Chapter 17
There were piles of books in the kitchen. Qiao Wei tore some up to light the firewood, and it worked surprisingly well.
She was cooking in the kitchen, while Yan Lei was outside washing all the clothes they had changed out of after their baths today. It was too easy to sweat in the summer; if clothes weren’t washed frequently, they would start to smell. He scrubbed soap into the collars and cuffs, then rinsed them in water several times.
For someone with Yan Lei’s physical stamina, this little bit of work was nothing.
He had been a farm boy, capable of doing any kind of labor. Later, when it was time for conscription, his family had begged the village official to falsify his age on the introduction letter so he could enlist. It could be said that he grew up in the Military Unit; his physique and stamina were top-notch.
He even washed clothes faster than Qiao Wei cooked.
Once the clothes were hung up to dry, he sniffed the air. It was strange—why did the smell of stir-fried dishes at home smell exceptionally fragrant today?
Wiping his hands with a towel, he walked to the kitchen doorway and took a look.
Qiao Wei had torn up many pages of books and placed them by her feet, tossing a stack into the stove from time to time, causing the flames to instantly flare up. With such intense heat for the stir-fry, just watching the fire and hearing the sizzling sound from the pan made the dish smell delicious.
However, her arms seemed to lack strength; she struggled a bit when tilting the pan to scoop out the food.
But she quickly rinsed the pan and started cooking the next dish.
Yan Lei gripped the towel and watched her intently for a while.
If a person had no affection for you, the food they cooked would carry a sense of perfunctoriness and compromise, making it hard to swallow. It would be impossible to eat at the same table or sleep on the same kang.
But now, although Qiao Wei struggled to hold the pan, the way she wielded the iron spatula carried a bright, rhythmic energy, full of vitality.
It was just that she would switch the spatula to her other hand from time to time and shake out her arm.
Washing a few clothes and ending up this tired—how useless.
Yan Lei watched for a moment longer, then went back inside.
As soon as he entered the study in the west room, he saw the empty space on the bookshelf. The bookshelf wasn’t large; it used to be packed full, but now there was a noticeable gap.
They had all been moved to the kitchen to fuel the fire.
Yan Lei actually still found it hard to believe. In the past, these books were her treasures, and she wouldn’t let him touch them.
He turned his head to see Yan Xiang playing in the living room, then looked back at the bookshelf, randomly pulling out a book to open and read.
In this era, there were no simple online web novels; anything that could be printed in type had been meticulously selected by editors with discerning eyes from countless submissions. Regardless of the content or the theme, at the very least, the writing style was excellent, and the literary talent was exceptional.
Once Yan Lei started reading, he became absorbed in it.
He didn’t know how long he had been reading when he was suddenly called to eat in the courtyard. He pulled himself out of the book, dazed, and when he recalled the content he had just read, he couldn’t help but frown slightly.
He could indeed faintly sense some problematic ideological themes permeating the text.
He wasn’t entirely sure; he felt he needed to read more.
But Qiao Wei was calling him to eat outside, so he thought about folding the corner of the page. He almost did it, but stopped himself, remembering that it was because he had folded the corner of her book that she had accused him of not cherishing books and threw a tantrum, forbidding him from touching her books ever again.
He remembered she had a set of bamboo bookmarks that she used to keep track of her reading progress. Yan Lei pulled open the drawer, intending to get a bookmark, but paused—all her letters in the drawer were gone.
They had originally been neatly tied together with rubber bands. Later, when she left a note and ran away, he had opened them all to read, and after finishing, he had shoved them haphazardly into the drawer.
They were all gone.
Had they been disposed of in the fire just like the books? Or had she hidden them away even deeper?
Yan Lei thought of that The Technician—fair-skinned and clean, with delicate features. He certainly looked like an intellectual at first glance.
But he was a coward with no sense of responsibility and bad intentions. If she had gone through something like that and still hadn’t come to her senses, still liking a person like that… then she could do whatever she wanted in the future; he wouldn’t care anymore.
Yan Lei inserted a bookmark, put the book back, and walked outside. The small table had already been moved from under the eaves to the middle of the courtyard, and Qiao Wei was serving dishes, steaming hot. Yan Xiang was using all his might to drag a wooden stool from under the eaves to the table. They were made of old elm wood and were heavy.
Yan Lei didn’t help Yan Xiang; he picked up the other two stools, one in each hand, and shouted at his son, “Use your strength!”
Yan Xiang was using so much strength he looked like he was about to poop his pants!
Qiao Wei put down her bowl and scolded Yan Lei, “He’s still young!”
She went over to lift the stool from Yan Xiang’s hands, but her arm went sore, and she almost dropped it on the ground. She had to use both hands to grab it and move it to the side of the table.
Yan Lei arranged the chairs and asked, “Is your arm sore from washing clothes?”
He had seen her shaking it out several times.
Qiao Wei grimaced, “I washed clothes in the morning, and it started hurting in the afternoon.”
That was because she had never really done heavy labor like washing clothes before. Simply put, she was out of shape.
Yan Lei pursed his lips, controlled his expression, and didn’t say anything unpleasant.
There was nothing to say, either. Back then, his comrades and superiors had all advised him, saying that although Qiao Wei had a high level of education, she clearly wasn’t the type who could do manual labor.
She herself had also said that she couldn’t do heavy labor.
He had promised at the time that he would do the heavy, dirty, and tiring work.
There was no point in regretting a promise he had made himself. Since he had said it, he had to follow through.
Yan Lei picked up some food and said, annoyed, “Why wash clothes for no reason? Don’t wash them in the future.”
Qiao Wei glanced at him.
She had actually seen just a moment ago that he had already washed and hung up today’s clothes. He wasn’t like some other men who would rather sit around with their feet up, watching, without lifting a finger, waiting for their wives to do everything.
Qiao Wei felt that life with this man was actually quite livable.
Yan Lei didn’t know why that glance from Qiao Wei was so beautiful. There seemed to be a smile in her eyes, gentle and affectionate.
She had never looked at him like that before. Yan Lei felt a bit awkward, lowered his head, shoveled a large mouthful of rice, and ate some vegetables.
With one bite, he could tell that today’s food was exceptionally delicious.
At that time, the Military Unit’s food was divided into large, medium, and small mess halls based on rank. Cadres at the division level and above ate at the small mess, regimental and battalion cadres ate at the medium mess, and those below the company level ate at the large mess.
Yan Lei was at the regimental level, so he ate at the medium mess.
But today’s food at home felt even more fragrant than the medium mess at the Military Unit; it was rich and oily, almost reaching the level of the small mess.
Yan Lei took one look at the serving plate and immediately understood why it was so fragrant—Qiao Wei had used a lot of oil.
In fact, cadre families were naturally more well-off than average families and were willing to spend on oil and meat. Especially since Yan Lei’s family only had three people, they were even more willing to use oil than Regimental Commander Zhao’s family.
But the amount of oil Qiao Wei had used today was extraordinary; in Yan Lei’s view, it was a serious waste.
But… the food really did smell delicious.
Yan Lei ate another half bowl of rice, swallowed, and asked, “Is there enough oil at home?”
“Just about,” Qiao Wei said.
Actually, she felt a bit guilty. First of all, she didn’t have an accurate understanding of historical oil usage. The original owner’s memories were like watching a movie; those trivial details were blurry and not that precise.
Furthermore, she knew she used a lot of oil. She loved the fragrance of oil; even in her original world, her mother had scolded her, “You’re not eating oil, you’re drinking it.”
She had even complained that the older generation was too frugal, using too little oil, which made the food bland.
Now, being questioned by Yan Lei, she felt a bit uneasy.
Just as she was considering whether she should pay attention to the amount of oil she used in the future, she heard Yan Lei say, “If you run out of oil, go buy some; the oil ration coupons are in the box. If the coupons aren’t enough, tell me. I’ll figure something out.”
In this era, money was certainly important, but ration coupons were even more critical. If you had money but no coupons, you couldn’t buy anything, or you would only be able to buy things at high prices.
In an instant, Qiao Wei empathized with Lin Xixi.
Lin Xixi had truly lived through this era and had really suffered the hardships of the times. It was completely normal for her to want to latch onto Yan Lei after being reborn.
Who wouldn’t want to?
This was an era where even oil had to be rationed.
Just for this bit of oil, it was worth latching onto him.
The atmosphere at dinner today was much better than last night. Yan Xiang ate half a bowl more rice than usual.
Seeing Qiao Wei shaking her arm while glancing at him sideways, the expression clearly conveyed her meaning. Yan Lei resisted the urge to roll his eyes and said speechlessly, “Don’t worry about it; I’ll wash the dishes.”
Qiao Wei stood up with a smile, “Thanks.”
They were an old married couple; why say thanks? Crazy.
Yan Lei went into the room with a straight face and brought out half a pot of warm water heated by the residual heat of the firewood. He rinsed the grease off the bowls and chopsticks in the warm water first, then scrubbed them with a loofah.
He turned his head and saw a layer of oil floating in the pot, shimmering with iridescent colors in the dim evening light.
What a spendthrift.
Fortunately, he could afford it.
Throughout history and across the world, as long as a man had a strong ability to provide for his family and could give his wife and children a good life, most would be a bit proud and arrogant.
Yan Lei was no exception.
It was strange; they had been married for so many years, and he had bought her so many nice clothes, fed her white flour and fine grains, and provided plenty of eggs, so why had he never felt such a sense of accomplishment as he did today?
Yan Lei paused in thought.
Perhaps it was because, in the past, she had never looked at him with that kind of smiling gaze.
That gaze carried happiness and satisfaction, her eyes sparkling, as if she were saying: This man is really quite good.
…Tsk!
And saying “thanks” to him—so insincere.
After washing the dishes, Yan Xiang was helping to dry them, as he always did.
Yan Lei asked, “Where’s your mom?”
“In the room.”
Yan Lei turned his head and looked; the light in the study was indeed on, and she had even drawn the curtains.
As soon as he entered the study, Qiao Wei asked him, “Did you read this book?”
The one she was holding was exactly the one Yan Lei had placed the bamboo bookmark in.
Yan Lei admitted, “I read a bit.”
He glanced at her. But there was no anger on her face about him messing with her books; instead, her eyes were bright as she asked him, “What do you think?”
“I think there’s a problem. The ideology doesn’t feel right,” Yan Lei said cautiously. “You should read this one again yourself; if it’s bad, then burn it.”
Anyway, she had already burned so many books, one more wouldn’t make a difference.
Qiao Wei’s eyes darted around, as if she were plotting something. Sure enough, she said, “Whether there’s a problem or not, rather than me reading it, why don’t you take a look yourself?”
“What are you plotting?” Yan Lei frowned and warned her sternly, “I’m telling you, I won’t be corrupted by these things.”
“I know. So, isn’t it more appropriate for you to decide whether it should be kept or burned than me?” Qiao Wei smiled. “Your standards are stricter than mine; if you judge it, there’s even less chance of anything slipping through the net. It’s safer, isn’t it?”
That was indeed true. Ever since he realized his own oversight—letting such literary works filled with petty-bourgeois decadence exist right under his nose for so long—Yan Lei really couldn’t trust Qiao Wei’s judgment anymore.
She had long since been corrupted.
That was why she had fantasies about a weakling like The Technician.
He took it, “Then I’ll review it.”
Qiao Wei pursed her lips in a smile, pulled out the chair at the desk, made a “please” gesture, and turned to leave.
Yan Lei pulled at his collar to fan himself a couple of times, then sat down at the desk and began to read.
The writing was still very engaging, and once again, he became absorbed in it. Yan Lei had mostly read political propaganda in the past and had never read such captivating prose.
When Qiao Wei entered with a plate, she saw him with his eyes lowered, focused on turning the pages of the book.
Startled by her footsteps, Yan Lei finally snapped out of it. He looked and realized he had actually read so much?
He hadn’t felt the passage of time.
“Is it good?” Qiao Wei’s cheek bulged as she chewed something, and she handed him the plate she was holding, “Eat some peach.”
The plate was filled with the peaches Yan Lei had brought back. They were washed clean and cut into pieces.
Yan Lei picked up a piece, “Why did you cut it?”
To eat a peach, you just pick it up and bite into it. Or you could break it open and have one person bite into each half.
Cutting it up like this was too refined; it had a sense of petty-bourgeois decadence.
Qiao Wei blinked her eyes, “Uh… it was too big, it’s hard for Yan Xiang to eat.”
Alright, that reason was acceptable. And Yan Lei found that cutting it into pieces meant each piece was just the right size for one bite, making it very neat to eat without juice dripping everywhere.
Seeing that he no longer questioned why the peach was cut into pieces, Qiao Wei breathed a sigh of relief and pressed him, “Is the book good?”
Yan Lei picked up another piece of peach, put it in his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed. He poked the cover of the book with his finger and said very seriously, “I can tell you responsibly that the ideology of this book is definitely problematic.”
“No…” Qiao Wei reached out, her white, slender fingers pressing down on the book, leaning in slightly, “I’m asking you, is this book good or not?”
Her bright, clear eyes looked straight at Yan Lei.
