TATSD Chapter 53

“Brother Ji, did you give her that stinky tofu?” Liu Yimian followed behind Ji Wei, feeling a little reluctant.

“What? You want some?” Ji Wei glanced at him, his tone teasing.

“No, I just think that stinky tofu could make a lot of money,” Liu Yimian replied, though his heart said otherwise.

“Am I not earning enough for you to be thinking about this? Looks like I need to work harder so you don’t keep worrying about someone else’s money,” Ji Wei smirked. Once the recipe was given to Sister Lin, it was hers to use. Ji Wei had never intended to make money from stinky tofu.

After all, his real trade was baking Western pastries. If he opened up a market, he could easily earn ten times what stinky tofu could bring in.

“No, no, Brother Ji, you’re teasing me again.” Liu Yimian felt uneasy, hearing Ji Wei’s laugh, and lightly punched his shoulder, telling him to stop laughing.

“Alright, alright, I won’t laugh anymore. There’s still some fried stinky tofu at home. If you want more, I’ll make it for you.”

“But didn’t you just say…” Liu Yimian hesitated.

“How can you not get this? I said we wouldn’t compete with her business, but that doesn’t mean we can’t eat it at home.”

“Oh… right.”

The stinky tofu had a distinct smell. Once Sister Lin set up her stall, half the street could catch its scent.

In the first two days, business was slow. It was only thanks to the foundation Ji Wei had built that returning customers showed up.

But as the days went by, new customers began to trickle in.

The ones suffering the most were the vendors next to Sister Lin’s stall.

They all complained, but since Sister Lin was a poor widow, they just endured it.

After a while, they got used to the smell, and some even bought a portion to try. Before long, they found themselves addicted, becoming regulars at Sister Lin’s stall.

Stinky tofu’s popularity spread even faster than the fried flatbreads.

At first, it was Aunt Zhou’s flatbread stall that helped Sister Lin get business. But within a few days, the situation reversed—stinky tofu was driving the flatbread sales.

When Aunt Zhou told this story at home, even Zhao Dalong was amazed.

“But we still owe it to Dalang for this,” Aunt Zhou said as she picked up a basket on the table, which was filled with bright red berries.

“Where did these berries come from?”

“I picked them on the mountain,” Zhao Hu replied from another room.

It had been a while since Zhao Hu went up the mountain, so when he had some free time in the morning, he grabbed a basket and ventured deep into the forest, to a place he had never been before.

The trees there were full of red berries, sweet with a hint of sourness. He gathered half a basket.

“Have you sent some to Dalang’s house?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I’ll take some over,” Aunt Zhou said, splitting the berries in half and putting them in a deep bowl to bring to Ji’s house.

Ji Wei needed a lot of milk, but goat’s milk wasn’t infinite. As his usage increased, Zhao Qiaozhi’s supply was starting to run low.

Because of this, Ji Wei had gone to Zhao Qiaozhi’s house himself.

At home, only Liu Yimian was there, sitting by the window reading a book. He faintly heard a knock on the door and, upon opening it, found that it was Aunt Zhou.

“How was business today?” Liu Yimian happily took Aunt Zhou’s hand and led her inside. When he saw the berries in her hands, he naturally took one to taste.

Although he lived with Ji Wei, his mind was often elsewhere, making it hard for him to relax. Only in front of Aunt Zhou did he feel a bit more at ease, like a carefree youth.

“Not bad, with Sister Lin selling stinky tofu beside me, more people have come to buy flatbreads.” Aunt Zhou didn’t notice Liu Yimian’s slight change in expression as she went on about how surprised people were after trying the stinky tofu.

“I knew that stinky tofu would sell well. I just didn’t expect Dalang to give it to Sister Lin,” Aunt Zhou said, still astonished by Ji Wei’s actions.

As she walked around the kitchen, she noticed the stove was cold, as if no one had cooked that day. So, she asked if Liu Yimian had eaten.

Distracted by thoughts of Sister Lin’s stinky tofu stall, Liu Yimian stood there lost in thought, not hearing Aunt Zhou’s question.

“Yimian, have you eaten?” Aunt Zhou raised her voice again. Startled, Liu Yimian replied with a quick “yes” and nodded, saying he had eaten.

“What were you thinking about? I called you and you didn’t hear.”

Embarrassed, Liu Yimian didn’t want to admit what was on his mind, fearing Aunt Zhou might think he was petty. He shook his head, saying it was nothing.

“If you can’t even talk to me, who can you talk to? You can’t keep it bottled up, or you’ll make yourself sick,” Aunt Zhou said, patting his hand.

“…I just feel like it’s not right to say it out loud.”

“Why not? Who would say it’s wrong? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone!” Aunt Zhou promised, thumping her chest. After hesitating a moment, Liu Yimian finally nodded softly.

He had wanted to share this for a long time.

“Auntie, am I useless?”

Aunt Zhou was startled and asked why he thought that.

“Sister Lin makes and sells tofu, but I can’t even lift a heavy bucket of water. Brother Ji is busy with work, and I can’t help…”

Before he could finish, Aunt Zhou gave him a light smack on the head, glaring at him in disapproval.

“Dalang doesn’t want you helping because he wants you to focus on your studies. Don’t waste your time with these thoughts! If you don’t do well in your studies, that’s the only way you’ll disappoint him.”

“But I—”

Liu Yimian bit his lip, feeling the weight of his insecurity.

“But what?”

Seeing his hesitation, Aunt Zhou’s tone softened as she took his hand in hers. “Yimian, you seem scared of something. I haven’t asked before, but now’s the time to tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Should he say it?

Liu Yimian was unsure.

But seeing the concern in Aunt Zhou’s eyes, the word “no” caught in his throat, and after a long pause, he finally lowered his head in surrender.

“Auntie, it seems like Ji-ge doesn’t have that kind of interest in me…”

“What?”

Liu Yimian’s voice was so soft that even though the two were sitting close, Aunt Zhou couldn’t quite catch what he said. She scratched her ear, mumbling about how old age had made her hearing worse, and asked Liu Yimian to repeat himself.

When she finally understood what he said, she shot up from her seat, her eyes wide in disbelief. “You mean… you two still haven’t…?”

Liu Yimian turned his face away and softly responded, “Mm,” but said nothing more.

“This won’t do! How long have you been married now? It’s been, what, seven or eight months?” Aunt Zhou began pacing anxiously. “Do you two sleep in the same bed?”

“Yes, the same bed.”

“You sleep in the same bed, and Dalang still hasn’t touched you?” Aunt Zhou was baffled, shocked even. She sat back down on the stool with a thump and grasped Liu Yimian’s hand firmly.

“This is not right! If Dalang won’t take the initiative, then you have to. Otherwise, how long will you both be lying under the same blanket without a baby?”

Liu Yimian clenched his fist uncomfortably, then relaxed it, unable to respond to Aunt Zhou’s words.

“Say something!” Aunt Zhou playfully pinched Liu Yimian’s cheek, laughing at how embarrassed he was, his face flushed bright red. “What’s there to be shy about? You’re married now, and you’re a ger. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face this.”

“But… what if Ji-ge isn’t interested in me? What should I do then?” Just the thought of being rejected by Ji Wei caused Liu Yimian’s heated head to quickly cool down.

If Ji Wei refused him, how could he ever face him again?

Liu Yimian looked at Aunt Zhou, hoping she could give him an answer.

“Ah, Mianmian, what on earth are you thinking?” Aunt Zhou chuckled, shaking her head. “You still have a lot of growing up to do.”

Even after Aunt Zhou had left, Liu Yimian’s mind kept replaying her parting words.

“You need to take the initiative. Dalang won’t be able to resist.”

Take the initiative…

But how?

Liu Yimian thought and thought, but couldn’t figure it out.

Ji Wei returned from Zhao the Cripple’s house in a sour mood.

The goat milk supply had been running low. It turned out that lately, the villagers had been visiting Zhao’s house more frequently, swapping more milk than usual once they saw the stock of milk ready to be sent out. They were taking double the amount compared to before.

Annoyed, Ji Wei told Zhao to start limiting the amount he gave out.

Zhao understood and promised to follow Ji Wei’s instructions, offering him a meal before finally sending him home.

When Ji Wei arrived home, he noticed the front door was left open—someone must have come by.

In the kitchen, Liu Yimian was sitting with his chin resting on his hands, staring at the cracked wall, lost in a whirlwind of messy thoughts.

When he suddenly heard Ji Wei’s voice, Liu Yimian jumped up from his stool, startled, nearly frightening Ji Wei as well.

“Why do you look so out of it? What’s going on?” Ji Wei casually tossed a berry into his mouth from a bowl, freshly washed and looking red and sweet.

He pulled a stool over with his foot and sat down next to Liu Yimian, waiting for a response.

“Uh, nothing… nothing’s wrong.” With a guilty conscience, Liu Yimian couldn’t meet Ji Wei’s eyes. He quickly glanced at him before darting his gaze away.

“I’ll go get some water.”

He stood up too quickly and almost tripped over the stool. Fortunately, Ji Wei reached out and grabbed him by the waist, preventing the fall.

“Have you seen a ghost?”

Liu Yimian yelped softly and pulled away from Ji Wei’s arm, rushing out in a panic, afraid that Ji Wei might notice something off.

But he didn’t realize that his feelings were always written on his face. From the moment Ji Wei stepped through the door, he had already sensed something was wrong.

At this point, he was just waiting for Liu Yimian to speak first.

A short while later, Liu Yimian returned with a basin of water.

There was a towel draped over the edge, and he dipped it into the water, and wrung it out.

Ji Wei stretched out his hand, expecting the towel, but after a long moment of waiting, he turned his head to speak. To his surprise, Liu Yimian gently placed the towel on his face.

“Hmm? Mianmian, I can do it myself,” Ji Wei’s voice came out muffled as his face was covered by the towel.

Instinctively, he reached out to grab it, but instead of the towel, his fingers brushed against something cool and smooth—Liu Yimian’s hand.

Normally, Liu Yimian would have pulled his hand back in an instant.

But today, he did the opposite.

Ji Wei felt something strange but intuitively decided not to say anything, waiting for Liu Yimian to speak first.

In the silence, Liu Yimian let Ji Wei’s hand rest on top of his as he carefully and tenderly wiped the sweat from Ji Wei’s face, as if it were his own.

Once finished, Liu Yimian wrung out the towel and began wiping Ji Wei’s neck.

For some reason, Ji Wei’s back straightened involuntarily, his gaze fixed ahead, though his peripheral vision kept glancing at Liu Yimian.

He was starting to wonder if something serious had happened.

Suddenly, Liu Yimian spoke, and Ji Wei instinctively grabbed the hand resting at his side.

“Ji-ge.”

“…Hmm?”

“It’s been eight months since I moved in.”

“Seems about right.”

“When are you going to marry me?”

As he whispered the last sentence, Liu Yimian bent down slightly, bringing his lips close to Ji Wei’s ear, his voice soft and delicate, as if they were sharing a secret. It took every ounce of his courage to say it.