The Cannon Fodder Top is Still Raising His Husband Today [Transmigration] - Chapter 6

Song Chazai left immediately after delivering the meal. With Song Bo there, Jiang Jinxi did not need her care. Most of the bad mood she had arrived with had vanished; she popped the candy Song Bo had given her into her mouth. For an eighteen-year-old youth, he had finally done something that made her happy.

Jiang Jinxi looked at the medicinal soup in his hand, which was still radiating heat. He swallowed hard, held his breath, raised the bowl, and drank it down. Even though he had already taken it twice before, this third time was still so bitter it made his mouth go numb.

The medicine Song Bo’s eldest aunt had gathered must truly be a miraculous cure; otherwise, why would it be so agonizingly bitter?

As Jiang Jinxi set the bowl down, before he could even react, a round object was suddenly stuffed into his mouth. He licked it; it was very sweet. He had eaten this before back at his own home; it was sugar.

Song Bo snatched the bowl from Jiang Jinxi’s hand, looking quite impatient. “Taking forever just to drink some medicine,” he muttered.

The man’s tongue was sharp and his movements were brusque, yet he had tucked a piece of candy into Jiang Jinxi’s mouth.

Jiang Jinxi hid under the covers. The bitterness in his mouth had already been overtaken by the cloying sweetness of the sugar. This house looked dilapidated and certainly would not have a stockpile of sweets; thinking of it this way, the candy he was eating must have been bought by the man today.

Did he buy sugar specifically for me?

“This sugar, did you buy it today?” Jiang Jinxi asked, half of his face covered by the quilt, leaving only his two round eyes peering out.

Although he had indeed bought it today, Song Bo was not about to say that. He still needed to maintain his “scoundrel” persona to keep Jiang Jinxi in awe. “Don’t you know how expensive sugar is?”

“Then,” Jiang Jinxi started.

“Don’t worry about where it came from, just eat it.” With that, Song Bo left the room carrying the medicine bowl in one hand and the rice and flour he bought today in the other, leaving only a small, opened packet of sugar on the table.

Jiang Jinxi looked at the sugar on the table. The craftsmanship was simple, so the price would not be very high, but that was relative to noble families. For ordinary folk, unless the household had spare cash, it was impossible to keep something like sugar, which did not fill the stomach, in the house.

Jiang Jinxi rolled the candy around with his tongue. The sweet sensation improved his mood. This “home” seemed a bit better than he had imagined.

Song Bo entered the kitchen, washed the bowl first, and then began tidying up. There was no vat for the rice, so it had to stay in the burlap sack for now. He placed the remaining seasonings on the platform next to the stove so they would be within easy reach while cooking. Earlier, the water in the tank had been fouled by Jiang Jinxi, so Song Bo had gone to the river during the day to carry fresh water and fill it up. In the evening, he could boil some to let Jiang Jinxi wash his face. A ger from a noble family like Jiang Jinxi would surely want to clean himself daily.

Starting a fire was simple in theory but complicated in practice. This place had no lighters or fire starters; he had to use primitive methods. Fortunately, there were two pieces of flint in the house. If he had to start by rubbing sticks together, Jiang Jinxi probably would not be getting hot water tonight.

Song Bo gathered some dry, thin twigs. Having never used flint, he relied on modern common sense. He struck the flints together repeatedly. After a dozen tries, a spark finally ignited the twigs.

Once there was a slight flame, Song Bo quickly used the fire tongs to drop it into the bottom of the stove and stuffed in a few more twigs, enough to help the combustion without smothering the sparks.

When Song Bo did not return for a long time, Jiang Jinxi climbed out of bed and crept toward the kitchen. After a day of rest, his body had mostly recovered; it was good to move around and see what Song Bo was doing. He tiptoed to the kitchen door, gripped the doorframe with both hands, and peeked inside. He saw Song Bo sitting on a small wooden stool, his long legs straddling either side, fanning the bottom of the stove with a small fan. The large pot on the stove was steaming, but Jiang Jinxi could not smell any food and did not know what was being cooked.

Watching the steam rise and hearing the water bubbling in the pot, Song Bo stopped fanning and stood up to get a washbasin to bring water into the room.

Seeing Song Bo about to come out, Jiang Jinxi tried to hurry back to the room in a panic. The muddy ground from the rain was still slick, and in his haste, he slipped and was about to tumble.

Just as he thought that falling and getting mud on his clothes would surely earn him a scolding from Song Bo, a long arm caught him by the waist, and he was pulled into a warm embrace.

“What are you doing here?” Song Bo asked.

Jiang Jinxi was still sick; why was he out here in the cold wind instead of staying in bed?

“I, I was just walking around,” Jiang Jinxi said timidly, his hands pressed against Song Bo’s chest.

There was no light in the yard, so Song Bo used the candlelight from the kitchen to see the face of the person in his arms. “The way you were scurrying away did not look like you were just ‘walking around,'” he remarked casually. He released his grip on Jiang Jinxi’s waist. Jiang Jinxi was truly thin; with just one arm, Song Bo’s hand reached all the way from the left side of his waist to the right.

Are all the gers in this world this light?

Jiang Jinxi took two steps back and said, “I wanted to see what my husband was doing.” When he uttered the word “husband,” Jiang Jinxi felt a bit embarrassed, but for the sake of showing weakness, he said it anyway.

No man could resist Jiang Jinxi’s attempts to please, and Song Bo was no exception. Hearing it gave him goosebumps. He turned his back and placed his hands on his lower back. “Since you’re here, go wait in the room. You’re going to wash your face.” Having Jiang Jinxi wait in the room saved him the trouble of carrying the basin back and forth.

Jiang Jinxi obediently entered the kitchen. Once he was close to the stove, he realized nothing was being cooked in the pot; it was just a pot of clear water.

It was the middle of the night; this was far too much water just for drinking. Jiang Jinxi suppressed his confusion and sat obediently on the small stool Song Bo had occupied.

Song Bo had long legs and walked fast; he was back in a minute with a basin and a face cloth. He ladled some water into a bowl for drinking first, then poured the rest into the basin. “Wash your face. I don’t want my fulang to be filthy.”

So the water was for him to wash his face. Hearing this, Jiang Jinxi’s confusion deepened. Did people in the village really have the habit of washing their faces with hot water morning and night?

Thoughts aside, Jiang Jinxi did not ask. Since Song Bo had boiled water for him, he would accept it gracefully. He reached into the water and flinched from the heat. “Hiss!”

Song Bo took a sip of water. While the temperature was hot, it was not enough to make someone cry out in pain.

Song Bo set down the bowl, helped Jiang Jinxi soak the cloth in the water, wrung it out, and handed it to him.

Jiang Jinxi took the cloth and looked up at Song Bo standing before him.

Feeling uneasy under Jiang Jinxi’s gaze, Song Bo picked up the bowl again to hide his face. “What are you looking at? Hurry up and wash.”

After Jiang Jinxi finished, Song Bo sent him back to the room first. He then took a scoop of cold water from the tank, splashed it on his own face, gave it a rub, and considered himself washed.

Carrying a bowl of water, Song Bo returned to the room. Time had slipped away during the ordeal; he let out a yawn, feeling exhausted.

The night before, Song Bo had slept by the table because half the bed was wet. Today, the bed was dry, so he saw no reason to deprive himself. He lifted the outer side of the quilt, preparing to get into bed.

This movement startled Jiang Jinxi. Remembering Song Bo’s ferocity from the previous night, he could not help but shrink toward the wall.

“Why are you hugging the wall? You’ll catch a chill.” As he spoke, Song Bo pulled Jiang Jinxi back slightly before lying down.

Autumn nights were cold, and with the drafty window, a thin quilt was useless. Song Bo was already freezing while awake; his body temperature would surely drop further once he fell asleep.

Song Bo turned over. Jiang Jinxi was still hiding; perhaps because he was nervous, his lips were slightly pale, though not yet turning purple.

He needed to find more things to cover them with, or he would collapse before he could even make much money.

There were no extra quilts in the house, so Song Bo had to use clothes. He had not had a clear idea of the wardrobe before, but now he realized how poor this household was. The material was poor, and the items were full of holes. When Song Bo’s mother was alive, she would mend them, but since the parents passed away, the clothes had become increasingly tattered.

However, now was not the time to be picky. Song Bo gathered the clothes, emptying the wardrobe.

Gers felt the cold more than men, so Song Bo piled two-thirds of the clothes onto Jiang Jinxi.

The hemp clothing provided decent insulation, but it was incredibly heavy. Several layers of clothing felt like a mountain pressing down on Jiang Jinxi, making it difficult for him to breathe. “Husband, these clothes are too heavy.”

Song Bo, who had already settled down, sat back up. “Where are they heavy?”

“My, my chest.” Jiang Jinxi’s bright eyes were shimmering, looking very pitiful.

Jiang Jinxi was beautiful to begin with, and now he was staring with such a pathetic expression. The harsh words Song Bo had ready were swallowed back down. His previous behavior should have been enough to keep Jiang Jinxi in line; there was no need to scare him right before sleep.

Song Bo picked up the clothes on Jiang Jinxi’s chest to gauge their weight, then selected some relatively lighter ones to put back. “Is this better?”

Jiang Jinxi took a few deep breaths. With the “mountain” moved, his breathing was smooth again. He nodded like a small fawn.

“Then go to sleep.” Song Bo extinguished the candle. After lying down, he leaned toward the right side, leaving his left shoulder free to ease the muscle ache.

Song Bo was truly exhausted; he had been spinning like a top all day. The moment his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep, and soon, heavy breathing escaped his lips.

Jiang Jinxi’s heart had been pounding wildly. It was not until Song Bo was sound asleep that he finally breathed a sigh of relief. Heaven knows how terrified he had been, afraid that Song Bo would flip over and pin him down. Fortunately, it was all just his own worry.

Jiang Jinxi closed his eyes. Aside from Song Bo’s breathing, he could only hear the occasional bird call outside. He lay in bed, tossing and turning, until he finally drifted off to sleep to the rhythm of Song Bo’s steady breaths.