Chapter 50
The next day, Xia Yi was woken by Qilin’s enthusiastic licking. He groggily woke up, pushing away the large dog head in front of him, and sleepily reached out beside him—no one was there.
He glanced outside the window. The sun was already high in the sky; it was almost noon.
After getting up and washing, Xia Yi wandered around the courtyard, but there wasn’t a single person in sight. However, on the table, he found the breakfast Gu Wenzhu had left for him.
Lifting the food cover, he saw three steaming hot steamed buns and some congee, along with a plate of pickled vegetables and salted duck eggs.
This breakfast was clearly made by Gu Wenzhu.
The steamed buns were massive, each one about the size of a small ball.
Just as Xia Yi finished eating and put down his bowl, Gu Wenzhu entered the courtyard from outside, carrying a hoe on one shoulder and holding a tray in the other hand.
On the tray were neatly folded clothes in familiar colors and patterns. Xia Yi immediately recognized them as a set of Qishan uniforms.
Gu Wenzhu’s forehead was covered in fine sweat, and his shirt was soaked through—clearly, he had just come back from working in the fields.
“Brother Zhu, did you go dig up Liu Sixian’s medicine field again?” Xia Yi choked on a mouthful of steamed bun.
You extravagant wife! No matter how rich we are or how many onions we have, we can’t afford for you to keep digging up the fields like this every day.
Sooner or later, we’ll lose it all.
Gu Wenzhu hesitated for a moment, then quickly explained, “No, I went for a walk early this morning and ran into a few guys. One of them had seen me with your senior brothers yesterday and recognized me. They pointed out a piece of wasteland at the foot of the back mountain and suggested I cultivate it. So I spent the morning clearing a plot of land, planning to grow some of your favorite food.”
After saying this, he placed the tray on the table and pulled out the Qishan uniform. “I also ran into Liu Sixian, who gave me this change of clothes.” He thought for a moment before adding, “I’ll make him a new set after he moves to our place.”
With that, Gu Wenzhu went to the washroom to clean up.
Xia Yi finally breathed a sigh of relief and resumed eating.
At least he wasn’t digging up the medicine field again.
When Gu Wenzhu emerged from the washroom, dressed in the Qishan uniform, Xia Yi was completely stunned.
With a steamed bun still in his mouth and a bowl of congee in his hands, he stared dumbfounded at Gu Wenzhu.
Normally, Brother Zhu wore the simple, rustic clothes everyone in the village wore—plain blue or dark blue outfits, simple and unremarkable.
But he was tall and handsome, and even in those plain farmer’s clothes, he looked strikingly good. Now that he had changed into the Qishan uniform, he looked even more elegant and distinguished.
It was as if he had swapped a baggy school uniform for a custom-tailored suit.
The clean lines and smooth cut of the uniform accentuated Gu Wenzhu’s perfect physique. The embroidered waistband highlighted his slim, strong waist.
Gu Wenzhu, noticing Xia Yi staring at him, looked slightly uncomfortable and worried that something was off with his outfit. He discreetly reached out to tug at his sleeve.
Xia Yi set down his bowl of congee, swallowed the steamed bun, then leisurely picked up a cloth to wipe the corner of his mouth and took a sip of tea.
He seemed calm and unhurried, completely at ease.
But the entire time, his eyes were fixed on Gu Wenzhu, growing brighter and brighter, as if they were filled with light.
That familiar look in his eyes…
Seeing that Xia Yi’s gaze had shifted toward the intricately carved bed, Gu Wenzhu knew something was wrong.
When he saw Xia Yi slowly smile at him, a smile full of tempting sweetness, Gu Wenzhu couldn’t help but glance at the high-hanging sun outside, feeling a pang of unease.
Before Xia Yi could use that sweet voice to say, “Zhu Ge, let’s go have some fun on the bed,” Gu Wenzhu quickly took a few steps forward, grasping Xia Yi’s shoulders with both hands, and solemnly said, “Xiao Yi, let’s do something meaningful. Let’s go farm now.”
Farm? Xia Yi, his mind filled with less appropriate thoughts, couldn’t immediately process the idea.
*
At the foot of the mountain was a large, flat, barren piece of land, and a small part had already been tilled by Gu Wenzhu.
“It’s a pity. I asked the guy who brought me here, and he said the sect doesn’t have oxen or plows. Otherwise, I could have tilled more in just a morning,” Gu Wenzhu said with some regret, turning to Xia Yi.
“I’ve already prepared the soil and fertilized it with plant ashes. Now, you should rest under that tree’s shade, and I’ll fetch water. The land’s been barren, so we need to prepare it. Don’t you love boiled corn? Once the soil’s ready, I’ll plant some for you.”
After speaking, Gu Wenzhu tucked the hem of his robe into his waistband and started toward a nearby well to fetch water.
“Why bother carrying water? Aren’t you like the Dragon King who can control water? Just pull the water from the well,” Xia Yi quickly suggested.
So, Gu Wenzhu stood in place, focused his energy, and suddenly, the well made a gushing sound. A silver column of water shot up into the sky.
The water hovered steadily in the air before turning toward them. It then stopped above the plot of land and slowly spread out into a sheet, covering the entire area.
Finally, the water broke up into tiny droplets that gently fell like rain over the ground.
Gu Wenzhu, you’re amazing.
Xia Yi watched with delight and awe at the sight before him.
Gu Wenzhu turned his head, his gaze deep and focused on Xia Yi. “See, during the day, we should do things meant for the day, like farming. The things meant for nighttime are better left for the night—they have more meaning that way.”
Xia Yi, still watching the artificial rain, nodded absentmindedly at Gu Wenzhu’s words.
It was only after a moment that he started to process what Gu Wenzhu had really meant.
What did he mean by ‘nighttime things are better left for the night’?
Suspiciously, Xia Yi slowly turned to look at Gu Wenzhu, his gaze sweeping up and down.
Sensing Xia Yi’s eyes on him, Gu Wenzhu forced himself to remain calm. He maintained an expression of indifference, looking straight ahead, though his hands were nervously clenched into fists.
Xia Yi let out a cold chuckle, and Gu Wenzhu couldn’t help but shudder inside. He kept his gaze forward but instinctively asked, “Xiao Yi, why are you staring at me?”
“I’m staring because I feel like doing something meaningful with you,” Xia Yi said with a blank expression.
Gu Wenzhu stammered, struggling to resist the temptation. “Xiao Yi, I… I…”
Xia Yi extended a fair finger and gently hooked it around Gu Wenzhu’s waistband. He slightly narrowed his eyes, his long lashes half-covering the autumn-like gaze, making it even more alluring.
Leaning in close to Gu Wenzhu’s ear, Xia Yi softly blew, pleased to see goosebumps immediately rise on his neck. In a husky voice, Xia Yi asked, “So, are you going to do it or not?”
Gu Wenzhu took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and said, “I’ll do it.” He then turned and started walking back toward the courtyard.
After a couple of steps, he heard Xia Yi laughing behind him. Turning back, he hoisted Xia Yi over his shoulder, and in a mix of frustration and amusement, gave him a light smack on his shapely backside. “Back inside.”
*
After the “clouds cleared and the rain stopped,” Xia Yi lazily lay in Gu Wenzhu’s arms, playing with a strand of his hair that had fallen onto his chest.
“Brother Zhu, were you a really serious and proper kid when you were younger?” Xia Yi suddenly flipped over, curiously looking up at Gu Wenzhu.
Gu Wenzhu frowned, thinking back, “I guess so. I didn’t really enjoy playing with the other boys in the village.”
“So what did you do all day?”
“I would wake up before dawn to walk to the neighboring village’s school to learn to read. After class, I’d help my father with the farming or assist my mother in feeding the chickens and geese.”
The “mother” Gu Wenzhu referred to was his stepmother, who was Xia Yi’s aunt.
“What a well-behaved kid,” Xia Yi sighed. “I was the complete opposite—always causing trouble and giving my parents headaches.”
At this, a hint of sadness surfaced in Xia Yi’s heart, and memories began to flood his mind.
Like the time he got in trouble at school and had to bring his parents in. He had thought he’d dodged punishment when his father simply patted his shoulder, but once home, he’d been met with a thorough scolding. Afterward, as he cried, his father brought him a bowl of noodles, with two eggs nestled at the bottom.
He also remembered finding a big red envelope under his pillow on New Year’s morning, his mother squinting at a lamp as she knitted him a gray sweater, and the family photo on the living room wall, next to a certificate he’d won in a children’s art competition.
He had never thought that one day, all those little moments would suddenly and cruelly be cut off.
Xia Yi flipped onto his back, covering his face with his hands as tears began to fall uncontrollably, a sob escaping from his throat.
Gu Wenzhu quickly sat up, panicked, and tried to pry Xia Yi’s hands away from his face, anxiously asking, “Xiao Yi, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
Xia Yi shook his head, eyes closed, as the tears continued to stream down.
Gu Wenzhu stared at him, unable to hide his worry. “Xiao Yi, please tell me what’s wrong. Don’t make me worry.”
Xia Yi spoke in a shaky voice, “I just… just… miss my parents.”
“Are you sure it’s just that, and you don’t feel unwell in any other way?” Gu Wenzhu asked again to confirm.
“Yes.” Xia Yi nodded.
Gu Wenzhu lifted him up slightly, wrapping him tightly in a blanket, then cradled him in his arms like a baby, gently patting him. “Didn’t I tell you before? You had your parents to spoil you for the first ten years, and for the next eighty, I’ll be the one to spoil you.”
“But… but I still miss them,” Xia Yi sobbed.
He then buried his face in Gu Wenzhu’s chest and began to cry loudly.
Like a child, he wailed, his fingers tightly gripping Gu Wenzhu’s arm as his shoulders and back shook violently. His tears quickly soaked through the clothes where his face was pressed.
That year, he had borne the most painful loss of his life alone.
From the moment his parents passed away, through organizing the entire funeral, he hadn’t shed a tear. Contacting the funeral home, buying a burial plot, informing relatives and friends, arranging the burial… everything was handled methodically.
He had forcibly suppressed all his pain, loneliness, and grief deep inside.
Even after the funeral, returning to an empty home by himself, he wouldn’t let himself dwell on it.
It was the only way he could manage to keep living.
But today, in Gu Wenzhu’s embrace, he finally let down that armored facade.
The part of him that stood solemnly before the graves, watching as his parents’ urns were slowly buried under shovel after shovel of earth without shedding a single tear, finally broke down in front of the person he loved, allowing himself to cry freely.
Gu Wenzhu held Xia Yi tightly, listening to his sobs, feeling as if his heart had been torn open, trembling with pain.
He could only kiss the top of Xia Yi’s head over and over, softly patting his back, his eyes red, saying in a choked voice, “You’ve cried today, so you won’t need to cry anymore. You have me, and I’ll always be with you.”
Qilin pushed open the door quietly and came inside, lying obediently by the bed and resting its chin on Xia Yi’s leg.
Then, it nudged Xia Yi, who was wrapped up in the blanket like a cocoon, with its head, looking at him with concern.
In Xia Yi’s mind, 179 was also sniffling tearfully.
Xia Yi gradually calmed down, now only breathing unevenly. After a long while, he lifted his head, noticing the large wet patch on Gu Wenzhu’s chest, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“Wenzhu, in this world, I also have parents. They look exactly like my real parents. I want to go see them,” Xia Yi said, his voice hoarse, still thick with the sound of crying.
“You have parents here too? What do you mean by that?” Gu Wenzhu was a little confused.
Xia Yi’s eyes and nose were still red, and his eyelashes were clumped together with tears.
“Do you remember when we went to the mountain to pick mushrooms, and I said I saw my parents? That time I actually crossed over briefly and saw two people who looked like my parents calling my name. In this world, I am their son, and my name is also Xia Yi. Ever since I crossed over, the other Xia Yi hasn’t been heard from. I feel like I am him, and he is me.”
“So that’s how it is,” Gu Wenzhu murmured. “Alright, then let’s go see them, go visit your parents.”
He gently smoothed out Xia Yi’s messy hair with deep affection. “Let’s get changed first, and then we’ll go right now.”
