Within days of entering the mountains, rain fell twice. Before the door, the stream raced merrily.

The spring’s flow was noticeably stronger than usual. Yan Qi carried a bucket, following Huo Ling’s example to fetch water from the spring for cooking. Soon, it was full.

The water was crystal clear, not a speck of impurity in sight, far more appealing than the well water back in the village.

He stood up and carried the bucket home. This small wooden bucket wasn’t large, easily manageable with one hand, and sufficient for a single meal.

The water jar at home still held water, but that was what Huo Ling had fetched yesterday for washing or cleaning. Yan Qi thought that since there was spring water right outside the door, it would be better to use fresh water for cooking every meal—it would be cleaner, wouldn’t it?

“Cheep cheep, cheep cheep~.”

Entering the courtyard, he spotted birds perched on the wall. He couldn’t identify the species—their tails were unusually long, and they sported more than one color—but they were happily hopping about.

Yan Qi crinkled his eyes and mimicked their chirping. Soon, the birds flapped their wings and flew away. He gazed in their direction for a while, seeing no sign of Huo Ling returning. Lowering his eyes, he went inside to work.

These days, the mountain air was damp and chilly. He noticed a few pickled cabbage stalks still in the family’s pickling jar. He planned to scoop one out to make hot soup noodles, and while he was at it, he’d take the rest out to store elsewhere. Leaving them buried at the bottom of the jar made them too hard to reach.

It was also time to empty the jar for a good scrubbing, preparing it for this winter’s pickling.

Though the household possessions were few, the tasks at hand were many. Yan Qi had his own plans, tackling a little each day. This way, even with Huo Ling away, he wouldn’t feel lonely.

At the same time, Huo Ling was trekking deep in the mountains.

Dager had just been hit on the head by a falling dead branch—probably snapped during last night’s windstorm. He kept pausing to paw at his eye. Huo Ling lifted his paw to inspect it, noticing redness where the branch had likely grazed him.

“We’ll apply some ointment when we get back.”

He patted Dager’s back, signaling him to move forward. Huo Ling bent down to tighten his leg bindings and adjusted the cloth strips tucked into his sleeves, preventing grass ticks from crawling in through either opening.

After the persistent rains, Bailong Mountain truly began to revive, fully awakening from its winter slumber. Wild mallows sprouted in patches beneath the trees on the sun-facing slopes, soon to bloom with tiny white flowers.

But picking the tender leaves before flowering meant harvesting the first wave of spring wild greens.

Thinking of how long it had been since his family had tasted fresh greens, Huo Ling paused to gather a large handful by hand. He bundled them with grass stems and tossed them into his backpack.

Where Dager passed, swathes of wild chicory lay trampled. Huo Ling paid it no mind—such greens were plentiful, and the few Dager crushed were insignificant.

The big dog copied him, pulling down a stalk, chewing it twice, then spitting it out.

Today’s main harvest was still kidney grass and pine yellow. After another half-month of boiling, they’d be much better. Some common wild greens from the mountains could fetch a good price at the town market.

He thought he could bring Yan Qi along next time. Otherwise, the ger would likely get bored staying home alone all day.

Digging wild greens didn’t require climbing trees or crossing rivers—with him around, nothing bad would happen.

Passing a large mountain stream, he could always hear the quacking of mountain sand ducks from the hollows of nearby linden trees.

This was the season when mountain ducks began laying eggs. They built nests in tree hollows, and when the adult ducks weren’t around, he could reach in and snatch one with ease.

Huo Ling had Dager stay on the opposite bank while he hopped across using stacked rocks. He checked five hollows along the shore.

One was empty—likely abandoned after being built. He took two eggs from each of the other four, collecting eight in total.

Mountain ducks lay eight or nine eggs per clutch, and hunters who knew the rules never emptied a nest.

Down in the villages, even mischievous kids who stole eggs, destroyed nests, took all the eggs, or smashed them would get a beating when they got home.

In spring, whether birds or beasts, it was the season for laying eggs and bearing young. Eggs must never be taken entirely; hunters encountering pregnant females must release them. Only thus could the great mountains sustain generation after generation, year after year.

Two hours in the mountains passed in the blink of an eye. Looking up through the canopy, he saw the sun, now mostly obscured, hanging high in the sky.

Huo Ling shook his slightly itchy collar, suspecting grasshoppers had crawled inside, and quickened his pace toward home.

He never used to return home at noon, instead eating dry rations in the mountains with Dager. Now that someone was home, things were different.

“Woof woof woof!”

Dager charged into the house barking all the way. Yan Qi, kneading dough, came out upon hearing the noise and smiled. “I thought you’d be back later. Perfect timing—once the dough’s done, it’s ready for the pot. Hungry?”

“A little.”

Huo Ling answered honestly. He noticed a smudge of flour on the ger’s nose, which the other hadn’t even noticed, and smiled gently.

Mindful of his own dirty hands, he pointed to his own nose. “Here. Wipe it off.”

“Hm?”

Yan Qi raised his hand in confusion and rubbed his nose, only to smear the flour into a bigger smudge. Seeing Huo Ling’s smile deepen, he hurried to the basin, looked at his reflection, and finally realized what a fool he’d made of himself.

After wiping the flour clean, Huo Ling also washed his hands and face, not wanting to approach his husband looking unkempt.

He pulled out the sunflower greens from his backpack and the duck eggs he’d kept tucked in his chest to avoid crushing them. “See if we can use these for lunch. If not, we’ll save them for dinner.”

Since arriving here, Yan Qi hadn’t seen many fresh wild greens. Back home, they’d already harvested several rounds by this season—any left unpicked would have toughened. Yet the tenderest young leaves still grew on Bailong Mountain, looking plump and juicy.

“These are truly fresh.”

He pinched a stem—it snapped crisply in his fingers.

He examined the duck eggs. Mountain duck eggs were smaller than domestic ones, making them less economical for salted eggs—they’d consume too much salt. “There are quite a few,” he remarked. “They’ll go limp by tomorrow, which would be a shame. Why not stir-fry them tonight and set aside some for soup?”

“Whatever you say. Everything you cook tastes delicious.”

Flattered by the compliment, Yan Qi smiled, pursing his lips.

“We’ll have pickled cabbage noodles for lunch. It’ll be ready soon.”

He carried the vegetables and eggs into the kitchen. The pickled cabbage was already shredded. He poured oil into the pot to season it before adding water to boil. While seasoning the pot, he added three dried chilies along with garlic cloves. The chilies here weren’t overly spicy, but sometimes that extra kick made all the difference. The oil released its aroma intensely.

As he waited for the water to boil, he caught sight of Huo Ling suddenly stripping off his shirt, standing bare-chested in front of the house.

The man was solidly built. From behind, his broad shoulders and narrow waist were visible, along with faint, faded scars—details Yan Qi hadn’t noticed before.

At first, the sudden sight of Huo Ling made his face flush briefly. But upon seeing the scars, that flicker of embarrassment vanished completely, replaced by a sharp pang of worry.

Of course. Who didn’t know the dangers of the mountains? Perils lurked everywhere. Having lived alone in the mountains for so long, how could he not have been injured?

Huo Ling had taken off his clothes simply because he felt something crawling on his back—a tick biting him, causing an itch. He couldn’t find it by himself, so he had no choice but to ask Yan Qi for help.

The sudden sight of the bare-chested man’s front was even more startling than his back had been moments before. Yan Qi had never realized a man’s chest could swell like that. He’d felt the man’s stomach in the night before—when the body tensed, he could feel the hard, defined lines there. In comparison, his own belly was soft and flat.

Yan Qi quickly averted his gaze, afraid to stare too long lest Huo Ling find it strange. But then Huo Ling spoke: “Check my back for ticks. If you find any, just rip them off.”

At this, Yan Qi immediately tensed.

He stepped closer to examine Huo Ling’s back. Perhaps because he rarely did farm work, and in the mountains he was wrapped up tightly year-round—even in the height of summer to ward off insects—Huo Ling was decidedly fair-skinned for a man.

This made the dark, burrowing grass ticks stand out even more conspicuously against his skin.

Though Yan Qi wasn’t afraid of insects, spotting several at once still sent a shiver down his spine.

“There are several. Don’t move. I’ll pinch them off for you.”

These grass ticks were everywhere. Beyond the Great Wall, the cold weather meant they only appeared during this season. Inside the Wall, they were even more common. Many people returning from the fields would find several clinging to their calves.

Yan Qi acted swiftly, pinching the insects with his fingernails and yanking them off. One couldn’t be slow with these bugs—if you hesitated, they’d snap off and leave their stingers embedded in the flesh. Then you’d have to pick them out with a needle, inevitably drawing blood.

To get a clear look, he leaned in close, his warm breath brushing against Huo Ling’s skin, his soft fingers occasionally brushing lightly over it.

Huo Ling silently tightened his abdomen and bent his waist slightly.

However, one insect had burrowed too deep. Yan Qi examined it, hesitated, and finally said to Huo Ling, “Wait a moment. I’ll fetch a torch to burn this one out.”

With that, he went inside to fetch a sewing needle. Huo Ling took the opportunity to pull his trousers up a bit, glancing down to confirm that the ger couldn’t see anything before relaxing.

While it was natural for a couple to have some reaction when together, getting so worked up just because his husband caught a few ticks was a bit ridiculous.

Yan Qi dashed out and returned in a hurry. He heated the needle over the fire, then jabbed it into the bug’s rear end. The insect recoiled in pain, and he seized the moment to crush it flat before flicking it into the fire pit.

Even after that, he wasn’t entirely satisfied. He had Huo Ling turn around again, holding him up to the light for another careful inspection. So absorbed in his examination, he’d almost forgotten Huo Ling was naked. “Are there any more on your chest?” he asked earnestly. “Turn around so I can take another look.”

“No need.”

Huo Ling’s voice tightened slightly. “There shouldn’t be any more.”

“We can’t be careless about this. One burrowing into the flesh is bad enough.”

Yan Qi frowned, circling around to stand before Huo Ling. His gaze drifted downward, and before his brain could catch up, his mouth blurted out, “Are your pants tied tight? What about your legs?”

The question hung in the air as he fell silent, especially since something about Huo Ling’s pants seemed off. There was a noticeable bulge lower down; the fabric was tented and strained.

He recalled that the bulge had been more pronounced from the side earlier. After several intimate encounters, he knew exactly what this meant.

Huo Ling always considered himself thick-skinned, but even he couldn’t bear the embarrassment now. He quickly turned away. “Really, there’s nothing. I… I’ll go inside to get dressed. It’s a bit cold.”

“Ah, okay.”

Yan Qi responded instinctively, then froze in place. Snapping back to reality, he hurried back to the stove to keep himself busy and forget what had just happened.

Truthfully, it was hard to forget. That image kept flickering before his eyes, sparking even more thoughts.

The ger was deeply troubled, rubbing his face hard against the large pot.

Having wasted so much time, the pickled cabbage in the pot was now overcooked. Fortunately, he hadn’t added the noodles yet; otherwise, he’d likely be left with only noodle soup, nothing but a slurry to eat.

He tasted the broth, added a pinch of salt, and after a couple of sips, decided it was just right. Only then did Yan Qi wash his hands and begin tearing noodles into the pot.

The noodles cooked quickly, rising to the surface as the tangy aroma filled the air. Satisfied, Yan Qi ladled out two bowls.

One bowl was enough for him. The other could stay in the pot without getting cold, and Huo Ling could have seconds after finishing his first bowl.

“Dinner’s ready.”

He called out into the room, wiping down the stove top as he spoke. The rice bowl beside him steamed hotly, unaware that Huo Ling inside was also covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

After a long moment, he exhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and replied, “Coming right up!”