Chapter 2: Eating Dinner Together He Feng pushed open...

He Feng pushed open the summer curtain, pretending not to notice him shuddering in fear.

Subconsciously lowering his voice, "Here, I just boiled some water and made some egg custard. Have some first."

The porcelain bowl the man handed over was clean, filled with a light yellow, tender egg, sprinkled with soy sauce and sesame oil. The aroma of sesame oil wafted into his nose. It

smelled so good, Song Qingshu swallowed his saliva.

He knew this was the 1980s, and eggs weren't a "rare" food that most people could eat often.

Then He Feng saw the young man, who had licked his lips until they were shiny, raise his head and push his wrist, "You, you've worked all day, eat first."

"I'm not hungry yet."

Although he said that, his eyes never left the white porcelain bowl.

The rolling Adam's apple was also small and white, shining brightly under the yellow light of the tungsten filament bulb.

He Feng lowered his eyes to look at him, and the next second the young man's stomach growled in protest.

Song Qingshu's face flushed again, and he lowered his head sheepishly, tugging at his sleeves.

"Then come out and eat, we'll eat together."

He Feng's words broke Song Qingshu's awkwardness. They left the inner room, and just outside was the main dining room.

The door to the main dining room wasn't far from the curtained doorway. He had been led in with his head bowed, and he was so frightened that he hadn't really taken a deep look at the man's house.

If he lived alone, the inner room would be to the left after entering, the dining room in the middle, and there seemed to be a separate inner room on the right.

There was also a kitchen outside, all made of brick and tile, and covered with cement.

This proved that He Feng's home was quite nice.

In his mind, the houses that educated youth borrowed from fellow villagers sometimes had large bunk beds, while others had small compartments.

A bowl of egg custard was placed on the small square mahogany table, with a spoon on top.

Looking up, he saw two black and white photos on either side of the enshrined deity. The two elderly people in the photos looked old and weathered, but their smiles were kind.

While he was lost in thought, He Feng brought another steamed bun basket, containing a plate and two whole-grain steamed buns. In his other hand, he held a green tea bottle.

Hearing footsteps, Song Qingshu turned his head.

He immediately saw that He Feng's arm muscles bulged from the effort he put into his hands, his lines flowing smoothly, making the tall, muscular man look even more robust and handsome.

He took two quick steps toward the door. "Let me help you,"

the young man extended his delicate white hand, but was dismissed calmly. "Go wash your hands by the door, then come in for dinner."

Song Qingshu said, "Oh," and as he stepped out, he saw a wooden stand for an iron basin, with a towel draped over it. Then, there was a square mirror. Below the mirror, a wooden board held toiletries and a half-used bar of white soap. At the

bottom, the iron basin.

Song Qingshu's face appeared in the mirror, much the same as in his old world. His lips weren't as purple, and his face was a little pale, but not as frail as before.

He put his hand into the clean water, and the cool water brushed over the reddened part of his palm from being scratched by gravel. He rubbed the dust off his hands with soap until they were clean again.

Seeing the lint-free towel hanging above, he was stunned for a moment, not sure whether to use it.

"I'll buy you another one tomorrow morning. If you don't want to use this one, just come and eat."

As soon as he finished speaking, Song Qingshu put his hand on the towel and patted it twice, loud enough for the man in the room to hear.

He walked in and saw the dish on the table: steamed green eggplant, cut open and doused with a blend of soy sauce, salt, sesame oil, and thirteen spices.

The tungsten filament light made the dish warm and yellow, accompanied by a small sizzling sound.

Song Qingshu sat on a handmade stool, looking at the steamed eggplant and two whole-grain steamed buns before him. "Is this all you're going to eat?" "

Well, we don't have any white flour buns at home. I'll buy some at the market tomorrow, and then I'll buy you something else."

He knew he'd misunderstood. Song Qingshu was just trying to say he'd eat all the eggs. He was tall and strong, and he had to do manual labor. How could he be full on just these?

"No, I'm fine with whole-grain buns. They're what we eat at my folks' houses."

He pursed his lips and looked at He Feng. "Are you full?"

The question was direct, but He Feng misunderstood, assuming he wasn't full. He picked up a whole-grain bun and handed it to him, "You eat it."

Song Qingshu: "..."

Then he thought, this was fine. If He Feng shared his bun with him, he had a reason to share his eggs.

He broke the bun in half, holding the smaller half in his hand and returning the larger half to He Feng.

He stopped He Feng's hand from reaching for the other bun.

He looked up at Song Qingshu, seemingly a little confused. The young man smiled, "Half is enough."

Because he wasn't feeling well, the village chief took good care of him, so he didn't have to do much work.

While some people occasionally complained, Song Qingshu's family was better off, and he had enough money to make ends meet, plus the subsidies, which left him with a little extra. He'd buy some candy and snacks to thank them for their care.

Plus, he'd pant heavily and look pale from exhaustion after doing any work, so over

time, no one complained. With less work, he ate less.

That way, no one else would complain.

Song Qingshu's smile was restrained, a slight curve at the corner of his mouth, his brows curved like a crescent moon.

As if by some unknown reason, He Feng took the remaining half of the steamed bun, which seemed to still carry Song Qingshu's warmth.

He took it from Song Qingshu and withdrew his hand, stirring the egg custard. Perhaps steamed too long with the eggplant, the custard had briquettes like honeycomb briquettes inside, but Song Qingshu still found it fragrant.

He didn't eat it right away, but scooped a large spoonful with a spoon, stood up, and put it on He Feng's steamed bun.

"You eat first, eat quickly, or it will fall."

The voice was still so clear, with a hint of flattery. He didn't even notice it, but He Feng heard it.

The egg custard trembled on the steamed bun, and He Feng lowered his head to take a bite.

In fact, he hadn't eaten egg custard in a long time. It was a favorite of the children in the village, and he usually scrambled eggs.

Today, he was afraid that the young man would be hungry, so he thought it would be faster and less greasy.

Looking at Song Qingshu's face, he felt that this person could not eat heavy and greasy food, but he still had to buy some meat or something tomorrow to let him recuperate.

Song Qingshu didn't know what he was thinking. He lowered his head and tasted a spoonful himself. It was delicious!

He hadn't eaten egg custard in his previous world for a long, long time.

Especially the pure egg custard without any water, and the seasoning was not heavy, but light.

There was also a pair of wooden chopsticks in the steamed bun basket, and it was obvious that He Feng had brought it to him.

Song Qingshu reached out and took it, picking up a long strip from the steamed eggplant and eating it under He Feng's gaze.

He chewed the eggplant, and like the egg custard, the flavor wasn't overpowering, a slight saltiness blending with the sweetness of the eggplant, and the flavors of the thirteen-spice seasoning and soy sauce lingered on his tongue.

"This is delicious, too!"

He kind of missed the garlic eggplant from the barbecue stall, though.

It was heavily spiced, but delicious. Unfortunately, his health was so poor in his old world that the doctor told him to eat less.

He'd only tried it once, a taste encouraged by a college classmate.

It was indeed delicious; he still remembers that bite.

He Feng saw his expression was sincere, not embarrassed, and knew he wasn't as difficult to please as he looked, so he nodded.

Song Qingshu was eating his steamed bun, and after He Feng took a bite, he unexpectedly thrust a spoonful of egg custard into his mouth.

"I'll go back to the brigade tomorrow to get my things, clothes, and stuff."

He Feng stared at Song Qingshu's face with his almond-shaped eyes, and just when Song Qingshu thought he was about to get angry, he lowered his head and ate again. "You eat it."

"No need to give me more." He had only beaten three eggs, thinking they would nourish him, but he'd ended up feeding himself two spoonfuls.

"I'll be back early tomorrow night and go with you."

Song Qingshu had been thinking about going back on his own; the sun was bright during lunch break, and everyone was there, so it shouldn't be a problem.

But since he said so, Song Qingshu did not refuse.

Instead, he smiled even sweeter and spoke in a softer tone, "Thank you, Brother He Feng."

He Feng's hand paused, and he said nothing more.

He was not that outgoing. He looked cold, but he knew everything in his heart.

After dinner, Song Qingshu volunteered to wash the pots and dishes, but He Feng naturally did not agree. Regardless of whether Song Qingshu was a child bride or a guest at home, he would not let the thin young man do these things.

How could he dare to let someone who looked like he would fall down at the slightest breeze go to the kitchen and get contaminated by cooking fumes?

He Feng took a new teacup, which was enamel and very clean. He poured it with hot water and poured a cup of water and placed it on the table.

"No, you go and rest."

Song Qingshu was not sleepy yet. He could not fall asleep if he stayed alone in the room.

"Can I stay in the yard for a while?"

He asked with a blink of an eye. He Feng did not stop him. He held the dishes and chopsticks to be washed in one hand and a wooden stool in the other, and placed them at the gate of the yard.

There are fruit trees planted in the yard, a persimmon tree, a pomegranate tree, and a cherry tree.

The persimmons hanging on the trees swayed in the evening breeze, plump and yellow.

The pomegranates were not big, but also plump and clung to the small trees. When they were ripe, they could be picked with just a lift of the hand.

He Feng was standing in the kitchen washing dishes. He easily brushed off the remaining egg custard with the dried loofah. He looked up and saw a young man holding his chin and looking at the stars.

From this angle, the other person was still very white, small and thin, squatting.

Thinking of the stepmother who scolded him with a sharp tone at night, He Feng shook his head. Song Qingshu looked so obedient, how could he be a match for that woman.

This little job was nothing to He Feng. He was strong and quick, and he walked out of the kitchen in a short while.

The sound of turning off the lights was heard, and Song Qingshu turned his head to look at him with a gentle look in his eyes.

The ducks and chickens were quacking in the pen. He Feng then remembered that he had forgotten to feed them, so he quickly went to mix some wheat bran and poured it into the pen.

The chicken pen was different from the duck pen. One was surrounded by a wooden fence, and the other was made of bricks. There was also a small pool inside for the ducks to bathe in the summer.

Female chickens and ducks can lay eggs and don't eat much. The feces they produce can be dumped into the fields as fertilizer, so He Feng raised five of each.

After feeding the chickens and ducks, He Feng passed by a persimmon tree and saw a bright red persimmon. Because it was covered by dark green leaves, it was not pecked by birds, so he picked it directly. He

walked over to Song Qingshu and handed it to him, "This persimmon and pomegranate are not very big, but they are sweet."

"Try it?"

Song Qingshu looked up. The posture of looking up was almost engraved in He Feng's mind. From this angle, he could see the young man's appearance clearly. The pale and white man looked gentle, but too thin.

He Feng frowned and was about to turn around to ask how to nourish the person.

"Don't you like it?"

His voice was cold, and Song Qingshu quickly took it. "No, can you eat this right away?"

"Yes, it's a soft persimmon. Once it's completely red, just peel it and drink it."

"The pomegranate will take ten days or so. This variety ripens slowly. The one in front of Old Han's house at the village entrance is bigger."

He looked at Song Qingshu's expression and somehow started chatting.

"But he's stingy. Let's wait until our own is ripe before eating it."

Song Qingshu peeled off the red persimmon, tearing it apart bit by bit before taking a bite. It wasn't big, just enough to taste the soft seeds without the core. The taste was crispy, but not astringent.

Some juice rubbed against his lips, staining his light lips red, and some also got on his fingertips.

He Feng glanced at him twice before looking away, clearing his throat and saying, "Drink the persimmon first, then wash your hands and wipe your mouth."

He bent down and took out a wooden basin, and said very naturally, "I'll go get you some water to wash your feet." Song Qingshu's eyes widened, and

he stared at the man's straight back as he walked into the room before swallowing the persimmon in his mouth.