Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Examining the Wound

Song Rui Ze flicked her a cold look and walked past her as if she were nothing more than a fence post.

Qin Hui Yin stared after him, anger rising like heat. “Such a fine youth,” she muttered, “and you’re a mute.”

Song Rui Ze stopped.

Slowly, he turned his head. The look he gave her was quiet and sharp, like winter water.

Qin Hui Yin lifted her chin right back. “What are you staring at? Am I wrong?”

She stepped forward, words spilling out faster the more she was ignored. “I bandaged you. I climbed the mountain to gather herbs. I boiled medicine. I cooked for you. I’m not asking for gratitude—I did owe you. But could you at least not treat me like I’m invisible? Give me some kind of response, okay?”

His gaze slid over her face, then down—briefly—to her wrist.

There was a scrape there, raw and red.

“I didn’t ask you to do any of that,” he said.

The bluntness knocked the wind out of her for a second.

Then she let out a hard laugh. “You really are… Forget it. Consider it my meddling.”

She followed him inside anyway, because worry still outweighed pride.

“How is your wound?” she demanded, stopping near the doorway. “I worked hard to bandage you. I fell more than once looking for medicine. The least you could do is take better care of my handiwork.”

Song Rui Ze didn’t answer. He walked to the next room, then came back carrying a washed bowl.

He held it out.

Qin Hui Yin blinked. It was the bowl that had held the food Tang Yi Chen delivered earlier.

She took it automatically, then squared her shoulders. “I want to see your wound.”

“No need.”

“Fine. Then I won’t look.” She forced herself to shift to what mattered most. “One more thing—I heard your second uncle went to the Village Head and registered your name for the Dam Worksite. Go talk to the Village Head and cross your name out as soon as you can.”

Song Rui Ze’s expression didn’t change. “If there’s nothing else, go.”

“Message delivered.” Qin Hui Yin turned on her heel and walked a few steps.

Then she stopped.

The emptiness of the house hit her again—the kind of emptiness that didn’t come from quiet, but from losing the one person who’d made a place feel safe.

She looked back. “Uncle Song is gone. You need to take care of yourself.”

“Wait,” Song Rui Ze called.

Qin Hui Yin turned, surprised. “What?”

Song Rui Ze disappeared into the next room. A moment later, he came back with a rabbit in his hands and tossed it toward her.

Qin Hui Yin barely caught it.

The rabbit blinked up at her and squeaked, warm and alive in her arms.

Song Rui Ze didn’t wait for thanks. He turned and walked away again, shutting her out with the same silence he’d always worn.

Qin Hui Yin stood there a moment, then carried the rabbit home.

If he wanted to settle debts this way, fine. After all the effort she’d spent on him, accepting one rabbit wasn’t exactly robbery.

When she stepped into the yard, Li Tao Hua’s shoulders relaxed—until her eyes landed on what Qin Hui Yin was holding.

“Where did that rabbit come from?”

“Song Rui Ze gave it to me,” Qin Hui Yin said. “He doesn’t want to owe us.”

“At least he has some sense,” Li Tao Hua muttered. “And when you told him about the Dam Worksite?”

“If he reacted, he wouldn’t be Song Rui Ze.” Qin Hui Yin lowered the rabbit slightly so it wouldn’t wriggle free. “I warned him. What he does next is his business.”

“Rabbits eat grass!” Tang Lu Wu said quickly. “I’ll go gather rabbit grass.”

“No need.” Qin Hui Yin walked straight to Tang Yi Chen and handed the rabbit to him.

Tang Yi Chen looked down at it, then up at her, a rare confusion in his cool eyes.

“Kill it,” Qin Hui Yin said.

“Kill it?” Tang Yi Chen echoed, startled. “Don’t women love furry little animals like this?”

“I prefer chickens,” Qin Hui Yin said without hesitation. “They lay eggs. Kill the rabbit. Tomorrow I’ll make cold shredded rabbit.”

—

The next morning, they went back to selling Chilled Jelly Noodles.

Tang Yi Chen still worked separately from them, but about an hour later he returned to the stall.

After the last customer finally left and Qin Hui Yin could breathe again, she asked, “Why are you back so early today?”

“I won’t be going home for the next few days,” Tang Yi Chen said. “I came to tell you.”

“Is your leave over?”

“Not yet. I asked for five days. But I need to look into something, and it’s more convenient to stay in town than waste time traveling back and forth.”

“Got it,” Qin Hui Yin said. Her gaze swept over their pot and the untouched bowls of jelly. “We might have to stop our business for a couple days too. You saw it—fewer customers today, and we can’t sell everything.”

Tang Yi Xiao leaned in. “Should we lower the price and sell it cheap?”

“No,” Tang Yi Chen said at once. “If we lower the price now, the customers who bought earlier will feel cheated.”

He paused, then added, “Have you thought about doing business in the county town? An ox cart from here to the county takes two shichen.”

Two shichen—about four hours.

Qin Hui Yin did the math in her head. If they left at dawn, they’d reach the county by midmorning. If they sold out, it would be afternoon before they could turn back. By the time they returned, it would be nearly dark—too much time lost on the road.

But the county town meant a bigger market. More people. More customers with money.

Even going every other day could earn more than scraping by in town.

And if they did go, they could add more specialty snacks—grilled skewers, cold noodles, cold rice noodles, meat-stuffed flatbreads…

“There aren’t many customers today,” Qin Hui Yin decided. “Let’s not wait around. We still have more than 20 bowls left. Take them to the school and share them with your classmates.”

“We can share,” Tang Yi Chen said calmly, “but not for free.”

He gestured toward the bowls. “Bring them to the school with me. We’ll say that since they’re my classmates, we’ll sell them for only three wen. That’s still profit.”

Qin Hui Yin grinned. “If you don’t mind, I don’t mind. Who complains about having too much money?”

Tang Yi Chen’s mouth twitched. “Thanks for the compliment.”

It almost sounded like a joke.

Their relationship had shifted without any of them naming it—still prickly at the edges, but less distant than before.

They followed Tang Yi Chen to the school and, just as he predicted, cleared out their stock at a lower price. In the end, they earned 112 wen—less than yesterday, but better than hauling leftovers home.

Afterward, they went to restock ingredients.

But the biggest priority now wasn’t noodles.

They needed a handcart—something sturdy enough to cook mala tang, grill meat, fry flatbreads, even make meat-stuffed flatbreads if they expanded.

At the school, Qin Hui Yin sketched a blueprint on paper, lines clean and confident. Then she went straight to the blacksmith shop and placed an order for the all-purpose contraption.

The blacksmith glanced at the drawing, whistled low, and said it would take five days.

Five days was enough time.

She could use those days to teach the others how to make the dishes, so later she wouldn’t be stretched thin.