5 This is Shanxiu Village (Proofreading)

After the Ye family’s broken engagement became the subject of village gossip for a while, the chatter gradually faded. Farming life left little time for idle talk. As the Minor Heat solar term approached, the busy season arrived.

With the heat rising, Ye Father and Ye Shan headed to the fields to fertilize, weed, and control pests, ensuring the crops would be ready for harvest by the Great Heat. Ye Xi stayed home to feed the chickens and ducks before preparing to collect firewood in the mountains.

Their daily pig feed required a good amount of dry wood, and since his elder brother and father were occupied with the crops, Ye Xi naturally took on these small tasks himself.

After locking the house, Ye Xi slung his basket on his back and set off, picking up small twigs along the foot of the mountain. The forest was dense, its canopy shielding the scorching sun, and walking beneath the shade with patches of sunlight filtering through the leaves felt refreshingly cool.

The higher he climbed, the more dead branches he found. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Ye Xi gathered as much as he could today to reduce future trips. When he finally tied a large bundle of firewood with hemp rope in the basket, he noticed the sky had turned overcast without his realizing it. The glaring sun was hidden behind dark clouds, and the dimming light signaled an impending downpour.

He had no time to collect more and hoisted the firewood on his back, hastening down the mountain. After a short distance, the sound of raindrops pattering against leaves grew from sparse to dense.

Large raindrops pelted his cheeks and shoulders, accompanied by deafening thunderclaps exploding in the distance. Forest animals scattered in fear.

As the rain intensified, Ye Xi hurried along the slippery, muddy path. The heavy load bent his back, making his steps heavier.

Suddenly, a vine tripped his foot, causing him to stagger forward. Before he could steady himself, he slipped and fell with a splash beside the trail. Fortunately, he caught hold of the nearby vines, preventing a tumble down the slope.

The weight of the firewood pinned him down, leaving him sprawled on the ground, too weak to rise. Pain flared sharply in his knees and elbows. He gritted his teeth as the rain drenched him, droplets streaming down his lashes and blurring his vision.

Through the misty rain, a tall figure appeared ahead. Clad in a straw raincoat and wearing a broad bamboo hat, the man carried two wild chickens.

Ye Xi remained prone, watching as the stranger drew near, rain dripping from his cloak until his straw sandals stopped before him.

He looked up in dazed silence. Beneath the hat, the man’s face was stern yet clear-cut, exuding a quiet strength. Though his expression seemed severe and intimidating, he appeared steady and capable of weathering any storm.

Without a word, the man dropped the chickens and stooped to lift the bundle of firewood from Ye Xi’s back. The hefty load moved with ease, and Ye Xi immediately felt the burden lift, his body lightening.

He quickly scrambled to his feet, his coarse blue clothes soaked and stained with mud. A large tear at his knee revealed fresh abrasions, likely scraped against a stone during the fall.

“Th-thank you,” Ye Xi murmured, eyes lowered, unable to meet the man’s gaze. The stranger was so tall, his shoulders barely reached the man’s chest.

The man said nothing, his dark, deep-set eyes briefly scanning Ye Xi’s face before gathering his chickens and walking on.

Ye Xi took a few steps toward his basket but was soon overcome by sharp pain in his elbow and knee, causing a hiss of breath. Carrying the firewood downhill seemed impossible now.

“Um, could you help me?” Ye Xi called softly.

The man paused, turning slightly, as if waiting for Ye Xi to continue.

Swallowing, Ye Xi said, “I injured my knee and arm and can’t move them. Could you please move this firewood to a hidden place? I’ll come for it another day.”

Only then did the man’s gaze settle on Ye Xi’s injured knee. After a moment, he nodded solemnly and said in a low voice, “Alright.”

It was the first time Ye Xi heard the man’s voice—unexpectedly pleasant.

“Thank you so much,” Ye Xi said.

The man returned, noticing Ye Xi drenched in rain, strands of hair and white gauze plastered to his cheeks, his eyes downcast like a wounded rabbit.

He reached up, took off his bamboo hat, and offered it to Ye Xi.

Feeling uneasy about troubling him and taking his hat, Ye Xi quickly declined, “No, you keep it. I’m already soaked.”

The man hesitated briefly, then placed the hat on the ground near Ye Xi’s feet. He picked up the firewood bundle and said quickly, “Come get it when the weather clears. The house halfway up the mountain.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

Only then did Ye Xi realize this was the outsider who had recently moved into their village.

Without lingering, Ye Xi hurried down the mountain. At home, he discovered a large scrape bleeding on his elbow, the blood seeping through and staining his clothes.

Liu Xiufeng promptly brought warm water to clean the wounds carefully, then went to the yard to fetch some hemostatic herbs. She crushed them with a pestle and applied the poultice to his injuries.

At dinner, when asked about his injuries, Ye Xi stirred the coarse rice in his bowl, masking the truth, “I went to gather firewood in the mountains, but it suddenly rained. I hurried down and fell, leaving the firewood on the mountain.”

He deliberately concealed his encounter with the outsider.

Ye Shan felt sorry for his younger brother, “Rest well at home. I’ll bring the firewood down from the mountain another day.”

Ye Xi’s eyes flickered, quickly replying, “No need, big brother. I’ll go myself another day.”

After dinner, Ye Xi washed up and lay restless in bed. When he turned, his elbow grazed the blanket, making him wince. His mind drifted back to the man in the rain—the tall figure, the deep black eyes. Though the man’s expression was cold and intimidating, there was no doubt he was a good person.

For some reason, despite meeting only once and not even knowing the man’s name or background, Ye Xi felt a sincere trust in him.

He muttered to the dark ceiling that the man didn’t seem like the “wild barbarian” his brother claimed but more like the handsome figure described by Li Ge’er.

Besides, the man had helped him and even offered his bamboo hat. Such kindness was not something a barbarian would show.

After the heavy rain, several clear days followed, and the weeds in the fields grew rapidly. Beyond helping in the fields, Ye Xi had to set up trellises for the cucumber vines in the yard’s vegetable garden. The beans on the bamboo frames had grown swiftly these days; they harvested a large basket. Some were boiled as staple food, and the rest pickled in earthen jars to make sour beans—perfect as a morning side dish for rice porridge or a sauce for noodles.

Ye Xi was skilled at making pickles. The brine was clear and free of scum, and the vegetables were crisp and flavorful—neither overly sour nor bland.

After cleaning two remaining jars, Ye Xi salted their rims with three even layers, then soaked the fresh green cucumbers in cooled boiling water. He filled the jars to the brim with clear water and sealed them. They would be ready to eat in four or five days.

Having finished the pickling, the sun was still not quite at its peak. Ye Xi suddenly remembered the firewood left on the mountain a few days ago. After some thought, he went to the kitchen and brought out a small jar of pickled vegetables.

After a cup of tea’s walk up the mountain, he finally reached the house halfway up. Since Liu the Blind’s death, Ye Xi rarely passed by here. He had heard the place was long abandoned, the roof overgrown with grass, and the wind at night howled eerily, frightening anyone nearby.

Ye Xi looked around cautiously. No one was in sight. He had deliberately chosen a small path to avoid being seen.

Clutching the jar of pickles nervously, he approached the front door. It was ajar, so he stretched his neck to peer inside.

The courtyard was neatly swept, with several salted fish hanging under the eaves. The broken roof tiles had been repaired, and the house no longer looked dilapidated. It was quite a decent dwelling now.

“Is anyone here?” He lightly knocked on the door, which had been coated with tung oil.

Silence. Suddenly, a flock of birds burst from the nearby woods, flapping away and startling him.

He knocked twice more but received no reply. Deciding to leave and return another day, he turned to go.

About ten meters from the house, a figure appeared on the mountain path—a man in rough brown hemp clothes carrying a basket.

Ye Xi recognized him as the outsider he had met during the rainstorm.

The man had clearly seen him as well. He paused briefly, expressionless, then walked toward him.

Ye Xi’s fingers unconsciously clenched the jar, his nerves heightening.

“Um, I came to collect my firewood,” Ye Xi said.

The man grunted and entered the courtyard without a word. Ye Xi followed.

Inside, the man went to the woodshed and gathered the bundle of firewood. Sitting under the eaves, he began twisting grass into cord.

Ye Xi frowned. He distinctly remembered tying the bundle himself. How had it fallen apart?

The man glanced up at Ye Xi watching the wood and explained, “It rained hard. The firewood got wet. I dried it for you.”

After several days of drying, the wood was now perfectly dry and ready to be burned in the stove.

Grateful, Ye Xi said, “Thank you. I’m sorry to trouble you.” He then hesitated and added shyly, “I made some pickles at home. If you don’t mind, I’d like to give you a jar.”

The man’s gaze fell on the jar in Ye Xi’s hands. He did not refuse. Raising his chin, he gestured toward the side house. “The kitchen is there.”