The Scholar’s Unconventional Little Wife - Chapter 3

The girl’s fever broke remarkably fast, so fast that the old physician Xu Fenggu had summoned could only stroke his beard in astonishment, muttering, “Her constitution is truly exceptional.”

Still, she remained taciturn, her reactions always lagging half a beat behind.

Lin Ruo’an decided to give her a name. Since the girl couldn’t remember her own, she couldn’t be called “Hey” forever. Seeing the vacant look in the girl’s eyes when she awoke, Lin Ruo’an found herself drawn to the name “Wangyou”—Forget Sorrow.

“Xu Wangyou,” Lin Ruo’an said, using a twig to trace the characters one by one in the damp earth of the courtyard. “From now on, this will be your name. You’ll take my mother’s surname, Xu.”

The girl, crouching beside her, stared at the three characters for a long time. Then, she nodded with utmost seriousness and extended a finger to carefully trace the grooves in the mud. The pressure of her fingertip pressed deep into the earth.

Lin Ruo’an’s eyelid twitched as she watched the soil nearly crack under the girl’s touch.

A few days later, Xu Wangyou was able to get out of bed. She seemed to possess a pure, childlike curiosity about everything around her. But this curiosity didn’t manifest in restless glances or incessant chatter; instead, it took the form of long, silent observation.

She would stand under the eaves, watching raindrops drip from the roof tiles for an entire hour. She would also crouch before the stove, staring at Zhao Siniang cooking as if she were studying some legendary martial art. At first, Zhao Siniang found the gaze unnerving, but later realized the girl was merely observing without malice, and she simply smiled and let her be.

What Lin Ruo’an found most “unusual,” however, was Xu Wangyou’s knife skills.

Xu Fenggu’s small eatery had four tables in the front and a kitchen and courtyard in the back. Once Xu Wangyou recovered, she naturally began to help out. Xu Fenggu didn’t make her do any heavy lifting, only light chores like washing vegetables and sweeping.

One afternoon, with no customers in the shop, Xu Fenggu was settling accounts behind the counter, Lin Ruo’an was reviewing her lessons in the room, and Zhao Siniang had gone out to run errands. A basin of radishes sat on the counter, waiting to be prepped. Xu Wangyou walked over silently and picked up the kitchen knife.

Lin Ruo’an happened to come out to pour some water and caught a glimpse of it, nearly dropping her cup in shock. That grip! Her wrist was steady, her fingers positioned with a precision that seemed measured, and the blade extended from her arm in a perfect straight line.

With a slight twist of her wrist, the knife flashed down.

Then came a nearly continuous shua-shua sound.

The radish shreds, as fine as hair, piled up beneath the knife. Every single strand, in both thickness and length, looked as if it had been measured with the most precise ruler.

Lin Ruo’an stood there, mouth agape, frozen in place. A barrage of bullet-chat comments flashed through her mind:

Is this really chopping vegetables? This is a CNC machine come to life!

What happened to the “clueless, amnesiac girl”? This level of skill is good enough to make her the Grandmaster of the New Oriental Culinary School!

Xu Wangyou was completely immersed in her own rhythm. In the depths of her pupils, which reflected the glint of the knife, there was no emotion, only a near-instinctive focus.

She finished one radish and picked up the second, her movements as fluid as flowing water. Soon, nearly half a basin of radishes had been transformed into a pile of crystal-clear, delicate shreds, stacked beside the cutting board as neatly as a work of art.

After slicing the last radish, she flicked her wrist. The kitchen knife spun lightly in her fingers before landing with a sharp clack, its tip pointed downward, standing steadily on the edge of the cutting board. Throughout the entire process, she had barely looked at her own hands, as if the knife had become an extension of her own body.

Only then did she seem to notice something. She slowly turned her head to look at Lin Ruo’an, who was standing in the doorway like a wooden chicken.

Her clear eyes revealed her confusion, as if asking: What’s wrong?

Lin Ruo’an swallowed hard and managed to squeeze out a dry, “…Your knife skills… are quite good.”

Xu Wangyou looked down at the shredded radish she had just sliced, then back up at Lin Ruo’an, seemingly puzzled as to why this deserved praise. After a moment’s thought, she replied earnestly, “It should be this way.”

Lin Ruo’an was speechless. Should be? This level of skill was anything but “should be”!

Taking a deep breath, she decided to temporarily set aside the growing list of mysteries surrounding her “child bride” and asked, “Have you… cooked often before?”

Xu Wangyou paused, then shook her head blankly. “I don’t remember.” After a brief silence, she added, “But when I hold a knife, it just… feels right.”

Feels right.

Those three words sent alarm bells ringing in Lin Ruo’an’s mind. She walked over, glanced at the pile of shredded radish, and finally said, “Mother’s braised pork needs shredded radish to go with it. You… cut it just right.” With that, she turned and retreated to her own room, her movements stiff and awkward.

Once inside, she leaned her back against the door, her heart still pounding.

What’s this girl’s real story? An amnesiac Imperial Chef? A retired swordsman? Or… something even more troublesome?

“I have a feeling we’ve brought something truly extraordinary into this house,” Lin Ruo’an muttered, rubbing her temples. She could feel her life plan of “supporting the family as an ordinary Xiucai” veering off course at light speed.

In the shop up front, Xu Fenggu had finished the accounts without anyone noticing. She leaned against the kitchen door, arms crossed, silently watching Xu Wangyou plate the shredded radish. Her gaze lingered on Xu Wangyou’s long, slender fingers, their knuckles sharply defined, unable to pull away.

“Finished? You’re quite efficient,” Xu Fenggu said, walking over to inspect the radish. “Perfect for a sesame oil and vinegar salad tonight. Go on, go snap the ends off the green beans over there.”

Xu Wangyou nodded obediently, set down the knife, and walked toward the basket of beans.

Xu Fenggu said nothing more and turned back to the counter. But her movements as she wiped the table were slower than usual, her eyes occasionally drifting toward the backyard, lost in thought.

In the afternoon, Lin Ruo’an packed her book case and headed to Scholar Chen’s for a lecture. Scholar Chen was a man of great learning and dedicated to guiding his students. His academy was a place that scholars from all over town, and even the entire county, vied to attend.

The academy was located in a quiet courtyard at the west end of town. By the time Lin Ruo’an arrived, several students were already seated. Seeing her enter, a few familiar classmates nodded in greeting, while others whispered among themselves.

Lin Ruo’an didn’t even need to guess what they were talking about. The news of the “child bride” had fermented over the past few days, spreading throughout the entire town. It had become Qinghe Town’s hottest topic, second only to the news of the Lin family’s son passing the Xiucai exam.

Endless versions of the story, each more embellished than the last, were circulating. Some said the girl was a betrothed child bride from the Lin family’s early years, now seeking refuge after her own family fell into ruin. Others claimed Lin Ruo’an had brought home a scandal from her own past. Even more absurd were the rumors that the Xu Family Restaurant had sinister feng shui, attracting beautiful girls of mysterious origin…

She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she walked to her seat and sat down. Spreading out her brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, she tried her best to block out the staring eyes and hushed whispers. Internally, however, she was screaming:

What are you all staring at? Never seen a family add a new member before?

So what if she’s a child bride? Is she eating your family’s rice?

If you keep talking nonsense, do you believe I’ll let my… let my “child bride” reason with you using a kitchen knife? … On second thought, that threat might be a bit too scary.

Just as she was thinking this, a slightly flippant voice sounded beside her: “Yo, isn’t this Brother Lin? I haven’t seen you in a few days. I heard there’s a happy occasion at your residence? Congratulations, congratulations!”

Lin Ruo’an didn’t even need to look up to know who it was, Zhou Wenyuan. He was the young master of Zhouji Cloth Shop, the largest fabric store in town and the prefecture. Like her, he had passed the Xiucai examinations. He was wealthy, handsome, and arrogant, with a habit of belittling others with his words.

“Brother Zhou, you’re teasing me,” Lin Ruo’an replied. “My mother simply took pity on a vulnerable young woman and offered her shelter. It’s hardly a cause for celebration.”

“Shelter?” Zhou Wenyuan sat down beside her, his tone mocking. “Why so modest, Brother Lin? I’ve heard the girl is a real beauty. You’re a lucky man. But… this child bride’s origins are a mystery. Now that you’re a Xiucai with a bright future, you should be careful about who you keep by your side.”

Lin Ruo’an’s smile faded, and her gaze turned cold. “Brother Zhou, mind your words. Miss Xu is a virtuous young woman who fell on hard times. My mother is simply performing a good deed, and our family is treating her with sincerity. Her origins are not for us to judge. As for you, Brother Zhou, perhaps you should spend less time worrying about other people’s affairs and more time reviewing your lessons. I heard Scholar Chen is testing the Policy on Current Affairs soon. Your last essay, if I recall correctly…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but the implication was clear.

Zhou Wenyuan’s expression froze. His last essay had been torn to shreds by Scholar Chen, who had read it aloud in front of everyone, turning it into a public humiliation. Now that Lin Ruo’an had brought it up so casually, he couldn’t save face. He snorted, “Brother Lin certainly has a sharp tongue. Fine then, I’ll keep my good intentions to myself. But let me remind you, Brother Lin, the Wen Kui Selection is coming up. Scholar Chen values a student’s character and family reputation above all else. Don’t let a minor matter cost you a major opportunity.”

With that, he flicked his sleeve, sat up straight, and refused to look at her again.

Lin Ruo’an lowered her gaze.

The Wen Kui Selection.

This was a unique incentive Scholar Chen used to motivate his disciples. At irregular intervals, he would select one student to be named Wen Kui. This title not only recognized their scholarly achievements but also came with a personal recommendation letter from Scholar Chen, which would be immensely beneficial for their future imperial examinations. The competition was always fierce.

Zhou Wenyuan’s words were both a threat and a probe. He was trying to use the scandal of a child bride to rattle her composure.

Lin Ruo’an sneered inwardly. If she were merely an ancient scholar devoted to the classics, such words might have unsettled her. But she was a modern soul, forged in the crucible of an information explosion and weathered by far greater storms. This kind of verbal sparring was child’s play.

She steadied her breath, cast aside all distracting thoughts, and focused her gaze on the doorway. A moment later, Scholar Chen, a man with a clean-shaven face and a beard as white as snow, strode into the hall. The room fell instantly silent.

The lecture began.

Lin Ruo’an quickly became immersed in the lesson, temporarily pushing the “mysterious child bride” at home and her “potential rivals” at the academy to the back of her mind.

What she didn’t know was that while she was absorbed in the lecture, on the other side of Qinghe Town, in the backyard of the Xu Family Restaurant, Xu Wangyou was performing a feat that would leave anyone speechless.

Xu Fenggu had asked her to bring in the quilts drying in the courtyard. As Xu Wangyou carried the heavy bedding back, her foot slipped. The previous night’s rain had left a thin layer of green moss on the courtyard’s slate tiles.

Just as she was about to fall, still clutching the heavy quilt in her arms, her body twisted at a bizarre angle. Her toes tapped the ground twice with feather-light precision, and she spun gracefully in the air like a falling leaf before landing steadily on her feet.

Zhao Siniang, who was hanging laundry nearby, watched the scene unfold, her mouth agape. The wooden basin in her hands nearly slipped to the ground. “W-Wangyou… Did you just… fly?”

Xu Wangyou stood still, glanced down at the mossy stones, then looked up at Zhao Siniang with a calm, bewildered expression. “Slippery.”

Zhao Siniang was speechless. Is this even about being slippery?! Normal people fall with a thud! What kind of situation is this, where you just take off like a bird?!

Xu Wangyou didn’t think anything was amiss. She simply hugged the quilt and walked steadily into the house.

Zhao Siniang scratched her head, her honest face filled with confusion. “Is this girl… a celestial maiden?” she muttered.

In the kitchen, Xu Fenggu, who was kneading dough, had witnessed the entire scene through the window. Her hands paused for a moment before she resumed kneading.

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