"You can't have the best of both worlds; everything requires a trade-off. Ian is an adult. I'm sure he's considered what he would miss by choosing to go to university. Isn't that right, Ian?"
Cecilia Adler's voice was gentle and soft, like a warm spring breeze drifting into the young man's heart.
He smiled at her. "Yes."
Mr. Quincy's profound gaze swept over Ian Quincy before finally resting on Cecilia Adler. Any other woman, upon learning her husband was giving up a stable job for an uncertain future, would have likely lost her mind. But she didn't argue or cause a scene; she calmly reasoned things out.
She certainly had some foresight.
"Your father said you were uneducated, but you seem to understand things quite well."
Cecilia Adler looked abashed. "I just learned from listening to the village elders. Please don't laugh at me if I've said something wrong."
"You've learned well."
While they were making small talk, Mrs. Quincy and Ian's older brother, Qin Jin, returned with groceries for the New Year.
Cecilia Adler rose to greet them and stepped forward to help sort the groceries.
Mrs. Quincy smiled. "We're all family now, no need to be so formal." As she spoke, she glanced at the girl out of the corner of her eye.
'Her movements are quick and efficient. You can tell she's a diligent person just by looking at her.'
Feeling a flicker of approval, she began to make small talk, asking about things like their preparations for the New Year and which relatives they planned to visit after the holiday.
Cecilia Adler answered everything she could, as long as it was appropriate to share.
Once the groceries were sorted and put away, Cecilia Adler followed Mrs. Quincy into the kitchen to wash the rice and vegetables, mince meat for fillings, and fry meatballs.
At first, Mrs. Quincy worked alongside her, but after Christal Russell called for her a couple of times, she remained in the main room.
Cecilia Adler was left to tend the fire and watch the wok of hot oil all by herself.
Ian Quincy came into the kitchen several times, his expression growing darker with each visit.
When Cecilia Adler noticed, the rumors about him flooded her mind, spawning vivid images of him turning violent. The more she thought, the more frightened she became. "Ian," she said, her voice trembling slightly, "are you cold? Why don't you help me with the fire?"
'If he dares to lay a hand on me...'
'It'll be easy to splash him with the hot oil. I'll take him down in one go and make him the one who's afraid of me.'
'Hmph!'
'When that happens, I won't be so sweet and delicate anymore.'
'I'll show him what a real virago is like.'
"I'm not cold."
Ian Quincy's face was blank. After sitting down, he seemed agitated, restlessly stuffing firewood into the stove.
"Ian, the fire's too big. I'm practically roasting over here."
Ian Quincy hurriedly pulled the firewood back out.
Watching his frantic movements, Cecilia Adler had a new thought. 'If he really planned on hurting me, he wouldn't need to waste time like this. It would be far more convenient to just make up an excuse, call me into a room, and get it over with... Could he just be hungry? People get irritable when they're hungry, too.' She picked up a warm meatball and held it to his lips. "Try one."
Ian Quincy's gaze warmed. He took the meatball from her, chewed a couple of times, and said, "Delicious." It was perfectly seasoned, tender and savory. "Are you tired?" he asked. 'Ever since she arrived, she's barely had a moment to sit down. She's been working this whole time, and even now, with night falling, she hasn't stopped.'
'This was all work my mother was supposed to do.'
'If she didn't want to do it, she could have asked my older brother, or even me.'
'Why dump it all on my new wife?'
'Just because she's young, from out of town, and agreeable, does that mean they can treat her like a servant?'
"Not at all," Cecilia Adler said, noticing his expression had brightened considerably after eating the meatball.
'So he really was just hungry.'
She couldn't help but find it amusing.
'Amused by his childishness...'
'And amused at herself, for letting others' gossip lead her to assume the worst of her own husband time and time again.'
She lifted the lid from the pot on the stove, filled a large bowl with rice for him, and then topped it with some of the braised pork belly and pig's trotters from the stew. "You must be starving, right? Here, eat up. From now on, whenever I'm cooking, you can come help me with the fire. That way, I can save the best pieces of meat for you."