The Butcher's Little Husband - Chapter 93

Tian Xiaoman carefully examined the soles Grand-ama Liu had made. The stitches were extremely tight. Unless someone had long experience doing this kind of work, even making a single sole would be exhausting.

Tian Xiaoman brushed paste onto more than ten layers of white cloth, sticking them together layer by layer until the piece looked thick and padded. He threaded a large needle with cotton thread, put on a thimble, and pressed down hard. As soon as the needle tip touched the cloth, it pierced through.

Tian Xiaoman felt quite pleased. It only took some strength and was not complicated. He pushed the needle down again and again, but after only twenty or thirty stitches, his hand already began to ache.

Every stitch required real force. Without it, the needle wouldn’t go through. And a single sole took at least a hundred stitches. Without long-term practice, how could anyone make it look easy?

Gritting his teeth, he finally finished sewing one sole—but now his hand was so sore he could barely lift it. He didn’t force himself any further and stuffed everything into a basket.

It was early March, a time when food was scarce. People had started foraging for wild vegetables that were sprouting along the hillsides near the fields. These greens brought fresh variety to the table. In winter, fresh leafy vegetables were a rare sight, so wild greens were very popular.

Seeing everyone else picking them, Tian Xiaoman didn’t want to fall behind. He grabbed a basket and took Le Ge’er to a sunny slope, where they gathered a good bunch.

But his hands were already exhausted from sewing, and now it was hard to even lift them to stir-fry vegetables. Still, the family needed dinner. After a long day, how could anyone go without a hot meal?

Tian Xiaoman sat there thinking, and decided to make wild vegetable rice. There was leftover rice from lunch, and all he needed to do now was wash and chop the vegetables.

His grip was weak, but thankfully, he had two little helpers. 

Liu Xilin noticed him wincing in pain and immediately came over to help. He still came every afternoon to practice martial arts with Li Wenxuan, but Wenxuan hadn’t come back yet today, so he stayed with Tian Xiaoman.

Le Ge’er followed behind, mimicking Liu Xilin and Tian Xiaoman as they washed the vegetables—though in all that time, he only managed to wash two or three leaves.

Once the vegetables were clean, Tian Xiaoman took them to the kitchen and chopped them on the cutting board. He added a little oil to the pot, then used his knife to slide the chopped greens in—normally, he’d lift the board, but his hand hurt too much.

The vegetables sizzled in the oil. Holding the spatula in his left hand, he gave them a few quick turns, then sprinkled in salt. Once the greens were nearly cooked, he added the leftover rice and cooked everything together over high heat.

When the rice was nearly ready, Li Wenxuan and the others finally returned. He had stayed at the pig farm all day tidying up the pen and came back starving. After a quick wash, he headed straight for the kitchen.

Lifting the lid of the pot, he was greeted by the fragrant aroma of rice mixed with tender wild vegetables.

No one in the family was picky about food. They were happy to eat leftovers, especially when mixed into something warm and filling. 

During the meal, Li Wenxuan noticed that Tian Xiaoman was eating with a spoon in one hand, while the other just hung at his side.

After dinner, he asked, “Xiaoman, what’s up with you today?”

“Nothing…”

“What’s wrong with your hand?”

Tian Xiaoman quickly hid his hand behind his back. “It’s nothing… really.”

But Li Wenxuan wasn’t buying it. When he couldn’t get a straight answer, he raised his voice slightly. 

Le Ge’er came running at the sound.

“Le Ge’er, what did Momo do today? Tell uncle, and I’ll buy you candied haws tomorrow!” Li Wenxuan bent down and coaxed him.

Le Ge’er swallowed hard. He hadn’t had candied haws in ages! 

Ignoring Tian Xiaoman’s disapproving glare, he ran into the house and brought out the basket of shoe soles. “Momo made shoes!”

Li Wenxuan took the basket and picked up one of the finished soles. “Xiaoman, is this for me? Doesn’t look like it… and it doesn’t fit your feet either. Who are you making these for?”

Before Tian Xiaoman could respond, Li Amu came in from the kitchen. When he saw the basket, he asked, “Xiaoman, are you doing work too?”

“What work?” Li Wenxuan asked, confused.

“It’s from that embroidery workshop in the next county—the one Mr. Wu brought jobs from. Sewing shoe soles. Three cents a pair, I think. A lot of villagers are doing it!” Li Amu explained.

Li Wenxuan ran his fingers over the thick sole and stayed quiet. Just the feel of it told him how tough it must be to make.

Tian Xiaoman glanced at him nervously. He wasn’t sure why he felt guilty—he only wanted to earn some money, yet it felt like he had done something wrong.

Without a word, Li Wenxuan pulled Tian Xiaoman aside. “Amu, we’re heading back to the room.”

And just like that, he walked off, not looking back.

Li Amu opened his mouth to say something, but when he saw his back, he could only shake his head. “Poor kid…”

Le Ge’er stood there watching. He wanted to remind his uncle: don’t forget the candied haws! Two sticks! So he could share one with Brother Lin.