The memory of that kiss burned on Elara's cheek like a branding iron throughout the entire night. She had spent hours staring at the dark ceiling, her pulse erratic, unable to even glance toward the shadow of Evan's body on the bed above her. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the firm, warm pressure of his lips again, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core that made her toes curl in the dark.
The next morning, the atmosphere at the breakfast table was thick with a new kind of energy. For the first time, the center of the table wasn't just occupied by watery porridge. Instead, a bowl of yesterday's braised pork sat steaming, the fat glistening like amber in the morning light. The scent of the rich, spiced soup was intoxicating.
"This meat is incredible," Maya said, moaning as she dipped a torn piece of a steamed bun into the dark gravy. "I'm not spending another copper on street food. I'll just bring the meat home and let my brother-in-law work his magic."
"I can do that," Evan agreed, his voice smooth. He was leaning back, watching the sisters eat with a look of quiet satisfaction.
"You only think about your stomach, Maya!" Elara scolded, her voice a little higher than usual as she avoided Evan's eyes. "You don't think about how tired Evan gets standing over a hot stove all day."
"It doesn't matter," Evan said, his gaze drifting to Elara. "I have nothing but time when you're both out. Cooking is actually quite interesting."
"See? Brother-in-law said so." Maya grinned, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Actually, if you're bored at home, you should go to the street and sell cakes with my sister. You'd be a sensation."
Evan's eyes lit up. "I was actually planning on asking."
"No!" Elara objected immediately. "Selling cakes is a woman's job. It's dirty, crowded, and loud. It's completely inappropriate for you to be out there like a common laborer."
"What's inappropriate about it?" Maya countered. "Half the stalls on the main market are run by couples. Besides, I'm not saying he has to knead the dough in the street. He just needs a walk. Staying cooped up in this house all day is a recipe for a dull mind."
"But..." Elara lowered her head. Her mind raced with images of the village women. If Evan stood by her side, the contrast would be devastating. They would mock her, or worse, they would look at him with that hungry, shameless lust that made her stomach turn.
Evan saw her wavering. He leaned forward, catching her gaze and holding it with an expression of pure, puppy-like expectation. He didn't say a word, but his eyes screamed, If you leave me behind, I'll be miserable.
Faced with that look, Elara's resolve crumbled like a dry crust. "Fine," she whispered. "You can come."
The market was already a riot of noise and color by the time they arrived. Elara moved with practiced efficiency, but she felt a strange self-consciousness today, knowing Evan was walking just a step behind her.
When they reached their usual spot, a small crowd had already gathered. "Elara! What took you so long?" a regular customer joked, but her voice died in her throat as she saw the man standing behind the baker. "Oh... my god. You brought the husband today. Well, the lateness is officially justified!"
"So this is the famous Evan," another woman whispered, her mouth literally hanging open. "He's even more handsome than the rumors. Elara, you lucky little devil, how did you manage to get him out of the house?"
Single women from three stalls over began to drift toward them, their eyes tracing the lines of Evan's jaw and the way his shirt pulled across his shoulders as he helped Elara set up. In this world, the sight of a man—especially a masterpiece like Evan—working in public was a rare, tantalizing treat.
"Sisters, please, give us just a moment," Evan said, his voice a rich, velvety baritone that seemed to make the women shiver. "We'll have the cakes ready for you as soon as we set the tray."
"Take your time, handsome!" one woman called out. "I could stand here all day just looking at the scenery."
Once the stall was ready, Evan didn't just stand there. He took a deep breath and began to hawk the wares with a natural, effortless charisma. "Selling cakes! Freshly baked, warm as a summer afternoon! Come and get them while they're hot!"
In a street dominated by women's voices, Evan's masculine call was like a thunderclap. People stopped in their tracks. A crowd began to swell, growing larger by the second. Women who didn't even like sesame cakes found themselves digging for copper coins just for an excuse to step closer, to hear him speak, or to catch a scent of him.
Elara stood by, stunned. Usually, she had to rely on her low prices and her reputation for consistency to move her stock. It took her hours to empty a basket. But with Evan there, the cakes were flying off the tray.
So this is the power of beauty, Evan thought, a smug internal grin forming. Back on Earth, a pretty face at a counter could triple sales; here, where men were rare prizes, he was a god-tier marketing tool.
"Don't just stand there in a daze," Evan teased, nudging Elara's hip with his elbow. "Help me bag them!"
"Ah... right! Yes!" Elara snapped out of it, her hands moving frantically to keep up.
The business was booming, but the dynamic was clear: the crowd wanted Evan. When Elara reached out to take their money or hand over a cake, she saw the subtle flickers of disappointment on their faces. They wanted to touch his fingers, to look into his eyes. Elara felt a twinge of annoyance, but she pushed it down. Let them be disappointed, she thought fiercely. At the end of the day, he's coming home with me.
In just over half an hour—a record that shattered anything Elara had done in years—the trays were empty.
Evan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, a casual movement that drew several audible gasps from the lingering crowd. "Sold out already," he laughed, looking at the heavy bag of copper coins. "That was fast."
"I... I've never seen anything like it," Elara admitted, staring at him. "You're... you're incredible, Evan."
"I know I'm good-looking," he teased, leaning in close. "But you're pretty too, my little wife." He reached out, his fingers lingering on her cheek as he wiped a smudge of flour away, his thumb grazing her lower lip with a deliberate, slow pressure.
Elara's eyes glazed over, her heart doing a frantic dance in her chest. She was utterly fascinated by him, trapped in his orbit.
"Boss? Any more cakes?"
The voice was deep and raspy. Evan looked up, shaking his head. "Sorry, all sold out for today."
"No more? What a shame."
Evan glanced at the newcomer and froze for a second. It was a woman with a powerful, muscular build, her head completely shaved and gleaming. She wore simple monk's robes and carried a heavy, iron Zen staff that looked like it could crush a boulder.
Wait a minute, Evan thought, his internal "System" brain spinning. This look... this weapon... "Wait, beauty!" Evan called out before she could turn away.
The bald woman stopped, looking confused. "Beauty? You address me, a humble traveler, so?"
"What's your name?" Evan asked, his voice sharp with curiosity. "Is your surname Lu?"
The woman blinked, leaning on her staff. "It is. My family name is Lu, and my given name is Zhi. Lu Zhi. Do we know each other, young master?"