Chapter 4: Small Noodle Stall
The old master of the Jiang family was a man who lived in peace and pursued scholarship. When Zhang Zhiyuan spoke up, the villagers immediately believed most of what he said, and they cast suspicious glances at Zhou Dalang.
Even the matchmaker fell silent. She had only come to stir trouble in front of Ye Ning because she feared damaging her reputation. Beyond the matchmaking fee, she hadn’t taken a single coin from the Zhou family. If this escalated into the case of kidnapping or trafficking an innocent person, the matchmaker—without any backing—would absolutely be unable to bear the consequences.
For a while, the villagers whispered and pointed, the wind of public opinion having turned. Zhou Dalang’s face burned; his eyes rolled back and forth. Seeing there was no way to argue, he puffed himself up, placed his hands on his hips, stuck out his water-bucket-shaped belly, and shouted, “What are you looking at? Don’t feel like working? Then don’t work at all!”
Qingtian Village’s largest household was the Jiang family. From the north end of the village, they occupied roughly half the land. Next came the Zhou family. They owned vast fields, and many of the villagers were their tenants. Simply put, the Zhou family was their landlord, their provider, their ancestral authority—people didn’t dare to offend them.
When Zhou Dalang shouted like this, the villagers immediately scattered like birds and beasts. Though they trusted even more that Zhou Dahu was a dishonest man, they dared not speak further. The matchmaker, squeezed within the dispersing crowd, said nothing and hurried away.
With the onlookers gone, Zhou Dalang no longer pretended to be gentle. His timid, innocent demeanor suited him poorly. He held his three-layered chin high, the mole on his face shining under the scorching sun, and spat out harsh words.
“You think you’re something just because you’re damaged and can’t bear children! If our Zhou family favors you, that’s your fortune! Hah! You dare defy me, Zhou Dalang? Don’t even bother asking around! Even if you went to the county seat, the Zhou family has name and status! Just you wait!”
Cursing under his breath, Zhou Dahu turned and left.
Mother Ye, terrified, had been cowering inside the house. Now she stumbled out, legs shaking, crying as she hung her head, “What should we do now? Everyone knows the Zhou family is like a living Buddha in this village. No one dares provoke them! This was supposed to be a joyful marriage, but now it’s turned into a calamity!”
Zhang Zhiyuan, full of righteous composure, said, “Uncle and Aunt, don’t worry. Even if the Zhou family’s influence in Qingtian Village is great, surely the laws of Great Liang still exist?”
Mother Ye, flustered, said, “Laws or no laws, we don’t understand! We only know that with all this commotion, Ning Ger will be labeled a second hand abandoned Fulang. How will he ever marry properly in the future?”
Zhang Zhiyuan, puzzled, said, “Ning Ger hasn’t even married yet. No proposal has been accepted, no marriage contract exchanged. How could he be a discarded Fulang?”
“What do you know?” Mother Ye snapped. “You’re just a scholar. Do you understand? People’s words are powerful. The villagers—they can’t help but gossip about Ning Ger!”
Ye Ning said calmly, “The one attempting to traffic people was Zhou Dalang. The one exposed publicly today was Zhou Dalang. The one being pointed at by the villagers is Zhou Dalang. Why would I be the subject of gossip?”
Mother Ye sneered: “Zhou Dalang is a man, and you’re a Ger! Is it the same? Can it be the same?”
Her eyes darted. “Why don’t you… go beg Zhou Dalang to marry you back?”
Ye Zhu cried out repeatedly, “Absolutely not! That’s impossible!”
He wasn’t worried about Ye Ning but scheming. With the Zhou marriage ruined, he might have a chance.
Zhang Zhiyuan, unaware of Ye Zhu’s thoughts, nodded and said, “Aunt, that must not happen. Zhou Dalang is clearly ill-intentioned, not a proper match for Ning Ger. Marriage is a serious matter—it must be considered carefully.”
Father Ye had been silent. Today, with Ye Ning exposing the Zhou family publicly, the Ye family had regained some face. But there was a problem: the face was restored, but the benefit lost. Such a prosperous household as the Zhou’s—Father Ye felt the sting of missing out.
Finally, he said, “Whether you marry into the Zhou family or not is your fate. If it’s meant to be, so be it. As your father, I have done my best to arrange a good husband for you. I owe you nothing. Just don’t come blaming us in the end.”
Ye Ning’s expression remained indifferent. What good husband? What destiny? What fortune? He believed in none of it. Had he believed in fate, he would have already given up during the apocalypse, being torn to pieces countless times.
Father Ye finally got to the main point: “Let me be clear: that half-acre of our land will go to your third brother in the end. You, as a Ger, will get none of it.”
Ye Ning finally understood. Father Ye feared that he would covet the family land. After all, in Father Ye’s mind, a Ger would become another family’s Fulang; only a male child could continue the family line.
Ye Ning didn’t care. He said, “Father, rest assured. I don’t want any of the Ye family land.”
With that, Father Ye visibly let out a long sigh of relief.
Ye Zhu was even more puzzled. Since recovering from his serious illness, Ye Ning had changed completely, as if he were a different person. He seemed contemplative, with a kind, understanding smile, but his words were another matter entirely.
“Father, Mother,” Ye Zhu glanced at Ye Ning and said, “Now that the matter of the contract of servitude has caused such a stir, the village will be talking for a while. Ning Ger is always sensitive and thin-skinned—he cannot bear this. Our family still has that noodle stall at the north corner of the village, right? We haven’t run it properly for a while. Why not give it to Ning Ger? He can check the shop and also have some peace and quiet. What do you think, Father and Mother?”
When Ye Ning’s father was young, he had tended cattle. Now, old in years, he had cultivated half an acre of land. The whole Ye family relied on that half-acre. Though small, it was considered fertile land in Qingtian Village. As for the noodle stall, it was something Mother Ye had whimsically set up—a tiny, palm-sized place with just a simple canopy.
Most people in Qingtian Village were self-sufficient. Who had spare money to eat at a noodle stall? A wealthy household like the Zhou family would never bother with such a small venture. After only a couple of days, it had fallen into disuse, neglected by all.
At the mention of the noodle stall, Ye Ning’s calm, placid eyes finally flickered with a trace of emotion. He had always had a special love for food. From a young age, he enjoyed experimenting with cooking. During the apocalyptic days when survival was a constant struggle, he had nearly starved to death—but for a kind old noodle stall lady who had given him half a bowl of plain noodles. That simple act had allowed him to survive.
To Ye Ning, food was never merely sustenance. It was a testament to survival, a belief in living through adversity.
Before Father and Mother Ye could react, Ye Ning spoke first: “Ye Zhu is right. I will go and take care of the noodle stall for a while.”
Ye Zhu was astonished, his eyes nearly popping out. He had clearly expected Ye Ning to be sent away, far from the family, imagining that a frail Ger who could neither shoulder nor lift anything would never manage on his own. Yet here he was volunteering to run a stall! Wasn’t this the biggest joke?
Father Ye glanced at Ye Ning, opened his mouth, and finally said, “Go ahead. It will be good for you to avoid the current turmoil. When the noodle stall fails to thrive, you’ll understand what it means to be a Fulang helping at home.”
Zhang Zhiyuan, being from the maternal side, did not want to interfere too much. Seeing that Uncle and Aunt would not force Ye Ning to marry Zhou Dalong, he relaxed and said, “Uncle, Aunt, I happen to have nothing to do tomorrow. Why don’t I accompany Ning Ger to the noodle stall at the north end of the village?”
Zhang Zhiyuan clearly had a righteous and warm-hearted character. In his mind, Ye Ning was delicate, a fragile Ger. How could he venture so far alone? Since he had nothing pressing, he could offer some assistance.
Ye Ning gladly accepted the noodle stall. Early the next morning, he washed and prepared himself. While the sun had yet to rise high and the village was still free from the midday heat, he set out with his cousin Zhang Zhiyuan toward the noodle stall in the north.
Calling it a noodle stall was generous—it looked more like a haunted shack. There was no proper frontage, the old canopy was covered in dust, and inside were two wooden tables and chairs, one of which had a broken leg and lay crookedly on the ground.
“Cough—cough, cough cough…” Zhang Zhiyuan worried about Ye Ning’s frailty. In truth, he was the weakling scholar. Choked by dust, his face turned red as he coughed violently, waving his sleeve for air. “This… this place is filthy, Ning Ger, you…”
Before he could finish, Ye Ning corrected him: “Ye Ning. Just call me Ye Ning from now on.”
All this ‘Ger’ and ‘Ning Ger’ business was making him feel like a parrot.
Zhang Zhiyuan was momentarily taken aback but nodded anyway. “Ye Ning, this noodle stall is in such poor shape. How can it even operate? Perhaps you should just return home, apologize to uncle and aunt. No matter how great the misunderstanding, you’re family. There’s no real barrier between you.”
Zhang Zhiyuan had been taken in by Father Ye when traveling to the capital for exams. He was sincerely grateful, believing Father Ye to be a genuinely kind man. But Ye Ning wasn’t so naive. Father Ye had taken in Zhang Zhiyuan because he was a promising scholar. There were very few literate people in Qingtian Village. If Zhang Zhiyuan succeeded in the exams, the Ye family could expect some return.
Ye Ning, however, was seen merely as a discarded Fulang after a failed marriage—a burden. If he returned looking dusty and disheveled, they might even suspect him of eyeing that half-acre of land.
Ye Ning scanned the surroundings. Spiderwebs clung in every corner; dust covered everything. Yet he didn’t see it as dirty. Instead, a warm, tingling sense of satisfaction arose in his chest. This place—haphazard and worn—would be his noodle stall from now on.
Ye Ning whispered softly, “This place is perfect.”
Zhang Zhiyuan was completely confused by Ye Ning’s words, yet the moment Ye Ning smiled, he finally understood what poets meant by “a smile over the shoulder.” For an instant, it seemed as if the world had dimmed around him. Ye Ning’s smile was more than just beautiful—it carried an inexplicable, calming reassurance.
Zhang Zhiyuan said plainly, “Then let’s do it this way. I’ll help you tidy up. Ye Ning, you just stand there; don’t dirty your clothes.”
“Where is the Ye family’s noodle stall?”
“Is it nearby? It should be somewhere around here.”
Before the two could even start cleaning, several loud voices rang out. This area was a remote northern corner of Qingtian Village. Most of the land there belonged to the Jiang family, so villagers rarely came this way unless they had business outside the village. Even fewer would come to a noodle stall.
The stall hadn’t even reopened when people came looking for it—and judging by their voices, they were not well-intentioned.
Ye Ning peered through the broken window and saw a few burly men, their muscular arms taut and corded, holding sticks. These were clearly not ordinary villagers. Their matching attire suggested they were hired muscle.
Zhang Zhiyuan lowered his voice: “They’re the Zhou family’s bodyguards.”
“That ungrateful Ger who dared insult our men!”
“Today we’ll teach him a lesson!”
“Hmph, refusing a toast and taking punishment instead. Does he think the Zhou family is easy to mess with?”
Ye Ning squinted and said to Zhang Zhiyuan, “Cousin, leave through the back gate.”
“No!” Zhang Zhiyuan replied firmly. “They’re here with ill intentions. How can I leave you alone?”
Ye Ning asked casually, as if out of nowhere, “Cousin, do you know martial arts?”
The confidence in Zhang Zhiyuan’s eyes from a moment ago wilted instantly. He stammered, “N-no, I don’t.”
Ye Ning remained perfectly calm. “Cousin, since you don’t know martial arts, staying won’t help. They’re here for me. Quickly leave through the back and bring reinforcements.”
Though reluctant, Zhang Zhiyuan understood the urgency. He nodded and bolted. He had never run like this in his life; his legs seemed to move independently of his body, utterly uncoordinated.
“Pfft…” Even at such a tense moment, Ye Ning couldn’t help but chuckle at him.
Zhang Zhiyuan ran past the noodle stall, stumbling countless times on the dirt road, yet each time he got up and continued, caked in dust.
Bang—thud!
He ran straight into something and fell hard onto his backside, landing with a solid thump.
“Isn’t that Zhang Sanlang?”
A soft sedan chair stopped and touched down lightly. The chair was accompanied by neatly dressed attendants who seemed to recognize Zhang Zhiyuan. They hurried to help him up. “Young Master Zhang, are you alright? Did you get hurt? Why are you in such a rush that you ran into our young master’s sedan?”
Dazed and in pain, Zhang Zhiyuan instinctively wanted to clutch his sore backside but restrained himself for the sake of propriety. Then he saw the sedan and his eyes widened: “Is that…Young Master Jiang inside?”
“Of course, it’s our young master.”
Inside the sedan sat the only grandson of the Jiang family’s patriarch—the family’s mentally challenged young master, Jiang Changxin.
Zhang Zhiyuan forgot all manners and formalities. He pushed past the attendants, grabbed the window frame of the sedan, and shouted, “Young Master Jiang! Please help Ye Ning!”
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