Grandma Lu held my hand in hers. Her fingers were thin and calloused, yet surprisingly warm. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her voice thick with emotion.

“Your willingness to marry into this family is a true blessing for us Lus. It’s just a shame Ah Zhan ended up like this… you’re taking the brunt of the hardship. The military doctor said his vital energy took a severe blow and his body is extremely weak. Whether he’ll ever fully recover… well, it’s hard to say.”

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes filled with apology.

“I’m truly grateful you still chose to come here, Ruo Ruo. Remember this: if you ever decide you want to leave in the future, the Lu family will never stand in your way. We don’t have many rules around here. Do whatever makes you happy—there’s no need to walk on eggshells.”

Hearing that, a sudden tightness gripped my chest. I couldn’t tell if it was because the cloth around my bust was bound too tight… or because my heart was aching with a quiet sorrow.

I opened my mouth to say something, but before a single word could slip out, my tears spilled over first. Growing up, despised by my aunt and suppressed by my cousin, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone genuinely look out for me. Yet today, in a foreign household, someone truly cared.

“Grandma…” I choked back a sob. “I should be the one saying thank you. Thank you for not finding me a burden, and for giving me a place to call home.”

“Oh dear, look at me, making you cry.” Grandma Lu hurriedly dabbed away my tears, sniffling even as a smile broke across her face. “Silly girl. This is your home now.”

I nodded fervently, my voice thick as if I were catching a cold. “Yes… I understand, Grandma.”

She suddenly recalled something and lowered her voice slightly.

“Oh right, there’s something I wanted to ask of you. Wen Xiu mentioned you know a thing or two about medicinal cooking. Do you think you could take a look for me? Ah Zhan keeps drinking his prescribed medicine, but there’s no sign of improvement. I was thinking… maybe nourishing his body through proper meals might help him heal better.”

She gave a self-deprecating smile. “An old country woman like me doesn’t know the first thing about those fancy remedies. I’ll have to trouble you from now on.” By the end, her eyes welled up again. “I just hope… his health gradually turns around.”

I looked at her and gave a firm, reassuring nod. “Don’t worry, Grandma. I’ll do my absolute best.”

I headed into the kitchen to start preparing the medicinal dish. Grandma Lu had traded with a neighbor for an old laying hen, and she’d managed to dig up a few dried codonopsis roots and a bit of milkvetch. In times like these, ingredients like those were as precious as pure gold.

Rolling up my sleeves, I boiled water, plucked feathers, and cleaned the bird with practiced, nimble movements. It had been a long time since I’d cooked something like this. The last time… was back when I was still down in the countryside.

Back then, Chen Jianjun suffered from chronic stomach pain, so thin he looked like a beanpole that a strong breeze might blow right out of the fields. Pitied by his condition, I dug through my late father’s old medical books, traded my own grain coupons with the local village women for a few spare bones, and hiked up the mountain to pick common herbs to stew into a nourishing broth for him.

At the time, I simply thought I was performing a good deed to earn some karma. Who could have guessed that through my cousin’s poison tongue, it would be twisted into a “disgraceful, illicit affair”? Thanks to her, my reputation was dragged through the mud until there wasn’t a clean spot left.

I carried the bowl of chicken soup into the room. Lu Zhan was in the middle of packing his things. A few old military uniforms were folded into corners so crisp and sharp it was almost intimidating just looking at them.

“Brother Lu, what are you doing?” I placed the bowl on the table. “Didn’t we agree that I would be the one moving to the west room?”

He didn’t raise his head, his voice still raspy from his cold. “I have less stuff. Moving is easier for me.” He kept his words brief, sounding remarkably like he was delivering a military report.

“Well, drink the soup first anyway. You can finish packing later.”

Only then did his hands freeze. He sat down at the table, his face remaining completely stoic—utterly unreadable as to whether he was pleased or annoyed.

“No need to go through all this trouble in the future,” he said coolly.

I immediately brought out Grandma Lu as my shield. “Grandma asked me to make it.”

The movement of his hand holding the bowl faltered for a fraction of a second. Without another word, he tipped his head back and downed the entire bowl of soup in one go. Finishing it off, he scooped up his stack of neatly folded clothes and walked right past me without a sound. From start to finish… he didn’t say a single word more.

I stood rooted to the spot, staring at the bowl so clean it looked as if it had been licked pristine, then turned to look at the tightly shut door. A strange feeling bloomed in my chest. Perhaps… he truly didn’t like seeing me around.

From that day on, I developed an automatic defense mechanism: whenever Lu Zhan appeared, I reflexively veered in the opposite direction. You couldn’t blame me—the memory of that night was still far too vivid. The rigid bedboard, the scorching heat radiating from his body, his bright red ears… Just thinking about it made my head feel like it was about to burst into steam. He was recovering and needed quiet; I couldn’t risk provoking a recovering patient any further.

Unfortunately, a completely different nuisance cropped up on my end. I had no idea what kind of fit Chen Jianjun was throwing, but he started loitering around the Lu family compound every single day.

At first, I played dumb and turned a blind eye. That was until today, when I went to the Supply and Marketing Co-op to buy some brown sugar, and he trailed after me the entire way like an unwanted shadow.

I stepped back into the compound, deliberately shutting the gate to lock him outside. Ten minutes later, however, that familiar figure was still lurking right outside the entrance like a gate-guarding ghost. A sudden flare of anger flared right up inside me.

I turned around to yank the gate open. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a brief flutter of the curtain in the west room—a tall, lean silhouette flitted past in a flash. Without overthinking it, I pulled the gate open with force.

Chen Jianjun, who had been craning his neck to peer inside, jumped half out of his skin. But almost instantly, his face smoothed out into a look he clearly thought was tender and devoted.

“Ruo Ruo… You’re finally willing to see me.”