My Wife Came From A Thousand Years Ago

Chapter 175: The Sunflower Manual is very powerful

When Jiang He stayed quiet, an indescribable aura seemed to radiate from her, from her hair to her toenails. She sat reading with her brows furrowed, studying intently. Xu Qing rested his chin on his hand, watching her. After observing her for a long time, he realized that the unique air about her came from her posture. Unlike most people who leaned their elbows on the desk while burying their heads in books, Jiang He sat with perfectly straight shoulders and a ramrod-straight back. Suddenly, Xu Qing had a strange idea. Feigning casualness, he extended a finger and poked her waist. Jiang He shot up as if she had a spring under her.

“What are you doing?” she snapped.

“Hmm…” Xu Qing looked at his finger, thought for a moment, and then stood up. “I’m heading out for a bit. I’ll be back for dinner.”

Jiang He couldn’t figure out what poking her had to do with him going out. She raised a finger as if to poke him back but hesitated and gave up, feeling it was a bit childish.

In the afternoon, dark clouds gathered over Jiang City. The weather at this time of year changed quickly, but the clouds weren’t dense enough for rain—it was just overcast. If it were to rain, it wouldn’t be until the next day.

The wind rustled the trees in the residential complex, and Xu Qing stepped out alone. He took a turn and entered another building to find Qin Hao.

“Auntie often says the human world is wonderful,

The door opened to reveal Qin Maocai, with Huangmei opera playing from the oversized phone on his table. He turned the volume down as soon as he saw Xu Qing. Xu Qing glanced around and noted that the only other living being on the balcony was Xiongba, the family’s dog.

“He’s out again?”

“He left after lunch.”

“Didn’t he just get off work this morning?”

“Exactly. No clue what he’s always so busy with.”

Qin Maocai scratched his head, a resigned look on his face. Truth be told, he envied Xu Qing. He seemed to do nothing all day except wander around like a carefree immortal.

“What a life you lead, man!”

“This little broken site is fun, right?”

“It’s great—so much stuff on there. Look at this…”

Xu Qing chuckled as he watched Qin Maocai fiddle with his phone. “As long as you’re having fun, just try not to argue with my dad in the comments section of my videos. You two are practically a meme now.”

He poured himself a cup of tea and continued, “My dad types with the nine-key input method. You use handwriting. You’re still no match for him.”

“He insists on arguing with me…”

Qin Maocai thought about it. It was true. While Xu Wenbin quickly typed out a line, it took him forever to scribble out a single response. It was frustrating.

“You two should just send each other voice messages on WeChat. Problem solved.”

“…You’re just stirring things up, aren’t you?”

“No, not at all.”

Qin Maocai put down his phone and went to his cabinet. “What about your girlfriend?”

“She’s home, reading.”

“Let’s have a drink then. I’ve got a bottle of snake gall liquor—it’s good stuff…”

“No thanks. If I drink, my girlfriend won’t let me kiss her.”

“…”

By mid-afternoon, Xu Qing had drunk two cups of tea and helped Qin Maocai follow some popular content creators to keep him entertained instead of constantly sparring with Xu Wenbin online.

“Making videos looks pretty easy,” Qin Maocai remarked, watching Xu Qing’s editing clips.

“It can be easy or hard, depending on whether people like it.”

“Well, I like it! By the way, Haozi told me you’re making armor?”

Qin Maocai grew excited as he dug out the chainmail Xu Qing was working on. One sleeve was already finished and hung on a coat rack.

“Can you actually wear this when it’s done?”

“Of course. Why else would I make it?” Xu Qing gestured toward himself. “You just pull it over like this. The whole piece will probably weigh 20 or 30 pounds. Walking around in it will sound impressive.”

“Once it’s done, let me try it on!”

“You… seriously?” Xu Qing was speechless. Like father, like son—both Qin Hao and Qin Maocai were itching to wear it.

“Your frame’s too big. I made it to fit my size, though it’ll be slightly loose.”

“Oh…”

Disappointed, Qin Maocai stared at the armor for a while, then suddenly brightened. “I’ll make one too.”

“What?”

“I’ve got time to spare. I’ll make my own and we can wear them together to walk around town!” Qin Maocai’s enthusiasm was palpable as his beard twitched with excitement.

Back in his day, he didn’t have the chance to play with such things. All he had was mud to sculpt with. Watching Xu Qing live out his childhood dreams stung a little.

“Tch! Armor is every man’s dream.”

“Walking around town in armor… you can go. I won’t,” Xu Qing shook his head vigorously.

“Back in the day, you’d be accused of rebellion for this. Even now, it’s not a great idea… Watch out, Haozi might arrest you.”

“He wouldn’t dare!”

Xu Qing chatted idly with Qin Maocai for a while longer. He left after explaining that he wasn’t looking for Qin Hao for anything urgent and just wanted to drop by.

Back home, Jiang He had come out of the study and was sitting in the living room, chatting with Zhou Suzhi. The two seemed to get along well, their faces lit with smiles. Xu Qing could tell Jiang He had picked up a lot from her conversations with Zhou Suzhi.

“Back already?” Zhou Suzhi greeted him.

“Yeah, back.”

“Did you find Haozi?”

“Nope, just had tea with Uncle Qin.”

Zhou Suzhi shook her head. Xu Qing rarely spoke much with his father, Xu Wenbin, while Qin Hao could chat endlessly with Xu Wenbin. Similarly, Xu Qing and Qin Maocai always had something to talk about. It seemed true that fathers and sons were mortal enemies in their past lives.

Back in their apartment, Xu Qing set about continuing his chainmail project. But before he could release Jiang He’s hand, she gripped him tightly.

“What did you just say on the street?” she demanded.

Xu Qing froze, realizing she was out for blood.

Her gaze was intense as she looked up at him, but because she wasn’t as tall as Xu Qing, she had to tilt her head back. Feeling this weakened her stance, Jiang He glanced around, hooked her foot under a small stool, and dragged it over. Stepping onto it, she now towered over Xu Qing.

With a firm grip, she pinned his hands above his head against the wall. Xu Qing stared at her, unsure of her intentions.

“Oh, you just want me to repeat what I said so you can make a big deal out of it. I’m not that dumb.”

Jiang He didn’t let go. With his hands restrained and her standing above him, Xu Qing gave up struggling.

“Now this… is what they call a ‘kabedon,’” Jiang He finally declared, breaking the silence.

Xu Qing blinked, utterly baffled. “I just wanted to spank you. Did it have to escalate to this?”

Though clueless about what a "kabedon" was supposed to mean, Xu Qing did his best to cooperate with Jiang He’s apparent need to assert dominance.

“Hmph!” Jiang He pretended to be stern, then softened as she wiped a bit of saliva from Xu Qing’s lips with her finger. She stepped down from the stool, nudged it back to its original place, and turned toward the kitchen. She began rummaging through the fridge for ingredients to cook dinner, leaving Xu Qing still pressed against the wall in stunned silence.

Some things, she felt, were better left as an implicit warning. Over-explaining would only diminish her mystique.

By the time night fell, the dimly lit kitchen was alive with the clatter of pots and pans. Xu Qing worked on his chainmail at the dining table, occasionally glancing over at the kitchen. His thoughts drifted—wasn’t this role reversal supposed to be the other way around?

Dinner consisted of garlic scapes with black fungus and bitter melon stir-fried with shredded pork. Earlier, Zhou Suzhi’s attempt at bitter melon had been too bland for Jiang He’s liking, so she decided to redo it her way, embracing its full bitter flavor.

“Delicious, right?” Jiang He asked after tasting a bite, looking expectantly at Xu Qing.

He nodded vigorously. He’d always enjoyed the bitterness, which was why he hadn’t taught her to remove it when she started learning to cook.

Jiang He beamed. “Maybe I should write down the recipe—both the bitter and non-bitter versions—so others can choose what they prefer.”

“You’d write it down?”

“I might forget otherwise. That would be troublesome.”

“Then go ahead. You’ve got plenty of notebooks.”

Their conversation shifted, and Jiang He revealed her broader plans: cooking tutorials, selling homemade pickles, and incorporating it all into her growing presence as a content creator. Xu Qing, realizing this was part of a larger strategy, could only offer a resigned smile and a supportive “Good luck.”

By evening, Xu Qing helped set up their shared livestream. Jiang He, sitting calmly in front of the screen, engaged in intense gameplay while Xu Qing acted as a silent background fixture. Despite his effort to blend in, the odd atmosphere of their small stream drew attention, especially with its eerie background music and bizarre themes.

One of their viewers, Wang Zijun, joined the stream and, bewildered by the surreal vibe, couldn’t resist contributing a donation. Jiang He thanked him with a smile but remained focused on her gameplay, while Xu Qing stayed behind her, wondering just how he’d ended up as a prop in Jiang He’s rising media empire.

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