The Scholar’s Unconventional Little Wife - Chapter 12

Lin Ruo’an submitted her “concealed blade” policy paper on a bright, sunny morning.

Zhou Wenyuan sat nearby, pretending to be absorbed in his books, but his sidelong glances were fixed on her. When he saw Lin Ruo’an hand in her paper with a calm expression and a light step, the fake smile on his lips faltered.

Lin Ruo’an couldn’t care less about him. After submitting her work, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Carrying her book case, she walked out of the classroom, the warm autumn sunlight washing over her, making her want to stretch. Done! Let Old Man Chen deal with the rest, she hummed a little tune in her head, her steps light and brisk.

As soon as she entered the back courtyard of the restaurant, she saw Xu Wangyou crouching under the osmanthus tree. A small clay pot sat before her, filled with a sticky, grayish-brown mixture that smelled of earth and herbs. Xu Wangyou was stirring it seriously with a wooden stick, her brow furrowed, a smudge of gray dust on the tip of her nose.

“What is this… new weapon?” Lin Ruo’an leaned in, asking curiously. Looking at its color and texture, it seemed too coarse even for plastering a wall.

Xu Wangyou looked up and saw it was her. Her eyes lit up for a moment, but she immediately seemed embarrassed. She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, which was covered in gray mortar, only to smear even more of it on her face. “It’s… mortar.”

“Mortar? What’s it for?”

“Aunt Feng said there’s some seepage in the kitchen corner and asked me to try patching it,” Xu Wangyou explained. “I followed her instructions and added lime, fine sand, glutinous rice paste, and a little… some powder she gave me. But it just doesn’t feel ‘sticky’ or ‘tough’ enough.”

The same hands that could carve a radish into a work of art were now completely stumped by a basin of mud. The contrast was so stark it almost made Xu Wangyou laugh. Guess the (suspected) assassin’s skill points weren’t invested in masonry.

“Maybe add some egg whites?” Lin Ruoan suggested casually, recalling an ancient architecture documentary she’d once seen. “I think they used egg whites and glutinous rice to increase the mortar’s strength when building city walls in the old days.”

Xu Wangyou’s eyes widened as if a lightbulb had gone off. She dropped her wooden stirring stick, stood up, and ran toward the kitchen. A moment later, she returned with two eggs, cracked them open with practiced ease, carefully separated the whites into a small bowl, and poured them into the clay basin before stirring again.

Something magical happened. After adding the egg whites, the dull, grayish mud paste visibly transformed, becoming smooth, lustrous, and perfectly viscous. Xu Wangyou dipped a finger in and pulled up a long, supple thread.

“It really… improved,” she murmured, then looked at Lin Ruo’an with earnest admiration. “Brother Ruo’an, you’re amazing.”

Lin Ruo’an’s face flushed slightly under her pure, straightforward gaze. She cleared her throat with a cough. “Ahem, just a lucky guess.” She couldn’t exactly admit she’d learned it from the Discovery Channel, could she?

Xu Wangyou returned to her mud paste, her focus now ten times more intense, as if she were forging a legendary weapon.

Watching her, the tension Lin Ruo’an had felt over Chen San’s private records gradually eased. Well, if the sky falls, there’s always… She paused. Right, there’s no one tall enough to hold it up. But at least I have a child bride who can accidentally knock out a grown man… and treat mixing mud like a scientific research project.

Strangely, the thought brought her a sense of peace.

That afternoon, while Lin Ruo’an was organizing her book chest inside, a sudden commotion erupted from the shop out front, punctuated by Xu Fenggu’s shrill, escalating screams:

“Bullshit! Who didn’t tie their damn dog tight enough to let a foul-mouthed cur like you slip out?! You dare come into my shop and run wild, slandering the Lin family’s name?! Haven’t you bothered to find out who I am?!”

Lin Ruo’an’s heart skipped a beat. She dropped her book and rushed forward.

Inside the shop, Xu Fenggu stood behind the counter with her hands on her hips, berating a middle-aged man with greasy hair and a powdered face. Her fury was palpable. Behind the man stood two servants, their expressions grim. Zhao Siniang blocked Xu Fenggu, her own honest face flushed with anger.

A few neighbors had already gathered at the entrance to watch the commotion.

“…Boss Lady Xu, you can’t say that,” the man stammered, his face flushing red and then white as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I only heard it from others. The whole town is talking about it. They say your child bride has a mysterious past and behaves strangely. She even injured someone a few days ago… With Young Master Lin about to take his imperial exams, keeping such an uncertain person in the house could damage his reputation and jeopardize his future! I’m only trying to help by passing on the word. If you’re willing to send this troublemaker away, there will be a reward…”

“You bastard!” Xu Fenggu snatched the rag from the counter and hurled it. “How dare you, you little piece of trash, lecture me about my own family?! What damn ‘future’ are you talking about? I don’t need you to worry about it! Now get out! If you don’t leave this instant, I’ll break your damn legs and throw you in the river to feed the turtles!”

The rag landed squarely on the man’s face. He let out a howl, stumbling back in disarray, his body trembling with rage. “You… you shrew! Fine! Fine! You’re just asking for it! We’ll see who gets the last laugh!” He wiped his face and scurried away, his servants in tow, pushing through the crowd.

Still fuming, Xu Fenggu spat at the doorway. She turned to Lin Ruo’an, her expression darkening. “Did you hear that? That’s Zhou Wenyuan, the manager of the Zhou Family Cloth Shop, a little lapdog!”

“Mother…”

“What’s there to be afraid of?” Xu Fenggu cut her off, her eyes fierce. “Those kinds of underhanded tactics only scare honest folk! No matter how rich the Zhou family is, they can’t reach into the Xu family’s kitchen! Wangyou is our child bride, and no one touches her! Not unless they step over my dead body!”

She stood with her hands on her hips, cursing defiantly. Lin Ruo’an knew her mother wasn’t just saying this to her, but to anyone who might still be eavesdropping.

The neighbors dispersed, their voices fading into a murmur of gossip.

In the back courtyard, Xu Wangyou had appeared without Lin Ruo’an noticing. She stood by the curtain leading to the front hall, her hands still smeared with wet mortar.

As Xu Fenggu grumbled and began tidying the overturned counter, Lin Ruo’an approached Xu Wangyou. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her throat.

Xu Wangyou spoke first. “Is it because of me?”

Lin Ruo’an shook her head. “They’re after me. They’re just using you as an excuse.”

“Oh,” Xu Wangyou replied, her hand curling into a fist. “If he comes back, I’ll… accidentally…”

The murderous intent hidden in her words made Lin Ruo’an’s heart skip a beat. She quickly grasped Xu Wangyou’s fist. “No, Wangyou, don’t be rash. Mother and I will handle this. You… you just focus on patching the wall.”

Xu Wangyou watched her silently. Her clenched fist slowly unfurled beneath the warmth of Lin Ruo’an’s palm.

“Okay,” she murmured, allowing Lin Ruo’an to hold her hand. Her fingertips unconsciously brushed against Lin Ruo’an’s palm, a gesture of cautious dependence.

Lin Ruo’an flinched as if burned, her first instinct to pull away. But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Your hands are so cold,” Lin Ruo’an said, her voice sounding a bit strained.

“Mud-paste, cold,” Xu Wangyou explained. After a moment’s thought, she added, “Now, warm.”

Lin Ruo’an felt her fingertips grow hot. She let go of Xu Wangyou’s hand and tried to compose herself. “Go wash your hands. It’s time to make dinner.”

“Okay,” Xu Wangyou replied obediently and left.

By evening, the sky had turned gray again, with low-hanging clouds pressing down. The atmosphere at the dinner table was somewhat heavy, a lingering aftereffect of the morning’s “unexpected incident.”

Suddenly, a bowl piled high with flaked fish was pushed in front of Lin Ruo’an. The fish was snow-white, every bone meticulously removed.

“Eat fish, nourish brain,” Xu Wangyou said, then paused before adding, “Don’t be afraid.”

This girl is actually quite caring, Lin Ruo’an thought, picking up a piece of fish and placing it in her mouth. The meat was tender and fresh, infused with the subtle heat of ginger and the savory saltiness of soy sauce.

“Mmm, it’s delicious,” she said.

Xu Fenggu glanced at them and scooped a large portion of stir-fried eggs into Wangyou’s bowl. “Don’t just keep giving her food,” she grumbled in her rough voice. “You’re as skinny as a little chick yourself. You need to eat more!”

Wangyou nodded obediently.

That night, the rain began to fall again, a gentle pitter-patter drumming against the window frames.

Lin Ruo’an lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She was exhausted, worried, and feeling a strange… flutter in her heart. Well, it was mostly because of the flutter…

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

Xu Wangyou pushed the door open, clutching her own pillow and thin quilt. She wore a simple nightgown, her hair loose and flowing. In the dim light, she looked like a lost child.

“Can… can I sleep here?” she asked, her voice trembling. “The rain outside is so loud. And…” She pressed her lips together. “Mother told me to… watch over you tonight.”

Lin Ruo’an froze. Watch over her? Was Mother worried she’d be haunted by the blood and tears in the policy papers, unable to sleep? Or… was she afraid the day’s run-ins with the street thugs had left her too agitated, so she sent Xu Wangyou to keep her company?

Perhaps it was both.

“The bed is narrow…” Lin Ruo’an said instinctively.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” Xu Wangyou had already begun spreading her bedding on the ground with efficient movements.

Mother really knows how to throw me a curveball, Lin Ruo’an thought helplessly, watching Xu Wangyou’s earnest efforts to make a bed on the floor.

She lifted her own quilt and patted the mattress. “Don’t sleep on the floor, it’s too cold. Come up here. We can squeeze in… we’ll make it work.”

Xu Wangyou froze, her hands still smoothing the quilt. She turned back, staring at Lin Ruo’an with a bewildered expression.

“Get in,” Lin Ruo’an repeated. “Otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep.”

Xu Wangyou hesitated for a moment before finally clutching her pillow and climbing onto the bed. She lay stiffly on the outer edge, keeping a hand’s width of distance between them, her body as rigid as a piece of wood.

Lin Ruo’an felt a flicker of amusement mixed with a softening in her chest. She blew out the oil lamp and settled into the darkness.

In the cramped space, their breathing intertwined.

After a long silence, just as Lin Ruo’an thought Xu Wangyou had fallen asleep, she felt a slight movement beside her. A cool hand slipped out from under the covers and tentatively brushed against the back of her own.

Lin Ruo’an stiffened.

The hand paused, as if confirming she wouldn’t pull away, before cautiously curling around a few of her fingers.

“Go to sleep,” Xu Wangyou’s voice murmured in the dark. “I’m here.”

Lin Ruo’an didn’t withdraw. Feeling the warmth through their fingertips, she turned her hand and squeezed back.

“Mhm,” she replied, and closed her eyes.

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