Don't Bother Me While I Farm, You're Really Not My Type

I was reborn as a rural girl whose engagement had been broken off. So I picked up a wild man who was barely alive and took him as my live-in husband. He was too weak to lift a basket or carry a load, and the only thing he had going for him was his face. I accepted my lot and planned to farm, raise pigs, and open a restaurant, keeping him around as a lucky charm. Then bandits raided our village, and he shot their leader through the throat with a single arrow. Later, the imperial army knelt across the courtyard of my farmhouse, calling out, “Greetings, Great General!” My sickly husband wiped the blood from his face, looking almost sheepish. “Wife, are we still having braised pork tonight?” A formidable pair, married first and in love later, building a prosperous life through farming, running a food business, and playing the pig to eat the tiger.