The stove in Qingheng’s home had a total of three burners. The largest burner held a pottery cauldron and a pottery steamer, which were used daily to cook porridge, noodle soup, or steam millet rice; next to the large one was a smaller one holding a griddle, used daily for making flatbreads; and at the very back, where the smoke from the two burners converged, there was another burner that usually held a small pottery cauldron for keeping water or milk warm.

Every day while cooking, as the firewood burned in the front and the smoke passed through, the small pottery cauldron would also be heated. When goat’s milk was poured into it, it wouldn’t boil, but the temperature would rise to the point where it was too hot to touch.

Previously, they had used the small pottery cauldron to heat water for washing dishes, and for washing their faces and brushing their teeth. After Qingguo arrived, they cleaned the cauldron and used it exclusively to provide him with warm goat’s milk at every meal.

When Qingheng returned to the kitchen doorway, Xing Yue had already finished washing the pots, bowls, and utensils.

Seeing Qingheng, he pointed to the dishwasher in the pot: “Where should I pour this?”

“To the sheep pen, for…” Before Qingheng could finish, Xing Yue had already picked up the pottery cauldron, startling Qingheng into hurriedly saying, “Hold the bottom…”

Realizing what he’d done, he quickly corrected himself: “Put it down fast, don’t burn yourself…” 

Xing Yue instinctively lifted it again, then hurriedly set it down: “…”

His reactions were too quick, his movements too fast, and he obeyed every word—he looked just like a fool. 

Qingheng: “……”

Seeing that Xing Yue’s hand had just touched the bottom, he hurried over, looked at his hand, and asked with concern, “Is your hand okay? Does it hurt?”

“It’s fine, it’s just warm, not hot.” Xing Yue actually felt a little awkward; he hadn’t expected that taking the initiative for once would make him feel so embarrassed.

Of course, it was a good thing he’d removed the pottery cauldron from the burner while washing it; now the bottom was just warm. Otherwise, with embers still smoldering in the burner, if he’d touched the bottom directly, he would’ve burned his hand and gotten blisters.

Qingheng was just as embarrassed as he was.

He meant well by offering to help, and Qingheng wasn’t blaming him—he was just worried that Xing Yue, being so out of touch with practical matters or lacking experience, might accidentally break the pottery cauldron.

Repairing one would cost only a few dozen wen, but he’d be busy for the next few days. If it were truly broken, he wouldn’t have time to go to the rural market to find someone to fix it.

And buying a new one—even the cheapest one—would cost at least two hundred wen. Just thinking about the few copper coins left in his savings made his heart ache.

Qingheng pointed at the pottery cauldron and explained, looking a bit awkward: “The spot where the bottom meets the sides is prone to cracking or breaking off. We have to be careful when using it. If it’s filled with something, we support the bottom with our hands to make it last as long as possible. Just remember to support it when you move it next time.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” Xing Yue also seemed a bit awkward.

“How are you feeling?” Qingheng was more concerned about that. “Do you feel dizzy now?”

“Actually, I’m fine.” Xing Yue assessed his own condition: “I felt a little dizzy when I woke up this morning, but I feel much better now. I have no major issues moving around.”

He suspected the dizziness wasn’t just due to his injuries and fever, but also to his previous poor diet and low blood sugar.

Now that the fever had broken and he’d eaten, his legs still felt weak, but he no longer had that sensation of walking on cotton or the world spinning around him.

“Oh.” Qingheng was relieved. “Then go ahead. It’s for feeding the sheep, not for throwing away. There’s a stone trough in the sheep pen.”

Xing Yue：“……”

He really does think he’s a complete klutz.

But thinking back to the impression he’d made just a few minutes ago… Never mind, better not think about it.

Feeling utterly dejected, he hoisted the earthenware pot and headed to the sheep pen to check on Qingguo’s caretaker.

Qingheng hugged Qingguo, washed his paws in the earthenware basin, dried his hands, then took out his little wooden bowl and spoon. As he lifted the lid of the small pottery cauldron, the rich aroma of milk wafted out instantly.

Qingguo happily kicked his legs, his bright eyes fixed on the pot of milk, drool already beginning to trickle from the corners of his mouth.

Qingheng kissed his cheek, pinched his nose, and teased, “You little glutton.”

Then she ladled out half a bowl of milk. After serving it, she moved the small pottery cauldron back onto the stove, where embers still glowed, to keep the milk warm—Qingguo would be eating another.

He had just sat down in front of the stove with the bowl when Xing Yue returned.

“Let me help you.” Seeing that he was holding the baby in one arm and the bowl in the other—a rather awkward position—Xing Yue placed the clay pot on the burner and turned to assist him.

“There’s an egg in the basin. You should eat first.” Qingheng nodded toward the earthen basin on the floor behind him. After a moment’s thought, he shifted his hips back a bit to make room for Xing Yue.

Fortunately, in their part of Xizhou, while there might not be much of anything else, there was plenty of land. Everyone built their courtyards or houses on a grand scale. Qingheng’s kitchen was very spacious; several people could sit comfortably in front of the stove.

Xing Yue didn’t hesitate. After sitting down, he peeled an egg while glancing at the milk in Qingguo’s bowl and asked, “Does he always drink goat’s milk?”

“No.” Qingheng thought he was just making small talk, so while feeding Qingguo with a small spoon, he casually replied, “For the first four months, a woman in the village gave birth to a baby. Father talked it over with that family—he gave them some millet in exchange for letting Guoguo share the milk for a while. They agreed, so Guoguo only had a little extra milk before switching to goat’s milk.”

“It’s only been these past two or three months that Guoguo has been drinking mostly goat’s milk.” What Qingheng didn’t say was that the other family’s baby had been weaned, and the mother’s lactation period had also largely come to an end.

“That’s settled,” he said, but then he was at a loss as to what to feed Guoguo next: “Guoguo really loves milk.”

When he asked Lady Wang what to do, she explained that just before Jiu-ger was born, her husband had been assigned by the Zhechong Mansion to perform garrison duty and hadn’t come home for seven or eight months. When Jiu-ger was born, there was only A-Jia and the young lads at home. She was completely alone and helpless. A-Jia resented her for not bearing a son and mistreated her in daily life. She didn’t have enough to eat and had little milk, so Jiu-ger had always been fed boiled radishes.

Mashed, cooked radishes can be made into a puree suitable for infants, but Lady Wang said that whenever she thought back to how Jiu-ger had barely had a few sips of breast milk before the family split, she felt a deep sense of resentment. If she had the chance, she would definitely breastfeed Jiu-ger—for as long as she could, and for as long as he wanted to nurse—so she wouldn’t have to feel heartbroken and guilty later on when she saw him looking so scrawny.

Qingheng thought about it; he, too, wanted to satisfy Qingguo’s appetite.

So, he sold a flock of sheep and spent a fortune on two goats—a rarity in Xizhou—precisely because goats have a long lactation period. As long as they gave birth to kids, they could provide Qingguo with a steady supply of food for quite some time.

So now that both the sheep and the goats had finished lactating, he was a bit at a loss.

Over the past few days, Xing Yue had only seen his responsible side, thinking that for such a young age, he was so mature that even as an adult, he felt ashamed by comparison.

But after talking with him today, he realized that sixteen is sixteen—he wasn’t mature in every way. In some areas, he actually lacked experience, making him seem a bit childish and clumsy.

Xing Yue stifled a laugh and said, “Goat’s milk is nutritious, but it’s not balanced. At seven or eight months, he can actually start eating solid foods.”   

“Huh?” Qingheng didn’t understand.

“Put half of this egg yolk into the milk, mash it up, mix it well, and try feeding it to him.” Xing Yue cracked open the egg and gestured for him to go ahead. Seeing him standing there dumbfounded, he simply took the wooden spoon from his hand, scooped out half the yolk, and dropped it into the milk.

He reached for a bowl, intending to help stir the food, but realized he was still holding an egg, which made it awkward. He held up the egg and called out, “Xing Zhao has already eaten. You go ahead,” Qingheng said, understanding what he meant.

“Have you eaten yet?” Xing Yue asked.

“No, but I’m feeling a bit… um.” Before Qingheng could finish, Xing Yue pinched half a yolk and popped it into his own mouth, then stuffed the remaining white into Qingheng’s mouth.

“Go ahead,” he smiled. After chewing a few times and swallowing the yolk, he deftly used a spoon to mash the yolk and mix it into the goat’s milk. Just as Qingguo was glaring at him, flailing his arms and legs, and wailing for a bite, he scooped up a spoonful of the egg-yolk milk and brought it to the little one’s mouth: “You eat some too.”

As soon as Qingguo got something to eat, he immediately dropped his snarling expression and instantly broke into a beaming smile. He took a bite, flashed Xing Yue a happy grin, and even blew a bubble with his mouth—his acting was nothing short of masterful.

This made Qingheng laugh uncontrollably. Forgetting all his shyness, he blushed to the tips of his ears and planted a firm kiss on him, finally letting go of the uneasy feeling in his chest.

Seeing that Qingguo enjoyed the food, Xing Yue breathed a sigh of relief as well.

After feeding Qingguo, he casually washed the bowl and said, “In a couple of days, if there are no issues, we can start feeding him steamed egg custard.”

After a moment’s thought, he asked, “Has he been chewing on things a lot lately? He’ll be teething in seven or eight months, so eating some thicker foods—like porridge- would be good for him.”

Qingheng nodded, then looked at him in disbelief. “You know all this?” 

Xing Yue raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”

After all, he’d spent plenty of time taking care of his infant cousin.

Qingheng, however, assumed he had experience taking care of Xing Zhao. Thinking of Xing Zhao’s lively and energetic demeanor, he immediately cheered up: “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

“But…” Qingheng asked, puzzled, “What’s egg custard? I’ve never heard of it before.”

Xing Yue was a little surprised, but then he realized that most of the cookware here was made of pottery, so it made sense. With different cooking equipment, how could the recipes be the same?

“In a couple of days, I’ll make some for you to see. It’s very simple,” Xing Yue said.

Qingheng paused involuntarily, casting a subtle glance his way. In truth, he found it hard to imagine that a young master of such high birth would be skilled in the kitchen.

But Xing Yue quickly interrupted his train of thought: “Don’t they use iron pots much here in Xizhou?”

“No, they do.” Qingheng didn’t understand why he was asking that, and pointed to the griddle on the stove: “There, that’s what they use.”

Xing Yue took a look; it was a thick, heavy flat pan.

“Don’t you have those…” He mimed the shape of a modern iron pot: “The round, deep, and thin ones?”

Qingheng shook his head, curious. “Are iron pots in the capital like that?”

“But wouldn’t one like that shatter at the slightest touch?” Qingheng had no time to dwell on her confusion; she was simply filled with wonder. “Ours is so thick… but I’m too afraid to even let them bump into anything, for fear they’ll shatter or crack. There’s also a flatbread oven in the storeroom—you haven’t seen it, but it’s not very big, though it’s quite expensive. You have to be extremely careful when using it.”

Xing Yue had never been to Shangjing and, lacking the original host’s memories, didn’t know if iron pots existed there.

But one thing was clear to him: in this era, iron smelting technology was likely limited or not yet widespread, and wrought-iron pots hadn’t made their way into ordinary households.

He didn’t answer what iron pots in Shangjing looked like; he just smiled. “When smelting iron, if the furnace temperature is a bit higher, the resulting iron pots won’t break so easily.”

“Really?” Qingheng was surprised, then seemed to remember something, her expression turning excited. “You know even this, and you know how to care for an infant—have you regained your memories?”

Xing Yue：“……”

It was really hard to explain why he remembered iron smelting and caring for children but not how to brush his teeth—or even why people might think he didn’t know how to wipe a baby’s bottom.

Once you tell one lie, you have to tell countless more—it becomes illogical and nonsensical. Xing Yue could only clear his throat and tell the truth: “They’re just fragments of memory. They’re not very useful.”

“Alright,” Qingheng sighed.

Xing Yue didn’t want to disappoint him, but having lost his memories after his soul had been transported left him at a loss for words. After a moment’s thought, he asked directly, “If I can’t recover my memories, will you be very disappointed?”

“No…” Qingheng hadn’t expected him to ask that. He paused for a moment, then shook his head, looking up at him with nothing but concern in his eyes. “I’m just afraid the blow will be too much for you. If you do remember, you might not be able to handle it emotionally, and then you’d suffer in silence without telling anyone.”

“No matter what, I hope you and Xing Zhao live happily. Once the pain of these past days has passed, let it go and move forward.”

Xing Yue was taken aback.

Before he could figure out what he was feeling, Jiang Liu’s voice came from outside: “Brother Heng, are you home?”