Cheng Lang had always been proper. Even during their alone time traveling south together, he had never overstepped any boundaries, let alone with this direct physical contact at the moment.
The arm gripped tightly by the man felt faintly hot. Skin against skin, Feng Man could feel the temperature rise from the contact, scorching enough to jolt her heart.
“You…” The moonlight softened the sharp lines of Cheng Lang’s brows and eyes, but that pair of deep, calm eyes rarely rippled with waves.
Cheng Lang’s gaze sharpened suddenly, and he stated decisively: “Of course I’m your fiancé.”
Feng Man was stunned for a moment. A minute ago, she had read his silence and hesitation, already starting to convince herself to accept that she had mistaken the person. But now the man spoke with such certainty.
She had many questions, yet Feng Man listened as Cheng Lang recounted the past.
Cheng Lang spoke a bit faster than usual, his voice low and steady, carrying an unquestionable firmness and decisiveness: “We had a Baby Betrothal when we were kids, but after your mother passed away, no one mentioned it again.”
The man’s expression was serious, and his words inexplicably put her at ease. Feng Man sank into his decisive words and couldn’t find any flaws.
“But your little aunt said today that you never had any Baby Betrothal and was worried you’d been tricked. She’s your elder—could she be wrong?”
“My little aunt married far away more than ten years ago and came to Ink River early with my uncle. She wasn’t in Nine Mountains Village when we set the Baby Betrothal, so of course she didn’t know.” Cheng Lang’s speech gradually slowed to his normal pace, exuding steady calm. “It was hard to contact relatives outside back then anyway. Later, after your mother passed, no one mentioned the Baby Betrothal again. When we reconnected with my little aunt years later, we didn’t bring it up either.”
Feng Man nodded lightly. That made sense. The self-doubt caused by Cheng Lang’s little aunt’s words had her racking her brains for more doubts earlier, which she now laid out all at once.
“Then why didn’t you answer directly when I asked you just now? I thought I’d really mistaken the person.”
Cheng Lang’s dark pupils brightened slightly as he stared straight into Feng Man’s focused almond eyes: “I was just a bit surprised. You believed my little aunt just like that? Back then, you climbed right onto my truck with the Marriage Certificate, reminding me word for word that you were my fiancée.”
The facts were indeed so. Feng Man’s face warmed slightly, and the temperature on her arm grew even hotter. She suddenly snapped awake—Cheng Lang’s large palm was still covering her arm.
She struggled lightly, and the man understandingly released his hold. Feng Man felt the heat dissipate somewhat in the gentle breeze of early summer, finally breathing a sigh of relief. She muttered softly: “Who asked her to be your little aunt? She said it so definitively. I could only doubt myself.”
“I’ll explain to my little aunt. Don’t worry.” Cheng Lang seemed able to handle everything—at least in Feng Man’s eyes, that strong and shrewd little aunt wouldn’t be easy to deal with.
Perhaps Feng Man’s faintly doubtful expression was too obvious. Cheng Lang paused, then explained earnestly: “My little aunt has always had a fiery temper, but she’s not unreasonable.”
“Mm.” She had come over in a muddle today to confirm things, and it seemed everything was just a big mix-up. Feng Man felt relieved yet still wracked her brains for anything else she wanted to ask.
Since the conversation had reached this point, she might as well clear up all her doubts at once.
But before she could speak, a burst of clamor suddenly came from nearby.
“What are you on night duty for? Sleeping or playing cards? Watch the equipment—watch the equipment! If something goes wrong, who can take responsibility?”
“One by one, always slacking off!”
“Master Yang, we only played three rounds, really. Don’t worry, we definitely won’t anymore!”
“Too late! Write self-criticisms tomorrow, one by one. Night shift pay deducted!”
Under the dim road lamps of the Mine District and the faint moonlight, Feng Man looked toward the sound. About thirty meters away, a middle-aged miner was berating someone. Three young miners stood before him with heads bowed, not daring to breathe.
His voice was loud and stern, hard to ignore.
Cheng Lang glanced indifferently and explained: “That’s Master Yang, in charge of safety inspections in the Mine District. He’s very upright, says what he thinks, but he’s too direct. Plenty of people in the Mine District have issues with him.”
Feng Man had dealt with such people before. They weren’t bad at heart, but too inflexible. Those punished often griped behind their backs.
She withdrew her gaze. The interrupted topic faded from her mind, but then the man before her suddenly spoke.
“Just now, based on my little aunt’s words, you thought you’d mistaken the person and were ready to pack up and leave immediately?”
For some reason, though his tone was flat, Feng Man detected a hint of accusation.
But scrutinizing Cheng Lang’s face, she couldn’t tell for sure and could only answer honestly: “Of course. If I’d mistaken the person, I couldn’t just cling on shamelessly.”
“Planning to go find the real fiancé?” Cheng Lang’s thin lips parted, each word enunciated with unusual clarity.
Feng Man curved her lips upward, her almond eyes turning into crescent moons as she murmured softly: “Haven’t I already found him now?”
A gentle breeze blew, swaying those crescent moons as if spilling starlight, intoxicating to behold.
Cheng Lang looked away, his expression unchanged, but his eyes deepened, as if holding all the night’s darkness, pupils faintly bright with an indescribable desire.
The two lingered near the Mine District dormitory building for a while. Seeing the sky grow late, Cheng Lang offered to escort Feng Man back to her cousin’s home.
When they arrived, Dong Xiaojuan and Fan Zhenghua were quite surprised: “Oh my, so after seeing the girl off, you went to find your partner.”
The gossipy Dong Xiaojuan winked, her curious gaze darting between the two—especially since it was the first time seeing her husband’s usually icy cousin toward women escort a girl back. She inwardly cheered that he’d finally come around!
Since they were there, Fan Zhenghua invited his cousin for tea. The two cousins sat at the square table in the living room discussing Cheng Lang’s resignation, while Feng Man went to the kitchen to prepare ingredients for tomorrow’s stall.
Dong Xiaojuan helped Feng Man wash meat and chop filling. Seeing her mix the seasoning sauce with over ten kinds of spices—enough to make one’s head spin—she exclaimed admiringly: “Say, you’re just a young girl, but so capable already. You’re catching up to a restaurant chef. I can’t get it—my skills are just so-so, good enough to fill the belly.”
Feng Man smiled lightly: “Sister Xiaojuan, your cooking’s pretty good. Lots of home-style dishes are authentic.”
“No worries, I know my limits. Otherwise, how could Xiaoshan eat snacks outside every day?” Dong Xiaojuan’s cooking was average, but her knife work was solid. She helped chop the pork belly into mince, the heavy cleaver thumping on the board like hoofbeats.
As they chatted, snippets of the cousins’ conversation drifted from the living room.
Feng Man noticed Cheng Lang was remarkably steady, his low, even voice carrying an inexplicable force that made one want to heed him. Though the younger cousin, Fan Zhenghua mostly listened to his opinions.
Fan Zhenghua had just heard his cousin mention that Chief You had come to him and grew agitated: “He’s just playing both sides. In the end, isn’t he still favoring his nephew?”
Cheng Lang was clearly used to it: “Anyway, I’ve decided to resign. The Mine District can’t stop me.”
“You really planning to go solo?” Fan Zhenghua had heard his cousin wanted to contract a mine, but that wasn’t easy—funds, tech, and especially ‘the eye’ for it. For a private operator, it was next to impossible.
Cheng Lang’s sword brows furrowed, exuding a pressing aura as he rarely revealed his ambition: “Worth a try.”
But Fan Zhenghua was practical, lowering his voice and glancing toward the busy figure in the kitchen: “When it’s just you, sure, go all in without a care. But your Baby Betrothal partner is here now. What girl would go crazy with you? If you end up broke, will she still look at you?”
Following his cousin’s gaze, Cheng Lang’s eyes fell on the pink checkered dress in the kitchen, his gaze deep. He didn’t respond.
Around nine at night, Cheng Lang stood to leave. Towering at the kitchen entrance, he eyed the woman with flour on her hands and face: “Stall tomorrow?”
“Mm.” Feng Man nodded with a beaming smile. “Discount for regulars~”
Cheng Lang’s lips hooked up, his voice husky: “Mm.”
The sun blazed overhead as the Mine District buzzed with work. The stalls at the entrance gradually livened up.
Around eleven in the morning, past breakfast, the bun and steamed bun vendors packed up and switched to lunch.
Most sold noodles or rice noodles—big portions, filling, and warm. They just set a pot on the stove; noodles cooked quick, a solid choice.
Some miners who came early for lunch, avoiding the rush, took off their red safety helmets and ordered three liang of noodles, waiting nearby.
Three liang of plain noodles cost six mao; with meat sauce, eight mao. Mine work was physical; miners rarely skimped on that two or three mao—not eating meat left them drained all day.
“Sister Liu, your hand’s too shaky! More meat sauce!” He Chunsheng, who had gone down the mine at six a.m., teased the noodle stall owner. She scooped a ladle but poured only half into his bowl—pitifully little.
Sister Liu glared at him with a smile: “Half-grown lad, eating your old lady poor. He Chunsheng, if you didn’t work the mine, your family couldn’t afford you!”
As she spoke, she added another small scoop.
“Hey, I work hard, eat hard!” He Chunsheng’s coworkers sat down one after another. In a bunch of guys, nothing was off-limits. They cursed the Mine District’s recent reforms, talked big life events like finding a wife, then someone asked about He Chunsheng’s situation.
“Chunsheng, your master is a thorn in You Jianyuan’s side. Be careful—he can’t touch your master, might come after you.” The coworkers warned each other, especially worried for the kid.
He Chunsheng puffed out his chest: “Afraid of him? Let him try! With my master watching my back, I’ll make him regret it!”
They chatted and laughed, griping about Mine District food. Cafeteria grub sucked; outside stalls were the same old after years—slurping noodles felt bland.
Until a wave of meaty aroma drifted from afar, instantly grabbing everyone’s attention.
Food stalls clustered together, forming an eating zone. Soda and snack vendors dotted the sides, minding their own business.
Once these cliquey groups formed, newcomers struggled to break in. Half a month ago, a miner’s family applied for a stall to sell food but got squeezed out. The three food vendors claimed no space; the other five or six didn’t object or deny. The new stall ended up on the edge.
Bad spot, bad business.
Miners knew where the food was; everyone headed there—that was the perk of clustering. A lone stall in the corner? Who’d see it, who’d go out of their way?
Sister Liu, selling noodles, glanced at the lonely stall in the distance—empty, which eased her mind a bit. But that pervasive meat scent was tantalizing, making mouths water involuntarily.
Some heading to the noodle cluster paused, turned toward the smell, and spotted a soda-and-snacks stall amid the miscellany.
This one was different: half neatly stacked sodas and bagged snacks, the other half a big iron basin of Sesame Flatbreads—golden and tempting. A closer sniff, and the aroma came from them.