AFMUH Ch 4

Chapter 4: His Origin

Most of the villagers in Liuxi Village make their living by farming. When winter came and there was no work on the land, they became idle. However, some people can’t stay idle. 

The hunters in the village still go up the mountain every few days in winter to retrieve the traps they set. They can bring back several rabbits at a time and, if lucky, can also catch pheasants, roe deer, or even wild boars. Of course, they might also encounter a half-hibernating, hungry bear with blue eyes.

Besides the hunters, the only other person who couldn’t stay idle was Qiu Henian. 

He was the village blacksmith, and his shop is located at the western end of the village. Because of his good craftsmanship and solid materials, not only do the villagers come to him, but people from nearby villages also seek his services. Occasionally, people from the town come specifically to find him.

This shop was passed down to him by the old blacksmith of the village, who had the surname Wang. No one remembers his full name; everyone just called him Blacksmith Wang. About four or five years ago, during winter, Blacksmith Wang found a half-frozen man in a snowdrift by the river on his way home after closing his shop. 

This man was Qiu Henian. Despite the fact that half of his face was covered in blood and looked terrifying, Blacksmith Wang dragged him home and invited the village doctor to see him. After being fed herbal medicine, Qiu Henian was finally saved.

When Qiu Henian woke up, he couldn’t remember where he came from or what he was supposed to do; he only remembered his name. The villagers speculated about his origins for quite some time. 

Some suggested he might be a soldier who escaped from the army, but others pointed out that the war had ended months ago, and it was unlikely for soldiers to be fleeing now. Furthermore, he wasn’t dressed in armor or carrying weapons; he wore ordinary clothes, so he could have been a hunter from another village who got lost in the mountains.

One villager disagreed, saying, “Even though his face is injured and looks scary, his other half and his demeanor don’t seem like that of a commoner.”

Another villager said, “If he were from a wealthy family, they would have come looking for him by now. Let’s wait and see.” 

They waited for a month or two, but there was no news.

One day, Blacksmith Wang, who had no children, told Qiu Henian, “I have no heir, so why don’t you become my son and inherit my shop? I’ll teach you the blacksmithing trade that I wouldn’t teach to anyone else.”

Qiu Henian agreed, and from then on, he became the son of Blacksmith Wang. When Qingyan woke up, he lay with his eyes closed, sorting through the information about Qiu Henian in his mind. There was no mention of Qiu Henian’s true origins. 

Qingyan speculated that he might be from a fallen noble family or an illegitimate child who met with some accident and ended up here. Since no one had come looking for him all these years, it seemed he had been completely abandoned.

Qingyan didn’t feel anything special about his husband’s possibly lost noble background. After all, if Qiu Henian hadn’t fallen from grace, he wouldn’t have married him, and Qingyan wouldn’t have had the chance to benefit from this situation. Although Qiu Henian wasn’t particularly skilled in certain areas and wasn’t wealthy, Qingyan cherished his rare character and temperament.

He had experienced both wealth and poverty and had endured the ups and downs of life. Qingyan knew he was somewhat sentimental, but he only allowed himself to be sentimental within reasonable limits. He was confident that he and Qiu Henian could make their life better together.

After sleeping for nearly an hour, Qingyan woke up and saw an old but clean robe on the bedside. He finally could change out of his short wedding clothes. The robe was large, but it was still wearable. He got out of bed, still feeling some pain, but it was better than before. He slowly walked around the room. Qiu Henian was nowhere to be found, and the house was quiet and empty.

He opened the hemp curtain and the window to let in some fresh air. The sunlight filled the room. Qingyan finally had a chance to take a good look at the room. It was a bedroom, roughly thirteen or fourteen square meters. 

The floor was made of earth, but the walls were brick. The wooden windows were intact, but the red paint was peeling off. Next to the bed was a table with a bronze mirror, and by the door was a wooden washstand with a copper basin containing half a basin of clear water. On the stand were a new piece of soap and two face towels, one new and one old. The old one was thin and had small holes but was very clean.

The most decent thing in the room was the bed. Qingyan had noticed it was a canopy bed. Although old and not as elaborate as those he had seen in museums, it must have cost some silver according to his memory. 

The bed seemed out of place in this house, likely bought for the wedding. The bedding was new, embroidered with mandarin ducks and lotuses, symbolizing harmony and love. These items were supposed to be part of the bride’s dowry, but his stepmother only provided a wedding dress and skimped on everything else.

Qiu Henian had no parents, and the old blacksmith had died two years ago. The book didn’t detail who arranged all this, and Qingyan couldn’t find out. These items were supposed to be part of the dowry from his maternal family, but his stepmother would never spend money on such things, so she only provided a set of wedding clothes to get by.

Qingyan walked out of the inner room and into the outer room where he had eaten breakfast.

This room was even more basic than the bedroom. Against the inner wall were two connected stoves, with some condiment jars and other small items on the stove top. Next to it, against the wall, was a standing cupboard for bowls, chopsticks, and miscellaneous items.

Beside the bed was the round table used for breakfast, with two chairs around it.

On one side of the stove was a large vat with half a vat of dried corn kernels, and beside it were two smaller vats. Qingyan opened the lids and was immediately hit by the smell of pickled vegetables. Next to the vats was a burlap sack containing half a sack of potatoes and a few yellowing, dried-out cabbages.

On the other side, neatly stacked, was some chopped firewood, and beside it, a pile of shiny black coal.

There was still coal smoldering in the stove, and the kettle on top emitted a slight hissing sound, not yet boiling.

Qingyan went to the cupboard and opened each door. Besides a few sets of bowls and chopsticks, there were small bags of rice, half a bag of white flour, and some coarse grains like millet and sorghum.

After closing the cupboard doors, Qingyan entered another room connected to the outer room.

As soon as he entered, he smelled the distinctive fragrance of ink.

This room had originally belonged to Blacksmith Wang. After he passed away, it had been left vacant.

The room contained a wooden bed, now bare with only the wooden boards remaining.

Against the wall were three old red lacquered chests stacked together.

In the center of the room was a rectangular wooden table, fully equipped with writing tools—brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Qingyan walked over and looked through them, finding that everything was new. Although the paper was of poor quality, it was still usable for writing.

The brushes hung on a brush holder, and the brush washer was a beautiful blue-and-white porcelain piece, which seemed out of place here.

The only thing that had been used was the inkstone, which had a small amount of ground ink on it, emitting the fragrance he had noticed.

Qingyan instinctively wanted to pick up a brush and try writing, but remembering how expensive paper was in this era compared to its abundance in modern times, he quickly withdrew his hand.

Qiu Heniang’s money was now his money, and he didn’t want to waste it.

Just as Qingyan was staring at the inkstone, he heard a noise at the courtyard gate, someone knocking. Before he could respond, the person had already opened the gate and entered the courtyard.

Through the paper window, he saw a figure. Qingyan quickly put on his shoes and walked out.

When he opened the door to the outer room, he saw a small, thin man with fair skin. He was wearing an old gray cotton robe and a relatively new lake-green cotton vest, which made his otherwise ordinary face look somewhat refined.

Although there was sunlight in the courtyard, it was still very cold. The man kept rubbing his hands for warmth, his breath visible in the cold air. When he saw Qingyan, he stopped and scanned him from head to toe, lingering on his ill-fitting shoes and coarse clothing, before showing a somewhat ambiguous smile.

“You must be the new bride from the Wang family. I’m your neighbor to the east, Chen Yu,” he said, unabashedly staring at Qingyan’s disheveled hair.

Qingyan’s gaze fell on the man’s face, where black characters read: Chen Yu, Zhang family’s husband.

In this world, there were three genders: male, female, and ‘ge’er’. Chen Yu was obviously a ‘ge’er’ and already married. 

Qingyan, who had also become a ‘ge’er’, curiously stared at him until Chen Yu, feeling awkward, gave a fake cough. Qingyan reluctantly looked away and followed Chen Yu’s earlier gesture to the neighboring courtyard. 

The house there wasn’t any better than his own but was well-kept, with dried corn and chili peppers hanging on the outer wall, adding a splash of color.

Qingyan looked back at Chen Yu with a bright smile. 

“My surname is Yu, and my name is Yu Qingyan.”

His smile was so dazzling that even the shabby, ill-fitting clothes couldn’t hide his charm. Chen Yu felt a twinge of jealousy but covered his mouth with his hand and laughed lightly. 

“Who doesn’t know your name by now? It’s spread across ten miles!”

Despite it being the warmest part of the day, it was still very cold. 

Qingyan hugged his arms and asked, “What’s spread? Am I that famous?”

Seeing that sarcasm was wasted on him, Chen Yu restrained himself and stated his purpose, “Is your husband home? My hoe broke, and he said he’d make a new one. I wonder if it’s ready.”

Qingyan had just arrived yesterday and knew nothing about this. Since the book didn’t mention this person, he probably wasn’t important, but it was still business.

Qingyan had no reason to refuse, so he said, “My husband is out. I’ll ask him when he gets back, and if the hoe is ready, I’ll bring it to your home.”

Chen Yu, hearing Qingyan call Qiu Heniang ‘husband,’ couldn’t help but laugh again. 

His eyes roved over Qingyan’s face before he slowly said, “Alright, I’ll wait at home then. Although we don’t need it for farming now, the pig heads buried under the snow need to be dug out and cooked before the New Year. Please ask him to hurry.”

Qingyan nodded. 

“Alright, I’ll make sure to tell him.”

Spoiler for the Next Chapter:

He even found the courage to question Qiu Henian, pouting, “You didn’t even look at me. How do you know if it looks good?”