It's good that you're back.
In Shen Yan's kitchen stove, the flames were burning brightly, crackling and popping.
The light illuminated the small kitchen, making it warm and bright, dispelling the damp and cold gloom brought back from the river.
A large iron pot sat on the stove, with thick white steam billowing from the edge of the lid.
The boiling water gurgled and tumbled happily inside, filling the air with steam and a comforting warmth.
Shen Yan had a stern face, with lingering anger and a hint of grievance between his brows, but his movements were swift and decisive.
He picked up the sturdy wooden bucket, scooped up boiling water, added some of the cool well water from the nearby vat, and quickly tested the temperature with the back of his hand. His brow immediately furrowed in displeasure—not hot enough! What was the point of dispelling the chill! Without a word, he added another ladleful of boiling water, only stopping when his fingertips recoiled from the heat the moment they touched the surface. Then, carrying the half-full bucket of scalding, steaming water, he trudged into the inner room.
In the corner of the inner room, a brand-new, half-person-high cypress bathtub stood quietly, its thick walls emitting a faint scent of pine.
This was made by Li the carpenter after Shen Yan complained a few days ago that "it's not a pleasant place to take a bath."
At this moment, it has become the best safe haven.
Splash—
Boiling water was poured into the bathtub, creating an even thicker cloud of steam that instantly filled the small space, blurring the view. Shen Yan went out and brought in two more buckets of hot water, continuing until the water in the tub reached a level he considered hot enough to "force the cold air out of your bones" before stopping.
The room was filled with steam, and the temperature rose rapidly, making it so warm that it made people feel dizzy.
"Go in!"
With his back to Ling Zhan, he pointed at the steaming bathtub, his tone harsh, as if issuing an ultimatum. Only a barely perceptible blush crept onto his ears amidst the rising steam and mist, betraying his inner turmoil.
Ling Zhan didn't speak.
She was wrapped in that oversized gray cotton-padded coat that Chen Yan disliked, like a silent shadow.
The soaked coarse cloth clothes clung coldly to my body, the chill had long since seeped into my bones, and my fingertips were numb with cold.
She walked silently to the bathtub and began to unbutton her cotton-padded coat.
A faint scraping sound arose.
Shen Yan felt as if he'd been pricked by an invisible needle. He whirled around and practically fled, slamming the door shut with a loud bang that made the frame vibrate. He stood against the cold door in the warm kitchen, listening to the rustling of clothes being removed, followed by the splashing of water—
She finally immersed herself in the hot water.
Only then did Shen Yan let out a long, silent exhale of the stale air that had been accumulating in his chest since he arrived at the riverbank. His shoulders, which had been taut like a bowstring, instantly collapsed, and his tightly clenched fists slowly loosened, revealing palms that were cold, sticky, and covered in sweat.
The overwhelming fear that had overwhelmed him by anger and terror at the riverbank was now surging up like a belated tide.
The impact made his chest feel tight and his limbs feel weak.
He closed his eyes, shaking his head violently, trying to dispel the terrifying images in his mind of "the raft instantly falling apart" and "people being swallowed by the turbid waves." However, what weighed heavily on his heart was the icy feeling of being completely excluded. She went down the mountain to buy those dangerous tools capable of splitting mountains and shattering rocks... and didn't even go inside her own home?
Why wouldn't you even bother to greet him?
What does he mean to her?
What is this so-called "home" anyway?
Is it a post station that doesn't even deserve a place to rest?
Frustrated, he ruffled his still messy, sweaty hair.
Shen Yan cursed under her breath: "Stubborn mule! Stupid woman! Heartless lump of stone..."
His voice, however, had lost much of its anger, leaving only a deep weariness from surviving a close call, an indescribable heartache, and a heavy, unsettling sense of loss. He walked to the stove, picked up the ladle, scooped up some boiling water, went to the door, and growled impatiently through the door:
"Squeak up if the water gets cold! Don't pretend to be dead and freeze into an icicle!"
After shouting, without waiting for any response from inside, he placed the hot water ladle steadily on the small stool by the door.
Make sure she can reach it within arm's reach.
After doing all this, he seemed to have exhausted all his strength!
He dragged a small stool from the corner of the kitchen, plopped down, and stared blankly at the orange-red flames leaping in the stove.
After venting my anger and calming down, a belated sense of guilt slowly crept into my heart.
That was reckless!
How could he have forgotten? This person… could fight wolves bare-handed, and could kill him with a single finger! Just now by the river, his furious outburst, pointing fingers and spittle flying… sent a chill down Shen Yan's spine, and he subconsciously touched his throat. Tsk, still alive, truly a blessing from his ancestors… no, is it because Madam Ling is in a good mood?!
Just then, a commotion and heavy footsteps came from the courtyard, mixed with Li Qingshan's steady and clear command: "Here! Put it down gently! Put it in a dry place under the eaves! Yes, against the wall! Shuanzi, go to the storeroom and find some thick tarpaulins to cover it. Be careful, don't let dust or dampness get on the iron!"
Shen Yan shook off the horrifying images in her mind, stood up, and walked to the door.
The huge wicker basket had already been carried into the courtyard by several strong young men and placed steadily on the dry ground under the eaves. Li Qingshan was carefully lifting a corner of the basket's lid to look inside.
The lid was lifted, revealing cold, hard metal with a dark, eerie sheen—an incredibly heavy axe with a blade that gleamed with a menacing light; a heavy pickaxe with a sharp point and considerable weight; and several large iron shovels, as thick as an arm and with one end sharpened to an exceptionally sharp point, stacked heavily together.
At the very bottom were several unforged, dark, heavy iron ingots, exuding a palpable sense of weight.
"Young Master Shen, everything is here! As you instructed, handle it with care to ensure nothing goes wrong."
Li Qingshan put down the lid, turned to Shen Yan, and said with genuine awe, "Good heavens, this weight... Madam Ling is truly awe-inspiring! Old Wu, the blacksmith in town, even mentioned that Madam Ling carried this whole basket of ironware with one hand and left, leaving his apprentices speechless with astonishment!"
His tone was full of admiration, clearly an attempt to ease the tension and express his respect for Ling Zhan.
His weary gaze swept over the rough, cold, and powerful ironware, and his brows furrowed unconsciously.
Hearing "Old Wu, the blacksmith from town," the pent-up frustration and bitterness that had just been suppressed by lingering fear welled up again—
See, I'm hearing about her from someone else again!
He pursed his lips, not responding to the conversation about "what I saw in town".
He simply nodded to Li Qingshan, his tone rather indifferent.
"Yes. Thank you for your hard work, Li Lizheng and the brothers. I'll treat everyone to drinks another day."
"Young Master Shen, you're too kind. It's just my duty."
Li Qingshan cupped his hands in farewell and led his men away briskly.
The courtyard fell silent, with only the crackling of the flames in the stove remaining.
Shen Yan walked to the wicker basket and reached out to grasp the rough wooden handle of a machete.
It feels heavy and cool to the touch, with the rough wood grain rubbing against your palm.
He weighed it in his hand, then bent down and picked up a rough iron ingot with sharp edges. Its astonishing weight made his arm suddenly feel heavy, and he almost dropped it.
He tried his best to stay calm.
Try to imagine how Ling Zhan carried these cold, heavy things down the steep mountain all by himself.
No matter how firmly they were bound to those few "broken logs" made of raft, battling the spring floods...
The complex emotions in my heart—a mixture of awe, frustration, lingering fear, and a touch of inexplicable heartache—churned even more violently.
He put down the heavy iron ingot.
His gaze inadvertently fell on a faint but deeply recessed fingerprint on the edge of one of the iron ingots, and his pupils contracted slightly.
That takes a lot of finger strength...
"snort!"
"A reckless woman with only brute strength!"
He snorted loudly a few times!
She seemed to be sulking, or perhaps she was struggling with herself, forcibly swallowing back the habitual "wild woman."
He turned and walked back to the warm kitchen, the constant sound of water in the inner room like a reassuring background noise.
Then look at the pile of ironware under the eaves, a symbol of a big step forward in the plan and a testament to her adventure.
The last vestiges of anger and grievance on Shen Yan's face were finally replaced by a more complex and tender emotion—
A deep sense of helplessness, relief after the ordeal, a sense of security that the plan could proceed, and a touch of resigned acceptance.
never mind.
It's good that people can come back safe and sound.
He sat back down on the small stool, casually pulled a thin twig from the firewood pile beside the stove, and unconsciously traced lines on the warm, damp ground beneath his feet. One line, two lines… a winding boundary… quickly outlining the general shape of the barren slope behind the village that desperately needed cultivation.
With these handy big tools... the progress of land reclamation can be greatly accelerated... fertile fields can be cultivated, water can be drawn... and the children can have more full meals in winter... He drew on the map on the ground, staring intently at the "map" on the ground, the corners of his mouth curving upwards almost imperceptibly, with a hint of anticipation for the future.
He quickly became aware of that tiny curve and forcibly flattened it, as if unwilling to admit who had given rise to this expectation.
Well, considering how useful the things she brought back really are... considering that she's currently soaking safely in his scalding hot water that can "force out the cold"... next time! Next time... he doesn't know what he can do next time.
But his gaze kept drifting to the tightly closed inner room door, which was filled with steam.
The fire in the stove burned even brighter, casting shadows on his profile.
"Mother! Has Mother returned?"
One after another, clear, childlike voices accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps approached from afar.
Like a flock of birds returning to their nest, they instantly broke the tranquility of the courtyard.
Shen Yan looked up and saw his little ones swarming in through the fence gate. Leading them was the increasingly robust Tiger, and Little Stone, who was already six years old and whose face showed the most obvious anxiety and worry. They had obviously been alarmed by the news brought back by the adults who had been watching the commotion by the river, and had run all the way back.
"father!"
Tiger spotted Shen Yan at the kitchen door and rushed in like a cannonball, his little face flushed with anxiety.
"Where's Mother? They...they said Mother came back on the raft? She fell into the river? She's soaking wet?" Little Stone followed closely behind, his voice trembling with tears. Several other children squeezed in, chattering excitedly, their voices filled with fear.
"Is Mother cold?"
"Is Mother alright?!"
"Wow...Mom..."
Looking at the group of little ones who had instantly filled the kitchen and were making a racket like a boiling pot, Shen Yan's rare, comforting mood was instantly disrupted, replaced by a familiar sense of annoyance. He immediately put a finger to his lips, lowering his voice but with an undeniable sternness: "Shh—! What's all the noise about! Trying to lift the roof off?! Your mother's taking a bath in there to warm herself up! Be quiet!"
He pointed to the closed door of the inner room, his tone still unpleasant, tinged with displeasure:
"Fell into the river? Humph, no! Your mother is tough as nails! She dared to brave the Dragon King's wrathful spring flood with a rickety raft, she's got some serious skills!" As she spoke, the harrowing scene by the river resurfaced in her mind, and the lingering fear and anger in her voice resurfaced.
The children shrank back in shock at his shout, like a flock of frightened quails.
But hearing that her mother was taking a bath to warm herself up, and catching the crucial information that she "didn't fall into the river," the fear in her big eyes finally subsided considerably, replaced by worry and anxiety. The older children sensibly covered their mouths, while the younger ones were gestured by Tiger to keep their mouths tightly shut. In an instant, the kitchen was filled with quiet little heads, all eyes gazing expectantly at that mysterious door, filled with silent concern.
The continuous sound of water in the inner room finally stopped.
After a moment of silence, the door creaked open a crack. Ling Zhan had changed into a clean set of coarse cloth clothes. His hair was still wet and hanging loosely over his shoulders, with water droplets still dripping from the ends. His face was still somewhat pale, but his eyes were clear, dispelling his previous fatigue.
Warm, humid steam seeped out from under the door, carrying the faint scent of soapberry.
"mother!"
The children instantly became excited and instinctively wanted to surge forward, with Little Stone being particularly eager.
"Stop right there! All of you, stay right there and don't move!"
Shen Yan reacted extremely quickly, like a mother hen instantly going on alert to protect her chicks. She abruptly stood up, spread her arms, and used her body to completely shield the excited children behind her. "I just came out of the bath! I'm all wet and chilly! Nobody is allowed to get close! What if they catch a cold from the chill?!"
He turned his head and glared fiercely at Ling Zhan by the door. His gaze swept over her long, wet hair, and his anger flared up again. "You didn't even dry your hair! Are you waiting to have such a headache tomorrow that you'll want to bang your head against the wall?!"
His tone was so fierce it could scare a child to tears, but his movements were astonishingly fast—he grabbed another thick, dry cloth from the stove, strode over, and without a word, draped it over Ling Zhan's head, kneading it roughly and haphazardly like dough, as if he wanted to brutally absorb all the troublesome moisture.
Ling Zhan's head shook uncontrollably as he was being rubbed, but he didn't resist. He just tilted his head slightly, his gaze passing over Shen Yan's shoulders, which were heaving with the movement, and calmly looked at the group of children who were being yelled at by their father but were still staring at her expectantly.
"It's okay. The water's hot." Her voice was slightly hoarse from the bath, yet it had a strangely comforting power.
"Mom, are your hands still cold?"
A little girl, about five or six years old, with pigtails, asked in a soft voice, her big eyes filled with pure worry, timidly extending her small hand. Ling Zhan reached out his hand; his fingertips were indeed slightly cool. The little girl immediately wanted to warm them with her own hands.
"What do you mean it's cold! It's been soaking in scalding hot water and you still think it's cold?! You're so delicate!"
Shen Yan gently slapped away the girl's outstretched hand, cursing mercilessly as if disgusted by her pointless worry. However, before the cursing had even finished, his hand seemed to have a mind of its own, abruptly moving away from Ling Zhan's head and grabbing her still slightly cold hand! He tightly enveloped it with his warm, even slightly sweaty palm, rubbing it vigorously and quickly a few times with a hint of venting his anger, until he felt the annoying coolness quickly dissipate with the heat of his palm, turning it warm.
After doing this, Shen Yan suddenly let go of his hand as if he had burned himself, as if it were a branding iron.
A blush quickly spread across the base of her ears.
He immediately turned to the children as if to cover up his embarrassment, raising his voice to a higher level, with a hint of feigned anger:
"What are you all standing here like wooden stakes for?! Go do what you're supposed to be doing! Have you finished pulling up the weeds in the field?! Have you fed the chickens?! Daya, take your younger siblings to feed the chickens! Huzi, go check the woodpile in the backyard! If it's not enough, hurry up and chop some! Don't stand here getting in the way!"
Shen Yan is usually very sweet-talking and patient with the children, and rarely speaks so harshly.
He roared, but strangely, the children weren't afraid. Instead, seeing their mother safe and sound and even speaking, and witnessing their father's blustering yet cowardly and flustered appearance, the tension and worry on their little faces completely vanished. They looked at each other and burst into laughter, responding crisply:
"Okay, Dad!"
"Time to feed the chickens!"
"It's good that Mother is alright!"
They pushed and shoved each other, scattering like a flock of happy little ducks.
Shen Yan watched the children run away before finally letting out a long, genuine sigh of relief, her tense nerves relaxing.
He turned around and saw that Ling Zhan had already dried his wet hair halfway, and the ends of his hair were no longer dripping wet.
She walked straight to the huge wicker basket under the eaves, reached out and lifted a corner of the oilcloth covering it, leaned slightly forward, and looked intently inside, her fingers unconsciously brushing against the cold iron edge.
"What are you looking at! You think you can grow wings and fly?! You're drying your wet hair, all that hot bath you just took wasted! You're so stupid!"
Shen Yan immediately reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, yelling angrily at her back, but his feet followed her involuntarily.
His gaze swept back and forth between her slightly damp hair and the cold metal, his brows furrowing into a knot.
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