Only after making sure he’d eaten the dim sum his grandfather had set aside did Liu Qishuang fetch some water to wash her hands and feet before going to bed.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he suddenly sensed some commotion in the courtyard. Startled, he snapped his eyes open, only to hear his father’s curses echoing through the yard.

“These blind, thieving heavens, always tormenting my Xu family.”

In the darkness, Xu Shifan’s voice was particularly shrill and terrifying.

“Why are you back already?” Any trace of sleepiness vanished completely. Liu Qishuang didn’t even have time to wonder why his father had suddenly returned—hadn’t they agreed he’d be away helping out for a few days?—before he instinctively clasped his hands in front of his chest and bowed toward the heavens.

He prayed to Heaven with all his heart, begging it to hear his father’s words and bring him some retribution. Anyone who dared to curse the Heavenly Lord deserved a lesson. All the while, he kept a close watch on the sounds coming from the courtyard outside.

When he sensed his father heading toward the outhouse, he no longer had time to converse with the Heavenly Lord. His heart leapt into his throat, and, terrified, he immediately rolled over and got out of bed and hurried to the outhouse himself.

“Father, why are you back?” As soon as he reached the courtyard, Liu Qishuang called out to see what his father was up to. His father’s voice rang out immediately.

“Do I need your permission to come back? You’re nothing but a thorn in my side all day long. I bet this mess is your doing, too, you jinx.”

Xu Shifan’s curses rang out continuously, but it seemed he wasn’t just scolding his son. Liu Qishuang had initially thought his father was venting after being upset by someone else. Fearing his father might take out his anger on his grandfather, he had hurriedly gotten out of bed, thinking that if his father needed to vent by hitting someone, he should hit him instead—that way, he wouldn’t have the strength left to hit his grandfather.

When he heard the gurgling, pig-like grunts coming from the outhouse, Liu Qishuang’s eyes widened in shock. A flash of delight crossed his mind, and without paying any attention to what his father was yelling, he hurried toward the outhouse.

But hadn’t his aunt and cousin carried their piglet away half a month ago? How had his father managed to bring it back?

“Father, did you buy a piglet?” Liu Qishuang asked, feigning ignorance. He knew full well the pig wasn’t bought—when his father left, he’d only carried a sack of grain and a string of coins. Where would he have gotten the cash to buy a piglet? His grandparents on his father’s side certainly wouldn’t have given them a single wen.

He was hoping his father had gotten into a fight with them over there and demanded their pig back.

Xu Shifan was in a foul mood right now; even the sound of his son’s voice was enough to set him off. He kicked the pigpen door with his foot and snapped, “Where would we get the cash to buy one? Your cousin’s leg is injured, and your aunt has to tend to him—she doesn’t have time to gather pig fodder or cook their meals!”

Oh, it really was wishful thinking.

It turned out his cousin had been in an accident. His father wasn’t to blame—it was the other family’s fault. He’d often cursed Xu Yaozu under his breath, hoping heaven would see to it that the Xu family continued to suffer.

Xu Shifan was genuinely furious. It was bad enough that the family’s piglet had been taken away, but now he had to help raise it. Although he didn’t have to worry about the pig feed or the straw for the pen, his ger was in charge of this pig, leaving less time for other chores. He was older now and had plenty of uses—just going into the mountains to forage could earn the family a decent sum.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Just as Xu Shifan was about to kick his son—who had just entered the outhouse—a few times to vent his frustration, his wife heard the noise and came out.

“Brother Fan, is that you?” Liu Congxiang’s voice was much gentler than usual. As soon as she spoke, she stepped into the outhouse, then, mumbling and hesitating, pulled Xu Shifan out into the darkness.

The moment they stepped outside, Liu Congxiang’s voice rang out again in the courtyard. She told Liu Qishuang to boil some hot water for her before going to bed.

“Alright.” Liu Qishuang replied promptly. Just moments ago, he had thought he was in for a beating, but now he was overjoyed that she only had to boil a pot of hot water; even that single word was spoken with delight.

After he left, Grandpa Liu—who had dared not make a sound until then—could no longer resist coughing a few times, then wiped his face.

“Shuangshuang, you must marry soon. Find someone who can protect you. Go now.”

The fastest way to boil water was to use firewood that burned easily and fiercely. In no time, Liu Qishuang had boiled a pot of hot water and hurried back to his room.

Once back in bed, Liu Qishuang began to worry that something might go wrong with the visit to the Wan family. He was also preoccupied with the loquat flowers the Jiang family had requested, and with so much on his mind, he couldn’t fall asleep right away.

When his mother’s strange, eerie cries—which often rang out in the dead of night—began again, he instinctively covered his ears and whispered to the heavens: “He called you a thief, so don’t give him any children, okay? Not just boys—don’t give him any girls either.”

As sleep began to overtake him, Liu Qishuang added, “I’m calling on the heavens, so please send me a husband who can beat my father.”

He felt that simply cutting off his father’s escape route wouldn’t be enough; he’d need some help too. As a young ger, he naturally lacked the strength of a grown man, and since his parents wouldn’t let him eat meat, he was even weaker. If he wanted to take down his father, he’d have to wait until his father was past fifty—and he certainly couldn’t wait that long.

Besides, if he really had to wait until his father was well past fifty to take him down, that would give his father far too long to enjoy his life—and that simply wouldn’t do.

With the Wan family’s affairs on his mind, Liu Qishuang woke up right at the hour of Mao the next day. Looking at the pitch-black room, he knew it was still early, but he dared not go back to sleep, for fear his father might wake up and forbid him from going to the Wan household. He moved quietly, quickly dressed, and got out of bed. He slung his back basket over his back, grabbed his sickle, and prepared to head out.

Just as he stepped out of the courtyard gate, Liu Qishuang heard his grandfather’s cough. Having suffered from a cold himself and experienced that painful, intermittent coughing, he knew exactly how agonizing it was. Sometimes, before one cough had even subsided, another would follow, leaving him gasping for breath, as if his heart and lungs were about to be coughed right out—it was truly excruciating.

He only felt this discomfort in fits and starts, but his grandfather started coughing at the first hour of the day and would go on for nearly an entire hour; he also suffered during the day. How could anyone endure that?

Liu Qishuang walked a long way with his worries weighing on his mind, yet he could still hear the faint sound of coughing. Suddenly, he no longer wanted to waste his time in the mountains; he thought he might as well pluck up the courage to ask the Wan family for some loquat flowers.

Aunt Wan was a kind woman, unlike those villagers who were used to playing favorites and loved to tease people; she probably wouldn’t give him a hard time on purpose. If he could get the loquat flowers back early, his grandfather would suffer a little less.

The weather was rarely good in February and March; most of the time, the sky was hazy. Now that it was the end of the month, there wasn’t even a sliver of moonlight to illuminate the earth. But Liu Qishuang couldn’t worry about that; she set off in the dark for the Wan family’s home.

When she arrived at the Wan household, there was still not a glimmer of light in the sky. Liu Qishuang didn’t dare knock and disturb them, so she simply sat down by the entrance to the Wan family’s courtyard and rested there.

Though the Wan residence was a mud-walled house, the walls had been plastered with some substance that made them look as neat as a brick house—clean and smooth, without a single dent or crack. Moreover, the tall structure gave the place an imposing air.

Not only were the houses well-built, but the compound was also surrounded by sturdy, towering walls. The gate was made of heavy, solid wood, with smooth stone steps leading from the entrance to the roadside. A wide canopy extended over the gate, resembling a small pavilion, providing shelter; the entrance was always sheltered.

The entire house exuded grandeur and a strong sense of security; petty thieves generally wouldn’t dare to visit such a home, so one could sleep soundly inside. Half an hour passed, and the eastern sky began to glow with the first light of dawn, bringing a faint radiance to the surroundings.

Liu Qishuang opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was the towering loquat tree in front of the Wan family’s gate. No one knew how old this loquat tree was; it had been this tall for as long as he could remember. It seemed to reach up to the sky, its branches stretching out for several zhang. The intertwining branches formed natural “benches” and “chairs,” and the ones reaching down to the ground could be used as swings—you could just grab hold and swing back and forth—it must have been so much fun.

For the children of the village, a big tree was an indispensable part of their childhood. When Liu Qishuang was young, he spent so much time up in the trees that it felt as if he had grown there, playing and romping with the other village children. Unfortunately, those good days lasted only a few years, and he could barely remember them now.

Putting his playful thoughts aside, Liu Qishuang’s gaze fell upon the loquat branches and leaves. The sky was dim at the moment, and he couldn’t make out whether there were any loquat flowers left. He could only hope that if there were any left, he might dare to ask the Wan family for them—and that they would be willing to give them to him. Then his grandfather could have his medicine tonight, and perhaps he’d feel a little better by tomorrow morning.

If all else failed, he would have no choice but to make a trip into the mountains.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

He felt his body lurch backward. Just as Liu Qishuang thought, “Oh no,” he felt something press against his back.

Wan Dongyang planted a foot on his back, pushing him back into a seated position. Then, Wan Dongyang’s somewhat cold, stern voice rang out from behind him. “You’re here this early?”

He turned his head to look at Wan Dongyang behind him; the man seemed as tall as a small mountain. He quickly stood up—Wan Dongyang finally seemed a bit shorter, no longer like a mountain—but he still had to look up to speak to him. “I just arrived.”

Liu Qishuang used the village’s standard polite phrase for greeting guests: no matter how long he’d been waiting, he’d “just arrived”; no matter whether he’d eaten or not, he’d “just put down his bowl.” Wan Dongyang didn’t press him further on the timing. He glanced at the gear Liu-ger had brought and shifted his body to gesture for him to enter.

Liu Qishuang moved quickly, lifting his foot carefully. He thought to himself that the Wan family must be terribly superstitious—the door was set so high that he had to take a huge stride and lift his leg high to step through.

Once inside the Wan family courtyard, Liu Qishuang finally got a clear look at what Wan Dongyang was carrying. He was holding a rather large pigeon cage filled with several pigeons—presumably destined for the town’s restaurant.

The Wan family raised a flock of pigeons. Pigeon meat was quite expensive, and they not only sold it to villagers but also had connections in town, bringing in a decent income each year.

Wan Dongyang furrowed his brow slightly, perhaps annoyed that Liu Qishuang had arrived so early.

“My mother and the others aren’t up yet.”

He had indeed arrived too early. Liu Qishuang felt a bit at a loss for a moment; he hadn’t expected the Wan family to sleep in so late. It was already getting light out—it was high time they got up.

“Let’s go,” Wan Dongyang said again, setting down the pigeon cage he was holding and turning toward the house.

Liu Qishuang followed behind Wan Dongyang, unconsciously quickening his pace. As he watched Wan Dongyang’s back, he felt a surge of envy. The man was tall with long legs, striding out great distances with each step. Liu-ger, on the other hand, was short with stubby legs; if he didn’t pick up the pace, he’d be left behind in no time.

The Wan family’s courtyard was truly vast—probably several dozen paces across. The distance from the courtyard gate to the front door was likely over a hundred meters; it wasn’t a place one could reach in just a few steps.

As she followed behind him, Liu Qishuang wondered whether she should explain yesterday’s incident to Wan Dongyang again.

While Liu Qishuang was wrestling with this dilemma, the two had already reached the entrance to the Wan family compound. Wan Dongyang shouted toward the house, “Mother, wake up! The Liu family’s ger is here.”

Without a moment’s delay after his shout, Wan Dongyang simply walked away. Liu Qishuang watched him reach the courtyard gate and step outside, a smile lingering on his lips the whole time.

The Liu family’s ger.

He liked it. He liked it when people called him “the Liu family’s ger.”