My Wife Came From A Thousand Years Ago

Chapter 165: Same age as Du Fu

"The sky won’t rain free pies..."

"I know. Those people are just trying to trick us into buying something. We just need to sit there, ignore their sales pitches, and wait to collect whatever they’re giving away," Jiang He said dismissively as she rolled out dumpling wrappers. She’d originally wanted to leave as soon as she sat down, but curiosity about whether they’d really give away eggs kept her in place.

Xu Qing stayed silent, focusing on mixing the filling. The meat had been ground at the market, and after bringing it back, he chopped it further with ginger. This was Jiang He’s tried-and-true method for the best flavor after several experiments.

The finely chopped meat was seasoned and mixed with scallions using chopsticks. As the ingredients blended, the aroma of the filling began to emerge.

Legend has it that dumplings originated during the Eastern Han Dynasty, invented by the renowned physician Zhang Zhongjing. Initially, they were medicinal, with dumpling wrappers encasing ingredients like mutton and pepper to ward off the cold. These were used to prevent frostbite on patients' ears. Because they resembled ears, they were called "Jiao’er" (delicate ears), or "Jiao’er Decoction for Cold Relief." Over time, the name simplified to dumplings.

People eat dumplings during the Winter Solstice to commemorate Zhang Zhongjing, much like eating rice dumplings during the Dragon Boat Festival honors Qu Yuan. However, while rice dumplings are less common, dumplings are a regular dish, and Zhang Zhongjing’s story is not as widely known as Qu Yuan’s.

"Do those pillows really have healing properties?" Jiang He asked after a while.

"Didn’t you just say they’re a scam?"

"Trust your own judgment. Losing out a little sometimes isn’t a big deal."

Xu Qing finished mixing the filling, stood up, washed his hands, and kissed Jiang He lightly on the cheek before sitting back on his small stool to wait for her to wrap the dumplings.

He’d seen Jiang He’s WeChat post earlier and secretly hoped she’d fall for a small scam like this. Better to learn from minor losses now than suffer bigger ones later.

A life without ever being deceived is incomplete. Even someone as sharp as Xu Qing had been tricked into working as a typist in school, losing a significant 30 yuan. That painful lesson ensured he never fell for such schemes again.

Jiang He remained indifferent and continued rolling dough. Her lips curled slightly.

"I never imagined things would turn out like this," she said suddenly.

"Like what?"

"Rolling dumpling wrappers to make delicious dumplings, with you mixing the filling and sneaking a kiss afterward."

A fleeting memory crossed her mind: a cloth bag slung over her shoulder, chewing on a tough pancake while leaning against a tree, a long sword by her side, and her eyes vigilantly scanning the surroundings.

Clothes in tatters, barely enough food to survive.

Now, there was a kitchen, a house, a life.

It felt like a blink of an eye, and those past struggles were far behind her.

"Our houses back then were made of mud bricks," Jiang He said, her voice wistful. "We’d put river mud into molds, let it dry to make bricks, and then stack them to build walls. The roofs were layered with thick bark and thatch. When cracks appeared, we patched them with mud mixed with straw."

"Did you have to repair them often?"

"If you didn’t, they’d collapse. A house left unoccupied for a year or two would need major repairs before it could be lived in again."

"‘The autumn wind howls, tearing away the thatched roof thrice over.’"

"You write poetry?"

"No, that’s from Du Fu. He was also a Tang Dynasty figure, known as the Poet Sage… Let me check." Xu Qing pulled out his phone to search. "Huh, he was about your age. When you came here, he was sixteen." ṜἁℕỐ𐌱Ěṣ

"The Poet Sage? Was he impressive?" Jiang He’s interest was piqued by the title.

"Incredibly so. He was already highly esteemed in your era. Even now, places abroad still call their Chinese neighborhoods ‘Tangren Jie’ (Tang people’s street) because of the historical influence. The Tang Dynasty was truly powerful."

Xu Qing swiped through his phone. "Later, in the 14th year of Tianbao, which was 755, Du Fu would have been almost forty if you hadn’t crossed over—a man still in his prime. By then, he had become a minor official overseeing military gear and warehouse supplies.

"In November that year, he returned home to find his youngest son had starved to death. That’s when he wrote the timeless line: ‘The stench of meat and wine behind vermillion gates, while bones of the frozen poor litter the streets.’"

"‘The stench of meat and wine behind vermillion gates, while bones of the frozen poor litter the streets,’" Jiang He murmured, her hands slowing as she absorbed the words. She sighed deeply.

"Great people often endure hardships that match their greatness. Let’s just be ordinary folks." Xu Qing shook his head. Being a "lazy fish" was far more comfortable.

"That same November, the An Lushan Rebellion broke out. Internal strife and external threats plunged the nation into chaos. Although the Kaiyuan era saw a golden age, it also accelerated land annexation, leading to the collapse of the Equal-Field System. Displaced farmers became vagrants, and then An Lushan and Shi Siming revolted, throwing everything into turmoil…"

"Stop," Jiang He interrupted, unwilling to imagine the war-torn era or the struggles her old village might have endured.

"Kiss me."

"Huh? Oh."

Moments later, Xu Qing looked at the two large white handprints on his back, left by Jiang He’s flour-dusted hands.

"All of that is in the past—good or bad, it’s all a thousand years ago."

"Mm."

"Here, let me help you wrap. Show me how." Xu Qing pulled over his stool to work alongside her.

A thousand years—neither long nor short. In the grand timeline of human history, it was but a blink. Another thousand years might bring an entirely different world, as time’s river never stops flowing.

Jiang He, having learned dumpling-making from Zhou Suzhi, crafted thin-skinned dumplings with generous fillings. Xu Qing, on the other hand, couldn’t get the hang of it. His dumplings leaked filling or looked deformed, and he eventually gave up, worried they’d fall apart while cooking.

Meanwhile, Jiang He’s lips remained slightly glossy under the light. Her focused demeanor, as she expertly folded dumpling wrappers with practiced hands, made her seem less like a wandering swordswoman and more like a homemaker.

Xu Qing washed his hands again, stepped back, and snapped a photo of her.

"Taking pictures again?"

"I think you look great right now."

"Better like this, or when I’m wielding a sword?"

"Uh…" Xu Qing hesitated.

"Boil the water. We’ll cook them soon." Jiang He ignored his dilemma, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and directed him to work.

"I like all your looks."

"Even the ones when I’m hitting you?"

"…"

Xu Qing tilted his head. "Planning to livestream ‘108 Ways to Beat Xu Qing’?"

"You can stream that?" Jiang He looked genuinely surprised.

"Nope."

Seeing that Jiang He had returned to her usual self, Xu Qing shrugged, set the water to boil, and prepared vinegar in a small bowl while turning on the TV to wait for dinner.

The dumplings were ready quickly. The hard part was rolling, filling, and wrapping them. Once that was done, cooking was simple. Along with two bowls of soup, Jiang He brought out a steaming pot of dumplings to the table.

They ate while watching the news. Jiang He, holding her bowl, sighed.

"Second Mother lived her whole life barely eating her fill, hoping to extend the peaceful times. In the end, it lasted only twenty-odd years."

She bit her chopsticks, her thoughts drifting to the chaos of the An Lushan Rebellion. Sadness lingered for those buried by history.

"Whether in prosperity or decline, it’s always the common people who suffer," she lamented.

"Maybe she extended a golden era just for you," Xu Qing suggested. "She cared about you deeply. If you live well here, she’d definitely be happy."

"Really?"

"Of course. Next time I dream, I’ll ask her for you."

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