”Good heavens, is that really a dog? Not a bear coming down the mountain?”

Dager had been left outside the Zhou residence by Huo Ling to run free, provoking the neighborhood dogs to bark in turn. Upon hearing the whistle, it immediately turned back, ran to its master, and wagged its tail, awaiting commands.

Matchmaker Zhao had never seen such a dog before and was so startled she took several steps back.

“When it stands up, it must be taller than a person, right?”

In all her years of matchmaking, she’d never seen anyone bring a dog to a matchmaking meeting. No wonder he was still single at his age—it was no wonder at all.

Yan Qi, however, showed no fear. He squatted down and examined the dog closely for a long while, letting the large animal sniff around him. Zhao Guanmei watched in amazement.

“Broad back, erect ears, tail pointing skyward, all-black coat with white paws.”

His interest piqued, he looked up at Huo Ling and remarked, “My father once said a hound that treads snow with all four paws and leaves no prey alive is one in a hundred. Unless it was born to your own dog, you must have paid a hefty price.”

Huo Ling was surprised by his keen eye and knowledge of dog appraisal, raising his hand to show the number.

“What do you think—is it worth it?”

“Worth it. Back home, you couldn’t buy a dog of this caliber for that price. You’d need to add another twenty or thirty percent to stand a chance.”

Huo Ling’s expression relaxed, a sense of relief washing over him at finding a kindred spirit.

After all, when his elder brother had heard he’d traded a wild ginseng root worth over ten taels for a newly weaned Dager at the market, he’d nearly broken his legs.

If he were to live with this man in the future, it wouldn’t be so bad.

“My name is Huo Ling. I’m the second son at home. I’m not a hunter, but a mountain guide on Bailong Mountain.”

Huo Ling motioned for Yan Qi to rise and gaze at the distant, rolling mountains.

The peaks were perpetually crowned with snow, stretching endlessly, traversing the vast forests. Their undulating form resembled a dragon, hence the name White Dragon.

Yan Qi stared, utterly captivated.

He wasn’t naturally the most outgoing sort, yet now he found himself drawn in by the man’s words, chatting away as if no one else existed.

“What’s your name?”

“Yan Qi.”

Huo Ling silently repeated the two characters.

Villagers rarely knew more than a few characters; there was no need to explain which character it was, knowing how to pronounce it sufficed.

“I know you’ve lost your family. I lost my parents early, too. But precisely because of that, we who remain must live well, so they can rest easy in heaven.”

Yan Qi’s eyes suddenly burned hot at these words.

He lowered his gaze and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

But the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Only after both sleeves were soaked did he finally sniffle to a halt, then exhale a long breath.

This brief yet cathartic cry cleared his mind.

He heard Huo Ling ask if he was willing to marry.

He nodded. “I am.”

Huo Ling turned his face sideways, lowering his gaze to study Yan Qi’s features.

Yan Qi didn’t know if this was what they called fate, but he knew that at least, looking at him like this, they seemed to suit each other.

Besides, they both loved dogs. At least after marriage, they wouldn’t be left staring at each other in awkward silence, with nothing to say.

“If you become my husband, you must accompany me into the mountains to herd cattle. There are tigers, wolves, and snakes in the mountains. We might only come down once every ten days or a month at most. Are you afraid?”

Yan Qi finally lifted his head and met Huo Ling’s gaze. Seeing the man’s earnest expression, devoid of pretense, he was shaken. He hadn’t expected the other to genuinely wish to take him as his husband.

A few paces away, the large dog stood imposing, its wet nose twitching in the wind.

Yan Qi knew that whether he married or not was never truly his decision. But if that person was the man standing before him…

He answered decisively, “I’m not afraid.”

Receiving this affirmation, Huo Ling wasted no words. He stepped forward and signaled to Madam Zhao: “Please witness this, matchmaker. This is the one.”

“Excellent! Absolutely splendid!”

Madam Zhao praised him twice, beaming like a flower.

“Today, I’ve truly fulfilled my duty.”

Zhou Chengzu felt deeply gratified. While instructing his wife and daughter-in-law to invite the matchmaker inside for tea, he heard Huo Ling mention needing their oxcart to go to Ma’er Village to find a doctor. He promptly called his son to bring the cart.

“It’s best to get it checked. Don’t let a minor ailment turn into a major one.”

The oxcart soon arrived at the gate. Huo Ling took the money pouch his elder brother had fetched from home and tucked it into his bosom.

Turning back, he saw the young ger standing alone before the tall cart, struggling to climb aboard. Huo Ling reached out to help him up.

Moments ago, they were strangers—it would have been awkward to assist him publicly. But now they were husband and husband, so there was no need for such reservations.

But the ger shrank back, his voice faint: “I’m dirty.”

His clothes had long since lost their original color, his hair matted in tangles. The hardships of fleeing famine were one thing, but these past days had been a blur—he hadn’t even found time to wash in a stream. Looking down at himself now, he felt too ashamed to let anyone touch him.

Huo Ling paid no heed. He reached out with a large hand and lifted him as easily as a small chicken.

“Who has time for such poor pretensions?”

Yan Qi felt the ground vanish beneath his feet. By the time he regained his senses, he was already seated on the ox cart.

Huo Ling watched him settle in, hugging his knees. He waved farewell to his brother and sister-in-law, then pulled the reins and drove the cart forward.

Ma Huzi was the only herbalist in the surrounding villages. His real name was Ma Baili, but few called him that. He sported two oddly comical little sideburns, so everyone, regardless of age or gender, simply called him Ma Huzi.

When people arrived, he was rolling up his sleeves in the courtyard, slicing medicinal herbs.

Seeing Huo Ling supporting a ger inside, who swayed unsteadily on his feet, he immediately tossed his knife aside. “Who’s sick now? Quickly get him inside and lay him on the bench!”

“My husband, please examine him. His forehead is burning hot—you could practically fry an egg on it.”

Hearing this, Ma Huzi’s mustache twitched and his small eyes widened.

“When did you get a husband, you little rascal?”

“Just today.”

In the west room of Ma Huzi’s house, a wooden plank served as a makeshift bed for patients. It was covered with a thin quilt and a straw mat for easy replacement.

Yan Qi lay down, feeling the illness surge through him. His breath felt scorching hot.

Ma Huzi washed his hands and approached, lifting the eyelids and taking the pulse. After a flurry of activity, he sat down and said, “This is an acute illness. You brought him in just in time, so it’s nothing too serious. Just take the medicine to bring down the high fever. However, this ger is severely depleted. He’ll need to take restorative medicine for a while to recover.”

By now, he had guessed the ger’s background. Several such displaced people had arrived in their village—men, women, and children, each pitifully thin, skin stretched taut over bones.

“Prescribe whatever he needs. Don’t spare any expense for me.”

Huo Ling inquired further, “For someone like him, would ginseng be beneficial?”

The most valuable mountain produce in Bailong Mountain was undoubtedly wild ginseng, locally called “bàngchuī.”

Mountain ginseng was named according to its age, requiring at least thirty years of growth for optimal medicinal efficacy. Such aged ginseng was referred to as “dēngtái zǐ.”

Because wild ginseng grows so slowly, even someone like Huo Ling, who lived in the mountains year-round, rarely encountered more than two harvestable specimens in a whole year.

Of the wild ginseng Huo Ling had acquired over the years, excluding the Dager he’d traded for, the rest were mostly “dengtai zi.”

He’d sold two of them for money, keeping the remaining one at home for emergencies.

Ma Huzi waved his hand and shook his head. “It’s not that serious yet. Besides, he can’t tolerate tonics—ever heard of that? Ginseng is useless here; it’s completely off-target.”

He thought to himself: That Huo lad sure is generous. Marrying a sickly ger, yet willing to splurge on expensive wild ginseng. They say those who survive great calamities are destined for later blessings—it seems that fortune’s smiling on this ger.

His hands never stopped. He wrote the prescription and went to another room to prepare the herbs.

Later, he took a needle and drew blood from behind Yan Qi’s ear. The blood that oozed out was dark, leaving a faint trace.

They had arrived before noon, but by the time Yan Qi’s fever broke, it was evening, and dusk was approaching. Finally, Old Man Ma relented and allowed Huo Ling to take him home.

Yan Qi was drenched in sweat. Ma Huzi’s wife steamed a cloth and wiped him down, bringing some relief. His steps felt steadier as he touched the ground.

“Take these medicines for three days, then return for a follow-up. During this time, eat easily digestible, light foods. Be careful not to catch a chill or get windblown.”

Huo Ling heard this and promptly removed his outer robe, draping it over Yan Qi’s shoulders.

This left him wearing only a single layer.

Yan Qi frantically gathered the oversized garment. “I don’t need it. Take it back for yourself.”

“Didn’t you hear the doctor? You must be careful not to catch a chill.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I run hot. I won’t be cold.”

The two weren’t particularly close yet. Yan Qi was still feeling uneasy about having spent so much of Huo Ling’s money on medicine. Hearing him say this, he didn’t know how to politely refuse the garment back. For the moment, he silently put it on.

Huo Ling watched the ger huddle within the baggy collar, sleeves long enough for opera sleeves, revealing only a palm-sized face. A tiny red mole graced his forehead—a birthmark unique to ger.

An unfamiliar sensation stirred within him. He savored it, surmising this must be the difference of having a husband.

From now on, this man would be his bedmate.

━━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━━

By the time they reached the mountain village, darkness had fully fallen. The oxcart halted before the Huo residence. Yan Qi stepped down and paused, gazing through the open courtyard gate at the rustic farmhouse before him.

Unlike the mud-brick dwellings back home, the houses here were built of timber, save for the courtyard walls—rammed earth reinforced with large stones.

The main hall sat facing south, flanked by three connected rooms running east-west, with tall chimneys rising beside the walls.

Additionally, two small, darkened rooms stood on either side of the inner courtyard. Unlit and seemingly uninhabited, they likely served as storage for grain and miscellaneous goods.

The large dog, hearing Huo Ling’s voice, had already bolted out of the courtyard gate. The oxen pulling the cart, spooked by the big dog, paced restlessly in place.

“Get over there. Don’t scare the oxen.”

Huo Ling shooed the dog aside. Huo Feng and Ye Suping came out of the house upon hearing the commotion.

“You’re finally back. Your brother kept checking outside the door several times.”

Ye Suping eyed Yan Qi, noticing he was wearing Huo Ling’s coat. They seemed to get along quite well.

“What did the doctor say?”

Huo Ling jumped down from the cart a moment later, carrying the medicine bundle. Huo Feng took it from him and suggested Yan Qi go inside to eat first, while he went to the Zhou family to return the cart.

“The fever’s gone. He prescribed three doses. After finishing these, go back for some restorative medicine.”

“That’s good. Follow the doctor’s orders. You’re still young—you can’t afford lingering ailments.”

Ye Suping’s gentle tone eased Yan Qi’s tension.

Just then, Huo Ying, inside the house, encountering some disturbance, bellowed for his mother. Huo Ling said, “Sister-in-law, you go inside. I’ll handle things out here. Is there food in the pot?”

“Yes, I saved some especially for you two. There’s porridge in the pot, and the vegetables are in the steamer basket, kept warm.”

“Thank you for your trouble, Sister-in-law.”

Hearing Huo Ling speak thus, Yan Qi also offered his thanks, which delighted Ye Suping.

“No need for formalities. We’re all family now.”

Most crucially, Yan Qi had addressed her perfectly as “elder sister-in-law.” After Huo Ling left, Huo Feng and his wife spent the entire afternoon discussing this matter, wondering if the young couple could truly live in harmony going forward.

They hadn’t thought deeply about it before, but now that it had actually happened—without the formal betrothal and dowry rituals—it all felt somehow lacking.

But seeing Yan Qi willingly address them now brought a sense of reassurance.

The courtyard fell quiet once more, save for Dager sniffing around Yan Qi incessantly.

To the dog, Yan Qi was someone Huo Ling had brought home, still wearing Huo Ling’s clothes. The familiar scent, combined with having seen him during the day, meant he didn’t bark wildly.

Huo Ling bent down to pat Dager’s head, then pointed at Yan Qi and said, “He’s family too.”

Dager seemed to understand, stepping forward to nudge Yan Qi’s hand with his nose.

Yan Qi smiled faintly, then scratched Dager’s chin in response.