Bride Swap Backfire: My Cousin's Rebirth Made Us a Power Couple-Chapter 36 - 33: Applying Medicine Again

In the end, Zhao Jing went home to change into his own clothes.

Chen Song’s clothes were too loose for him, which was one reason. The second was that men generally didn’t own many sets of clothes. He had already borrowed one of Chen Song’s outfits and was worried Chen Song would have nothing to change into later.

If De’an had been a bit taller, he might have just worn De’an’s clothes. But De’an was shorter than him; wearing his clothes would have left Zhao Jing’s wrists and ankles exposed. That was why Chen Wanqing had brought him Chen Song’s clothes when she came back to get him an outfit earlier.

Zhao Jing had another reason for going home: to let his mother know he would be staying at the Chen family’s home for the afternoon. That way, she wouldn’t worry about his safety. He promised he would definitely be back before dinner.

Once that was done, Zhao Jing returned to Chen Wanqing’s house, holding an oil-paper umbrella against the rain.

Chen Wanqing was with her mother, steaming buns, while Chen De’an sat to one side, tending the fire.

The siblings carefully recounted the story once more. Xu Suying listened intently without saying a word.

With deft movements, she began kneading a new batch of dough, preparing to pan-fry dozens of scallion pancakes later.

When Wanqing had come by earlier and told her about the treasure chest, she had anticipated that constables from the county government would be visiting.

The moment Wanqing left, she had bustled about, kneading dough, mincing meat, and preparing the filling for steamed buns. The plan was to have her son deliver them to the men on the mountain for lunch.

However, the number of arrivals had far exceeded her estimates, and they didn’t have enough meat and vegetables at home. So, she decided to make scallion pancakes instead. They were quick, the dough didn’t need much time to rise, and with two pans going at once, they’d be ready in a jiffy.

They were in the middle of saying that if Wanqing hadn’t planted huangqi on the mountain, who knows when the buried treasure chest would have ever seen the light of day. Just then, they noticed the doorway darken as Zhao Jing’s figure appeared.

Just then, the water in the steamer began to boil, and Chen Wanqing finished wrapping the last bun. She quickly got up and placed the buns, which had been proofing on the side, one by one into the baskets over the billowing white steam. After filling two tiers to the brim, she replaced the lid.

"Mom, you and De’an carry on here. I’m going to apply some medicine to Zhao Jing’s wrist."

"What happened? Is he hurt?"

Zhao Jing nodded slightly. "It’s nothing serious, Auntie. Please don’t worry."

"For you scholars, even the smallest matter is a big one. Besides, you need your hand to grind ink and write. An injury could set you back. Jing, let Auntie see how deep the wound is. If it’s deep, we’ll have to hurry to the county seat and find a doctor..."

Zhao Jing smiled gracefully and revealed the wound. "It’s just a small cut. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t even put medicine on it."

"You call this small? This cut is quite long! Thank goodness it’s not too deep. Qing’er, hurry and take Jing to the main hall to treat it. Don’t delay."

"Jing, come with me."

Chen Wanqing led Zhao Jing outside. From the kitchen, Chen De’an shouted, "Jing, hurry up and get back! You can take over the fire for me. My stomach hurts, I think I need the latrine."

Xu Suying glared at her son in exasperation. "Can’t have you do one bit of work without you coming up with some excuse. It’s true what they say: lazy people are full of excuses!"

With De’an’s wails of protest echoing in her ears, Chen Wanqing glanced again at Zhao Jing walking by her side.

The young man’s posture was ramrod straight, and he had a composed air about him. In the glistening reflection of the rain, the lines of his face seemed exceptionally sharp and clean.

Though his shoulders and back were not yet broad, his eyes were bright and deep, giving him the look of someone who could bear the weight of mountains and seas.

And yet, he and De’an were the same age—only sixteen.

De’an was as immature as a child, while Zhao Jing could already shoulder a great burden.

"What are you looking at, Sister? Is there something on my face?" As he spoke, Zhao Jing tilted the umbrella in his hand further over Chen Wanqing.

Chen Wanqing noticed his gesture. "You don’t need to worry so much about me; it’s only a few more steps. Jing, move the umbrella back over yourself. You just changed your clothes, don’t get them wet again."

By the time they finished speaking, they had already climbed the steps to the main house.

Zhao Jing collapsed the umbrella and followed Chen Wanqing inside, where he repeated his earlier question.

"You still haven’t told me, Sister. Why were you looking at me earlier?"

Chen Wanqing smiled. ’She found his persistence on this point rather endearing. It tempered his usual composure, lending him some of the casual ease a boy his age ought to have.’

"I was worried you’d catch a cold, so I was checking your complexion."

"And the result?"

"Quite good. Your complexion is ruddy and you seem full of energy. I can tell at a glance that you’re in great health."

They both sat down at the square table in the main hall. Chen Wanqing went to her mother’s room to find the medicine box, which she knew was better stocked with ointments.

Zhao Jing, meanwhile, picked up the topic from before. "My father died young, a result of his frail constitution. I intend to fulfill his unrealized ambitions and make a name for myself, so I can’t afford to be careless with my health."

Zhao Jing spoke of how he had frequently gone to the county seat these past three years.

Although most of his trips were to Moxiang Pavilion to pick up work to support his family, he spent half his time learning martial arts at an escort agency.

He hadn’t formally taken a master. Instead, he had paid a sum of silver to hire a dart master from the escort agency for instruction.

Over the past three years, he had made some decent progress.

This was the first Chen Wanqing was hearing of it, and she was stunned. "How have I never heard De’an mention this?"

Zhao Jing was taken aback. ’How was he supposed to answer that?’

’There’s a reason the ancients said loose lips sink ships.’

For once, he felt a little guilty.

’Was he supposed to tell his sister that De’an was so lazy he was afraid they’d force him to learn too if they found out? That De’an had not only forbidden Zhao Jing from mentioning it to anyone, but also pretended it never happened?’

Zhao Jing said nothing, just kept a pleasant smile on his face. Seeing this, understanding dawned on Chen Wanqing.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She couldn’t help but curse De’an. "He’s so lazy, he wouldn’t even right a toppled oil bottle. Mom is always nagging him about it. He’s always quick to apologize, but he never actually changes. Alright, Jing, hold out your hand."

Zhao Jing held out his hand, and Chen Wanqing took it by the palm to apply the medicine.

She hadn’t felt it before, but this time, her fingers brushed against the rough, hard calluses in his palm.

’These calluses weren’t on his fingertips but in his palm—clearly not from holding a writing brush. Could it be that Jing was learning to use a weapon, too?’

Zhao Jing seemed to sense her question and explained in a warm voice, "I’ve been learning the sword. Firstly, to build up my strength, and secondly, so I can protect myself on the road when I travel for the examinations in the future."

As he spoke, Chen Wanqing began cleaning the debris from his wound. The medicine must have stung, because he winced, his brow furrowing in pain. His fingers curled instinctively, lightly gripping hers.

His searing warmth spread to her skin, making Chen Wanqing flinch and quickly pull her hand away.

"I’m sorry, Sister. I didn’t mean to be so rough. Did I hurt you?"

"No, it’s just that my hands are cold. I was afraid I’d startle you."

Though the words left her mouth, Chen Wanqing didn’t look up at Zhao Jing again. She felt a sudden awkwardness.

It was only in that moment that she truly noticed. Jing was no longer the little boy who used to trail after her with her brother, letting her mend his clothes and make him little treats.

He was grown now, much taller than her, with a presence as steady as a mountain. He was old enough to marry, have children, and shoulder any responsibility.