My Wife Came From A Thousand Years Ago

Chapter 162: Zhong Kui Conquers the Demon

Any girl would feel nervous if the person she liked sniffed her before she was properly cleaned up. Even if he found it fragrant, she wouldn’t think so herself.

Xu Qing understood Jiang He's inner conflict, and it also showed that Jiang He liked him very much. If she didn’t, she’d probably just get angry. She certainly wouldn’t have come over after washing up to explain herself—it was her way of clarifying that if there was any smell, it wasn’t her fault but because she hadn’t showered yet. After a bath, she’d be sweet-smelling again.

Spending time with Jiang He made Xu Qing accustomed to certain quirks. It gave him the feeling of being too involved to see things clearly. He couldn’t tell if her behavior stemmed from some unique trait of ancient people, the influence of love, or simply things that girls did.

People are complex, evolving through different stages of life—early romance differs from the heat of passion, meeting someone for the first time contrasts with knowing them intimately, and a relationship changes after being physically close. Delving deeper, Jiang He’s actions could also reflect an unconscious dependence on him after finding stability in an unfamiliar environment. Xu Qing thought this wasn’t entirely impossible.

It wasn’t the kind of reliance a daughter might have on her father, like refusing to get her own water and insisting her boyfriend fetch it. Jiang He wasn’t the type to act coquettish. Instead, it felt more like she was lowering her guard with the only person she was close to, cautiously trying to blend into modern society and interact with him in contemporary ways.

If she weren’t trying to change, she might’ve headbutted him the moment he sniffed her finger.

Xu Qing continued squeezing the iron ring in his hand, planning to finish one sleeve within ten days and record a second video to update his followers on the progress. He couldn’t let too much time pass, or people would forget while he’d barely made any progress.

“Still not sleeping?”

Jiang He emerged from her room, poured herself a glass of water, downed it in one gulp, and wiped her mouth as she asked Xu Qing.

“Soon, just finishing up.”

“Oh, don’t stay up too late. I can help you if you want.”

“Just not being too pretty is enough help for me. I’m trying to distract myself—seeing you in pajamas running around is a bit much, you know?” Xu Qing said without looking up, thinking she’d be better off gaming than helping him squeeze iron rings.

This was pure mechanical work. Grinding in games at least allowed you to keep an eye on the auction house prices and hone sensitivity to the virtual market.

“I… shouldn’t… be this pretty?”

Jiang He tilted her head, refilled her glass, and carried it back to her room.

By late night, close to 11 p.m., even Winter Melon had curled up on the cat tower. Xu Qing tidied his tools, washed up, and stood outside Jiang He’s door in his pajamas. Seeing no light from the crack under the door, he listened but didn’t hear her snoring. Satisfied, he turned off the lights, returned to his little storeroom, and went to bed.

In the middle of the night, light rain began to fall, its patter against the windowsill soothing rather than disturbing, making sleep even sweeter.

The phrase “April showers bring May flowers” describes the lower Yangtze River region around April. During this time, northern cold air hasn’t fully retreated, while southeastern winds bring warm, humid air, resulting in continuous drizzle. ⱤаƝồᛒËS̈

Jiang City isn’t part of that region, so rain or shine, it varies. Last year at this time, there was no rain. Xu Qing woke up in the morning to see damp ground outside. The drizzle was tapering off and would likely stop by noon, with clear skies returning soon.

Breakfast was congee with leftover buns from last night, which Jiang He had fried until the skin turned crispy and the filling heated through. The buns paired perfectly with the congee, filling him up nicely. Finishing his vegetable bun, Xu Qing grabbed an umbrella and went out, leaving Jiang He at home to entertain herself.

The city was just waking up. Despite the drizzle, the streets were quieter than usual. Some walked briskly in the rain without umbrellas. Xu Qing left the complex, greeted Uncle Zhao, the diligent guard, and flagged down a taxi by the roadside.

The rain had freshened the air. Xu Qing thought of taking Jiang He fishing by the river once it stopped. Listening to the waves and gazing into the distance could ease the mind, especially with the fine mist left in the air.

Lost in thought while staring out the taxi window, Xu Qing suddenly noticed two familiar figures by the roadside.

“Driver, could you slow down? Or reverse a bit?” he asked.

“Aren’t we headed to the electronics market?”

“I saw some familiar faces… If reversing isn’t possible, just pull over for a moment.”

“Sure, I’ll loop around,” the driver replied obligingly, making a U-turn to park where Xu Qing indicated.

“Not going to say hello?”

“It’s raining; I’ll just text them.” Xu Qing pretended to take out his phone, snapped a photo of the scene, and then said, “Alright, let’s go to the electronics market. They’re busy.”

As the taxi moved on, Xu Qing glanced at the photo on his phone, his expression odd. Who’d have thought he’d turn into a paparazzo one day?

In the photo, Liu Jingfang and an unfamiliar short-haired girl were sheltering under an awning. Girls holding hands was common, especially back in school when they’d even cling to each other on bathroom trips. But what puzzled Xu Qing was that he’d caught them kissing.

Feeling perplexed, he messaged Qin Hao: "Busy?"

Qin Hao didn’t respond, likely preoccupied. When the taxi reached the electronics market, Xu Qing paid the driver, opened his umbrella, and headed straight to the fourth floor.

Li Gaobo was busy at his keyboard, browsing for bargain computer parts on a forum known for scraping by on the smallest budgets to assemble high-performance PCs.

Li Gaobo was deep into his scavenging, muttering about “50 yuan with free shipping,” when Xu Qing walked up unnoticed and had to speak.

“Hey, get me a webcam.”

“Whoa, you scared me!” Li Gaobo spun around in surprise.

“Honestly, with the way you’re running your shop, I could’ve walked off with a couple of memory sticks, and you wouldn’t even know.”

“Nonsense, nonsense… Sit down, Qing-ge!”

Li Gaobo eagerly offered his chair to Xu Qing and went to pour water in a paper cup.

“I just need a decent webcam, same as the last one I got, plus a sound card, and some headphones,” Xu Qing instructed.

His computer already had an external sound card he used occasionally for video commentary, but sharing it with Jiang He was inconvenient. A second one would be useful for livestreaming battles or cooking shows in the future.

“Oh, and a tripod for the phone. The kind that holds cameras, too,” Xu Qing added. He envisioned turning Jiang He into a cooking content creator: one a crafting streamer, the other a food blogger, sharing their daily lives in adorable, coordinated updates.

“Wait, Qing-ge, you’re planning to livestream?”

“Just trying it out.”

“Livestreaming chainmail crafting?” Li Gaobo teased.

“Wait, you already know about that?” Xu Qing was puzzled. He’d posted the video on his channel, but it was supposed to be just a side project. It wasn’t like his friends were supposed to be following his every update.

“Of course, I know! You uploaded a video; how is that surprising?” Li Gaobo replied, equally baffled.

“It’s not surprising you found it, but how fast you did.”

“Hah, just happened to scroll past it… How’s the computer I sold you last time holding up?”

“It’s fine, does the job.”

“I just got another one for 800 yuan—better than that one. If you’ve got time, bring it over, and I’ll swap it for you,” Li Gaobo said, rummaging through his stock.

His knack for scavenging was impressive. Broken or discarded PCs often found their way to him, and he repaired them into fully functional machines. Sometimes, people like Wang Zijun sold high-end systems for scraps, unwilling to bother with repairs themselves. Such deals made him a tidy profit.

“No need, mine works fine.” Xu Qing waved it off.

“That’s not like you,” Li Gaobo commented.

“What’s not like me?”

“You’re different now,” Li Gaobo said, squinting at him as if trying to pinpoint what had changed. Xu Qing’s posture, demeanor—everything seemed subtly altered.

“It’s just age catching up with me,” Xu Qing replied, shaking his head with a sigh.

“Still the same glib talker,” Li Gaobo laughed. He packed Xu Qing’s items into a bag, jokingly reminding him to announce his livestream so they could show their support.

After hanging out for a while, Xu Qing left. Watching him walk away, Li Gaobo scratched his head. “Yeah… he really is different now.”

By 10 a.m., the rain had stopped. Xu Qing returned home to find a group gathered at the complex entrance, working on something at the gate. He asked Uncle Zhao and learned they were installing an electronic access system, taking measurements that morning. The system would be operational in May, giving residents time to get their access cards.

“Good thing I don’t order takeout often, or I’d have to come out to pick it up…” Xu Qing remarked.

“Delivery guys can get in; I just have to buzz them through,” Uncle Zhao replied matter-of-factly.

“Fine, fine. Alright, Sir Qin Qiong, guard this gate well!”

“Shoo, shoo! I’m no Yuchi Gong, I’m Qin Qiong—a handsome gentleman!”

Xu Qing chuckled at the comparison. Yuchi Gong, historically a rough-looking warrior, contrasted with the refined, cultured image of Qin Qiong from TV dramas. Not that Uncle Zhao or Xu Qing knew what they really looked like—just the romanticized portrayals on screen.

But there was someone at home who might know.

“Qin Qiong?” Jiang He tilted her head, confused by Xu Qing’s question.

“You wouldn’t have met him in person, but you must’ve seen paintings or something.”

“Nope.”

“Not even as a door god?” Xu Qing found it strange. The Tang Dynasty had already begun pasting figures like Qin Qiong and Yuchi Gong as protective door gods.

“We didn’t paste door gods. The boss looked scary enough,” Jiang He explained. “Some households did, though. They’d paste the scarier ones, like Zhong… Zhong…”

“Zhong Kui?”

“Yes, him!”

“Oh, I see.”

Xu Qing set up the webcam and sound card for Jiang He’s computer, then glanced at the blank wall behind her desk. “How about we paste a Zhong Kui behind you?”

“Huh?” Jiang He was puzzled.

“Everyone else has cute backgrounds with bunnies, toys, or display cases.”

“I have my teddy bear.”

“That doesn’t work. Zhong Kui keeps bad vibes away,” Xu Qing joked.

He adjusted her desk to face the white wall, then ordered a Zhong Kui poster through a delivery service. Once it arrived, he pasted it on the wall, creating a formidable backdrop for her livestreams.

With everything set, Xu Qing applied for a livestream account, submitted his ID for verification, and waited for approval. While doing so, Qin Hao finally replied to his earlier message.

“About that… Have you ever kissed Liu Jingfang?” Xu Qing asked bluntly.

Jiang He, fiddling with her computer and admiring the Zhong Kui poster, perked up at the unexpected question.

On the other end, Qin Hao was dumbfounded. Why would someone ask such a thing? After some hesitation, he honestly replied, “We’ve held hands.”

“Not even a hug?” Xu Qing typed out before deciding to call him directly.

“Hello?”

“Maybe consider breaking up,” Xu Qing said matter-of-factly.

“…”

Jiang He turned from her setup, utterly confused.

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