hand.

But the crowd on Banqiao Street was too overwhelming, and as they walked, they would occasionally get separated if they weren’t careful.

This was the first time Qin Xia had faced the bustling prosperity of Qinan County, and it truly lived up to its reputation as the largest county under the jurisdiction of Pingyuan Prefecture.

Yu Jiuque had also never been to such a place before. After almost being pushed aside once more, Qin Xia looked down and noticed the little ge’er holding onto the corner of his robe, reminding him of the hand that had grasped the corner of his blanket that night.

Oh well.

Qin Xia thought, it’s too late to distance himself from Yu Jiuque now; what difference would holding hands make?

“Hold on to me,” he said, extending his hand to Yu Jiuque. The little ge’er’s hand was smaller than his by a size, and they held on tightly.

And so, they walked more slowly.

They weaved through the crowd, occasionally stopping to look at some small stalls.

The “night market,” also known as the “ghost market,” was where many made their living, sleeping during the day and only starting their business when night fell.

Though it was called a “ghost market,” it didn’t mean that everything sold there was unfit for daylight.

There were all sorts of goods—fruits and vegetables, pots and pans, baskets and blankets, clay figurines and drums, needles and thread, and more.

And if you wanted something less mundane, you could also find antiques, paintings, calligraphy supplies, pottery, copperware, old coins, and ancient books. Whether or not you could find something worthwhile depended on your luck and skill.

They passed by a stall where a small table was laid out with a red cloth, displaying a variety of silver jewelry that gleamed under the light.

A silversmith was there with his tools, ready to make custom pieces on the spot or reshape old jewelry into something new.

Qin Xia couldn’t help but stop, pulling Yu Jiuque along as he picked up a silver hairpin and asked, “How much is this?”

“All the hairpins in that row are eight qian of silver, the ones below are five qian, and the bottom row is three and a half qian,” the silversmith replied, looking up from his work on a silver bracelet.

Night markets typically used lanterns to conduct transactions, preventing anyone from taking advantage or pulling any tricks with the silver or goods.

Qin Xia examined the hairpin in the light and realized the price likely reflected the purity of the silver and the intricacy of the craftsmanship.

“Brother, you’ve got a good eye, picking the most expensive one right off the bat. Is it for your husband?” the stall owner praised Qin Xia, who simply smiled and held the hairpin up to Yu Jiuque’s head.

The silver hairpin was exquisite, something any little ge’er would love, but Yu Jiuque shook his head. “Husband, this is too expensive; let’s not get it.”

One hairpin cost eight qian of silver, which was what they earned in two days of selling food.

Now that they were saving up for the shop lease, they could barely tighten their belts enough; there was no way they could afford to waste money on trinkets.

But Qin Xia had long found the wooden hairpin on Yu Jiuque’s head an eyesore.

That wooden hairpin was something the original Qin Xia had hastily bought on the street under Fang Rong’s urging on their wedding day, thinking that since he was marrying someone, he couldn’t just let them enter the house without any adornment.

The original Qin Xia had no idea what to buy, so he had chosen something that looked more like a chopstick than anything else, even getting swindled into paying a full qian of silver for it.

Later, Qin Xia was too busy and felt that giving someone a gift was too intimate an act for the “villain” in the book.

But tonight, he wanted to act on impulse.

“If I can afford it, it means I can earn it back.” Qin Xia gently pulled Yu Jiuque closer to the stall. “Take a look at what you like. If I pick something you don’t like, it would be a waste of money.”

Yu Jiuque couldn’t argue with Qin Xia, so he lowered his eyes to look, thinking that since Qin Xia insisted on buying something, he should at least pick the cheapest option.

He was about to reach for the lowest-priced row when Qin Xia caught his wrist.

“Not those. Choose from the ones above.”

Yu Jiuque looked at Qin Xia helplessly.

In the end, they compromised and chose a five-qian hairpin.

It was a style Yu Jiuque liked—a straight pin with a few carved branches on top, adorned with a small persimmon.

“This one’s called ‘Peace and Prosperity,’ perfect for wearing during the New Year,” the stall owner explained.

The silversmith accepted the payment, beaming with joy. It was a good day for him; he had just set up his stall and already made a sale.

After hearing what the vendor said, Yu Jiuque was even more reluctant to put the hairpin on immediately. “This is something valuable. What if I lose it? It’s better to save it for the New Year.”

Qin Xia couldn’t persuade him otherwise, so he let it go. The little ge’er carefully tucked the hairpin away, feeling the need to check it every few steps as they continued strolling through the market.

They stopped by a stall selling bowls and dishes and picked out two porcelain bowls to serve as food and water dishes for Da Fu. A few steps further, Yu Jiuque squatted down to select some embroidery threads, colorful strings, and a bundle of fabric scraps, which could be used to make small crafts or patch up clothes.

The night market stalls were organized into sections, and after passing the stalls selling miscellaneous household items, they caught the mouthwatering aroma of various foods wafting through the air.

“I noticed that the evening business here seems even more lively than our morning market,” Yu Jiuque remarked, amazed at the lines of people in front of many stalls, with vendors calling out their wares non-stop.

At this time of day, he and Qin Xia would typically be finishing their dinner and preparing for bed after a bit more work. In contrast, the bustling scene here suggested the market would be active until late into the night.

“Not only that,” Qin Xia added as they walked a bit further, paying attention to the various food stalls. “Listen to the vendors: roasted pork, crystal dumplings, lamb face meat, crispy fried fish, sugar-coated fruits, honey-glazed snacks… These rich dishes wouldn’t sell well at a morning market.”

That was the main difference between the two markets. Morning and midday markets were frequented by people like Xing Yiming, who, even if they enjoyed good food, were primarily looking to fill their stomachs as affordably as possible. Night markets, however, were a different story.

The people who toiled for their daily sustenance were either still working at this hour or already at home resting, preparing to rise early the next day. They weren’t the ones leisurely strolling through the night market in fine clothes.

“Those who come here tend to have money to spare.”

As Qin Xia spoke, a group of young men passed by, each accompanied by a lady. They were laughing and chatting, trailing the scent of delicate perfumes behind them. They were likely returning from stalls offering games like pitch-pot and archery, carrying lanterns, sachets, and other small trinkets as prizes.

One of the women was feeding a piece of honey-glazed fruit to the man beside her with a bamboo skewer.

“Well, since we’re here, we might as well try some of the food,” Qin Xia suggested. It had been a while since he’d eaten something prepared by someone else. While the food he made always suited his taste, there was a certain pleasure in tasting another cook’s creation.

They bought six fried dumplings, five steamed buns, a large serving of roasted pork, and a bowl of crystal jellies. Qin Xia carried these as they searched for a stall selling hand-pulled noodles and ordered two large bowls topped with minced meat sauce.

The small stall had a seating area covered by a bamboo-framed tent with felt cloth draped around it, providing some shelter from the cold. The stall owners, an elderly couple, were dressed neatly and worked skillfully. The noodles were swiftly prepared, spinning in the boiling water before being scooped out. The elderly woman ladled a generous portion of meat sauce over the noodles and asked, “Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

Qin Xia shook his head, and the woman quickly sprinkled the noodles with chopped scallions, cilantro, and fried soybeans. The noodles were served with a side of pickled vegetables and two cloves of raw garlic.

The first bite of the noodles revealed the quality of the dish. The noodles were chewy and smooth, the minced meat sauce was rich but not greasy, and the topping included diced eggplant and potatoes.

“Don’t just eat the noodles, try these too,” Qin Xia said, setting down his chopsticks and unwrapping the oil paper packages they had picked up along the way.

The fried dumplings, known as crystal jellies, were filled with chives; they tasted fine, though the chives were a bit tough. The buns, three with meat and two vegetarian, had thick dough and were rather ordinary but still edible. The roasted pork was excellent, grilled to perfection with a crispy exterior and juicy interior, balanced with just the right amount of fat and lean meat.

Crystal jellies originated from a dish in the previous dynasty and have been passed down to the present. They are somewhat similar to pork jelly, but instead of using pork skin, they use fish skin and fish meat, which are finely shredded, cooked, and then left outside to set into blocks. When sold, the jellies are cut into pieces and served.

The two of them were thoroughly enjoying the dish, taking turns picking it up with their chopsticks.

As the elderly woman at the stall was cleaning the table, she walked by and smiled, saying, “This must be Mrs. Han’s crystal jelly. That young lady is excellent at making this.”

She continued, “You bought the fried dumplings from the wrong place. You should have walked a bit further ahead to get them from Aunt Jin’s stall. The chives she uses in winter are homegrown, crisp and fresh. In autumn, she sells lotus root dumplings, which are also delicious.”

Qin Xia then struck up a conversation with her and learned that this noodle stall had been around for nearly twenty years.

“I dare say that the older generation in this city all know about our stall. You two are young; you must be here for the first time.”

She was quite talkative, and when she heard Qin Xia mention that he also sold food and was interested in doing business at the night market on Banqiao Street, she enthusiastically suggested, “The spots here are highly sought after, but every year around the New Year, some stall owners pack up early and return to their hometowns. When their spots are vacant for a good half-month, you can pay a bit of silver, borrow their spot, and then register with the street office.”

Learning about this insider tip, Qin Xia thanked her. When they finished eating and were about to leave, he paid a little extra, rounding up the 28-wen price to 32 wen.

Yu Jiuque was fully satisfied, having eaten five out of the six fried dumplings, four out of the five meat buns, a large bowl of noodles, and some other dishes. He felt a bit drowsy while sitting under the stall’s canopy, but the cold wind outside soon cleared his head.

“Are you thinking about doing business at the night market, husband?”

As they walked back along the route they had come, the hustle and bustle of the market gradually faded behind them.

Qin Xia shared his plan with him. “I’m thinking of stopping the breakfast business on Liubao Street and only doing lunch. Once everything’s sold out, we can go home, take a break, and then come to Banqiao Street. We won’t stay too late, closing around the hour of the pig (9–11 PM). The night market here is a place where we can sell higher-priced food, so it’ll help us save up for the shop rent more quickly.”

“So, you’re saying we won’t sell our usual three items?” Yu Jiuque asked.

Qin Xia had already thought it over. “We’ll keep selling them on Liubao Street, but at night here, we’ll offer some new items.”

He was confident about the foot traffic at Banqiao Street’s night market, but there was one downside.

“You’re not strong, and staying up late won’t be good for you. How about you only help me with the lunch business from now on, and I’ll hire Douzi to assist me in the evenings?”

“But…”

“No buts this time,” Qin Xia said firmly, a rare show of assertiveness.

Three months had already passed since the original timeline, and since Yu Jiuque was receiving treatment in this version of events, Qin Xia figured his recovery might be quicker. However, the truth was, he no longer cared if the story stuck to the original plot or if Yu Jiuque left sooner. His concern now was solely for Yu Jiuque’s health.

Yu Jiuque hesitated, wanting to say something, but ultimately, he didn’t argue further. However, it was clear he was preoccupied for the rest of the walk.

It wasn’t far from Banqiao Street to Furong Alley, only about the time it takes to drink two cups of tea.

Qin Xia took out the key to unlock the door, but after removing the lock and pushing the door open, he noticed that Yu Jiuque was still a few steps away, lost in thought.

The moonlight bathed the little ge’er in a soft glow, casting a melancholic shadow on his expression.

“Ah jiu?” Qin Xia called softly.

Yu Jiuque snapped out of his reverie. He lifted the hem of his winter robe, which fell to his ankles, and took a few steps forward, crossing the threshold.

Qin Xia turned back to bolt the door and lock it from the inside. Although theft was rare in Furong Alley, it was better to be cautious.

Yu Jiuque stood beside him, hesitating before he spoke. “I was just thinking, the night market is busy, and you and Douzi might not be able to handle it alone. If you don’t want me to stay up late, how about I go with you and come back early?”

Qin Xia couldn’t help but laugh. “So you’ve been quiet all this time because you were worried about that? Alright, we’ll do as you suggest.”

Qin Xia had realized by now that Yu Jiuque was stubborn. If he didn’t agree, Yu Jiuque would probably be too restless to sleep.

Yu Jiuque smiled, dimples appearing on his cheeks, making him look both obedient and innocent.

After securing the door, they walked side by side through the courtyard. As Qin Xia started toward the kitchen, Yu Jiuque’s smile faded, replaced by a complex and conflicted expression.

He gently pinched the bridge of his nose before heading to the main room, his back weighed down with a heavy burden.

Lately, his nightmares had eased somewhat, but they hadn’t entirely disappeared. The fragments of dreams were slowly piecing together into coherent scenes, leading to persistent headaches during the day.

Understanding that this issue couldn’t be solved by just a few doses of medicine or some medicinal food, Yu Jiuque decided not to trouble Qin Xia with it.

He knew that Qin Xia was concerned about his health and wished for his speedy recovery to spare him from suffering. But all of this didn’t change the fact that Yu Jiuque feared the day he fully recovered, the day his memories returned.

He also feared that the memories in his dreams might be based on real experiences.

In those dreams, there were palaces with nine layers.

He rubbed the calluses on his thumb, feeling that his past and future were both shrouded in fog.