Chapter 42: Sparing with Words (Bonus Chapter for 120 Pink Votes)
The golden-brown griddle cakes, sprinkled with vibrant green scallions, looked utterly mouthwatering.
Mo Yi glanced at Zhao Ling, who was leisurely sipping egg drop soup, then back at the griddle cakes, swallowing hard involuntarily.
There were three of them, but only this one griddle cake remained...
Noticing this, Zhao Ling set down his bowl and said deliberately, "Brother Mo, no need for formalities. If you find it tasty, just help yourself. Standing on ceremony between us would be pointless—our days ahead will depend entirely on your arrangements. Surely you don't mean to settle accounts with me in such detail?" He chuckled, his eyes carrying a hint of teasing. "I'm fully prepared to freeload—even if you wanted to settle accounts, I wouldn't take the bait!"
Mo Yi was momentarily taken aback before bursting into laughter.
His laughter was hearty, his demeanor bold and heroic, unexpectedly exuding a vigorous and commanding presence—utterly different from his usual silent gloom, as if he'd become another person entirely.
Fu Tingyun was secretly astonished.
Could this be Mo Yi's true nature?
Looking at him now, there wasn't the slightest trace of a subordinate steward—instead, he resembled a great general surveying the world with disdain.
Zhao Ling, however, remained unperturbed, unhurriedly taking another sip of his egg drop soup.
"My brother, I was being affected," Mo Yi said, picking up the griddle cake and taking a large bite. He then sighed appreciatively, "Your wife's griddle cakes could rival the master chefs at 'Thirteen Peaks.' I could practically swallow my own tongue eating these."
Thirteen Peaks was one of Xi'an's grandest restaurants, famed for its noodles and pastries. Visitors to Xi'an would invariably bring back boxes of Thirteen Peaks' delicacies as gifts.
Hearing Mo Yi refer to Fu Tingyun as "your wife," Zhao Ling looked slightly embarrassed, shooting a quick glance at Fu Tingyun. Seeing her bent over scrubbing the stove, seemingly oblivious to their conversation, he relaxed slightly and smiled. "You flatter her, Brother Mo. This is about the only skill of hers that's presentable."
"One such skill is more than enough," Mo Yi laughed heartily again. "Brother Zhao will enjoy many fine meals ahead!"
Zhao Ling smiled faintly, a trace of discomfort flickering in his eyes.
Mo Yi paid it no mind.
After all, they were young, an unmarried couple still shy about such matters.
Fu Tingyun, however, silently grumbled to herself.
Who says this is all I can do? I know plenty—you're just ignorant of it!
Still, the thought that Zhao Ling had at least acknowledged her culinary skills as presentable gave her some satisfaction.
If only ingredients weren't so limited—she could have made the Fu family's special noodle sauce for dipping, or prepared fillings with pork, dried scallops, and mushrooms for even better flavor...
She tossed the dirty water from cleaning the stove into the backyard.
Someone was peering over the courtyard wall.
Fu Tingyun looked closely—it was Zheng Sanniang, holding her child.
Spotting Fu Tingyun, Zheng Sanniang broke into a joyful smile.
Fu Tingyun went to open the back gate.
The aroma of scallion oil lingering in the air made Zheng Sanniang inhale deeply with visible delight, swallowing several times before smiling brightly. "Miss, I told my husband about your kindness in giving us food. He was deeply grateful and said he ought to come kneel in thanks himself, but since it wouldn't be proper between men and women, he asked me and the child to kneel on his behalf." With that, she knelt down.Fu Tingyun felt she had merely done a trivial favor and didn’t deserve the Zheng family’s repeated thanks. Despite her earnest dissuasion, Zheng Sanniang still kowtowed nine times.
“Miss,” Zheng Sanniang said with a smile as she stood up, her expression visibly lighter, as if she had accomplished something important. “My husband said—please give our child a name. When he grows up, he’ll always remember your great kindness.”
“A name?” Fu Tingyun was taken aback. “No, no, no! How could something so important be left to me? How about… I give him a nickname instead?”
Nicknames were usually given by family members, while formal names were typically bestowed by respected scholars or elders in the clan when the child reached schooling age.
“My husband insisted you give him his formal name,” Zheng Sanniang replied cheerfully. “He was born on the first day of the month and is the eldest grandson in our family. His nickname is Yuanyuan.”
Fu Tingyun flushed with embarrassment.
At that moment, Mo Yi appeared at the back door. “Who’s in the courtyard?” His voice carried a hint of wariness, clearly concerned for her safety.
“Just someone I know,” Fu Tingyun answered, then quickly signaled to Zheng Sanniang. “I’ll go inside first. We can talk more next time.”
Zheng Sanniang assumed Mo Yi was a family member. Having witnessed his ferocity when he entered the town, she feared Fu Tingyun had secretly given them food behind his back and didn’t want to cause trouble. Flustered, she bowed hastily and hurried away with her child.
There was no way Fu Tingyun could have hidden her act of giving food to others from Mo Yi’s watchful eyes.
He dismissed it as foolish feminine kindness, unimpressed.
Puzzled by Zheng Sanniang’s abrupt departure, he muttered under his breath before turning indoors. To Zhao Ling, he said, “Don’t worry, it was just a woman with a child.” Then he added, “Your betrothed is too soft-hearted. She ought to be careful not to be taken advantage of.”
“Better she learns to judge people now than be deceived by others later,” Zhao Ling remarked leisurely, pouring a bowl of water into Mo Yi’s large bowl. “Brother Mo, please.”
Mo Yi downed it in one gulp.
Anyone unaware might have mistaken it for wine.
He sighed. “If only it were wine!” Then, perking up, he said, “But don’t worry—I’ve already told Chen Liu to bring some poultry, meat, and fish. We’ll have your betrothed prepare a feast, and we brothers can enjoy a proper reunion.”
Zhao Ling replied tactfully, “She rarely handles such things at home, so I’m not sure how well she’ll prepare the dishes. I only hope they’ll meet your expectations.”
Mo Yi was taken aback.
Just moments ago, Zhao Ling had praised Miss Fu’s cooking skills, yet now he claimed uncertainty about her ability to prepare meat and fish. The realization dawned on him, and he burst into laughter.
Clearly, the emphasis lay in Zhao Ling’s earlier words: “She rarely handles such things at home.”
“Brother Zhao,” Mo Yi teased, “you’re not even married yet, and already you’re doting on her like this. Once you wed, won’t you become a complete henpecked husband? You’re far too protective of Miss Fu. Let me tell you—women need discipline, or they’ll start tearing the roof tiles off…”
Fu Tingyun happened to enter just as Mo Yi was speaking, her face flushing instantly.
This misunderstanding had gone too far… When would it ever be cleared up?
But then Mo Yi went on about how “women need discipline, or they’ll start tearing the roof tiles off.” Her faint embarrassment was swiftly swept away by a surge of indignation.Is this how you incite people?
No wonder uneducated, crude men often beat their wives—it’s all because of people like Mo Yi.
This Mo Yi is not someone worth befriending.
Yet she showed none of her thoughts on her face, walking in with a faint smile.
When Zhao Ling saw her, he recalled the phrase "not yet married" and felt extremely awkward, quickly clearing his throat.
Mo Yi, hearing this, secretly laughed himself silly.
Being trapped in this godforsaken place was unbearably dull. If he didn’t find something to amuse himself, he’d go mad.
Thankfully, there was this betrothed couple…
Little did he know he had thoroughly offended Fu Tingyun.
※※※※※
That evening, Fu Tingyun brought water for Zhao Ling to wash up.
Zhao Ling quietly apologized on Mo Yi’s behalf: "Miss Fu, don’t take Mo Yi’s words to heart. People in the military camp are all like this—they love to joke around… In a few days, we’ll go our separate ways anyway…"
Fu Tingyun indignantly cut him off: "And he still expects me to cook chicken, duck, and fish for him? Hmph! Just wait and see how I deal with him!"
Zhao Ling watched her puffed-up expression, feeling as if the air around them had grown livelier.
He chuckled quietly, his gaze as clear and bright as the moonlight outside the window.
Fu Tingyun’s restless heart suddenly calmed.
"How could this be Ninth Master’s fault?" She lowered her head. Moonlight streamed through the unpapered window lattice, casting its grid-like shadows on the floor. In the silent summer night, there was an eternal sense of peace and tranquility. "If anything, it’s my fault. If I hadn’t spouted nonsense, Manager Mo wouldn’t have said such things…"
"No, no, no." Seeing her bowed head and hearing the unease in her voice, Zhao Ling hurriedly replied, "Back then, you were only trying to save me. If anyone’s at fault, it’s me…" But he couldn’t immediately think of a reason why, stumbling over his words.
For a moment, the room was as silent as the cold moonlight.
Under the moonlight, Fu Tingyun could clearly see the anxiety between his brows.
She suddenly let out a soft laugh, breaking the silence: "Clearly, it’s Mo Yi’s fault, yet here we are apologizing to each other. This is letting him off far too easily!"
In the cool moonlight, her radiant smile held a playful charm, making his heart skip a beat and leaving him flustered. "Yes, yes!" he replied with an awkward laugh.
Fu Tingyun immediately regretted her words.
Such an embarrassing matter, yet she had spoken of it so lightly—no wonder Zhao Ling didn’t know how to respond.
Flustered, she lowered her head and turned to leave: "I’ll go now! It’s getting late, Ninth Master. Wash up and rest soon."
Her expression carried a hint of melancholy.
Seeing this, Zhao Ling felt a pang of urgency and called out, "Miss Fu!"
Fu Tingyun turned back, looking at him in confusion. Her wide almond eyes were as clear as spring water, seemingly reflecting his own image. This only made Zhao Ling’s already chaotic thoughts even more tangled. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "If you don’t want to cook, I’ll talk to Mo Yi." Before the words even left his mouth, he realized how inappropriate they sounded—as if she had complained to him about it. In truth, throughout their journey, no matter what difficulties they faced, she had never once shown impatience. He hastily explained, "What I mean is, while A Sen isn’t here these few days, we can just make do with simple meals. There’s no need for you to go through the trouble of making flatbreads…"Speaking of this, Fu Tingyun felt rather frustrated: "I know... That Mo Yi has such an appetite... I made ten pancakes, and she ate eight of them by herself. It still wasn't enough, so she made me make another ten... I originally planned to let Mo Yi deal with her own hunger..." She sighed, "The rest of us can make do with whatever, but you're still injured—you can't just eat anything!"
Zhao Ling recalled how she had forced Mo Yi to go find eggs: "Pancakes must have eggs in them. Without eggs, how can you even make pancakes?"
In the end, out of the three eggs they got, two were used by her to make him egg drop soup...
A strange emotion welled up in his heart, rippling like water. In the next moment, it seemed about to overflow, leaving him flustered and at a loss for words.
The room fell silent.
Receiving no response, Fu Tingyun grew puzzled. Upon reflection, her face flushed crimson.
How could she have said something so intimate like, "The rest of us can make do with whatever, but you're still injured—you can't just eat anything!" No wonder Zhao Ling didn’t know how to respond.
"A gentleman is quick in action but cautious in speech," she admonished herself repeatedly. "The more one speaks, the more mistakes one makes... I must never make the same mistake again."
※
Got back too late yesterday and was exhausted. Luckily, it's the weekend—managed to get up this morning and write... O(∩_∩)O~
(End of Chapter)
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