“Lingyue…”
“Grandmother, I’m fine. It’s getting late—let me clear the table. Everyone, head back to your rooms.” Chu Lingyue smiled and walked to the table as usual, gathering up the bowls and dishes.
“Lingyue, leave this kind of work to Tang Jin. Come keep this old lady warm inside.” Old Madam Tang quickly shot Tang Jin a glare. What was this unlucky child standing around for? Hadn’t she promised to take over the chores from now on?
Tang Jin looked up at the rafters. You might have said that, old lady, but she hadn’t agreed.
Old Madam Tang couldn’t help but grow angry. “Tang Jin.”
If she didn’t get to work soon, the old lady was going to make her.
Tang Jin sighed—a long, drawn-out sigh. “Grandmother, there are just a few plates and bowls here. I can handle it myself, wife.”
Though she hadn’t known Chu Lingyue for long, her intuition told her that if she didn’t leave her wife some chores to do, the woman wouldn’t feel right about taking her share of the silver.
She wasn’t being lazy. She was being considerate.
Chu Lingyue chimed in at just the right moment. “A-Jin’s right, Grandmother. Go on inside. I can manage alone.”
That was the deal they’d made from the start: Tang Laidi provided the silver, Tang Jin cooked, she handled the cleaning and tidying, and they all pitched in for serving guests.
If she did nothing at all, how could she keep taking her twenty percent?
Old Madam Tang glanced at her expression and said, “Fine, then let Tang Jin give you a hand.”
With that, she shot Tang Jin another glare.
In the back yard, Tang Jin stoked the fire to heat some water. Only once it was warm did Chu Lingyue begin washing the plates and bowls.
Both of them kept their heads down, one adding fuel to the flames, the other wiping the water from the dishes.
Moonlight bathed the yard in a cold glow, casting their shadows quietly on the ground, where they intertwined now and then.
“A-Jin, everything’s washed. Take the hot water inside and call Grandmother and Laidi to wash up.” Chu Lingyue’s voice was even, betraying no emotion.
Tang Jin nodded and called toward the house. “Grandmother, Laidi, the hot water’s ready. You two go first.”
As she spoke, she glanced at the figure carrying bowls and plates into the kitchen, then followed silently behind.
In the flickering candlelight, Tang Jin shut the door behind her with a backward flick of her hand.
“Wife, have you thought about how to explain things to Uncle Chu tomorrow?”
Chu Lingyue set down the bowls and plates. “Just tell the truth.”
She and Tang Jin were already married. Surely, the man her father had in mind to curry favor with wouldn’t want to take a remarried woman as a concubine.
Seeing how calmly she spoke, Tang Jin couldn’t help but grow curious. “You’re really not worried? What if Uncle Chu insists on taking you away?”
Chu Lingyue replied casually, “Does A-Jin want the truth or a white lie?”
Tang Jin froze for a moment. The very words “truth or lie” put her on edge, jumping at shadows. Had this woman already figured something out?
She shifted her gaze uncomfortably toward the dancing candle flame. “You’re joking, wife. Of course I want the truth.”
Chu Lingyue said softly, “With A-Jin here, I’m not worried.”
【Ding! Reward: one plate of Ants Climbing a Tree】
Tang Jin rolled her eyes inwardly. Her mouth moved before her brain could catch up. “Thanks a lot.”
A white lie might earn rewards, but this woman had too little faith in her.
Even if she couldn’t stop it, Old Madam Tang was there. Chu Lingyue’s father couldn’t just snatch her away, could he?
Chu Lingyue tilted her head, feigning confusion. “What are you thanking me for, A-Jin?”
Tang Jin replied offhandedly, “For trusting me.”
What else? For not telling the truth so the System could detect the lie and stock the shelf with another dish.
Chu Lingyue’s lips curved slightly. “You’re too polite, A-Jin. Is there anything else you want to ask?”
As she spoke, a faint smile played at the corners of her mouth, and an enigmatic spark danced in her clear eyes—like a test, or as if she had already seen through everything.
Tang Jin’s gaze lifted to her face, studying her intently.
Chu Lingyue met her eyes calmly, her own gaze deep and steady.
Tang Jin’s heart skipped a beat. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Wife, what do you think of me?”
Chu Lingyue smiled sweetly, as if confirming some suspicion, and replied smoothly, “A-Jin is wonderful—a person worth entrusting your life to.”
【Ding! Reward: one pot of Abalone Chicken Wing Stew】
【Ding! Reward: one pot of Garlic Honey Glazed Chicken Wings】
The exact same answer brought the exact same rewards.
Tang Jin nearly gasped aloud. One thought raced through her mind: this woman had definitely noticed something.
No—this woman had absolutely noticed something!
Steadying her nerves, Tang Jin forced a calm tone. “Aren’t you curious, wife? I’ve asked you this more than once now.”
Chu Lingyue met her gaze without a ripple. “Not curious.”
The System stayed silent, so it was genuine.
A tangle of emotions churned in Tang Jin’s chest. Not being curious meant she already had her answers.
Tang Jin stared hard at her and asked darkly, “Doesn’t it strike you as unbelievable, wife?”
But Chu Lingyue didn’t answer. Instead, she looked straight into Tang Jin’s eyes and countered, “Then can A-Jin tell me—are you still the same person you used to be?”
The words hit Tang Jin like a thunderbolt. Her eyes flew wide in disbelief. She couldn’t stay calm anymore.
“Wife, what… what makes you say that? I am who I am.”
Chu Lingyue gazed deeply at her, her eyelids fluttering down as she murmured, “It’s nothing. As long as it’s you, that’s enough.” As long as it’s always you, it’ll be fine.
Tang Jin’s heart sank. She didn’t dare press further. Just how much had this woman guessed?
It seemed like more than she’d ever imagined…
That night, more than one person tossed and turned sleeplessly.
Even in her dreams, Tang Jin saw Chu Lingyue standing before a crowd, proclaiming loudly, “She’s not Tang Jin. She’s some wandering ghost or lost soul from who knows where…”
She jolted awake to see Chu Lingyue dressing in the hazy morning light and heading out.
Anxious, Tang Jin hurried after her. “Wife, where are you going?”
Sensing the unease in her voice, Chu Lingyue smiled faintly. “To sell the plates. Want to come, A-Jin?”
“Yes, let’s go.” Tang Jin let out a huge sigh of relief, reassuring herself all the way: dreams are the opposite of reality. Dreams are the opposite. Chu Lingyue wouldn’t expose her.
She chanted it to herself the whole way, until Chu Lingyue stopped and turned back. “A-Jin, want to check out the vegetable market?”
“Sure, let’s go.” Tang Jin shook herself alert. Yesterday’s courtroom debacle was a lesson not to get careless. Thinking of the dishes she’d make today, she specially bought two potatoes, a pound of chicken wings, and half a pound of shrimp.
Amid cries of “Fresh veggies here!”, she collected eleven bowls of Century Egg Lean Meat Congee.
Carelessly, she’d stockpiled twenty more bowls of it.
Chu Lingyue followed quietly, saying nothing, asking nothing, her gaze serene—as if she saw through it all.
Back at the restaurant, Tang Jin headed straight for the kitchen. She took a deep breath at the sight of the ingredients in the basket and rolled up her sleeves to cook.
Cook?
Of course she couldn’t. Back in the modern world, instant noodles were her specialty; everything else was barely edible.
Undeterred, Tang Jin stoked the fire, heated the wok, dumped in all the cleaned and chopped ingredients, and made a grand mess stew.
In the main hall, Tang Laidi and Old Madam Tang were waiting eagerly for breakfast.
Seeing them staring hopefully toward the kitchen, Chu Lingyue volunteered, “I’ll go urge A-Jin along.”
“Wife, perfect timing—take this out. I’m serving the congee now.” Tang Jin pushed open the door at Chu Lingyue’s arrival and thrust the basin of stew into her hands.
By the time Chu Lingyue returned to the hall and set it down, Tang Jin emerged with four bowls of Century Egg Lean Meat Congee.
Old Madam Tang gripped her chopsticks, eyeing the lavish spread with delight. “Everyone’s here. Let’s eat.”
With that, chopsticks darted out, snagging a shrimp.
Breakfast was good today. Still congee with century egg and lean meat, but this stew looked promising—chicken wings, shrimp, potato chunks, all simmered to a thick mush. Had to be tasty.
She popped the shrimp into her mouth eagerly—and froze.
Tang Jin watched expectantly. “What do you think, Grandmother? Good?”
Old Madam Tang, chewing her half-eaten shrimp, asked, “Didn’t you taste it?”
Tang Jin’s eyes sparkled as she nodded. “It’s my new recipe: Tang Family Mess Stew. Haven’t tried it yet.”
“Oh. Laidi, Lingyue—what do you two think of the flavor?” Old Madam Tang chewed mechanically, her face blank.
Tang Laidi and Chu Lingyue exchanged a glance, then chorused, “Delicious.”
Old Madam Tang nodded approvingly at Tang Jin. “You must be starving, up early cooking and inventing new dishes. Go on, try some.”
Tang Jin beamed with delight. No one called it bad, so it must be fine.
She snatched up a shrimp—and her face twisted the next instant.
“Ack! So salty!”
“Not just salty—saltier than brine.” Tang Laidi rolled her eyes at her and gulped down her congee. Suddenly, the stuff tasted great. No comparison, no appreciation.
Old Madam Tang spared the stew not another glance. With earnest gravity, she said, “Tang Jin, from now on, just assist Lingyue honestly. No more ‘new recipes.'”
What a waste of good ingredients—and salt, to boot.
Chu Lingyue nodded in agreement. “It wasn’t easy for A-Jin to come up with a new dish. We can’t let it go to waste.”
Tang Jin: “Thanks!”
She didn’t want to waste it, but she feared keeling over from the salt. Ancient salt was coarse, but she’d only added two spoonfuls. How did it taste like it was boiled in seawater?
Before she could puzzle it out, the other three finished their congee, set down their bowls, and considerately left the entire basin for her.
Tang Jin: “…”
She’d been wrong.
She shouldn’t have tried cooking. If she hadn’t, there wouldn’t be this basin of stew. And without it, she wouldn’t have to eat it all alone.
Choking it down with frantic gulps of water, tears in her eyes.
Might as well die of salt.
In the midst of her misery, someone knocked at the restaurant door.
Tang Jin dropped her chopsticks at once. “I’ll get it!”
Her voice rang out high and clear, like a prisoner finally freed.
The visitors were two men. One was middle-aged, dressed in fine brocade—a Provincial Graduate, father to Chu Shaoyang.
The other was a bit older, in plain scholar’s robes: Chu Lingyue’s father.
Seeing them, Chu Lingyue pressed her lips together and murmured, “Second Uncle, Father.”
Chu Father stormed in, bristling. “You still have me in your eyes, do you, as your father?”
Scholar Chu patted his elder brother’s back, soothing him, while smiling kindly at Chu Lingyue. “Lian’er, you come to Ping’an County without a word? Your father’s been searching everywhere.”
Chu Lingyue replied evenly, “Second Uncle, I’m Lingyue now.”
Scholar Chu’s expression faltered. Before he could respond, Chu Father shoved his arm aside. “Enough chit-chat with her, you unfilial girl. On your knees!”
“Who’s come?” Old Madam Tang leaned on her cane as she stepped forward. She pulled Chu Lingyue behind her and gazed at Scholar Chu. “Oh, it’s Scholar Chu.”
She turned to Chu Father, whose face had darkened, then abruptly clapped a hand over her eyes and hollered, “Oh dear, this old lady’s getting on in years and can’t abide filthy things! Tang Jin, hurry over here and chase this filth out!”
