Lao Fu hesitated, pacing a few steps in pce while scratching his messy hair, which looked like a bird's nest. He was contempting whether he should go now.
It was almost noon, and finally, Lao Fu stomped his foot, made up his mind, threw on his oil-stained sheepskin cloak, and pushed open the shop door, stepping outside.
Across the street was a pickled vegetable shop. While such shops were common in the capital, only this one was willing to be neighbors with Lao Fu. The owner, Madam Xue Qiuqiu, was known for her ruthless nature. Anyone who came to buy pickled vegetables from her would be charged an exorbitant price. Those unwilling to pay were cursed out viciously, their ancestors scorned, and their families wished misfortune.
Those who had been yelled at or extorted, as well as those who had heard of her, would deliberately avoid passing by her shop. As a result, the shop's customers were few and far between.
Lao Fu was the only regur customer of the pickled vegetable shop. Every year, on this day, he would pocket some silver and head across the street to buy a pound of pickled cucumber strips.
"You're here again, huh—" Xue Qiuqiu spoke, her mouth wide open like a blood-spattered hole, spitting out sunflower seed shells. Her medium-sized apricot eyes rolled upward as she grumbled, her voice raspy and harsh.
Lao Fu licked his dry lips, swallowing a mouthful of saliva, and said, "Today is April 7th."
Xue Qiuqiu tossed the handful of sunflower seed shells onto the floor, then twisted her plump body and lifted the nearby wooden barrel. With her fat, red-nailed hands, she casually grabbed a handful of pickled cucumber strips, threw them onto a piece of old paper, and wrapped them up carelessly. Handing the package over to Lao Fu, she said coldly, "I have a good memory; no need for you to remind me!"
Lao Fu quickly took the package of pickled cucumbers, pcing a few silver coins on the table. He then turned and hurriedly slipped back into his shop, eager to get back to his own work.
"Just this little bit of silver? You're nothing but a pathetic coward and a downright stingy miser. How did your Niang give birth to such a shameless, embarrassing, non-manlike you! If I were you, I'd shrink away in that stinky, filth-ridden shack and sew myself a decent outfit..."
Lao Fu shut the door tightly. Though the venomous curses from Xue Qiutian still drifted through the crack, it no longer bothered him. As long as he couldn't see her, his mood instantly lifted.
Fu Zhuo was Lao Fu's only son, and Chu Mengjun had been Fu Zhuo's wife for nearly a year. Lao Fu lived on the western side of the street, while Fu Zhuo and Chu Mengjun lived on the eastern side. Lao Fu ran his tailoring business, while Fu Zhuo operated his own shop, "Fu Ji Sesame Oil." Fu Zhuo disliked the smell of death that clung to his father, and Lao Fu, in turn, couldn't stand the strong scent of sesame oil that emanated from his son.
Despite this, every month, they would still sit down for a family meal, a small effort to maintain the dwindling, fragile bond between father and son.
"Time to eat!" Chu Mengjun forcefully pced a bowl of freshly served rice in front of Lao Fu, her voice sweet and feigned.
Lao Fu gnced up at her, his sharp instincts telling him that she was no innocent. A woman like her was best avoided. His thoughts suddenly wandered to the woman across the street, Xue Qiuqiu, and a chill ran down his spine. He pulled a silver needle from his pocket and, as was his habit, inserted it into every dish, including the rice. This was a routine Lao Fu had developed over the year—he trusted no one, not even his own family.
Fu Zhuo ate his meal quietly, already used to his father's strange habits, so he paid it no mind. But Chu Mengjun's face darkened. She despised Lao Fu's ritual, and this time, she couldn't hold back. Standing up abruptly, she shouted, "I've never seen a father-in-w like you, always suspecting that your daughter-in-w would poison your food!"
Lao Fu didn′t bother to argue with her. He casually inserted the silver needle into the package of pickled cucumber slices he had just bought. The needle turned bck instantly. Chu Mengjun froze, her hand hovering just above the pte, ready to pick up a slice. She sat down heavily on the stool, stunned and unable to say anything.
Fu Zhuo merely hummed softly and lowered his head to continue eating. Lao Fu showed no surprise; he calmly put away the needle, stood up, and scooped a spoonful of water from the water vat into a nearby wooden basin. He dropped the pickled cucumbers into the water, washed them as if cleaning vegetables, then retrieved them and pced them back on the table.
"There's no problem now. The poison's been washed away."
This was a trick that Xue Qiuqiu loved to py every year—same trick, same poison. Lao Fu had long gotten used to it, and even his son, Fu Zhuo, had become indifferent. Only Chu Mengjun remained stunned, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.
Late at night,
Lao Fu stood in the room on the 2nd floor, quietly cracking open the window just enough to catch a glimpse of what was happening across the street on the 2nd floor of the pickled vegetable shop.
Inside, Xue Qiuqiu sat before her mirror, dabbing various oils and powders onto her round face. The heavy scent of roses wafted through the air, so potent that it traveled across the street and reached Lao Fu's nostrils. He sneezed involuntarily, as he had always been allergic to such fragrances.
Xue Qiuqiu, sensing someone was watching, turned her gaze toward Lao Fu's window. She knew that weakling was hiding in the shadows, peeking at her. With a gre aimed at his window, it immediately shut. A smug ugh escaped her lips as she turned away.
Half an hour ter, the sound of light footsteps echoed down the street. Lao Fu quietly cracked the window open again.
Xue Qiuqiu, dressed in her long purple gown, was walking towards the outskirts of the city. In her hand, she swung a bright red scarf, which swayed rhythmically with her rge frame, resembling the flickering of ghostly fmes in the dark of night.
It was time. Lao Fu quietly closed the window again.
