Chen Siwu left early in the morning. After Lin Niangzi found out about Chen Chuan’s engagement, she didn’t say anything to stop him from going. Chen Chuan had always been a man of his own mind, and this wasn’t the sort of thing he could just decide not to do on a whim.

She frowned and thought for a moment: “Have you talked it over with your older brother yet?”

Chen Chuan replied calmly, “He’ll take one year at a time.”

“We’ve given him the entire family estate. As for corvée labor, I suppose he’ll be glad to know he has a younger brother.” Lin Niangzi didn’t look too pleased, but after all, that was in the past. Their family’s fortunes were clearly on the rise now, so there was no need to dwell on such things. “I’m fully recovered now. Next year, we’ll just spend some money to buy our way out of it.”

As they talked about family matters, Ye Tao couldn’t get a word in edgewise, so he finally asked, “Can one still pay to be exempted from corvée labor?”

Lin Niangzi replied, “Yes, you can buy your way out of it, and the money paid for the exemption goes to the person who was drafted.”

Ye Tao asked again, “Is the exemption expensive?”

“It’s usually one tael per household, though it depends on how many people are conscripted and what kind of work they’re doing,” Lin Niangzi explained. “Around here, it’s mostly dredging rivers, building bridges, and constructing embankments. Last year, when the floods hit, it cost a little over two guan.”

“If it’s one tael per year, we should be able to afford it,” Ye Tao thought.

Working in the water is physically demanding, and fearing that Chen Chuan might get hungry, Ye Tao had also cooked some steamed rice that morning. The vegetables were bought at the morning market: a bottle gourd, a bunch of lotus-stem vegetables, and two spiny cucumbers.

The bottle gourd was stir-fried, the lotus-stem vegetable was served as a light salad, and the spiny cucumbers were eaten raw, though Aunt Lin had a weak stomach, so they were always stir-fried. There was also fish at the morning market, but there wasn’t enough time to cook it in the morning, and cooking it at night risked it losing freshness, so she decided to wait until late afternoon to buy some, along with a block of tofu.

Ye Tao saw Chen Chuan off before tidying up and heading out to set up his stall. The weather wasn’t great today; a thin layer of clouds covered the sky, giving it a grayish-white hue.

The air seemed to have come to a standstill; the banyan tree’s leaves didn’t stir a bit, and even though it wasn’t even noon yet, anyone standing under the tree was already drenched in sweat.

Old Man Hong went to the river to splash some water on his face. When he returned, he said, “Why hasn’t it rained yet?”

Sai Shenxian must have been doing good business lately; he’d already downed two bowls of porridge first thing in the morning. He snapped his fingers to calculate and said, “It won’t rain until the Wei hour.” But the rain came a little earlier than expected. Three beats of the hour drum rang out from the city, and by the third ten-minute mark of the Si hour, a cool breeze swept past his ears. The leaves overhead rustled, and Ye Tao instinctively looked up just as a raindrop landed on his face.

Old Man Hong remarked with a smile, “Sai Shenxian, your prediction was off.”

Sai Shenxian was just about to return the bowl of cold drink when he heard this, but he wasn’t annoyed. “Even immortals make mistakes sometimes,” he said. “Here’s a bowl of drink to buy your silence.”

Old Man Hong didn’t hesitate; he walked over and drank it. Sai Shenxian added, “Another bowl, Brother Tao. You keep your mouth shut, too.”

Ye Tao, however, wasn’t in the mood to drink. He gathered the items in his hands, put them back in his basket, and hurriedly stood up: “I won’t be drinking today. I have some urgent business at home. I’ll treat you all another day.”

With that, he grabbed his basket and ran home. Old Man Hong and Sai Shenxian were left staring at each other in bewilderment.

“Is he drying clothes at home?” asked Sai Shenxian. “The rain isn’t that heavy—there’s no need to rush off like that.”

Old Man Hong watched Ye Tao’s retreating figure and shook his head. “It’s probably something to do with his family.”

Quanzhou gets a lot of rain, and whether it’s heavy or light, fast or slow, many people can tell roughly what to expect based on experience.

When dark clouds gather quickly, the rain usually falls hard. But on a day like today—overcast since morning with thin cloud cover—it’s just a light drizzle that won’t intensify anytime soon. That’s why most passersby walked at a leisurely pace, not even bothering to shield themselves from the rain. Seeing him running so frantically, they all turned to look at him.

Ye Tao paid no heed to any of this and ran straight home. Seeing Lin Niangzi stoking the fire, he asked, breathlessly, “Aunt Lin, what are you making?”

“Why are you running so fast? Take a break.” Lin Niangzi stopped tending the fire, stood up, and poured him some water. “It looks like it’s about to rain. A-Chuan was going to go into the water anyway, and without any sun to keep him warm, I’m afraid he’ll catch a chill. I’m brewing some ginger tea to send over to him.”

“Zhenniang can’t be left unattended at home—I’ll go,” Ye Tao said. “I’ll take some food over, too.”

Lin Niangzi nodded. “You really do think of everything.”

Since making it from scratch would take quite a while, he decided to buy it instead. Ye Tao cut a piece of cotton cloth and placed it in the basket along with some clean clothes, then picked up the ginger tea brewed by Lin Niangzi and headed straight for the city gate.

Old Man Hong had mentioned that morning that the waterway was blocked, preventing many boats upstream and downstream from passing. The river was nearly jam-packed, so taking a boat today was out of the question. However, there were donkey carts available at the city gate, which were a bit faster than walking.

A donkey cart was also a bit more expensive than a boat; the fare from Nanxun Gate to Xinqiao Dock was three wen. Before the cart had even come to a complete stop, Ye Tao jumped out, carrying a basket and a water jug.

The largest sunken vessel lay not far from shore; a section of the water’s surface had been cleared, and it was dotted with small boats waiting to assist.

The rain was still falling lightly, but the wind had whipped up some waves on the water’s surface, and the conditions underwater were likely poor as well; Ye Tao saw several people go down only to resurface shortly afterward.

He stood at the water’s edge, scanned the area, but didn’t see Chen Chuan. Just as he was about to go look elsewhere, he suddenly heard a cry of alarm and instinctively looked toward the water.

He saw someone in the distance bobbing up and down in the water, struggling. Even though all the rescue boats were on this side, he had no idea why that person was over there. The nearby small boats were all rowing toward him—but one person was even faster.

Chen Chuan suddenly broke the surface and pushed the man from behind; the man then grabbed Chen Chuan with both hands, as if he’d seized a lifeline.

Ye Tao, who had been nervous just a moment ago, now wanted to jump right in to help.

Fortunately, Chen Chuan remained calm in the water. He quickly broke free, snatched the man’s hat off, and dragged him away by the hair.

The man winced in pain and seemed to come to his senses; he stopped clinging to Chen Chuan. Chen Chuan then hooked his arm under the man’s chin and, keeping him in a face-up position, pulled him onto the rescue boat.

The onlookers all breathed a sigh of relief.

Ye Tao had just caught his breath when he saw Chen Chuan remove his crowbar, belt buckle, and other items, leaving them on the boat, before jumping back into the water.

This time he was heading toward the shore. With his long limbs and excellent lung capacity, he covered a considerable distance with each breath. In just two breaths, he reached the shore, clung to the stone slabs with both hands, and pushed off with his arms to pull himself ashore.

“How did you get here…”

Before he could even stand up straight, a large piece of cotton cloth was draped over his head, and a pair of hands began wiping his head through the fabric.

Chen Chuan didn’t move; he bent over and wiped his head.

The cloth soon became soaked through. Ye Tao stopped when he felt it was enough, draped it over Chen Chuan’s shoulders, and asked, “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m not cold.”

Ye Tao wasn’t entirely convinced, but seeing that his complexion seemed fine and he wasn’t shivering or trembling, he finally relaxed. “Aunt Lin asked me to bring you some ginger tea and a change of clothes.”

He poured a bowl of ginger tea and handed it to him. Only then did he notice that Chen Chuan was only half-dressed—wearing a tank top on top and shorts on the bottom. The clothes weren’t particularly loose to begin with, and now that they were wet, they clung to his body. He immediately snatched the towel and wrapped it around Chen Chuan’s waist: “Where are your clothes?”

Chen Chuan took a sip of the ginger tea and let him do as he pleased: “On the boat.”

Chen Chuan had just rescued someone, and many people around them were staring at him. Ye Tao lowered his voice: “Why are you wearing my underwear?” 

Chen Chuan explained: “You can’t wear too much when you go into the water.” He added, “You’re wearing mine, too.”

“How can that be the same?” Ye Tao found it hard to respond—those were underwear; even though he’d worn them once, found them too hot, and then set them aside, they were still underwear—and they’d been worn!

They’d been tucked away for several days—he’d even forgotten about them himself—and he had no idea how Chen Chuan had found them.

Chen Chuan’s clothes were delivered quickly, and the man he’d just rescued came to thank him. He explained that he’d only swallowed some water—it hadn’t been enough to cause suffocation—and once he got on the boat, he coughed up the water and was out of danger. Still, the ordeal had taken a toll on him; he looked haggard and exhausted, and said he’d come back another day to thank him properly.

Chen Chuan didn’t think much of it; he’d saved quite a few people, and the only ones he was still in touch with were Chen Siwu and—he glanced at Ye Tao, who was staring at him.

Ye Tao said, “Hurry up and drink this. Once you’re done, find a place to change your clothes.”

The rain had picked up a bit, the wind on the water was growing stronger, and visibility underwater was very poor. Under these conditions, salvage operations were impossible, so the Maritime Trade Office summoned everyone ashore to two teahouses in Zhengyang to take shelter from the rain and have a meal.

Ye Tao watched, furrowing his brow.

The meal was certainly filling, but it was nothing special. The only side dish was a plate of boiled pickled vegetables, and the dried fish—made from who knows what kind of fish—had been haphazardly steamed without even a shred of ginger. Ye Tao thought he could detect a faint, unpleasant odor.

“Go get some rice—skip the side dishes. There’s a food stall nearby; I brought some money, and I’ll go buy you a couple of dishes.”

During the hardest times, Chen Chuan had eaten all sorts of things; this was just fish that hadn’t been properly sun-dried. He shook his head: “No need. You go back first—it’ll be hard to walk once the rain gets heavier.”

Ye Tao said, “I brought an umbrella. Let’s walk back together.”

There was only one umbrella, and he’d taken it, so Chen Chuan would have to get soaked.

But he soon stopped agonizing over it. It was clear they wouldn’t be able to go back into the water today, and the officials from the Maritime Trade Office had told them to disperse after they finished eating.

Chen Chuan had gone to get some food. Ye Tao brought two bowls, and he filled both to the brim. Ye Tao gave him a puzzled look: “You’re still eating? Why don’t you wait until we get back? I’ll cook up a couple of good dishes. Are you that hungry?” Hungry enough to eat two big bowls of plain rice right now?

Chen Chuan said, “I’ll take it home to eat.”

Ye Tao: “……” Ye Tao felt he couldn’t hold a candle to him.

Wages could be paid today or all at once after the job was finished; most people chose to get paid on the spot. Chen Chuan also went to stand in line. Today, he’d worked only half a day, but since it had rained, he was still paid 400 wen as usual—and because he’d saved a life, he received an extra 200 wen.

He handed the money directly to Ye Tao, who tucked it into his basket and covered it with a canvas cloth.

Xinqiao Dock was bustling from morning till night, and there were more vegetable vendors than at the morning market outside Nanxun Gate. Ye Tao spotted a hunter selling rabbits. Although rabbits are meat, they’re lean and much cheaper than pork. Since these were already skinned, a large bundle of rabbits costs sixty wen.

This amount was nothing compared to what Chen Chuan had earned today.

In Ye Tao’s view, since they’d worked so hard to earn the money, they should treat themselves to a good meal—but after all, it was Chen Chuan who’d done the heavy lifting, and he was the main breadwinner, so he asked him, “Do you want to eat rabbit meat?”

Chen Chuan immediately haggled: “Fifty wen.”

The hunter said, “Fifty-five. If I can’t sell them, I’ll take them back and eat them myself.”

Chen Chuan looked at Ye Tao, and Ye Tao pulled out some money.

Since it was hard to fit the rabbit in the basket, Chen Chuan carried it in his hands.

Having cooked more often lately, Ye Tao’s confidence in his culinary skills had ballooned—but it wasn’t until he got home that he realized he’d never actually cooked rabbit before. His grandmother used to raise rabbits, so he never ate them at home; he’d always eaten them at restaurants.

In the end, he decided to use the method for braised pork belly.

He blanched the rabbit in cold water, caramelized brown sugar, then added the rabbit along with scallions, ginger, and garlic to stir-fry. He used cooking wine to remove the gamey smell, soy sauce to enhance the color, added water to cover the rabbit, and then simmered it slowly until the sauce thickened.

Caramelizing brown sugar sounds a bit fancy, but the result turned out pretty good.

The rabbit meat was quite fragrant, and the best part was that there were four legs—one for each person. Chen Chuan ate a bit more of the remaining meat; he had a strong set of teeth and could even chew and spit out the thinner bones.

After dinner, Lin Niangzi sent Chen Chuan off to rest. Ye Tao took his sewing basket to Lin Niangzi’s room, and the two of them sat under the eaves by the doorway, doing needlework together.

Lin Niangzi was sewing clothes; she never rushed her work, and when she grew tired of sewing clothes, she’d use the fabric Ye Tao had set aside to make small pouches. The hemp thread was thick, and her eyesight was sharp enough to see clearly; even a casual stitch or two had more flair than Ye Tao’s. She’d originally intended to pass the time and show Ye Tao how it was done, but she unexpectedly found it so enjoyable that she didn’t finish a single garment.

Ye Tao had already finished sewing those two vests and was now working on a pair of pants. As he sewed, he suddenly stopped and asked Lin Niangzi, “I just saw some people going into the water wearing close-fitting clothes with extremely narrow cuffs. What are those?”

Lin Niangzi replied, “Could they be wetsuits?” 

“What are wetsuits?” Ye Tao asked, puzzled.

“They’re usually made of oiled silk. You choose a tightly woven fabric, send it to the tung oil workshop to be treated, turn it into oilcloth, and then have a tailor cut it into a close-fitting garment. I’ve heard that wearing it in the water keeps you a bit warmer.” Lin Niangzi had once worked in a tailor shop; although she worked in embroidery, she knew quite a lot about all kinds of clothing.

“Isn’t that just an ancient version of a wetsuit? It keeps you warm by acting as a barrier against the water.” Ye Tao pondered this. His family didn’t have oiled silk, but they did have oilcloth.

He’d originally planned to sort through that large roll of tattered ship’s sail to make raincoats or waterproof aprons to sell, but for now, he could use it as a stopgap measure. Once Chen Chuan woke up, Ye Tao took off his pants and went to fetch the canvas. He filled a basin with water and began scrubbing and sorting it. Any pieces that were too stiff and brittle—the kind that would tear at the slightest pull—were discarded, while the parts with sufficient strength were set aside and sorted by size.

It was raining today, so Chen Chuan had nothing to do after waking up. After checking the roof tiles, doors, and windows, he came to help him.

He had a strong grip but didn’t know how to be gentle; he’d yank even the good fabric too hard. Before long, Ye Tao shooed him away: “Take Zhenniang to buy groceries. Buy whatever you want to eat, and I’ll cook it.”

Since he wanted to dry it quickly, Ye Tao didn’t plan to make this wetsuit with long sleeves and pants. Given his current skill level, it was impossible to make it completely waterproof. However, he aimed to make it relatively water-resistant—ensuring that water wouldn’t come into direct contact with the skin in large amounts, but rather through slow, trickling contact—thereby reducing heat loss.

Based on this principle, even though they’re both vests, the wetsuit is superior to one made of ordinary material.

Since the garment was meant to be form-fitting, Ye Tao remeasured Chen Chuan—shoulder width, chest circumference, waist circumference, and hip and thigh measurements. When he got to the hip measurement, Chen Chuan said:

“Those pants of yours are a little too small—I almost couldn’t get them on. Don’t they feel tight on you?”

Ye Tao’s underwear weren’t actually tight on him, but he didn’t want to be outdone by Chen Chuan, so he blurted out without thinking: “Do you think everyone’s like you, just throwing on a pair of outer pants without caring if they’re baggy?”

Chen Chuan seemed to catch on and glanced down at Ye Tao’s waist: “Do you wear all your pants like that?”

Ye Tao：“……”

Ye Tao decided to drop the subject: “All right, go play. I need to cut out some fabric.”

Based on Chen Chuan’s measurements, Ye Tao left a little extra room. He didn’t know how tailors today would make form-fitting garments, but according to the methods he knew, pattern-making was a bit of a hassle and involved some calculations.

He spent quite a while sketching with a bamboo ruler marked with charcoal before finalizing the pattern. After cutting out the fabric pieces, Ye Tao stretched and decided to sew it all up that very night.

Chen Chuan said, “There’s no rush. You can do it tomorrow.”

Ye Tao didn’t respond but moved everything onto the table: “If you’re tired, go to sleep.”

Chen Chuan walked over, covered Ye Tao’s eyes from behind, then leaned down toward the candle. Without even removing the lampshade, he blew down from above and extinguished it in one breath.

“You…”

“We’ll sew it tomorrow.”