Chapter 81: Shyness
Since Qiu Henian left, Qingyan had been telling himself not to cry, to take care of the house, and manage the business well.
Without the blacksmith shop open, there was no income. Qingyan didn’t want to touch the family’s savings; he had to support the household.
Aunt Li and Qiuniang were also counting on their shop for a better life. Qingyan didn’t want to let them down.
During the period when letters from the Fengyu Pass stopped, whenever Aunt Li mentioned Qiu Henian, Qingyan couldn’t hold back his tears. But not wanting them to worry too much, he could only silently shed tears in restraint.
Now, in the familiar and warm embrace, Qingyan could finally cry freely, letting out all the worries, restlessness, and grievances of these days.
Qiu Henian repeatedly stroked his back and occasionally kissed his cheeks and ears. Qingyan’s tears soaked through his thin clothes, scalding his skin under the single garment, as if burning into his heart.
When the person on his shoulder stopped crying heavily and just choked up occasionally, Qiu Henian pinched Qingyan’s chin to make him lift his head.
However, Qingyan refused, burying his face tightly in his neck.
Qiu Henian whispered in his ear, “What’s wrong?”
Qingyan extended a hand and said softly, “Need a cloth to wipe my face.”
Qiu Henian chuckled and stood up while holding him, and the person in his arms quickly hugged his neck tightly, legs tightly wrapped around his waist, afraid of falling.
Qiu Henian looked down and saw that due to the posture, Qingyan’s robe was tightly pressed against his body. His waist was as slim as one could wrap with just one hand, and the places that should have flesh were round and plump.
He withdrew his gaze, lifted Qingyan, and supported him. He carried Qingyan to the basin stand, took a cloth with one hand, washed it in the basin, squeezed it dry, then returned to the edge of the bed, sitting down while still holding the hand that had supported Qingyan’s head. He just moved it up a bit naturally.
Qingyan extended his hand again, and Qiu Henian placed the cloth in his palm. The cloth was taken away and pressed against the moist face in his neck hollow, but he kept his head low, unwilling to let Qiu Henian see.
In that small space, he rubbed the cloth meticulously, like grooming a small animal’s fur.
After wiping his face, Qiu Henian felt his collar gently pushed aside by fingers, and the cloth carefully wiped his neck and shoulder.
Qiu Henian smiled, lowered his head, and kissed Qingyan’s head.
Only then did Qingyan lift his face, still trembling slightly as he looked at him.
Qiu Henian looked at his tear-stained face and felt a slight ache in his heart.
He touched his tender red cheek and asked softly, “Still want to cry?”
Qingyan shook his head, and Qiu Henian focused on his lips.
His Adam’s apple moved, and he said, “Then… I want to kiss you now.”
Qingyan didn’t speak, just looked at him tearfully, relying on him.
As Qiu Henian approached, their breaths mingled, but Qingyan raised his hand to stop the man’s shoulder.
Qiu Henian’s body stiffened slightly.
He looked down at Qingyan and said, “Do you still think I’m a fox spirit from the wilderness?”
Qingyan’s cheeks reddened even more.
He lowered his head and stammered, “You’re too good-looking. I’m not used to it.”
Qiu Henian laughed, pinched his chin, and made him lift his head, somewhat forcefully lowering his head to kiss him.
They kissed for who knows how long.
When the kiss ended, Qiu Henian hugged Qingyan tightly, continuously pecking his temples gently, repeating in a hoarse voice the sentence he wanted to write in every letter, “Qingyan, I miss you so much.”
…
To get home as soon as possible, Qiu Henian took a faster route back than the one he had taken.
Qingyan asked him to lie down and rest on the bed, and Qiu Henian was indeed tired. After kissing him again, he lay down as instructed.
Qingyan lowered the bed curtains and securely closed the door to the inner room, then began bustling around in the outer room.
He kneaded the dough and prepared the steamer.
Qiu Henian had mentioned lamb and potato stuffed buns several times before going to the northwest. Now that he had stopped taking medicine and could eat anything, Qingyan was preparing to steam a pot of large buns for him.
After kneading the dough, Qingyan washed his hands, took off his apron, and carried a basket to the village’s butcher shop to cut two pounds of lamb leg.
It was dinner time now, and people were buying meat in the butcher shop. Qingyan entered and greeted, “Auntie Yao, we’ll stew meat tonight!”
The elderly woman holding a two or three-year-old child smiled and said, “Buy a small piece of minced pork. I want to steam egg custard for the child.”
Qingyan praised, “Auntie Yao really knows how to enjoy life.”
Aunt Yao saw him picking such a large piece of lamb leg and weighed it, couldn’t help but be surprised, “Qingyan, can you finish eating so much meat by yourself? Winter is still far from freezing, you can’t keep it too long.”
Qingyan looked up at her and smiled. His eyelashes trembled, his eyes filled with tenderness and joy as he said, “My husband Henian is back, and he wants to eat lamb buns.”
Aunt Yao exclaimed, “Oh,” and smiled, “Has your husband recovered from his illness?”
Qingyan nodded, saying, “He’s all better now.”
Aunt Yao sighed, “I didn’t dare ask before, for fear you’d be upset. Now it’s finally better. You two are good people and will have good fortune. From now on, your days will be sweet!”
Qingyan wiped his eyes and smiled, “Thank you for your kind words.”
With that, he patted himself down, took out two sugar cubes from his pocket, and bent down to stuff them into the hands of the three or four-year-old child.
Aunt Yao smiled even more warmly at this.
After buying the lamb, Qingyan carried it home in the basket.
At home, he minced all the lamb meat, cut the potatoes into strips, soaked them in water, and mixed them with the minced meat.
When he uncovered the basin of dough, it had already risen. The room was warm, so the dough rose quickly.
In the afternoon, Qingyan unknowingly burned too much firewood, and the heat in the house still hadn’t dissipated. No wonder Qiu Henian said the house felt like it was on fire.
Thinking of this, Qingyan blushed.
The buns were quickly wrapped up, and it didn’t take long at all.
Qingyan uncovered the pot, added enough water, placed the sickles and cloth, and arranged the buns one by one to proof.
Then he started busying himself with slicing pork into strips, preparing to stir-fry bean sprouts.
With all the ingredients ready, Qingyan was about to start the fire on the stove when suddenly, the door to the inner room squeaked open.
Qingyan looked up and saw Qiu Henian walking out. He was dressed in the gray single-layer clothing he often wore at home, his hair neatly tied up with a hair tie.
“Do you need to start the stove? I’ll do it,” Qiu Henian glanced over and squatted down, taking over the task from Qingyan.
He skillfully put the firewood and coal into the stove in three or two movements. When he turned to find a flint, he noticed Qingyan staring blankly at his face.
Qiu Henian’s movements paused for a moment. After looking at Qingyan for a while, he leaned in to kiss him. Qingyan instinctively moved back, realizing his mistake, and quickly stopped himself.
Qiu Henian still leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
After the kiss, he smiled helplessly and said, “Now I’m starting to envy my past self with scars on his face!”
Spoiler for the Next Chapter:
Subconsciously reaching out beside him, he found only himself in bed; it was empty next to him.
