Chapter 006: The New Bride's Rules

“Dear husband, it’s getting late. Hurry and go to sleep—I’m going to bed too.”
She had been exhausted since morning and was already very sleepy. Not long after speaking, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

But Gu Tingzhi still hadn’t fallen asleep. His big eyes blinked blankly; his mind was empty and confused. He didn’t really understand why the two of them were lying on the same bed—he was used to sleeping alone before. Yet the steamed bun beside him was soft and fragrant, and when she smiled, it was sweet. He quite liked that.

Bathed in the candlelight, Zhen Mier’s fair skin appeared even smoother and more tender, plump and supple. The more Gu Tingzhi looked, the happier he felt. Following his instinct, he leaned in, and with a soft “ah-woo,” he bit gently on the dimple on her cheek, then stuck out his tongue to lightly lick it.

The next morning, Zhen Mier was awakened by the crowing of roosters. Since childhood, her mother had repeatedly warned her that upon marrying into her husband’s family, she must never sleep in late, but rise early to prepare breakfast for everyone. Sleeping late would bring displeasure from the in-laws.

Glancing at the time, she knew she should get up. She looked over at Gu Tingzhi, who was still sound asleep, and her heart felt warm. The man’s sleeping posture was calm and proper—his hands neatly folded over his abdomen, body straight as an arrow, lips slightly pursed, and those normally vacant eyes tightly closed. To all appearances, he looked perfectly normal.

She moved quietly, carefully climbed out of bed, and slipped down at his feet.

The kitchen in the Gu household was arranged much like Zhen’s family kitchen: a large brick stove with four hearths—one for cooking rice, one for preparing dishes, one for pig feed, and one for boiling water.

In the village, families lived quite modestly, barely managing to fill their bellies. The kitchen held nothing of luxury. The leftover dishes from the wedding banquet were neatly placed on a small table beside the stove. Zhen Mier lifted the bamboo cover and took out some tofu and pickled radish. When the porridge in the pot came to a boil, she threw in chopped sweet potatoes and let it simmer.

Guessing that everyone at home would soon be awake, she added a few more ladles of water to the boiling pot.

Just as she prepared to warm those two dishes, Gu Tingzhi appeared.

Having woken up to find the soft, fragrant steamed bun gone, he felt a pang of worry. Hastily throwing on his clothes, he searched the entire courtyard, even inspecting the pigpen and chicken coop.

The aroma of sweet potato porridge finally led him to the kitchen.

Gu Tingzhi entered looking utterly forlorn. Zhen Mier gently asked, “It’s still early—why don’t you go back to sleep a little longer?”

Gu Tingzhi muttered, “I thought the steamed bun ran away.”

Zhen Mier didn’t catch that clearly. She fetched a basin of warm water to help him wash up, which he took. Seeing he could manage on his own, she went over to ladle some porridge. But the moment she moved, Gu Tingzhi threw the towel into the basin and hurriedly got up to follow her.

Zhen Mier could only laugh and returned to wait for him to finish washing.

All morning, Gu Tingzhi became Zhen Mier’s little shadow. Wherever she went, he followed; whatever she did, he lent a hand. If she wouldn’t let him help, he would squat nearby, looking utterly pitiful.

Seeing this, Zhen Mier hesitated for a moment before assigning him the task of tending the fire. She even placed a small stool by the stove opening for him.

But it turned out Gu Tingzhi had no idea what to do. In the blink of an eye, he nearly set his clothes on fire, causing her to rush over and pull him back.

She realized she had been mistaken. Given how well Gu Tingzhi had studied before, the Zhou family would never have allowed him to do household chores. Now that his mind was injured, it was even more unlikely.

Zhen Mier patiently taught him how to tend the fire, and once she was confident he understood, she let him sit by the pig feed stove to guard the firewood.

Having spent years studying at the academy, Gu Tingzhi sat with perfect posture—back straight, eyes serious, fixed intently on the flames without blinking. He looked less like someone tending a fire and more like a scholar analyzing the principles of combustion.

Zhen Mier found his earnestness endearing and covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Seeing her smile, Gu Tingzhi grinned foolishly in return.

Just as the rosy bubble of affection bloomed between them, Zhou Shi entered.

As the newlywed daughter-in-law, Zhen Mier had risen earlier than anyone else and prepared breakfast. To Zhou Shi, this was only proper—wasn’t every daughter-in-law in the village the same?

She had just walked through the courtyard and saw it was spotless; the chickens had been fed, the ducks were already in the pond, the piglets in the pen were munching on their feed, and even the water jar by the kitchen was filled with clear lake water.

She nodded approvingly. Now she believed what the matchmaker had said—that Zhen Mier was not the lazy, gluttonous girl the rumors portrayed. What a sin it was, she thought, not knowing which wretch had spread such a vile story about a perfectly good girl.

Zhen Mier, speaking to Gu Tingzhi, noticed Zhou Shi’s arrival and hurried to greet her.

“Mother, you’re awake? I’ll help you fetch water.” She picked up a clean basin and scooped two large ladles of warm water.

Zhou Shi smiled as she took the basin. “Let me do it myself. Sit down and rest a while.”

Zhou Shi was about to take the water outside to wash up when she caught sight of Gu Tingzhi sitting by the stove, about to add firewood. She jumped in alarm.

She set the basin down with a splash, spilling nearly half the water, clearly flustered. “Sanlang, why are you up so early? What are you doing? Let me handle the fire!”

Though she hadn’t studied, she knew a gentleman should stay away from the kitchen. Not Gu Tingzhi alone—neither Dalang, Erlang, nor even their father had ever done chores in the kitchen.

She tried to pull Gu Tingzhi up but couldn’t budge him. Looking at her stubborn third son, she spoke seriously, “Tingzhi, in our village, a husband who chases after his own wife like this will be mocked.”

Gu Tingzhi hung his head, stubbornly silent. Zhen Mier felt a pang of sympathy. “Mother, today is an exception. Tomorrow I’ll let Tingzhi sleep longer. Now, let’s eat—the hot dishes are getting cold.”

Only then did Zhou Shi relent.

One by one, the Gu family members began to wake. The head of the household was Gu Lizong, and his wife was Zhou Shi. They had three sons and a daughter. The eldest son, Gu Qingsong, was already married to Lin Huiniang; the second son, Gu Qingbai, had married Su Hehua last year. The third son was Gu Tingzhi, and their youngest daughter, Gu Qinghe, was fourteen this year.

Incidentally, Zhen Mier and Su Hehua were distant relatives—Zhen should have called Su Hehua’s grandfather “uncle.” But since the elder generation had passed away early, the younger ones had gradually lost contact.

Usually, everyone gathered in the main hall to eat, the family just filling the table perfectly. Now, with all eyes on her, Zhen Mier felt a little shy.