As Tang Dongdong unwrapped the bandage, the wound was revealed. Three of the stitches near the base of his little finger had come undone, and blood was seeping out.
"If you're injured, you shouldn't be moving around. Just call me if there's work to be done," Tang Dongdong said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And Mancang—doesn't he know you're hurt?"
"Don't blame Mancang. He didn't make me do anything. It was my own carelessness," Jin Feng said, feeling a bit helpless. "Besides, it's just a few stitches that came loose. I'll have Xiaorou redo them later. It's not a big deal."
The jujube wood had rolled off the table, and Jin Feng had instinctively reached out to catch it. That was probably when the wound had reopened.
"Xiaorou is busy putting Xiao'e to sleep…" Tang Dongdong hesitated for a moment, then said softly, "Let me stitch it for you."
What young woman doesn't harbor dreams of romance? Especially in life-and-death situations, emotions run high. Before, Tang Dongdong's talk of marrying Jin Feng had been more out of necessity, but after last night, her feelings had quietly shifted.
Twenty taels of silver—enough to support an ordinary family for years—had been handed over without hesitation to save her. Jin Feng hadn't even blinked. Though she had always appeared calm and composed, the truth was that, like Runiang, she had been living with a deep sense of insecurity and uncertainty about the future. But the moment Jin Feng had reached out to grab the blade, her heart had stopped. In that instant, her fears and doubts had vanished. This man, though not physically imposing, had given her a sense of security she hadn't felt in a long time. It was then that Tang Dongdong realized she might never be able to leave this man.
Unfortunately, he didn't want to marry her…
Jin Feng had no idea about the storm of emotions Tang Dongdong had just weathered. Knowing that Guan Xiaorou was busy with Xiao'e, he didn't overthink it and followed Tang Dongdong into the shed.
Without needing to be told, Runiang had already run to the kitchen to boil water. Though she didn't understand why Jin Feng insisted on boiling the thread, it didn't matter. As long as she had something to do, she was content.
Ordinary thread wasn't suitable for stitching wounds. Not only was there a risk of infection, but removing the stitches later would be excruciating. And with injuries caused by metal objects, a tetanus shot was essential. Unfortunately, such things were out of the question here. Many farmers simply sprinkled dry dirt on their wounds to stop the bleeding and left it at that.
Tang Dongdong was more outgoing and resilient than Guan Xiaorou and Runiang. Once she got comfortable, she could be quite bold. But when it came to stitching Jin Feng's wound, she was extremely careful. She inserted the needle bit by bit and pulled it through just as slowly. What she didn't realize was that this only made the process more agonizing for Jin Feng. But seeing her on the verge of tears, he decided to endure it.
Three simple stitches—a novice nurse could have finished them in a minute or two. Tang Dongdong took a full five minutes, and by the end, Jin Feng had nearly bruised his thigh from gripping it so hard. He made up his mind: if the stitches came undone again, he wouldn't let Tang Dongdong near him with a needle.
Runiang, always restless, was eager to find something to do, and Tang Dongdong was determined to start earning money and expanding the workshop as soon as possible. Worried that the two might secretly start spinning at night, Jin Feng removed the treadle from the spinning wheel before leaving.
Back in the blacksmith's workshop, Mancang had already cut the jujube wood into sections as Jin Feng had instructed and was carefully stripping the bark with an axe. While Jin Feng was willing to let a carpenter handle the spinning wheel parts—since the design could always be upgraded—the crossbow was a different matter. Its destructive power was too great, and if the design leaked, the consequences were unpredictable. So, he preferred to have Mancang slowly carve the wood with an axe rather than seek help from a carpenter.
Knowing that Jin Feng's wound had reopened, Mancang refused to let him lift a finger. Left with no choice, Jin Feng sat to the side, idly thinking about how to improve the furnace.
The two waited until the moon was high in the sky before Zhang Liang finally returned, covered in dust. Without a word, he grabbed the water jug and gulped down half of it.
"Brother Liang, you've worked hard," Jin Feng said, standing up and lifting a small pot from the stove. He ladled out a bowl of rice porridge. "We kept the food warm for you. Eat up."
Zhang Liang had been on the road since noon and was starving. He didn't mind the heat, picking up the bowl and slurping down the porridge in a few quick bites. Jin Feng smiled and served him another bowl. He knew that if Zhang Liang was eating like this, he must have good news.
Only after finishing the entire pot of porridge did Zhang Liang let out a satisfied burp. "When you bought this little pot, I thought it was unnecessary. Now I see how useful it is. It's so convenient."
"Right? Once I get the furnace set up properly, it'll be running all day. With this pot, we'll always have hot water ready," Jin Feng said with a laugh.
People in this era didn't have the habit of drinking boiled water. If they got thirsty while traveling, they'd simply scoop water from a ditch. Since arriving in this world, Jin Feng had never drunk unboiled water. But boiling water several times a day was inconvenient, which was why he had bought the pot during his shopping trip to the county seat. At the time, Zhang Liang and the village chief had thought he was being wasteful—such a small pot cost several hundred coins. They had even asked why he didn't just make one himself. What they didn't realize was that crafting an iron pot was far more technically demanding than making an axe. That's why they were so expensive.
Trusting someone meant not doubting them. Since Jin Feng had decided to have Zhang Mancang help with the crossbow, he didn't treat him as an outsider. In front of Mancang, he asked, "Brother Liang, what did your friend say? Was the bald man really from Maomao Mountain?"
"Yes, and he was the third-in-command," Zhang Liang said, startling Jin Feng.
Killing a high-ranking bandit from Maomao Mountain? Wouldn't that cause an uproar?
"Don't panic. Let me finish," Zhang Liang continued. "The guy was a gambler, just like Xie Guang. After losing all his money, he even stole grain from the mountain to fund his gambling. He was kicked out of Maomao Mountain last year."
"No wonder he teamed up with Xie Guang," Jin Feng said, feeling a weight lift off his chest.
Since the bald man had been expelled, his death wouldn't concern Maomao Mountain. They wouldn't cause trouble in Tieguan Mountain's territory over a traitor.
"But my friend said the bald man had a life-and-death bond with Maomao Mountain's second-in-command. When he stole the grain, the punishment was supposed to be three stabs and six holes. It was the second-in-command who chopped off his own finger to save him," Zhang Liang added. "My friend said the other bandits on Maomao Mountain wouldn't care if they found out we killed the bald man, but we should be careful of this second-in-command."
The weight Jin Feng had just felt lift now came crashing back down.