Chapter 9: Come on, brother! Song Qingshu said he wasn't going to work anymore...

Song Qingshu said he wasn't going to work anymore, and he really wasn't going to work anymore.

Last night, a cold wind blew, and at five in the morning, He Feng went to the vegetable

patch with a pickaxe and a hoe. Farm work is always endless, and with the gloomy weather and the sudden rain, he couldn't let it go to waste. He pulled out the dead roots in the vegetable patch and used the pickaxe to sever all the root systems.

After the pickaxe had gone through the soil, it was much easier to loosen it with the hoe.

As dark clouds gathered, he buried the radish seeds he had sifted last night in the soil. He also went to Mrs. Liu's house last night to get some sweet potatoes. After planting all four rows of land, it began to rain.

Tiny raindrops pelted down on him, and He Feng hoped the rain would last longer, thoroughly drenching the parched earth.

Rainwater is always better for seeds than well water.

In a couple of days, when the soil was half dry and moist, he could plant other vegetable seeds.

Picking buds, weeding, fertilizing, watering... There isn't much work to do in the fields, but it always keeps people from resting. Only

when it rains can he steal some time to relax at home.

He didn't think about hiding from the rain, but the rainy autumn immediately became much cooler. When he got home, his clothes were damp, and the breeze made him sneeze.

Song Qingshu hadn't woken up yet. He Feng wanted to lean on the window to take a look, but he felt it was inappropriate. He thought why not just look openly.

He pushed open the wooden door of the main room. The door was a bit old and creaked every time it was opened, but it wasn't heavy.

He Feng subconsciously glanced towards the east room. As the inner room of the main room, the east room had no door, only a curtain separating the dining area.

There was a wardrobe here, and He Feng's daily clothes would be enough to be placed in the west room. Quilts were stored here.

He burned most of his parents' belongings in the past, hoping that they would be more comfortable in the other world with the clothes they were used to.

July 15th is coming soon.

He lifted the curtain a little. The person on the bed was fast asleep. A rosy pink hue was on the cold white cheeks. Half of the face was buried in the quilt, revealing only the beautiful eyebrows and eyes.

He looked very well-behaved.

He Feng loosened the curtain and went back to the west room before he sneezed again. He quickly found a clean set of clothes to change into.

His hand lingered for a moment on the clothes that Song Qingshu had washed yesterday, and then changed to another one.

Song Qingshu knew how to wash clothes, but he was not very good at it. The college students who came to the orphanage as volunteers taught him the skills. His ability to wash clothes can be said to be "learned from a teacher".

First, soak the clothes with detergent, then rub the lapels and cuffs a few times, change the water in the basin, rub them a few times, change the water again and wring them out, then hang them up.

When they are dried, they will be a little wrinkled.

He Feng knew at a glance that he could do it but not completely, and when he saw the reddened palms and buttons on the quilt, he naturally didn't want him to wash clothes again.

Anyway, before Song Qingshu came, he was the only one doing the work, and with such a well-behaved and docile person, there was nothing he couldn't do well.

After changing his clothes and drinking two sips of hot tea, he felt less cold. He changed to a big black umbrella, opened it and went out. Xiao Hei

, who was lying under the eaves, wagged his tail and wanted to follow, but was stopped by the lingering rain.

The rain was a little heavier than at the beginning. He Feng walked towards the street. It was a rare break, so he took the money and prepared to buy some breakfast.

It was drizzling on the road. Because there was no market today, there was only a breakfast shop open on the street. It was run by a couple in their fifties who opened the shop regardless of rain or shine.

The child also worked hard. He was admitted to the city's high school last year. I'm afraid he will take the college entrance examination.

Seeing He Feng coming, the woman asked with a smile: "What do you want to eat, young master?"

The raindrops hit the umbrella, making a dull thud, and He Feng's voice was also low, "Two bowls of spicy soup, two fried dough sticks, and a tray of buns."

"Okay, do you want to take them home?"

"Yes."

This street is also a small market when there is a market, and because it is a crossroads, it is also lively.

Unfortunately, it rained today, and it was much cooler, so fewer people went out.

He went back with an umbrella, and happened to meet He Lishu who was wearing a raincoat, "Young master, are you going to buy food?"

He Feng nodded.

The other party laughed heartily, "Haha, the rain today won't stop for a while, and the land will finally stop being dry."

"Well, it's just in time to plant red taro on the wheat stubble. This rain fell at the right time."

He carried breakfast in his arms, and without much greeting, he left quickly after talking casually.

The first thing he did when he got home was to put the spicy soup into the bowl. Then he entered the main room. The person on the bed turned over, with the furry back of his head facing He Feng.

He shouted to the bed, "Baby, get up."

Song Qingshu muttered, pulling the quilt to curl up. It was almost nine o'clock now, and breakfast would not taste good if it got cold, especially the fried dough sticks, which were better when they were still crispy.

He Feng stood beside the bed, reached out and gently patted Song Qingshu through the quilt, "Baby? Get up and eat."

His voice was gentle, as if he was afraid of disturbing Song Qingshu. It didn't sound like he was here to wake someone up, but more like he was here to coax someone.

Unfortunately, there was no one around, and He Feng didn't know. He just shouted at the top of his voice.

Song Qingshu was sleeping soundly, but the annoying shouting came into his ears. He recognized the source and raised his hand to hit him.

The soft palm suddenly fell on He Feng's face, hitting his cheek and nose. The sound was not loud, but the touch was enough to wake Song Qingshu up.

His hazy eyes snapped awake upon seeing He Feng's face. He huddled against the bed, pursing his lips and calling out, "Brother."

"Well, since you're awake, get up and clean up for dinner."

He didn't act like he'd been assaulted. His voice was the same as usual, but his steps weren't as steady as usual as he left.

Song Qingshu's heart pounded, and he blinked a few times before realizing he'd been half asleep, thinking someone was harassing him and raising his hand to shoo them away.

Who knew he'd end up getting assaulted?

Men of this generation care about their reputations, their chauvinism ingrained and difficult to change.

He slowly dressed and walked out, head bowed, bracing for He Feng's wrath.

He Feng emerged from the west room, a razor blade in hand. "Go wash up! The spicy soup will be cold soon."

They stayed under the eaves, squatting by a bucket of well water, one brushing his teeth while the other shaves with a mirror.

Song Qingshu brushed his teeth blankly, his thoughts resonating with him. Not only was he not angry, he was actually shaving.

Is he afraid that his stubble will prick his hand?

This thought was suppressed by Song Qingshu as soon as it came up. He could only regard it as a coincidence that He Feng was going to shave.

After all, his blue stubble has been there for several days, and it's time to shave.

After Song Qingshu finished brushing his teeth, He Feng shaved his beard. The two washed their faces together, went to the kitchen to get chopsticks and spoons, and sat at the square table to eat together.

The crispy fried dough sticks were slightly cold, and He Feng didn't dare to let Song Qingshu eat them like this. He broke the fried dough sticks into pieces for him and buried them in the spicy soup before letting him eat them.

Song Qingshu forgot about the slap he had slapped someone in the morning, and remembered what he said last night. He deliberately didn't thank him and just enjoyed his care.

He Feng didn't hear his polite thanks, and felt happy and disappointed, but happiness still prevailed.

Song Qingshu drank a bowl of spicy soup, a fried dough stick and a vegetable bun, and stopped eating, no matter how He Feng tried to coax him in.

Meeting his sincere eyes, He Feng knew that he was really full, so he ate all the remaining buns.

The rain didn't stop after breakfast, and He Feng had nothing to do, so he turned over the fishing nets at home. There were some holes on them that were made by fish, and they needed to be patched.

Seeing him turn on the lights in the main room, Song Qingshu came over with the picture book. The dining table had been wiped clean, and He Feng sat on a stool to mend the fishing nets.

He heard the footsteps stop, and He Feng looked up at him as he sat down. It felt like the elders at home were working while the children were writing on the table.

This feeling was not bad.

The fishing net was almost mended, and He Feng looked up and turned his neck. A clattering sound came, and he looked into the yard. Some persimmons had fallen.

He went out to wash his hands, and when he came back he found that the person who was reading on the table had fallen asleep without him knowing when.

His cheek was nestled in his arm, and some soft flesh squeezed out of his originally thin cheek. He Feng couldn't help but reach out and touch it. The skin under his hand was smooth, soft and white, like a doll.

He knew that his hands were rough, so he didn't linger for long. He picked him up like a bride and carried him back to the bed in the east room.

When he put him down, Song Qingshu opened his eyes, but he was obviously not awake. He even put his arms around He Feng's neck and rubbed his forehead against it.

Like a familiar kitten.

There was still a light fragrance on his body, probably the smell of medicine. He Feng didn't dare to move. He hunched his waist and waited for the person to sleep for a while, and then let go when he fell asleep.

This posture was really uncomfortable and tested the strength of the waist. He Feng held on and didn't move, and gently patted his back with his hand on the back of the person's waist.

Song Qingshu's breathing gradually stabilized, and he was laid on the bed on his back, and the quilt was pulled over his chest.

He Feng glanced at his sleeping face for a few times, then walked out at a slower pace.

When he walked out the door, Xiao Hei followed him, wagging his tail. His flattering look showed that he was hungry.

He Feng went to the kitchen to get two steamed buns and threw them to him. Xiao Hei hopped back with them in his mouth, and lay on the ground, chewing on them.

The environment after being hit by rain is always fresher. Autumn is everywhere, and the lush scenery has not faded yet. He Feng stood in the yard, staring at the fallen persimmons and pomegranates.

What should fall will fall, and the ripe persimmons fell to the ground in a puddle, which is really an eyesore.

He let the chickens out and let them peck them away. The brick floor was not paved all over the yard, so a piece of land was left to plant fruit trees and raise chickens and ducks, which was easier to clean.

The fruit trees were also fertilized with farmyard manure. The soil was fertile, and the fruits were more abundant. It was a virtuous cycle.

After dealing with all these, it was almost noon.

Today was a free day, so I could cook something elaborate. I heard Wang Hu had been slaughtering a pig these past two days, and there was a row of chives in the field. He'd been cutting them, and sometimes people would ask for them, and He Feng wouldn't pay.

He could make dumplings with two fillings: one with chives and eggs, the other with chives and pork.

This would take time, but it would also allow Song Qingshu to get some extra sleep.

He thought, changing his shoes, and preparing to go to the field to cut chives. Afterward,

he'd go buy pork.

When Song Qingshu woke, the weather was still dull—not hot, but it was making it hard to breathe.

He instinctively went to the kitchen and saw He Feng chopping stuffing: emerald green chives stir-fried with egg whites, meat mixed with chives, and some soaked vermicelli on the side.

"Brother, can we finish this?"

He Feng paused, having been so focused on making more than one thing that he'd overdone it.

"No problem, I've got more dough, so I'm going to make some more buns to send to the neighbors."

Song Qingshu rolled up his sleeves. "Oh, then..." He didn't even finish the words "help" before lowering them again.

"Come on, brother!"