The old man’s words were vague, but which family in Shuangjing Village could truly be called wealthy?

It could only be the landowner Shen family.

If it involved the landowner, even losing a valuable bowl would warrant calling the constables. Huo Ling instantly lost interest, unwilling to pry further. He just wanted to finish his business and return to the village.

He followed the Mu family’s husband to the carpentry shed in the backyard, where Old Man Mu was working. He explained his purpose.

Old Man Mu chuckled, “Marriage is a joyous occasion, indeed! It calls for two major purchases. Come, let’s examine the timber you brought.”

Changlin County was mountainous, blessed with abundant timber. Furniture production here was more economical than elsewhere, attracting many traveling merchants to trade in this business.

Specialized “rafters” transported thousands of logs via the great river waterways into the interior.

Returning to the timber, the most common types were elm and pine. Pine was cheaper but soft, losing durability over time. For something presentable, elm was the choice.

Freshly cut wood was too wet to be usable; it needed to be seasoned for at least a year.

Carpenters like Old Man Mu would stockpile timber in their backyard. If a customer didn’t bring their own lumber, they’d have to use his stash and pay extra for the material.

But to save money, most people would gather a few strong, willing young men they knew and head to the mountains to cut wood. After all, every household had a large enough yard to store a few logs.

Storing timber meant it could be used for making items when children married or when daughters or sons were betrothed. Building a new house at home absolutely required a sturdy beam.

And then there was the matter of coffin wood. Many prepared it early, waiting only for advanced age to craft a coffin to their liking, ready for use upon passing.

Old Man Mu stepped forward, circling the log Huo Ling had brought twice. He raised his hand and tapped it. “No problem, it’s usable. You mountain-hunters have sharp eyes—you always find top-notch timber. It’s well-seasoned too; it won’t crack when made into chests or cabinets.”

Huo Ling nodded. “But if we decide on it today, when can we collect it?”

“Come back in ten days, and it’ll be ready.”

Satisfied with the timber, Old Man Mu called him forward to choose designs.

Huo Ling gestured, requesting a flat-cornered chest with a built-in cabinet and a large wardrobe that could accommodate a brass lock.

Both would be placed in the bedroom. The former would store daily necessities, while the latter could hold bedding and clothing. For an ordinary household, these two pieces were sufficient.

Should possessions increase later, or children arrive, more could be acquired then.

As he listened, Old Man Mu traced lines on a plank with charcoal, the markings likely decipherable only to himself. Finished, he tucked the charcoal stick behind his ear.

“As fellow villagers, I’ll give you a fair price. Both pieces together—eight taels and a half of silver, with a twenty percent deposit.”

Huo Ling hesitated, hoping to haggle further.

“Uncle, couldn’t you waive that half tael?”

“You brought your own materials. Otherwise, ten taels wouldn’t cover it! You know as well as I do—these two pieces would cost a fortune at the town carpenter’s, and they won’t be as easy to deal with as me.”

Still, there was room to haggle. After much wrangling, Huo Ling managed to knock off another five wen. He then traded for a new wooden basin—ready-made, hooped, watertight, and ready to carry.

He had his own basin up in the mountains, but it wasn’t suitable for Yan Qi.

He bought it today; tomorrow, he’d carry it up the mountain. Next time he hauled furniture, it would lighten his load.

“Thank you, Old Man Mu. I’ll bring the silver when the time comes.”

“Alright. Take care on your way.”

Old Man Mu, pleased with the new business, saw Huo Ling out to the road. From afar, he spotted the black-clad constable approaching from the Shen household’s direction. However, the constable was taking another route and wouldn’t pass by the Mu residence.

“Didn’t see them arresting anyone to take to town.”

Old Man Mu tiptoed to get a better look, then muttered to himself.

Huo Ling was puzzled too, but who would dare ask?

Seeing the constable heading out of the village, he waited until the man was gone before leaving himself.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

On the Huo family rooftop, cooking smoke rose steadily.

Yan Qi spotted Huo Ling arriving just as the first dry-baked flatbread came off the griddle. He sliced off a corner with his knife, divided it among the family members, and offered a piece to Huo Ling, who had approached.

“Try some—it’s best when hot.”

Huo Ling replied, “I haven’t washed my hands yet.”

Yan Qi paused, then offered with understanding, “Then go wash them first?”

Huo Ling choked on his words, stymied in his attempt. With a thick skin, he spoke up, “That’s too much trouble. Just hold it out. I’ll take a bite.”

This was practically asking to be fed. Yan Qi glanced around. Seeing neither his brother nor sister-in-law nor his niece nearby, he pursed his lips and moved forward slightly.

This time, Huo Ling couldn’t help but smile. He opened his mouth and bit off a corner. After chewing a couple of times, he mumbled with his mouth full, “Made with cornmeal? This pancake is thick and substantial, fluffy inside, with a crispy, toasty crust on the outside.”

Noticing the large portion left, he added curiously, “There’s even a pattern on the outside.”

Yan Qi’s voice held nostalgia. “I learned this from my mother. I just pressed it with the rolling pin—it gives a nice color when cooked and makes it crispier.”

“It’s been ages since I last made these. I’ll fry one first to test. If you like it, I’ll make a few more. Besides what you’re taking, we’ll have enough for a couple of days at home.”

With that, he offered Huo Ling the remaining piece in his hand. Huo Ling didn’t hesitate, taking two big bites before grabbing the last piece and walking off with it in his mouth.

Yan Qi wiped her hands on a clean cloth, then carried the remaining pancakes over for Huo Feng’s family to taste.

In the past, Ye Suping had also made flatbreads for Huo Ling to take up the mountain, but they were round, coarse-flour cakes that kept well. Before eating, though, they had to be soaked thoroughly in soup or washed down with water first—biting into them dry was especially hard on the teeth.

The cornmeal was made into steamed corn cakes instead—dense and filling. During wild vegetable season, chopped greens were mixed in, and a sprinkle of salt added flavor.

Yan Qi’s flatbread was something she’d never attempted before, so she’d watched and learned a few tricks today.

The principles were essentially the same, but each person’s technique differed, resulting in distinct flavors. It wasn’t a matter of one being better than the other.

The flatbreads were passed around, and everyone who tasted them praised them.

Yan Qi felt encouraged. Returning to the kitchen, he prepared to scoop more flour with the gourd ladle.

Huo Ling helped him bring out the flour sack, scooping out a substantial amount.

“This should make seven or eight flatbreads. Take five with you, and I’ll fry up some eggplant sauce for you, too. You could take more, but it might spoil.”

This would likely be the last time. Next time, he could follow him up the mountain and enjoy fresh, homemade food every day.

He poured water into the flour, stirred it into a slurry, kneaded it into dough, covered it, and set it aside to rest.

Yan Qi turned to chop the soaked dried eggplant strips into fine dice. The eggplant sauce needed simmering for a while, so he had to start early to avoid monopolizing the stove and delaying the family meal.

Once the pot was hot, he added a generous amount of vegetable oil—both because eggplant absorbs oil and because more oil would help the sauce keep longer.

Though it seemed like a lot, knowing Huo Ling would rely solely on this for his meals over the next dozen days, spread out across every meal, it didn’t feel wasteful.

Amid the rich, oily aroma, Huo Ling was called inside to consult the calendar with his brother and sister-in-law.

Huo Feng had left early for the village shaman Li Xianpo’s home. Approaching seventy, Li Xianpo was renowned in Xiashan Village as a venerable elder. Her household revered the household guardian spirit, and she possessed skills in divination and fortune-telling, drawing frequent visitors from neighboring villages.

Choosing an auspicious date was a minor matter, and since they were fellow villagers, the result came quickly.

“The fortune-teller picked two dates for our family to discuss. There aren’t many good days in March—only the 18th and the 26th are suitable for weddings.”

Ye Suping calculated, “The 18th seems a bit rushed. Today is already the 6th, but it’s not impossible.”

She smiled. “Second son, you’ll come down the mountain on the fifteenth. We’ll arrange everything between the two dates. You just focus on being the groom—no need to worry about anything else.”

Huo Feng also agreed that the 26th of March was too far off. Better to act sooner than later.

“In another ten days or so, the weather will warm up. By then, Qi’er will have recovered and can accompany you up the mountain—perfect timing.”

Huo Ling also felt the 26th was too late; it would take him two trips down the mountain. His brother and sister-in-law’s words struck a chord.

“Then let’s set it for the 18th. That will also work for Old Man Mu’s arrangements. Thank you for your trouble, Brother and Sister-in-law.”

With the date settled, the whole family was filled with joy.

As the eldest sister-in-law and the only senior member in the household, Ye Suping took charge of all the arrangements. Having never handled such matters before, she feared she might botch it.

That afternoon, she took her needlework to visit Qi Hongmei at the Qi household. She inquired about the arrangements for the banquet when the Qi family’s second son married Jin-shi—details like which cook to hire, how many helpers to enlist, and how many tables, chairs, and dishes to borrow.

The Huo family suffered from having few relatives. From the old patriarch down to Old Father Huo, there were no brothers. Their wives were also from other villages, and after the elders passed away, ties with those places grew distant.

If they had many relatives, many worries would vanish—people would rush to help without being asked.

By evening, after everyone had eaten, Yang Qingsheng brought wine to sit and chat with Huo Ling.

Learning the Huo family had set a date, he smiled and said, “My return today is perfectly timed, saving my family the trouble of sending someone to town with the news.”

Huo Ling poured him more wine.

“It’s been ages since I saw your sister-in-law and your son Dajun. How have they been?”

“They’re both well. Just last night, Qingman and I were discussing what gifts to prepare for you and your sister-in-law. As for Dajun—don’t even get me started. That little rascal, I don’t know who he takes after. He’s always chasing cats or teasing dogs. I end up chasing after him three times a day to give him a good spanking.”

Yang Qingsheng, reaching the vexing part of his story, raised his wine bowl to clink with Huo Ling’s before taking a couple of sips.

“Now that’s a bit unfair. Surely he didn’t take after your sister-in-law? Have you forgotten how mischievous you were as a child?”

Yang Qingsheng grinned. “You weren’t much better. If you have a ger, that’s one thing, but if it’s a boy, just wait—he’ll be climbing roofs and tearing tiles off the roof.”

After drinking, he picked up his chopsticks. The two dishes on the table, both arranged by Yan Qi, were tiger salad—a mix of scallions, cilantro, and green chilies—and five-spice boiled peanuts. Yang Qingsheng ate and sighed with satisfaction. “Clearly, your fortune has arrived—not even the heavens could stop it. Qi-ger is so capable. Calling him a master in the kitchen is no exaggeration. These side dishes he’s mixed—they’re absolutely delicious.”

He then asked, “Can he drink? If he can, let’s bring him in to have some.”

Out here beyond the pass, many women can drink, and quite a few can hold their liquor better than any man.

“He’s on medication. How could he drink? And it’s not just him—I promised him I wouldn’t drink too much either.”

The bowl of wine before Huo Ling would have been more than half gone in the past, but now over half remained.

“Oh my, already being monitored?”

Huo Ling lifted his bowl to clink with Yan Qingsheng’s, teasing him with a laugh, “As if your sister-in-law wouldn’t keep tabs on you. Eat up—neither wine nor food can stop that mouth of yours.”

They drank for an hour. Yan Qi remained in the east room, sewing garments by lamplight with Ye Suping.

He sewed a cotton-lined undershirt, while Ye Suping cut out shoe patterns. She had just traced Yan Qi’s shoe imprint, intending to make a pair for him to wear on their wedding day.

Exchanging shoe patterns between sisters-in-law was common practice. Yan Qi didn’t refuse, thinking he’d make her a pair in return.

He could also piece together the fabric scraps Huo Ling brought back last time to make a handkerchief for Yingzi, adding two small embroidered flowers.

Dager lay listlessly at their feet, letting Huo Ying Dong comb his fur from side to side. His ears twitched occasionally, clearly alert to sounds from the west room.

When footsteps approached from that direction, Dager sprang upright. Everyone in the household knew Yang Qingsheng well, so they all went out together to see him off.

The Huos and Yangs lived within walking distance. Moonlight dusted the path with silver frost. Huo Feng had intended for Huo Ling to accompany them, worried that Yang Qingsheng might have had too much to drink. The latter waved it off: “Not a drop too much—barely half a liter. Brother Dafeng, you go back. I’ll stroll home myself. It’ll help sober me up and spare my parents their nagging.”

He also bid farewell to Ye Suping and Yan Qi, who both politely nodded to him.

After seeing Yang Qingsheng off, it was already late. Huo Ling had to rise early tomorrow for his mountain duties. The family said little more, washing up and retiring for the night.

Yan Qi intended to bring the plates inside, but found Huo Ling had already cleared them away.

“Did Brother Yan enjoy the meal?”

“He praised your cooking skills, saying it rivaled the dishes at town eateries. Looked like he cleaned his plate.”

They rinsed the bowls and plates clean before stowing them away. After washing up, sleepiness crept over them.

Yan Qi rubbed his eyes and double-checked the items Huo Ling needed to take up the mountain tomorrow.

A jar of eggplant sauce, tightly sealed—a spoonful would pair perfectly with flatbread or porridge. Five large, thick pancakes, substantial and filling; each cut into four pieces. Given Huo Ling’s appetite, he’d easily eat one whole pancake in a day.

That seemed insufficient, especially with Dager around. After supper, he added an extra pot of steamed corn buns—no yeast required.

There was also lamp oil and a newly bought wooden basin. To avoid forgetting anything, she placed all the loose items inside the basin.

“There aren’t many things. We can’t lose them. Come to bed.”

Huo Ling shook out the quilt and called for someone to come over. Their other bedding was completely unused, neatly folded into a square and tucked away at the foot of the kang.

Yan Qi obediently sat on the edge of the kang and took off his shoes. Yet he heard Huo Ling ask in a slightly hesitant tone, “Among those who went to the Shen family in Shuangjing Village back then, was there anyone you knew personally?”