The General Under the Skirt - Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The next morning.

Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the window. Shen Roujia opened her eyes and realized that it was already daylight.

She lay there for a moment, her eyes still blurred, a film of mist over them, slowly regaining consciousness.

After a while she sat up.

She looked out the window, the golden sunlight almost blinding. She raised her arm to shield her eyes, thinking it was another beautiful day.

She didn’t hear Brother Yu.

She felt as if the medicine had eased the pain in her body. She put on her shoes and limped out, parting the curtain. There were two small bowls of pickled vegetables and two eggs on the table in the main room.

She paused, then noticed that the front door was ajar and the room seemed empty. She stepped outside, opened the door and looked around the quiet courtyard. “Brother Yu?” she called cautiously.

No one answered.

“Brother Yu, are you there?”

Still silence.

Brother Yu must have gone out.

Shen Roujia couldn’t help but panic. She was even a little scared. But she still pursed her lips, then bowed her head and whispered, “Brother Yu will definitely be back soon!”

Shen Roujia opened the door and turned to look at the table. The door had been closed earlier, the room dimly lit, and Shen Roujia had glanced around quickly. Only now, as she turned around, did she see a note on the table.

There were only four characters on it:

Food in the kitchen.

Shen Roujia’s anxiety vanished, replaced by a smile. She clutched the note and thought, ‘Brother Yu’s handwriting is so beautiful.’

Powerful enough to pierce the paper, strokes like silver hooks and scorpion tails.

The saying ‘handwriting reveals character’ was certainly true. The strokes seemed to radiate boundless energy.

There was a well in the courtyard, but Shen Roujia, who had grown up in luxury, had never drawn water herself. She knew how it worked, but she wasn’t strong, and her injuries made the task even more difficult. She managed to draw half a bucket, her back aching from the effort.

Without a basin, she had to use the ladle to pour water over herself as she washed.

After washing her face and rinsing her mouth, she went into the kitchen.

There was a pot on the stove, covered with a lid. She lifted the lid to reveal a pot of cooked white porridge. The porridge was warm, a little cooler than ideal, but still edible. After eating, she washed the bowl and even tidied up the kitchen.

These simple tasks were new to Shen Roujia.

The cherished daughter of the Shen family, who had never lifted a finger to do any housework, was now cleaning a kitchen for the first time. It took her a long time to finish.

Huo Zhao returned around noon, carrying a pheasant. Hearing his footsteps, Shen Roujia limped out of her room and greeted him with a beaming smile.

“Brother Yu!”

Her voice was soft and sweet, her eyes filled with an unconscious affection and dependence. Combined with her captivating beauty, it was almost overwhelming.

The scene was like a loving wife welcoming her husband home from a hunting trip.

Shen Roujia played the part, but Huo Zhao didn’t.

He wasn’t used to having a woman in his house. He nodded curtly and put the pheasant down. He washed his hands and asked, “Are you feeling better?”

Shen Roujia nodded quickly and replied cheerfully, “Much better!”

Huo Zhao dried his hands and turned to her. 

“Good. Get the kitchen knife.”

Shen Roujia readily agreed and limped into the kitchen, finding the knife on the counter.

It was the first time she had ever held a kitchen knife.

Just holding it made her feel strangely menacing. It was the first time Brother Yu had asked her to do anything and she was excited. For some reason, she felt shy around him. She walked over to him. Her hands were delicate and pale, the scars marring their beauty, her slender fingers clearly those of a noblewoman.

The heavy, crude knife looked out of place in her hands.

When Shen Roujia walked over, Huo Zhao had a red band in his hand, wrapped loosely around his palm.

It was a hairband with dark red patterns on it.

Shen Roujia suddenly remembered last night.

‘You washed your hair too?’

‘No, it just got wet while I was washing.’

‘Hmm.’

It was clearly a woman’s headband, and she was the only woman here. It was obvious who it was for. Shen Roujia was touched. Perhaps Brother Yu had kept his distance out of propriety, but he had taken good care of her, providing her with food, drink and even bathwater.

She had mentioned her hair in passing, and he had seemed indifferent at the time, but he had remembered and brought her a headband.

He was a man of few words, but surprisingly thoughtful.

Huo Zhao reached for the knife, and his fingers inevitably touched Shen Roujia’s hand. When he looked up, he saw the little girl’s grateful and surprised eyes.

Bright and cheerful, especially likeable.

”…”

Shen Roujia pursed her lips, blushed slightly and said, “Brother Yu, thank you.”

Huo Zhao looked down at the pheasant in confusion.

“…I didn’t catch this especially for you. I just happened to see it on my way back.”

Shen Roujia hadn’t meant the pheasant, of course, but she was taken aback by his response.

“No, not that,” she said.

“Then…?” Huo Zhao asked.

Shen Roujia looked down at the headband in his hand, her voice soft.

“Thank you for bringing me the headband. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble – I could have just used a piece of cloth.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining.

“Brother Yu, you’re so kind.”

Huo Zhao understood. He looked down at the band, then at her bright eyes.

“Oh, this…” he began.

“I found it on the way back and used it to tie the pheasant’s wings so it wouldn’t struggle. Do you want it?”

“…”

Shen Roujia’s expression froze. Years of ingrained etiquette prevented her from showing her true feelings. 

Huo Zhao continued, “You can have it if you want. I’ve already brought the pheasant back.”

Shen Roujia forced a smile. 

“Thank you, Brother Yu.”

Huo Zhao unwrapped the band from his hand and offered it to her.

“You’re welcome.”

As soon as Shen Roujia took the headband, Huo Zhao turned around. Before Shen Roujia could recover from what had just happened, she saw him slash the pheasant’s neck with a kitchen knife. The blood gushed out, accompanied by a shrill cluck…

The pheasant was dead.

Shen Roujia’s eyes widened, her body freezing in shock.

The pheasant must have been quite tough, and it didn’t die immediately after its neck was slashed. Its neck continued to bleed, leaving a bright red stain on the ground. Huo Zhao looked indifferent and even a little disgusted when he saw the blood on the ground, as if he had seen it many times before.

But this was the first time Shen Roujia had witnessed a pheasant being slaughtered. The pheasant’s clucking became fainter and fainter, its struggles less and less vigorous. Shen Roujia thought she could see despair in the pheasant’s eyes. Its eyelids remained open, a look of unresolved death. 

She felt a strange mix of emotions and began to think how pitiful the chicken was – not only killed, but then cooked and eaten.

Huo Zhao, oblivious to her grief, went to boil water to pluck the feathers. He had been living alone for over six months and was used to doing everything himself. He was remarkably self-sufficient.

“Do you prefer it stir-fried or stewed?” he asked.

Shen Roujia, still trapped in her sadness, considered his question seriously. She was about to say stewed when she saw him turn the pheasant over and continue plucking the feathers.

“Stir-fried,” he said. “It’s a rooster.”

Shen Roujia swallowed.

“Um, anything is fine, thank you, Brother Yu!”

Huo Zhao asked, “Anything else you want to eat?”

Shen Roujia hesitated, then said, “Smashed cucumber.”

Huo Zhao nodded and replied, “Good, I still have a few cucumbers left.”

He wasn’t used to having a girl around, so as soon as he’d finished plucking the feathers, he sent her back to her room.

Soon, the aroma of cooking filled the courtyard. The smell of fried pheasant and soy sauce wafted through the summer air. It mingled with the sounds of sizzling oil and clanging pots. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the wooden furniture. It gave Shen Roujia a strange sense of belonging.

After a while, Huo Zhao finished cooking.

Stir-fried pheasant with potatoes and a few red and green chili peppers, accompanied by a plate of smashed cucumbers.

Shen Roujia limped into the kitchen to get the rice and chopsticks, then sat down across from Huo Zhao.

Brother Yu was truly amazing, she thought. He could do everything from killing pheasants to reprimanding people, and his cooking was delicious.

“Is it good?” Huo Zhao asked.

“Delicious!” Shen Roujia replied, forgetting the pheasant’s dying look. It was both pathetic and delicious.