Chapter 4: The Ger Who Smells Like Home
The door didn't creak when it opened. It had been oiled last week.
Su Yun stepped in with a cloth bag in hand, the kind meant for rice but now holding small cabbages, two spring onions, and a single cracked egg tucked in the corner.
He took off his shoes and lined them up beside Ren Shang's—mud-caked boots that never sat straight no matter how many times he fixed them.
The room was dim. It always was after sunset. There was a hanging bulb that flickered if touched, so no one touched it.
Ren Shang was by the stove, feeding kindling into the firebox with one hand and holding a cup of hot water in the other.
He glanced up when Su Yun entered. No smile, no nod, but a pause. That was enough.
Su Yun set the bag on the counter and started unpacking. Quiet.
He washed the vegetables in the same basin they used for everything—laundry, dishes, bath water, pickling jars. The spring onions were wilted, but he pinched off the yellow parts. The egg was saved for tomorrow.
Ren Shang went back to the stove. He wasn't cooking. Just keeping the place warm.
"You bought cabbage again," he said, not critically, just as a fact.
Su Yun didn't reply at first. He was slicing.
"It was either cabbage or a cheap cut of fish," he said. "I thought this would last longer."
Ren Shang didn't argue. "Mm."
Su Yun cooked. Ren Shang stayed nearby, not helping, but not far. The way men in cold houses did—close enough for warmth, not close enough to mean anything.
The oil crackled. Su Yun stirred the cabbage and green onions in the old wok with a wooden spatula. He didn't rush. He didn't need to.
The sauce was a mixture of soy, vinegar, and a dash of sugar—not enough to sweeten, just enough to take the bitterness out of the greens. It sizzled when it hit the heat.
Ren Shang leaned his elbow on the windowsill. "You always cook like this?"
Su Yun glanced at him. "Like what?"
"Like you're fixing something. Like the food did something wrong."
Su Yun snorted. "I'm just trying not to ruin it."
They didn't talk further.
There was no rice left, so they had boiled wheat noodles with stir-fried cabbage. Ren Shang ate with clean movements, neither fast nor slow. He didn't speak.
Su Yun didn't either. Not because there was tension. Just because there was nothing pressing to say.
The heater popped in the corner.
Outside, a scooter engine revved once and cut off. Footsteps. A dog barked far off, then barked again, closer. A baby cried. The usual evening sounds.
Su Yun chewed. The noodles were soft but not mushy. The cabbage still had a bite. He could have added more garlic, but it was fine. Not everything needed to impress.
Ren Shang wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
Then, softly, he said, "This tastes like something I had when I was small."
Su Yun looked up.
"It's not special," he said. "I just used salt and soy."
Ren Shang shrugged. "That's what I had too. But yours tastes better."
After the meal, Ren Shang did the dishes. It took five minutes.
Su Yun wiped the table and folded the cloth napkin twice before tucking it into the drawer. The drawer had no handle, so it stayed open a finger's width.
"You want tea?" Ren Shang asked.
"I boiled some earlier."
They drank from the same mug, passing it back and forth. The cup was old. The inside rim was chipped. It didn't matter.
They sat like that until the bulb buzzed once and went out.
Darkness.
Neither of them moved.
Then Ren Shang said, "You don't smell like flowers."
Su Yun raised an eyebrow, though it was too dark to see. "No."
"You smell like… cooking oil. Damp towels. A bit of dust. Like a house."
"That's not a compliment."
Ren Shang leaned back against the wall. "It wasn't meant to be. It's just what I noticed."
Su Yun didn't answer. But when he got up to get the blankets, his footsteps were lighter.
'What does this rough man knows? Hump!' Su Yun thought to himself.
—
The next day, word had spread.
It wasn't loud gossip—just quiet hums from passing mouths, the kind that didn't call your name but made you turn your head anyway.
"That's the one who was bought."
"He cooks, they say."
"Barely speaks. But the food smells nice from the lane."
"Such shameless couple, didn't even get married properly."
"I pity him. He is so white and tender, how can he live happy with a rough cold man like Ren Shang"
Ren Shang Paid no attention to the gossip.
He had gone to the nearby town that morning to exchange dried mushrooms for some money.
He didn't mention when he'd be back. He never did. SuYun didn't cared, they weren't husband wife in real sense after all.
Su Yun stayed home. He didn't go out—not because he was told not to, but because he wasn't ready to meet eyes yet. He had seen too many villagers lean in and whisper behind bent fingers. Some didn't even bother hiding it.
Instead, he cleaned. He opened windows. Aired out the blankets. Scrubbed the floor with hot water and tea leaves.
When the breeze blew through the window slats, it smelled like fried sesame oil and boiled ginger. He was making tofu—braised, with scallions and fermented beans. Enough to eat with porridge tonight, enough to reheat tomorrow.
By late afternoon, someone knocked. Not hard. Three polite taps.
Su Yun paused, wiped his hands, and opened the door halfway.
A woman stood there—older, wearing an apron and holding a shallow basket.
She didn't smile, but her eyes flicked inside.
"I brought radishes," she said, "They were going soft. Thought you might know what to do with them."
Su Yun blinked.
Then nodded once. "I do."
She handed them over. "If you've got extra stew sometime, I wouldn't mind trading. No salt here's worth a damn anymore."
She turned and left before he could reply.
That evening, when Ren Shang returned, the air inside smelled like vinegar and garlic and simmered tofu.
He set down the grain sack, unwrapped the scarf around his neck, and stood there for a moment.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Braised tofu," Su Yun said, not looking up. "And someone brought radishes and tofu. And I picked up ginger from garden. "
Ren Shang stared at the table.
Su Yun ladled soup into two bowls. "I didn't give anything yet. Just said I'd think about it."
Ren Shang picked up his chopsticks. "You smell like home again."
Su Yun didn't replied but his lips were slightly turned up.
Su Yun didn't answer. But he did serve Ren Shang first. His