The moment Wan Dongyang asked the question, it clicked: this market was a mixed bag of all sorts of people, and it wasn’t easy for a young ger to make a living here. Inventing a husband to save face and make things easier was, after all, understandable.

As for the woman’s misunderstanding, upon seeing Liu Qishuang’s wet sleeve, Wan Dongyang wasn’t angry anymore. After all, he’d just happened to walk in on the scene, and upon closer reflection, the woman actually had a kind heart—she was even standing up for others.

Wan Dongyang blinked as he pieced the situation together, and a thought occurred to him: Thank goodness he’d stumbled upon it. If someone else had walked in on it, they would’ve gotten off scot-free.

Liu Qishuang still didn’t dare to look at anyone, but Wan Dongyang’s encounter with him had been nothing more than a coincidence. He exchanged just a few words before turning to leave, but he soon returned—and when he reappeared, he was holding two crispy steamed buns.

He gave both buns to Liu Qishuang, not sparing a single glance at Song Saixue, who was hunching her shoulders and trying desperately to hide behind Liu Qishuang. Then he invited her to visit his home on the fifteenth before leaving.

After Wan Dongyang left, the flush on Liu Qishuang’s face hadn’t faded yet. He didn’t dare look up for quite a while, but when he finally did, he happened to meet the half-smiling, half-serious face of Song Saixue, who had just dared to catch her breath.

“So the village rumors are actually true?” Song Saixue was actually more shocked than anything else at that moment, but when she thought of Wan Dongyang’s expression just now, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why didn’t you ask him just now?” Liu Qishuang hadn’t expected that Liu Quan’s wild rumors had actually spread, but he didn’t know whether to nod or shake his head at that moment, so he could only change the subject haphazardly.

Upon hearing this, Song Saixue’s expression fell instantly, and she said in disbelief, “Do you think I’m like you? You’re so bold you’d even dare to provoke Wan Dongyang, but I wouldn’t dare cross him.”

Liu Qishuang was amused by the look on her face. He didn’t know what there was to be afraid of when it came to Wan Dongyang—he clearly had a very even temper.

He’d even treated them to a meal just a moment ago. This pot-bread shop had just opened, and business had been booming these past few days—it must taste pretty good.

The crispy bread in his hand was still warm, so Liu Qishuang quickly broke off a piece for Song Saixue, who took it without a moment’s hesitation—but couldn’t resist teasing him. “This was meant just for you.”

“Well, there are two of us, and he bought two, so obviously it’s one for each of us.” Liu Qishuang glared at her, thinking she might as well not eat it, but the girl wasted no time and had already taken a bite.

“It’s really delicious.” Now that she had something to eat, Song Saixue stopped teasing him. Liu Qishuang chewed carefully and couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

The flour for these pot-shaped buns must have been mixed with cooked vegetable oil and eggs; not only did they have a faint egg aroma, but they were also different from ordinary flour cakes—they had a pale yellow color, and while the outside was crispy, the inside was exceptionally soft and flaky.

They were indeed delicious.

Once they’d sold out, the two didn’t linger. Having earned nearly forty wen, they happily ate and played their way home.

Being around the same age and close friends, they naturally had nothing to hide from each other. On the way home, Song Saixue asked him a barrage of questions out of curiosity.

She didn’t understand—hadn’t Liu Qishuang’s family arranged for him to marry Wan Changqing? How had it suddenly become Wan Dongyang instead?

Liu Qishuang had by now learned to keep his feelings to himself; he didn’t reveal everything to her. He only told her that he had never intended to get involved with Wan Changqing—that whole affair had been purely his mother’s one-sided enthusiasm—and as for his relationship with Wan Dongyang, he’d just been brushing it off with jokes.

But he wasn’t exactly stringing people along—because he didn’t know himself.

He didn’t know if Wan Dongyang had been so kind to him lately out of pity or for some other reason. After all, Wan Dongyang had seen with his own eyes how he’d nearly worked himself to death in the old forest just to earn a few coins to buy his grandfather some good tonics. But he was quick on his feet and figured that even if it was out of pity, it didn’t really matter.

Sister Chen is pitiful too—why hasn’t Wan Dongyang given her any silver?

So, even if it was out of pity, as long as Wan Dongyang only felt sorry for him, that was fine too.

The two of them had already agreed yesterday that for the next few days, they would go out in the morning to sell Chen Ai and calamus, then return at noon to rest and do needlework at the Liu household.

Song Saixue’s mother was quite skilled at needlework; she’d been teaching her from the age of ten. Now, she not only knew how to make clothes and shoes but could also do some simple embroidery—a major asset when it came time to arrange a marriage.

After all, these were skills that could earn cash.

The two arrived home at noon. Song Saixue went back to fetch her sewing basket and, without a moment’s delay, headed straight to the Liu household. The sun was even brighter today than yesterday; only a few white clouds lingered on the mountain peaks. Looking up, they saw nothing but blue sky.

The two sat under the eaves by the kitchen door. With a ditch nearby, a cool breeze constantly swirled around them. Cleaned fruit lay on the stool in front of them; they’d take a bite every now and then, their mouths watering with each bite. Even though the sun was blazing today, they didn’t feel particularly hot.

“Saixue, you’re so smart.” Liu Qishuang had bought some fine fabric, so naturally he couldn’t use it for sewing right away—if he messed it up, it would be a waste. Song Saixue had plenty of fabric scraps on hand, which were perfect for teaching him.

He had previously only known that the sachet looked like a zongzi, but didn’t know how to make one. He’d only ever been able to make a simple pouch shape, but shaping it like a zongzi turned out to be surprisingly easy.

It turned out all he had to do was cut a triangular piece of fabric with three sides of equal length, place it with the wrong side facing out, bring the three corners together, sew the two adjacent sides together, leaving a small opening at the third corner, then turn it right side out, stuff it with filling, and finally close the opening.

“I’ve got it.” Liu Qishuang really had figured it out; he thought it was actually pretty simple.

Over the past couple of days, the two of them had gone out to harvest aged mugwort and calamus, setting some aside at home, and they’d also picked quite a few wildflowers to dry—all of which came in handy now.

Scented pouches are traditionally filled with cotton, with aromatic herbs placed in the center, but the two of them couldn’t bear to use the cotton. The only cotton in the house was inside their winter coats and quilts—and since both were essential items, they couldn’t touch them.

So they had no choice but to use dried mugwort leaves and flower petals as stuffing—which, as it turned out, smelled quite pleasant.

Once the first sachet was finished, the two held it to their noses and sniffed it for a long time. Seeing that it looked nice too, they were pleased and began making them one after another. Grandpa Liu was busy on the side as well. He had originally planned to go weed the fields, but Liu Qishuang wouldn’t let him go, so he could only stay home and sort through the white-stem reeds. Seeing the smile on his grandson’s face, a smile spread across Grandpa Liu’s face as well.

His little Shuangshuang actually loved to laugh—and he looked lovely when he did—but it was just so rare to see him smile these days. Ah.

Sighing silently, Grandpa Liu glanced toward the neighboring village. He didn’t know when that couple would return. Watching his grandson’s carefree demeanor, he thought to himself that his little Shuangshuang had grown up. If those two stayed at the Xu family’s and never came back, the child’s life would only be better.

The scented pouches were simple to make; the two of them made two or three. As their hands grew more skilled, they worked faster and faster. After an hour or two had passed, they’d made about twenty pouches of roughly the same size.

Liu Qishuang felt that was enough, so they began making handkerchiefs. Once they started on the handkerchiefs, the two of them grew quieter.

Whether it was the sachets or the handkerchiefs Song Saixue made that day, they were all meant to be sold in town. The handkerchiefs couldn’t just be plain white—they wouldn’t fetch a good price that way—so she had to embroider some patterns on them. However, since this was her first time trying to sell embroidered work for cash, she couldn’t help but feel nervous, afraid they wouldn’t sell.

As for Liu Qishuang, needless to say, he had never learned needlework—he could barely manage to mend clothes. Now, he watched intently as Song Saixue hemmed the embroidered handkerchief, carefully taking note of every step.

He was observant and dexterous, so he picked up the technique quite well—but when it came to embroidering the design, he hit a snag. It was a bit tricky to learn.

Liu Qishuang had originally planned to embroider a few grass flowers, but since he didn’t have any purple embroidery thread, he had to give up on that idea. In the end, he chose the mountain lily, a flower commonly found in the hills. He had both pink and green embroidery threads.

Once he got started, Liu Qishuang was concentrating intently on embroidering the petals when Song Saixue’s laughter rang out right beside him. Then her needle landed on the petal he’d just finished, pointing out where he’d gone wrong.

“Shuangshuang, your stitches are too messy—they look like they’re all smudged together. Don’t rush; take your time. Don’t waste this fine fabric. Oh, never mind—just stop. In a couple of days, I’ll embroider a couple of pieces for you.” Song Saixue winced at the sight; such beautiful fabric, and this kid was actually messing it up!

“I’ll do it myself,” Liu Qishuang shook his head, refusing to listen.

He thought his embroidery looked quite good—the flowers were flowers, the leaves were leaves, and the red and green were stitched together beautifully.

Song Saixue hadn’t expected him to refuse; her hands froze mid-motion. She frowned, pursed her lips, and shot him a couple of disapproving glances—but then suddenly smiled. She just didn’t let the smile escape her lips.

She knew exactly why Shuangshuang had used such fine fabric and insisted on embroidering it himself. It must be a gift for his sweetheart, hehe.

Later that evening, Song Saixue went home. Liu Qishuang tucked two small sachets into his grandfather’s pillow, then carried today’s haul into the house—but he didn’t go in to rest; he had other important business to attend to.

Most of the sachets they’d made that day were about the size of a walnut—convenient to carry on one’s person—but Liu Qishuang had also made a special one, specifically to give away on its own, so it wouldn’t get mixed up with the others.

Earlier, Song Saixue had been there the whole time, and Liu Qishuang had felt too shy to do it. Now that no one was around, he took out an unsealed sachet about the size of his fist, but as he raised his hand, he paused.

He hadn’t washed his hair in a few days, and he’d been sweating these past couple of days. No, he had to wash his hair first.

It was already getting late, so Liu Qishuang decided to make dinner first; after eating, he could wash his hair and rest peacefully. After dinner, it was clearly getting late; fiery clouds had risen on the horizon, casting a dim, yellowish glow over the village.

In mid-May, it was fine to wash one’s hair with cold water, but the water at the Liu household was mountain spring water—warm in winter and cool in summer. These past few days, it had felt even cooler. When his grandmother was alive, she’d told him never to wash his hair with cold water, even in summer, and he’d always remembered her words.

After boiling the water, Liu Qishuang realized the soapberries were almost gone. He thought about going into the mountains to find more tomorrow, but in the blink of an eye, he changed his mind.

He decided it would be better to wait until his parents returned. Picking soapberries was an important task; his parents wouldn’t stop him from going. That way, he wouldn’t have to work in the fields, and he could even gather a few other things while he was in the mountains—it was killing two birds with one stone.

Washing his hair didn’t take long. Liu Qishuang sat by the doorway, wringing out his hair with a cloth while gazing at the beautiful clouds on the horizon. When he saw his grandfather dozing against the wall, he smiled to himself. It was rare for his grandfather to have such a carefree moment; he really hoped those two wouldn’t come back.

Once his hair was mostly dry, Liu Qishuang hurried back inside. He plucked a strand of his own hair, twisting it into knot after knot until it formed a tiny ball, then tucked it into the sachet along with the mugwort and flower petals.

Liu Qishuang had never attended school and couldn’t read, but he was still familiar with certain time-honored customs. He knew exactly what it meant to give someone a strand of one’s own hair.

Two days flew by in the blink of an eye. On the fifteenth, Liu Qishuang and Song Saixue went to town for the last time to sell mugwort.

Business was particularly good that day, but unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones in the village harvesting and selling dried mugwort and calamus. Their stock was running low, and they only managed to make a little over thirty wen.

After packing up their stall, Liu Qishuang, craving some meat, went to cut another jin of marbled pork belly, and he also bought a jin of rice wine.

Whenever his mother brewed sweet rice wine, the aroma made his mouth water; he really wanted to drink that rice wine—sweet and fragrant, with just a hint of alcohol and no harsh aftertaste. Now that he had cash, he could finally enjoy it.

Since it was a holiday today, Song Saixue certainly wouldn’t be visiting the Liu family again.

After Liu Qishuang returned home, his grandfather washed two peaches for him. He popped one into his mouth but didn’t even have time to rest before heading inside to settle the accounts.

Today was the fifteenth; his parents should be back tomorrow. He had to settle the accounts and hide the cash before they returned.

He’d spent quite a bit over the past few days, but he’d also earned some cash. After adding it all up, he realized he’d spent all the cash he’d made selling wild vegetables earlier—the four liang of silver was not for daily spending, and he’d already spent thirty wen.

“No worries—I’ll earn those thirty pieces of cash back in no time.”

Liu Qishuang took out seventy copper coins and hid them in his room so they’d be handy when needed. He then buried the remaining three liang and nine taels of silver under the cabinet in his parents’ room—it was a hidden spot where his parents would never think to look.

Once the cash was safely hidden and he felt at ease, he picked up his basket and prepared to head out.

Earlier, Wan Dongyang had asked him to stop by his house on the fifteenth, but today was a major holiday. Every household would be preparing special meals, so Liu Qishuang naturally wouldn’t want to show up right at mealtime. It was now the Hour of Shen; lunch had already been eaten, and it was too early for dinner, so he wouldn’t interfere with anyone’s meal schedule—it was the perfect time.

After leaving home, Liu Qishuang didn’t go straight to the Wan family’s house. Instead, he walked up along the foot of South Mountain. When he reached the village’s paddy fields, he followed the large irrigation ditch upstream. By the time he arrived at that tung tree, he was carrying a bag of Dragon Boat Festival fruits.

He had picked these fruits especially for Wan Xiaohua; children always love eating these wild fruits.

Before Liu Qishuang even reached the Wan household, he spotted Wan Dongyang and his niece; the uncle and niece were picking Dragon Boat Festival fruits on the hill behind their house.

The Dragon Boat Festival fruits had reached full ripeness in the past few days; they looked golden, with a few even tinged with red. Just looking at them, one could tell the flesh must be sweet.

The Liu family had few fruit trees—just one peach tree and two plum trees. The peach tree bore late-season peaches that wouldn’t be ready until July, and the plums were the village’s long-established “Ma Li” variety; neither was particularly rare, as most families in the village had them.

Liu Qishuang spotted the uncle and niece; naturally, they had seen him as well. Wan Dongyang called out to them, and Liu Qishuang stopped to wait. In the blink of an eye, the two of them leaped down two terraces and reached the roadside.

As soon as they met, Wan Xiaohua shoved two egg-sized plums into Liu Qishuang’s hands. He, in turn, gave her the Dragon Boat Festival treats he was holding. Wan Xiaohua happily began eating them right away, but he didn’t eat the plums he’d been given; instead, he tucked them straight into his pocket.

After a few steps, they reached the entrance to the Wan family compound. Liu Qishuang leisurely pulled a scented pouch from his basket and handed it to Wan Xiaohua, explaining the reason.

“Wan Dongyang, these are sachets filled with dried mugwort. Everyone in your family has one. It’s thanks to Brother Wan for tending to my grandfather’s injury.”

Wan Dongyang was straightforward; as soon as he took the sachet, he held it to his nose to sniff it, showing no sign of disapproval.

Liu Qishuang felt slightly relieved and even felt a touch of smugness, but his worries returned in an instant. Now that he’d given away the small sachets, how was he going to get rid of the large one? Xiaohua was still there.

Just as Liu Qishuang was pondering how to give him the large sachet, Wan Dongyang spoke up first, calling out for him to bring him the basket.

Liu Qishuang had something on his mind. He’d been feeling anxious ever since they were approaching the Wan residence, and his thoughts had become jumbled after meeting Wan Dongyang—it wasn’t until that moment that he finally realized!

It was Wan Dongyang who had called him here today, and now that he was asking for his basket, he must be planning to give him something. When Wan Dongyang came out with the gift later, Wan Xiaohua might not follow him—and if that happened, they’d have a chance to be alone together.

He handed the basket over without hesitation. Liu Qishuang watched Wan Xiaohua’s retreating figure as she went inside, his heart filled with trepidation, until Wan Dongyang came out alone—only then did he finally feel completely at ease.

“Here you go. Inside are rice dumplings, elm samaras, and some plums. Didn’t you say last time you wanted to pick elm samaras? Take these back and share them with your grandfather.”

Elm samaras—he actually still remembered them.

It had been more than two months since the two of them had gone into the mountains together—he hadn’t expected him to still remember.

His heart began to race again. Liu Qishuang’s face flushed even before he’d handed the items over, but despite his embarrassment, he felt a newfound confidence and grew bolder.

“Wan Dongyang, here you go.”

He shoved the large scented pouch—along with a handkerchief—straight into his hands. Then, grabbing his basket, Liu Qishuang ran faster than a rabbit, vanishing in the blink of an eye around the bend ahead.

Wan Dongyang opened his hand. The sachet was one thing—it was actually quite nice—but that handkerchief—the floral pattern on it looked just like a trampled chive orchid?

“It’s actually kind of cute.”