I'll Raise Pigs to Support You - Chapter 37
On the day of the Spring Festival, the noise outside was overwhelming. Song Yugui groggily opened her eyes and tightened her arms around her wife.
She was exhausted, cursing inwardly—what the hell is this racket?
It was still dark, and Shen Xizhi also cracked her eyes open slightly amid the noise before quickly closing them again, burrowing deeper into her wife’s embrace. Her long, beautiful legs hooked around Song Yugui’s waist, and her softness unconsciously rubbed against her waist a couple of times before she settled in, hugging her quietly.
After a while, the person nestled in her arms finally realized what she had done. Her dark, moist eyes flew open, and her drowsiness vanished instantly. She shyly retracted her neck but refused to move, her face burning.
How could I instinctively do such a thing?
This was too shameless. Song Yugui hadn’t even shown any intention to touch her, yet she—
Shen Xizhi first scolded herself for being too eager, but then she thought—it’s not entirely my fault.
Hmph, it’s Song Yugui’s fault. Why won’t she touch me?
Who marries a wife just to keep her at home like a decoration? Shouldn’t she be touched?
She’s the odd one out. If she took the initiative, I wouldn’t be so curious about trying it.
Hmph, hmph, hmph!
Shen Xizhi huffed angrily three times in her heart.
In her half-asleep state, Song Yugui dreamed of her wife, but the wife in her dream seemed angry, glaring at her coldly. Every time she tried to reach out, the other would turn away, refusing to let her touch.
Song Yugui: “…”
Whose wife is this, so bad-tempered?
Oh, mine.
She shivered under that icy stare, waking up almost entirely.
Shen Xizhi noticed the person holding her trembling and lifted her head slightly, her eyes watery, obedient, and full of concern—as if she hadn’t just been secretly blaming her in her heart.
She gently shook Song Yugui’s arm. “Sister Yugui, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”
Song Yugui opened her bleary eyes and looked down at the sweet, pliant wife in her arms—the one who let her touch and hug freely. She grunted in affirmation.
The wife in my dream wouldn’t even let me touch her and kept glaring. Of course, it was a nightmare.
Hearing she’d had a nightmare, Shen Xizhi quickly hugged her tighter, comforting her. “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid. I’m here.”
The real wife is much better—lets me touch and hug, doesn’t glare, and even comforts me.
“Mmm.”
Song Yugui responded vaguely again, pressing her face against Shen Xizhi’s soft, tender cheek and unconsciously nuzzling it. So comfortable.
Shen Xizhi felt the nuzzle and instinctively rubbed her long legs against Song Yugui’s body. After doing so, she froze. Why do I keep…
Song Yugui also noticed the particularly tender spot and blushed. This big villain is too passionate and unrestrained. It doesn’t match the personality of ancient women in the novels I’ve read.
Though usually reserved and shy, that was just a facade.
In reality…
One of her hands cradled Shen Xizhi’s head while the other slowly slid downward, gripping her snow-white thigh under Shen Xizhi’s tomato-red face.
That leg was restless, always locking around her.
Song Yugui closed her eyes and gently stroked it a few times, feeling the little body in her arms tremble slightly. A faint smile curled her lips.
She’s the bold one, yet also the shy one.
Perhaps flustered, the small hands pressed against her chest began to push weakly, and her voice grew nervous. “I—I need to get up to cook. Let go a little, okay?”
Shen Xizhi whispered, her face red.
If they got up this early and didn’t eat breakfast, they’d probably starve to death by noon.
Song Yugui reluctantly released her, yawning. “Then hurry up. If you don’t get up, I can’t move—you’re pinning me down.”
Her words carried a double meaning, and Shen Xizhi blushed even harder, shooting her a shy, reproachful glare.
“I know. I’m not that heavy.”
Embarrassed, Shen Xizhi propped herself up to sit, her smooth, fair skin exposed without concealment.
Even though she faced this visual impact daily, Song Yugui still wasn’t used to it. Her eyes glazed over, mesmerized by the swaying pair of dewdrops.
Xizhi’s body is so beautiful.
Shen Xizhi wasn’t oblivious—she noticed the intense gaze.
She pursed her lips, not particularly happy, still resentful. You clearly like my body, so why won’t you touch me?
Are you even a real lesbian?
So mad.
She didn’t know that, in Song Yugui’s heart, she wasn’t a real lesbian.
Song Yugui had been single her whole life—how could she know if she liked women? She’d never liked men, but she’d never liked women either. She’d always assumed she was straight, thinking she just enjoyed gaming and chatting with girls because she was more friendly toward women—a feminist trait. She’d never considered anything beyond that. Now, transmigrated into a novel, struggling to survive and make money, exhausted every day like a dog, she had no energy to analyze her restless heart.
For the Spring Festival breakfast, they were supposed to eat Laba congee. Shen Xizhi had prepared it the night before, boiling rice, millet, red beans, and lotus seeds together in a pot. Once cooked, she fried two eggs to go with the congee.
Today was a holiday—they could afford to be a little extravagant.
Song Yugui couldn’t cook, so she added firewood to the stove to keep the flames strong before being shooed out by Shen Xizhi. With no need to cut pigweed this early, she wandered aimlessly around the yard.
Her eyes casually swept the area and suddenly fixed on a spot—a small orange-yellow object peeking out from the warm chicken coop.
Song Yugui hurried over, crouched down, and dug around. Her eyes instantly lit up. “Xizhi!”
Though busy cooking, Shen Xizhi rushed out at the sound, wiping her hands on her apron. The moment she saw Song Yugui, her eyes sparkled, and her lips curved. “Sister Yugui, what is it?”
Song Yugui held up the egg she’d retrieved. “Xizhi, our chicken laid an egg!”
Shen Xizhi: !!!
On the first day of the new year, their chicken had laid an egg—what better omen could there be?
The chicken was young, and they’d expected eggs only after the new year. Yet it had laid one so soon—proof of good care.
The girl, originally standing at the door, quickly walked over, craning her neck to see. “An egg? Really? Wow, it really laid one!”
She took the egg from Song Yugui’s hand, cradling it carefully, her face radiant with joy. “The chicken is amazing.”
Someone disagreed. Song Yugui crossed her arms and teased, “What’s amazing about the chicken? You’re the amazing one, feeding it three times a day. It had no choice but to grow up fast.”
“Ah, stop joking with me.”
Shen Xizhi knew her wife loved to tease. She shot her a coquettish glare before cradling the egg like a treasure and heading back inside.
This was the first egg their chicken had laid—it had to be cherished. She almost couldn’t bear to eat it.
Song Yugui continued to watch her, arms crossed, leisurely following. Seeing her take out half a basin of grain, she knew the chicken was about to get a treat.
Aside from grain, the outer, less desirable leaves of the cabbage were also fed to the chicken—maximizing frugality.
With a wife like this, what more could I ask for?
The congee was soon ready.
Song Yugui scooped a bowl for each of them. The moment Shen Xizhi entered, she saw her about to eat and immediately frowned.
“You haven’t washed your hands yet! Wash them first.”
Song Yugui, who had just sat down, scrambled back up. “Alright, alright, I forgot. I’ll go wash. Don’t fuss.”
“Your hands just touched the egg!”
That was true—they weren’t exactly clean.
Song Yugui hurriedly washed her hands and returned to eat without further scolding.
The Laba congee had a hint of sweetness from the red beans, paired with a fried egg. In modern times, this would’ve been the most ordinary meal, but now, it filled her with happiness.
So delicious.
Seeing her eat with such delight, Shen Xizhi softly shared the day’s meal plan, hoping to make her even happier.
“How about we make dumplings for lunch?”
Dumplings were a must for the holiday, usually eaten at night, but she’d moved it to noon.
In the evening, she planned to showcase her skills and prepare a proper feast for her wife—a reward for her hard work these past months.
The mention of dumplings excited Song Yugui, her dark eyes gleaming. “Yes! We haven’t had dumplings in so long.”
Shen Xizhi paused mid-sip, her eyes flickering with surprise. “We… have eaten them before.”
Back when they weren’t poor, when Song Yugui still sold pork in town, she’d brought meat home and asked her to make dumplings. They’d eaten them. Had she forgotten?
Song Yugui’s smile stiffened—she’d slipped up.
She quickly lowered her head. “Really? Then I forgot. It’s been too long—my memory’s fuzzy. No big deal. What filling do you plan to use?”
She deftly changed the subject.
Shen Xizhi wasn’t one to press. In fact, she often avoided prying. She nodded along and hesitated. “I picked some shepherd’s purse, but you don’t like wild vegetables, right? How about cabbage and pork?”
Her wife obediently sought her opinion.
Song Yugui had no objections—cabbage and pork dumplings were delicious too.
“Sure. We can use the shepherd’s purse for egg pancakes tonight.”
When she first arrived in ancient times, she’d eaten wild vegetables for days—wild vegetable congee, blanched wild vegetables, barely any salt. Who could endure that? Of course, she hated them. But now, those hard days were behind them. Though still poor, they weren’t that poor anymore. Having not eaten wild vegetables in a while, she could stomach them again.
Shen Xizhi nodded. “Okay.”
Together, they plucked a fresh cabbage from the yard, peeling off the outer, less desirable leaves for the chicken and keeping the tender, well-grown inner ones. After washing, they chopped them finely and mixed them into the meat filling.
Song Yugui handled the chopping; Shen Xizhi kneaded the dough.
She could only manage simple tasks—anything slightly complex would ruin the flavor.
Soon, a large bowl of filling was ready, mixed with cabbage, a pinch of salt, and some sauce bought from who-knows-where. It looked tasty after stirring—the meat and cabbage melded perfectly.
Shen Xizhi’s dumpling wrappers were also rolled out.
They sat side by side, wrapping dumplings, neither slacking off.
By late morning, they’d made fifty plump, white dumplings.
Song Yugui declared, “I’m eating twenty-five!”
In modern times, her appetite was modest—thirteen dumplings were enough. But in ancient times, working herself to death every day from dawn to dusk, her appetite had to grow. If she didn’t eat more, she’d collapse.
Shen Xizhi smiled. “Okay, I won’t let you starve.”
She wanted to make extra for breakfast the next day. Song Yugui got up to boil water.
Once the water boiled and the dumplings were in, she didn’t hover.
Aunt Li’s family had also made dumplings—lots of them—and insisted on giving some to them. She went out to politely refuse but failed, returning with two plates of dumplings.
“Aunt Li made pork and tofu dumplings and insisted we try them.”
Shen Xizhi was gently stirring the dumplings in the pot with a ladle. Hearing this, she replied warmly, “Aunt Li is kind. Just accept them, Sister Yugui. Next time we go to town, we can buy something for her in return.”
That’s how neighbors were.
Song Yugui, used to city life where everyone kept to themselves, wasn’t accustomed to such simple, mutual aid.
Taking Shen Xizhi’s advice, she nodded and set the two plates of raw dumplings aside.
Soon, their dumplings were ready.
Shen Xizhi had wrapped each one perfectly—plump, round, and, most importantly, none had burst.
Flawless.
She brought over a full bowl. “You must be hungry. Eat up—tell me how it tastes.”
“Mmm.”
Song Yugui took the bowl, noticing how hot the edges were. Frowning, she stood abruptly. “Sit down. I’ll get it.”
She’d been careless—she should’ve helped. How could her pampered little wife handle such heat? Her fingers would turn red.
Shen Xizhi, bewildered, sat down as instructed, blinking. “What’s wrong?”
She hadn’t realized.
Song Yugui shook her head helplessly and walked to the kitchen. Just as she was about to scoop the dumplings, her ladle halted.
Huh?
So few?
She called out, “Did you not make enough? There are only seven here.”
She was eating twenty-five—a full, heaping bowl—which made the seven seem pitiful, barely covering the pot’s bottom.
Shen Xizhi peeked out from the inner room, her gaze gentle. “Seven is enough for me.”
She didn’t work hard, so her appetite was smaller. Seven would suffice.
“No way. Seven isn’t even enough to fill the gaps between your teeth. No wonder you’re getting skinnier.”
Song Yugui frowned, dissatisfied, but still scooped seven dumplings for her.
Shen Xizhi widened her dark, moist eyes and stayed quiet, obedient. The dumplings were already cooked, after all.
Her appetite was small. Though… seven was a bit too few. But if she ate more, there wouldn’t be enough for Song Yugui’s breakfast tomorrow.
They rarely made dumplings, and the filling wasn’t measured precisely—there wasn’t much. Song Yugui wanted twenty-five at once, but they’d only made sixty-three in total. If she ate seven now and six tomorrow morning, it’d be just enough.
Shen Xizhi’s calculations were perfect, but the moment the bowl was set down, Song Yugui started transferring dumplings into hers.
The girl froze and quickly stopped her. “Hey, don’t give me yours! You won’t have enough.”
“Nonsense, I will have enough. You’re the one who’ll starve to death before evening if you eat so little. I refuse to be a widow.”
Shen Xizhi stiffened, shooting her a reproachful glare, her lips pursed unhappily. “Who says such things so casually?”
Death—the ancients were superstitious about such words.
Song Yugui took advantage of her distraction to dump several more dumplings into her bowl. By the time Shen Xizhi looked down, five had been added.
Now she was genuinely flustered. “Okay, okay, no more! Really, you…”
Twelve dumplings were probably enough for Shen Xizhi.
Only then did Song Yugui relent, instructing, “Make dinner early. I’m worried you’ll starve.”
Shen Xizhi: “…”
She sat down and muttered, “I won’t starve—I’ll be stuffed.”
Twelve dumplings will stuff me?
This girl’s stomach…
Song Yugui lowered her head to eat. The dumpling skins tightly encased the filling, bursting with juices at the first bite—so delicious it could make one’s tongue melt.
Shen Xizhi also ate quietly but felt something was missing. She got up, fetched vinegar from the kitchen, poured some into a small dish, and pushed it over. “Want to dip them?”
“Sure.”
As she spoke, Song Yugui skewered a dumpling with her chopsticks, dipped it in the fragrant vinegar, and took a bite—enhancing the flavor.
Today might’ve been the happiest, most relaxed day Song Yugui had experienced since arriving in ancient times. With only one pig left at home, the amount of pigweed needed was halved. She’d already prepared today’s portion yesterday—just needed to feed it later. There was hardly any work to do.
Seeing her wife basking in the sun in the yard, Shen Xizhi’s eyes curved. Naturally, she wanted to take the chance to get closer.
They were wives—closeness was expected.
Song Yugui was sunbathing when a chair was placed beside her.
She glanced over and closed her eyes again. “Joining me?”
In her past life during winter, she’d loved lounging in her room with the AC on, playing on her phone. She’d always heard about the comfort of winter sunlight but never truly experienced it.
Now, transmigrated to ancient times, she could finally appreciate it.
Every pore in her body felt at ease, as if stretching open.
Shen Xizhi nodded slightly, then realized Song Yugui wasn’t even looking—just asking absentmindedly. Pouting, she replied, “Mmm, I’ll keep you company.”
If she’d expressed any other emotion, Song Yugui might’ve missed it. But pouting? That was different.
The little girl often pouted, always invoking both irritation and affection. Her sulks were the most heart-melting.
Song Yugui immediately opened her eyes to look.
Shen Xizhi’s brows were slightly furrowed, her eyes brimming with resentment as she stared, lips pressed tightly—the very picture of someone wronged.
Adorable.
Her inexplicable sulks had become routine for Song Yugui, always finding them endearing. But she still had to coax her—otherwise, a small grievance would turn into a big one.
She didn’t want to anger her wife and get kicked out of bed at night.
“Upset, Xizhi?”
Shen Xizhi shook her head. Their chairs were close enough that she could slowly lean her head against Song Yugui’s shoulder from her own seat.
The contact immediately lifted her mood.
As long as she pays attention to me.
Being ignored would make her unhappy.
Indifference would too.
The sky was clear blue, the wind bitingly cold. Shen Xizhi shivered slightly and snuggled deeper into the woman’s embrace.
Song Yugui instinctively wrapped an arm around her.
Shen Xizhi’s lips curved faintly as she nuzzled her neck affectionately.
As they relaxed, voices approached from beyond the fence.
A group of men and women chatted and laughed as they climbed the small slope.
Few families lived on this little slope. Song Yugui couldn’t help but focus.
They clearly weren’t from the same family—more like… officials on an inspection tour.
Who are they here for?
Just as she wondered, they spotted Song Yugui. A middle-aged man waved. “Xiao Gui, sunbathing?”
Song Yugui didn’t recognize them. Fearful of exposing herself, her muscles tensed involuntarily.
Shen Xizhi sensed her wife’s tension and lifted her head in confusion, only to be pressed back down, her face buried in Song Yugui’s chest.
Hesitant, Shen Xizhi didn’t greet them, only offering a small smile.
The leading man stopped, eyeing Song Yugui strangely.
Song Yugui’s heart pounded.
Regret. Wouldn’t it have been better to nap indoors? I’ve only rested a few days—why did I have to sunbathe?
Did I just land in trouble? This crowd… they can’t be here for me, right?
Taking a deep breath, Song Yugui stood slowly. Before she could speak, the older man said gravely, “Yugui, a father and daughter will be moving into the village soon.”
Song Yugui blinked. Huh? Why tell me?
Seeing her confusion, he emphasized, “A father and daughter!”
Stressing the word daughter.
Only then did Song Yugui grasp the implication, her face darkening.
Others chimed in. “Yes, they paid a hefty sum. The village chief remembered the empty house next to yours—decent condition, and they wanted somewhere quiet. This spot is perfect, so we came to check first.”
Song Yugui, who’d just cursed the original owner for saddling her with a bad reputation, suddenly realized—the newcomers must be the novel’s female lead, Chi Xiangyue.
Also from a noble family, but her clan had backed the wrong faction in court, leading to their downfall. Forced to flee with her father to this remote village, the female lead was resilient and adaptable, with little mention of her suffering in the countryside.
Song Yugui felt a pang of envy—she’s in pain every day. Damn novel, damn ancient times—nothing here. How is anyone supposed to live?
Distracted, Shen Xizhi tugged her sleeve. By the time she refocused, the elders were glaring in the cold wind.
The female lead living nearby wasn’t good news. Song Yugui forced a smile. “This house has been empty for a long time, and it’s close to the mountains. It’ll be hard to clean. Are there no other places for the new villagers?”
She wanted no part in the female lead and male lead’s drama.
The leader waved her off. “They prefer quiet places. That’s not the point. The point is, Yugui…”
He called her name again, making her heart skip. They can’t be asking me to move out for the female lead, right?
Unless the price is right, I’ll curse everyone out.
She braced for the worst, but his question was the same as before, asked with grave caution. “Yugui, you’ve reformed, right?”
Song Yugui: “…”
It’s been so, so long since I’ve harassed any women!