Chapter 8 Not a fiancé? Before dinner, He Feng...

Before dinner, He Feng took off his sweat-soaked clothes. He took the clothes and went to the small house in the south. He grabbed two handfuls of wheat bran, mixed it with water, and put it into the food bowls of the chickens and ducks.

He was still sweaty anyway, so he didn't put on clean clothes and walked towards the main room with his upper body naked.

Xiao Hei had regained his energy. He stood in front of the dining table and stuck out his tongue at Song Qingshu, his eyes shining.

The scrambled eggs with beans in the morning were moved to a position closer to Song Qingshu.

Seeing him come in, Song Qingshu looked up and saw the bronze skin and well-defined muscles.

The sunlight outside the door added a layer of light to He Feng, turning his figure into a silhouette, just like the new century when everyone turns their favorite characters and people into signboards and puts them in the room.

After all, He Feng's height and figure are here, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Because he had been in the army, the 1.9-meter-tall strong man walked with an imposing manner, which made him even more eye-catching.

He Feng noticed his gaze, but didn't point it out. Instead, he sat down and rearranged the dishes. "Eat, little one."

"Brother," he said. "Brother, have this. You're not feeling well, so eat less leftovers."

"Let's have fried eggplant and brown sugar egg tea tonight, okay?"

Song Qingshu nodded. "Then, brother, don't kick me out of the kitchen tonight, okay?"

He Feng watched him tilt his head like a kitten, his eyes full of pleading. The words of refusal lingered in his throat for a long time before he swallowed them.

"If it's hot, come out and get some fresh air."

"Okay!"

...

A strange wind blew in the evening. He Feng lived in a remote area, and behind his house were trees. The wind whipped them around, their branches flaring and reaching for the moonlight. Clouds and mist obscured the moon, and the branches seemed to retract as if they had touched something.

Song Qingshu sat in front of the stove, recounting interesting stories from the educated youth community, his eyes occasionally gravitating towards the trees.

The moon flickered, and the scenery in the yard flickered. He didn't know where Xiao Hei had gone again. He Feng said he would return home on his own that night.

"Brother, how old are you?"

Song Qingshu blurted out, his eyes fixed on the swaying persimmon leaves outside the window.

He Feng's eyelids twitched. "Twenty-six, what's wrong?"

"That's seven years older than me."

Sliced eggplants coated in batter were placed in the pot, and a sizzling sound was heard, mixed with a "hmm."

Song Qingshu poked the wood with a fire poker. "No wonder."

He Feng came back from the fields that afternoon, picked two eggplants, chopped some firewood, and used pliers to twist out a new "fire poker. "

The fire for frying eggplants couldn't be too big or too small. The previous fire poker was a bamboo pole, the front of which had already burned a little black. On his way back, he ran into He Lishu and asked for a piece of iron, which was just right for twisting into a fire poker.

The handle was neither too big nor too small, which made it easy for Song Qingshu to use. The fire under the stove flickered, neither going out nor too big.

He Feng, waiting for someone to speak, spread the eggplant slices across the bottom of the pot. He didn't hear anyone continue. "No wonder?"

"No wonder you know everything, brother. You're so capable."

"Everyone in the village respects you. It's definitely not just because of seniority."

He Feng hadn't expected him to be so sweet. He used a spatula to flip the eggplant over before finally shaping it. "You'll understand after seeing and learning. You have your own ideas, too."

Song Qingshu hadn't expected him to be so articulate. He didn't sound like a rough man at all; he must have learned something.

"You're just a kid." His tone was a touch of helplessness.

"Huh?" Song Qingshu looked up, puzzled.

"Is the fire out?"

He lowered his gaze. The flames that had been flickering beneath the pot had dimmed to a near-invisible level, leaving only a few half-burned pieces of wood, sparking with sparks.

"Let me do it. You're washing your hands first. Have you eaten the cucumbers you washed for lunch?"

Song Qingshu shook his head. After finishing his dates and wiping He Feng's sweat, the meal was ready. There was no need to fill his stomach with cucumbers.

It was around three when he woke from his nap. He rummaged through the house, searching for the original owner's belongings, only to find money and some unidentified medicine his father had brought him for his recovery.

Looking at the dark powder wrapped in yellow paper, Song Qingshu bent down and sniffed it. The smell was so strong that he instinctively put it away. He

also found a comic book of Journey to the West. Although he had seen the TV series before at the orphanage, he had never read the book.

He sprawled on his warm bed, reading with relish all afternoon. Feeling a bit of a craving, he opened a White Rabbit candy bar, holding it in his mouth for a long time without chewing.

When he finally realized what was happening, he had finished most of the comic book, and He Feng had gone home.

He Feng took the fire stick from his hand, smoothed it under the pot, and added a new piece of firewood. "Then go get some," he said. "Washed cucumbers lose their crispness after being left out for too long."

Song Qingshu held out two cucumbers. While they didn't look as fresh as they had this morning, they were still crisp and sweet.

The fragrance of the cucumber was comparable to an air freshener. Song Qingshu came over while chewing it, and saw the previously dead fire burning up. He sat on the wooden stool again and watched.

"Is it delicious?"

The spatula pressed the eggplant slices, and the sizzling sound became louder. After pressing, it could be turned over.

"It's delicious, brother, try it." The bitten cucumber was pressed against the corner of his mouth. He Feng, who was about to refuse, took a bite without thinking.

Song Qingshu, who realized that he had given the wrong cucumber, was stunned. He quickly withdrew his hand, and his earlobes turned red.

He was about to eat more when He Feng frowned and crushed the cucumber seeds in his mouth. "Put this on the chopping board. Don't eat it, I'll eat it."

Song Qingshu didn't move, so he said, "Be good, little one, switch it."

"I don't mind you, it's nothing."

After flipping it over, he closed the lid on the pot, his voice tinged with laughter. "This cucumber is still a little old. It has seeds in it, so it's not tasty."

"Ah..."

"Then don't eat it, I'll feed it to the ducks."

He was about to leave with the cucumber, but just as he turned, someone grabbed his slender wrist and pulled him back. "Put it on the chopping board first. Mix it with wheat bran before feeding it to the ducks."

He Feng's hands were covered with calluses from his constant farm work. His pulse beat faintly on his wrist, almost imperceptible.

The skin beneath his fingertips was smooth and slightly cool, a contrast to the warmth of his palm. Song Qingshu lowered his eyes, his gaze fixed on the place where their hands touched.

"Oh, oh."

The next second after hearing the response, He Feng removed his hand and told the man to continue sitting.

After frying a pot of eggplants, He Feng wanted to let him eat some first to taste it, but when he saw Song Qingshu's lips were soft and bright, he was afraid that he would eat too much and would not be able to eat later, so he stopped thinking.

Two small eggplants are not too many, and three pots can be fried. Song Qingshu held his chin and watched. When he heard

He Feng asked him to add firewood, he put in two pieces of firewood. He added water to the pot and covered it. He Feng came over and Song Qingshu consciously made room for him.

He Feng used a fire stick to drain the ashes under the other pot, then put wheat straw into the stove, and moved a piece of firewood under the small pot to the stove, and thus the fire was lit.

He moved quickly, starting the fire without taking it away. He put firewood under both pots, and then covered them with wooden boards to prevent Song Qingshu from getting too hot.

Knowing that Song Qingshu wanted to stay with him, he stood up and looked at him, "Sit down." He

said it like he was coaxing a child.

In He Feng's eyes, he was only nineteen years old, young, beautiful, and thin. He was someone who needed care, not much different from a child.

To make brown sugar egg tea, you need to mix some water batter first, a little thinner. After the water boils, add the batter and stir it in the pot. Then, pour the beaten eggs into the pot while stirring, and finally add some brown sugar.

A pot of brown sugar egg tea is ready.

The other pot is used to boil the fried eggplants. He Feng picked them out on the plate. Some of the eggplants were cut thicker and might not be cooked through when fried. They would be better if they were boiled in the pot.

The water boiled again, and some chopped green onions, fennel, and various seasonings were added to the pot. Two drops of sesame oil were added before serving.

Song Qingshu watched the whole process and thought it was very similar to how to fry fish.

He rarely ate these home-cooked dishes, and the original owner had no memory of eating them this way. He was very curious about the taste. He

stood behind the pot, washing his hands without waiting for He Feng to say anything, and prepared to come over to take the bowls.

He Feng poured out an extra bowl of each dish, taking advantage of the fact that the bottom of the bowl was not hot. "Son, I'll take this to Mrs. Liu next door first."

Song Qingshu was wiping his hands. "Isn't it hot, brother? I'll help you with that."

"It's okay, brother, you can go by yourself. The bowls are already served. You can take the ones that are not hot. The others will come when I come back." With that, he walked out the door.

Song Qingshu went into the kitchen and brought a plate of fried eggplant into the main room. He then went back to serve fried eggplant soup and brown sugar egg tea. He wanted to imitate He Feng and carry a bowl in each hand, but found the bottom of the bowl was a little hot, so he had to give up.

He held a bowl in each hand and walked as quickly as possible while keeping his balance.

When he entered the kitchen again, before he could even reach out, He Feng stopped him.

He held Song Qingshu's hand and looked at it carefully.

The white and tender fingertips were red from the burn. He guided Song Qingshu's hand to touch his earlobe. The originally hot fingertips pressed against the soft earlobe, and it was no longer so cold.

"Don't carry it if it's hot. Brother will do it."

He Feng released his hand and carried a bowl in each hand, but there was still one left.

He walked out of the kitchen door, but Song Qingshu still didn't go out and brought the rest over.

Song Qingshu sat next to the small square table, his tone was uncomfortable, "Brother, I'm not a child."

"You are not in good health and not suitable for work."

"You don't have to wash clothes for me in the future. Put the clothes you change after taking a bath and wait for me to come back to clean them up."

He took away the eggplant on top, and then used chopsticks to pick up a piece of fried eggplant for Song Qingshu.

Eggs were also put in the batter, and it was fried fragrantly, with a golden sheen.

You can tell it's delicious just by looking at it. Song Qingshu took it with chopsticks.

"So are you going to take care of me like this forever?"

"We've only known each other for a few days."

His voice was dull. He felt that He Feng was too good, but he was also afraid that He Feng was too good. He

lowered his head and took a bite of the fried eggplant. It was indeed delicious. The aroma of oil and eggplant mixed together, fragrant but not greasy.

He Feng watched him eat. The young man's hair was not long, his ears were delicate, and the skin on his neck was fine and white. His cold cervical vertebrae protruded, making him look like a fairy.

"Well, it's good to take care of me like this."

"Didn't we agree to be a family?"

Song Qingshu looked up at him and retorted with a frown: "A family can't be like this. How can you be the only one who pays!"

He was handsome and beautiful. Even when he frowned, he looked like a kitten, pretending to be told something by an adult.

He Feng was amused by his own thoughts. Looking at his face, he inexplicably thought of what Song Qingshu said when they first met.

He said it without thinking.

"Aren't you my brother's adopted husband? Or, the fiancé we were engaged to since childhood?"

Song Qingshu didn't expect him to shut him up with this. His beautiful eyes widened, and he almost bit his tongue when he wanted to refute.

His fair cheeks and ears were stained with crimson, and he pursed his lips and ate fiercely.

"Then I won't do anything and just lie at home."

"Okay."