The man held a steelyard in one hand as he set the bridal veil aside. He asked softly, âAre you cold?â
Xue Dongting was taken aback, first time hearing his voice, deep and mellow, but quite nice and brimming with manliness.
She gently raised her head, the fishermanâs visage mirrored in her bright, limpid eyes. His black hair was drawn up high, his brows slanting outward over starry eyes. His nose was tall and straight, a really handsome man. The stray black hairs at his temple against his slightly dark skin made him look somewhat mysterious.
She didnât know if it was becayse of his mysterious, fierce eyes, or his tall, broad physique, but Xue Dongting was in awe, like a weight pressing down and making it hard to breathe.
Song Yumingâs eyes flashed with faintly discernible surprise. He probably didnât expect the woman he was marrying would be such a beauty either. He lived alone in this seaside fishing village and simply felt he ought to have a woman beside him, but he never imagined the matchmaker would find him a woman like this.
Xue Dongting was still silent, so he clasped her soft little hand, the one she didnât know where to put. Xue Dongting was shocked and tried to jerk her hand back, but was checked by his firm grip. Xue Dongting lowered her head, letting him hold her hand. His palm was rough, but warm.
âYour hand is cold, you must be freezing. Iâm not used to using a brazier and have made it hard on you.â He gently let go of her hand. He came back in not long after carrying a hot, roaring brazier, and soon the room was nice and warm.
Then he brought in some food and drink. Xue Dongting looked up at the dishes on the table and couldnât help but purse her lips in a smile. The food was sumptuous, but crudely cooked, just chunks of beef boiled in a pot. The fish was was cooked with scallions, ginger, and hot peppers and smelled great. But the chicken was just stewed whole.
But there was no help for it. For a poor place like this these dishes were a bounty. If this was the food served when taking a wife, with crude cooking like this, like a cow chewing a peony, then the fishermanâs normal fare must be even more perfunctory.
Finally, Song Yuming brought in a bowl of white-flour steamed buns and laid out the bowls and chopsticks. He looked up at her and said, âLetâs eat.â He pulled a leg off the chicken and placed it in her bowl.
Xue Dongting hadnât eaten all day, so she was cold and starving. She didnnât mince words, but got up and sat at the table and took a steamed bun he offered her. Though she was really hungry, she had to maintain her reserve, so she only nibbled at it. The bun was soft and fragrant. To her it was tastier than the exotic delicacies served at the third princeâs manor. Thinking back to her previous life made her tear up. She held back her tears and lowered her head and ate the bun.
Song Yuming didnât talk much. Xue Dongting counted to herself. He ate five buns, as if he had not eaten in days, but though he ate a lot and ate it fast, he was not unmannerly about it. And he was thoughtful, often placing food in her bowl. She furtively watched the fisherman and noticed that though he didnât care much about food, he could really drink. He drank wine like water.
It was a peaceful meal. When they had done, Xue Dongting was about to go wash the dishes when Song Yuming stopped her. All he said was âItâs cold out, the waterâs freezingâ, then took the bowls and dishes to the kitchen himself.
Xue Dongting was at loose ends. She spotted a red trunk in the room and had a warmhearted idea. She opened the trunk and inside was a red brocade quilt. The quilt was embroidered with a pair of mandarin ducks playing in the water. The embroidery work was exquisite, made by Mama Qiao herself.
She carried the quilt over and made the bed. A rosy scent wafted out when she spread the quilt. Likely Mama Qiao had scented it with rose perfume when she was fluffing the cotton batting.