New update schedule: Tuesday and Wednesday

Amt of chapters to be published this week (cause I missed last week’s upload): Four

Thanks for your patience!

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Business is never smooth sailing. Today, the pastries sold well, but the drinks didn’t. Lin Yue and Shen Lingzhi had been hawking them for nearly half an hour, but had only managed to sell two more cups.

Seeing that there wasn’t much left in the bucket, Lin Yue spoke up: “Lingzhi, let’s head home early. It looks like we won’t sell everything today, so there’s no point in lingering any longer.”

Shen Lingzhi nodded in agreement, and the two pushed their cart home, calling out to customers all the way.

They arrived home rather early—it was far too soon to start dinner. After discussing it briefly, they each went about their own business.

Shen Lingzhi gathered the dirty laundry from around the house and carried the basin to the riverbank, while Lin Yue hoisted his hoe and headed to the vegetable patch to weed and plant.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hot today, so planting and watering the vegetables was no problem. If it had been hot, they would have had to wait until after dinner to plant.

By the time they finished their chores, it was time to make dinner. For the locals, this year’s first mushroom meal was, without exaggeration, every bit as satisfying as a meat-filled feast. Lin Yue had been mentally planning the menu while he worked earlier.

“Lingzhi, I’ll cook dinner tonight. You help me out.”

Shen Lingzhi rolled up his sleeves immediately. “Don’t worry, big brother. Leave it to me. I promise to keep the fire burning bright. I was just about to tell you I didn’t dare to stir-fry mushrooms.”

Lin Yue nodded in understanding. “Stir-frying mushrooms is a bit of a hassle. I’ve only dared to try it myself in the last couple of years.”

He tended the fire to cook the rice and took the wok to stir-fry the vegetables.

Mushrooms like the green-capped and milk-cap varieties have a delicious flavor and are perfect for making soup. There’s no need to slice them; simply tear them into smaller pieces by hand. The resulting mushroom soup is incredibly rich and aromatic, allowing you to savor its natural, unadulterated flavor.

There were plenty of porcini mushrooms, which are firm in texture and have a rich aroma. Lin Yue planned to slice them and stir-fry them with ham slices. No other seasonings were needed—just two cloves of garlic.

Adding garlic serves another purpose besides seasoning: detecting poison. According to wisdom passed down by older generations, if you stir-fry garlic with mushrooms and the garlic changes color, the mushrooms are poisonous and should not be eaten; if it doesn’t change color, they’re safe to eat.

However, Lin Yue doesn’t think this method is entirely reliable. Everyone adds garlic when stir-frying mushrooms, yet people still get poisoned every year.

As a mountain delicacy, the exquisite flavor of wild mushrooms needs no elaboration. They’re also versatile—whether pan-fried, stir-fried, boiled, or deep-fried, each method has its own unique charm. Yet the risk of poisoning is alarmingly high. Without going too far afield, just in the nearby villages, while it might not happen every year, you’ll hear of at least one or two cases every year or two.

Some get poisoned from eating mushrooms they don’t recognize; others get sick because the mushrooms were undercooked, even though the mushrooms themselves were fine; and still others feel fine after the first meal but get sick when they reheat and eat them again. The ways people get poisoned are truly as varied as can be.

Mild symptoms include feeling a bit disoriented, walking unsteadily like a drunkard, or even crouching on the ground to talk to the grass or hugging the family’s big yellow dog—these cases usually recover on their own. Severe symptoms involve foaming at the mouth and sudden death.

Even so, nothing can dampen the locals’ passion for mushrooms.

In their words, “That family was just too impatient—they dared to serve the mushrooms before they were even cooked through.”

“You’re right. And they even dare to pick mushrooms they’ve never seen before—they’re really bold.”

“Exactly. When stir-frying mushrooms, the fire has to be blazing hot. If you only throw a single log on the stove and the fire’s barely burning, and you’re cooking the first harvest of the season, it’s no wonder people get poisoned.”

That’s right—there’s another saying: you shouldn’t eat the first batch of mushrooms either.

Every year, when Lin Yue went mushroom picking, he dared to pick only the most common varieties—the ones every household ate. Even if he heard others say other mushrooms were edible, he wouldn’t dare pick them. Even so, he still felt a bit nervous every time he stir-fried mushrooms, afraid they weren’t cooked through.

It wasn’t until the mushroom soup was successfully served—with the garlic still bright white inside—that Lin Yue finally relaxed. Although he didn’t fully believe the old saying, he wouldn’t dare eat a pot of mushrooms where the garlic had changed color. He valued his life too much.

They’d been lucky this morning; the two of them had gathered quite a few chicken-oil mushrooms. When Lin Yue first heard the name as a child, he’d assumed the mushroom tasted like chicken fat. Later, he learned it was because the mushroom itself has a yellowish hue, and when stir-fried, it absorbs oil readily. With a single bite, the juices burst in your mouth—the oil mixed with the mushroom’s own juices, squeezed out under pressure, resembling chicken fat.

Chicken-oil mushrooms are delicious on their own, but adding extra oil makes the flavor truly unparalleled. After much deliberation, Lin Yue decided to make chicken-oil mushroom fried rice. The juicy mushrooms paired with fluffy, separate grains of rice created a dish that was a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate.

With both meat and vegetable dishes, plus the summer staple of cold cucumber salad, along with the pastries and fermented bean curd soup left over from this morning, the table was generously laid out.

The timing was perfect. Just as Lin Yue set the dishes on the table, Shen Huaizhi and the others returned together from outside.

The kitchen window was open, and Lin Yue poked his head out and called, “Father, Mother, Huaizhi, wash your hands and come inside to eat.”

After calling out to them, Lin Yue paused for a moment. It seemed this was the first time he’d ever called Shen Huaizhi by his given name; it just felt a bit odd. No wonder the young married couples in the village never called each other by their full names—at most, they’d refer to the other as “the child’s father.” But since they didn’t have children yet, that title wouldn’t work for now. It seemed he’d have to come up with a more natural way to address him; he couldn’t keep being vague about it forever.

But then Lin Yue had a second thought: maybe being vague wasn’t such a bad thing. He could keep it vague for a couple of years, and then just call him “the child’s father” when the time came—that would be fine too. The thought flashed through his mind for a moment, but Lin Yue pushed it aside immediately, because Song Xunchun had just walked in.

As soon as Song Xunchun entered, she spotted the bowls and plates on the table and smiled. “It’s quite a feast tonight. I was just thinking about these mushrooms.”

“I wonder if it’s to your taste. Mother, you must try some.”

Song Xunchun waved her hand. “How could anything you make not be delicious? With your cooking skills, Lingzhi and I combined couldn’t hold a candle to you. To be picky about this would be nitpicking.”

Everyone likes to be praised, and Lin Yue was no exception, though he remained modest. “It’s my first time making this this year; I’m a bit rusty. It’s really just because the mushrooms taste so good.”

From the moment the family picked up their bowls to the time they put down their chopsticks, barely fifteen minutes had passed, and the table was already bare.

After the meal, Shen Lingzhi was the first to rise and clear the table, while Lin Yue followed Shen Huaizhi back to their room.

Lin Yue didn’t usually follow Shen Huaizhi so closely; partly because he feared disturbing his studies, and partly because he felt a bit uneasy when alone with Shen Huaizhi.

No matter how intimate they were at night, it didn’t matter. But during the day, with the rest of the family present, even though the two of them didn’t do anything, Lin Yue still felt too shy to stay in the room the whole time. He would always linger outside for a long while, waiting until Shen Huaizhi had finished reviewing his lessons before going in.

Since it was still early that day, Shen Huaizhi taught Lin Yue to recognize characters, or he would continue reading while Lin Yue sat beside him sewing clothes.

Lin Yue had started sewing this garment just a couple of days after his wedding. He’d barely finished half of it when he realized that since Shen Huaizhi went out every day, shoes were more important. So he turned and began stitching the soles of his shoes. Only after Shen Huaizhi had put on his new shoes did he resume sewing the garment.

Shen Huaizhi looked at Lin Yue behind him and asked softly, “What’s the matter today? Is there something you want to tell me?”

Lin Yue touched the object in his bosom, then finally changed the subject: “I should have made you clothes right after we got married, but I kept putting it off until now. I just finished them yesterday; try them on to see if they fit.”

Shen Huaizhi sighed helplessly. “I still have clothes to wear, and I’m even wearing the new shoes you made. It’s you who hasn’t made any new clothes for yourself even though we’ve been married for so long. Didn’t you promise to make your own first?”

He then explained, “I’m not trying to scold you; I just think you’re so busy every day that you should rest more at night.”

Lin Yue had already turned toward the wardrobe. Hearing this, he turned his head. “I’m working on mine too. It’s just that yours doesn’t need embroidery, so it’s simpler to make—that’s why I finished it first. Come try it on.”

Shen Huaizhi was tall, and as Lin Yue held up the collar, the hem nearly dragged on the floor. “Hurry up and try it on. If it doesn’t fit, I’ll alter it tonight.”

Shen Huaizhi strode over to take the garment, then looked down at Lin Yue and said, “I haven’t washed up yet today, so I’m not clean. I don’t want to get the clothes dirty. Can we try it later?”

Lin Yue shook his head. “We should do it while it’s still light out. Once it gets dark tonight, we won’t be able to see clearly. Hurry up—if you take off your outer robe, you won’t get it dirty.”

At those words, both of them felt a bit embarrassed.

Lin Yue opened his mouth but couldn’t think of what to say, so he simply urged Shen Huaizhi to try on the clothes quickly and turned to go to the table.

It wasn’t until Shen Huaizhi came over wearing the new clothes that Lin Yue turned back. The man before him had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, clad in an indigo-blue robe—the standard attire of a scholar—and looked quite pleasing to the eye.

He hadn’t expected the first set of clothes he’d made for Shen Huaizhi to fit so well. Lin Yue silently nodded to himself; though the stitching was nothing special, the fit was already quite good.

Shen Huaizhi turned around to let Lin Yue get a clear look before speaking: “The clothes suit me well. I’ll wear this on the day of the exam.”

The provincial exam was held in the provincial capital. Lin Yue had never been there and didn’t know what to expect, but since it was a long journey, it was best to keep his money well hidden. “Should I sew two pockets on the inside? That would make it easier to carry things.”

Shen Huaizhi had already taken off the robe and shook his head. “No need. This is fine. Sewing pockets would make it inconvenient during the security check at the exam entrance.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

During the brief time spent trying on the clothes, Lin Yue had relaxed. When Shen Huaizhi put the clothes away and turned back, Lin Yue handed him the item he’d been holding close to his chest.

“Here you go. I happened to see this in town today and thought it would suit you, so I bought it.”

Shen Huaizhi stared at the brush before him, completely dumbfounded. He was a regular at the town’s bookshop, and he recognized this brush—the most expensive one in the store. After all, the shopkeeper had been trying to sell it for a year without success, even sighing in front of him on several occasions. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bought this brush on impulse. I thought that if I bought just one, I’d be able to sell it, but I never expected it to be a dead weight.”

The brush Shen Huaizhi used was also bought at the bookstore—the cheapest kind, costing no more than fifteen wen per brush and lasting over three months. But this one cost fifty wen; it was only natural it hadn’t sold. He never imagined Lin Yue would end up buying it for him.

He wasn’t a fool; even by chance, he wouldn’t have picked out the most expensive one. It was clearly something Lin Yue had bought specifically for him.

Shen Huaizhi’s movements were stiff as he took the brush. He wanted Lin Yue to live a comfortable life, but since their marriage, Lin Yue had been busy earning money every day on top of the household chores, while he, on the other hand, couldn’t help at all.

“I don’t need something this expensive. Keep the money you’ve earned for yourself. I…”

Lin Yue looked up and noticed something was off in Shen Huaizhi’s expression. Though they’d only been married a short while, Lin Yue considered himself to know him well enough to cut him off immediately. “It’s fine for everyday writing, but for exams, you should use the best. It’s not that expensive anyway. As long as you don’t think I’m wasting money…”

Lin Yue said this, but his eyes never left Shen Huaizhi. If Shen Huaizhi dared to accuse him of wasting money, he would make a scene.