The days in the mountain village began to settle into a rhythm.
Xu Ming rose early with the sun, no longer needing Shen Li to nudge him awake. The first week had been a blur of awkward routines—burning porridge, fumbling with firewood, nearly tripping over the threshold in too-long robes. But by now, his hands had toughened, his shoulders adjusted to carrying water from the stream. Each small task no longer felt foreign, but like a challenge he was slowly mastering.
When he had first woken in this body, Xu Ming thought of survival in the most literal sense: eat, breathe, avoid starving. Now, standing in the small yard, hands on his hips as he surveyed the patch of land he had begun to cultivate, he found himself thinking bigger.
"I can do more than survive," he muttered to himself. "I can live."
The soil was rocky, but he had already cleared two neat rows. Using a crude hoe Shen Li lent him, Xu Ming had sweated for hours under the sun, overturning clumps of dirt, breaking stones with the stubbornness of someone who had spent years grinding through double shifts at convenience stores. The sight of dark, fertile patches appearing where weeds once choked the ground filled him with quiet pride.
He had planted sprouting beans from the pantry, as well as cuttings from wild herbs Shen Li brought back. It wasn't much yet, but Xu Ming saw potential. His modern knowledge—simple things like soaking seeds, composting, and crop rotation—were luxuries this time period hadn't fully embraced.
By the third day, Shen Li paused longer than usual at the sight of neat furrows lined with sticks for support. He didn't comment, but Xu Ming caught the faintest flicker of approval in his eyes before he turned away.
That tiny spark of recognition warmed Xu Ming more than he cared to admit.
One afternoon, as he knelt in the dirt, Xu Ming heard approaching footsteps. Heavy, quick, purposeful. His shoulders tensed.
He didn't need to look to know who it was.
"Ziyu!" Madam Wang's shrill voice pierced the stillness. "Come out at once!"
Xu Ming straightened slowly, dusting off his hands. He had half-expected their return. Greedy people didn't give up after one humiliation.
Sure enough, the gate banged open. Madam Wang entered in her usual storm, dragging along Liu Hong and Fanghua. Today, she carried a cloth bundle.
"My poor son-in-law," she said dramatically, clasping her hands as if she were some tragic figure. "You're living in such hardship here. Mother's heart aches for you! That's why I brought this." She opened the bundle, revealing a few shriveled radishes and a sack of stale grain. "Our family can't bear to see you suffer. We came to help."
Xu Ming almost laughed. Help? They were offering scraps, hoping to use them as leverage.
"Really touching," he drawled. "So kind of you, Mother. But as you can see, I already have enough food. Your generosity would be wasted here."
Madam Wang's smile stiffened. "Ziyu, don't be so quick to refuse. We're family. Family should share blessings and burdens alike."
Xu Ming tilted his head. "Interesting. When I was at home, starving half the time, did we share burdens then? Or blessings?"
Liu Fanghua pouted prettily. "Brother, why are you so harsh? We've come all this way just for you."
Xu Ming's lips curved. "I know why you came. Not for me, but for whatever you think you can take." His gaze flicked deliberately to the corner where the pheasant feathers still hung from a drying rack. "Unfortunately, this time you'll leave empty-handed."
Madam Wang's face darkened. "Such disrespect! You ungrateful child, daring to speak to your elders this way—"
The sound of the gate creaking again cut her off.
Shen Li entered, bow slung over one shoulder, his expression unreadable. His eyes swept once over Madam Wang and her brood, then to Xu Ming, before settling coldly on the bundle of grain.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Brother-in-law!" Madam Wang's tone immediately changed, honey dripping from her words. "We brought food for Ziyu. Look how considerate we are!"
Shen Li's mouth twitched faintly, though not in amusement. He walked forward, picked up one of the radishes, and turned it in his hand. Rotten spots marred the skin. Without a word, he tossed it back into the bundle.
"Take it," he said flatly. "This house doesn't accept trash."
Xu Ming choked back laughter at their faces—shocked, outraged, and flustered all at once.
Madam Wang tried again, her voice sharp. "You—how dare you call it trash! Do you know how hard we worked—"
Shen Li's gaze cut to her like a blade. "Leave."
This time, there was no arguing. Madam Wang blustered, muttered something about "unfilial brats" and "married off uselessly," then stormed out, dragging her children.
When the gate slammed shut, Xu Ming finally let out the laugh he had been holding. "You should've seen their faces! I thought Fanghua was going to cry from indignation."
Shen Li glanced at him, silent. But Xu Ming caught the faintest upward twitch of his lips before the hunter turned away.
It was the closest thing to a smile he had seen from Shen Li yet.
That evening, Xu Ming experimented in the kitchen. He had managed to collect wild greens, and with a bit of salted pork from Shen Li's hunting trade, he created a stir-fry. The flavor wasn't restaurant-quality, but compared to plain porridge, it was heavenly.
When he set the dish on the table, Shen Li looked at it for a long moment before picking up his chopsticks. He ate slowly, with the same quiet manner as always, but his bowl emptied quickly.
"You like it?" Xu Ming asked, feigning nonchalance.
Shen Li didn't answer immediately. Finally, he said, "Better than porridge."
Xu Ming grinned. "High praise from the mighty hunter."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time. It was… comfortable.
Days blurred into a routine again. Xu Ming planted more seeds, experimented with composting, and even patched leaks in the roof with Shen Li's help. They rarely spoke much, but their cooperation grew smoother.
Still, trouble brewed beyond their little yard.
One morning, while collecting water from the stream, Xu Ming overheard two village women gossiping.
"…did you hear? Madam Wang went to complain at the village head's house. Said her stepson was unfilial, refusing to support his family."
"Really? But wasn't he just married off? Shouldn't he be living with his husband now?"
"That's true, but you know Madam Wang. Always scheming for a share of someone else's pot. She claimed the boy is ungrateful, that he owes her family."
Xu Ming's hand tightened on the bucket handle. So that was her next move—smear his name in the village, hoping to guilt him into handing over food or money.
By the time he returned home, his mind was already spinning with countermeasures.
In his past life, he had bowed his head to survive. But here? He had Shen Li's protection, and his own wits.
If Madam Wang wanted a war of words, Xu Ming was more than ready to fight.
And perhaps, just perhaps, he would even enjoy it.
That night, lying on the bed, Xu Ming stared at the rafters, replaying the day.
Beside him, Shen Li's quiet breathing was steady, calm.
"Shen Li," Xu Ming murmured suddenly.
The hunter made a questioning sound.
"…thanks, for earlier. For standing up to them."
Silence stretched. Then, softly: "This is my house."
Xu Ming smiled faintly into the darkness.
Yes, his house. But maybe, just maybe, it was starting to feel like their home.