Since he had long been thinking about buying a plow ox, Huo Ling would inquire about prices every now and then to get a sense of the market.

Recently, the price of sturdy oxen had dropped slightly compared to before the wheat harvest, but it was only a reduction of one or two taels. Those that originally sold for twenty-five or twenty-six taels were now being sold for twenty-three or twenty-four taels after some haggling.

As winter approaches, prices will continue to drop.

The quality of these few oxen is excellent, so the asking price should be higher; in reality, getting them for twenty-five taels would be a good deal. With Hou Li’s help, the price dropped by ten taels of silver in one go.

While the broker was leading the two remaining cows back to the pen, Huo Ling said to Hou Li, “I’ve told this to Boss Liao and Boss Ge, and the same goes for you, Brother Hou. I really didn’t do all that much to help; I don’t deserve such thanks.”

Hou Li replied, “You’re simply underestimating yourself.”

He patted Huo Ling on the chest. “We business people are the shrewdest of all. If we’re giving this to you, it means you’re worth it. Just take it and be grateful.” Sometimes, favors are the most complicated things; repaying them with money is actually the easiest way for both sides.

Huo Ling mulled it over and gradually came to understand.

His reminder was undoubtedly well-intentioned, but it required the listener to be receptive. If Liao Dehai hadn’t trusted him enough, he might have simply seen it as meddling and a hindrance to his financial interests.

As for Hou Li, he could have easily left out the details of the connection—after all, Huo Ling had no way of knowing how his wife’s younger brother had been promoted. When both parties are decent people, accepting a gift is simply about gaining peace of mind and a sense of security.

In any case, now that this matter has been settled, it serves as a warning to others: in the future, when encountering so-called “old ginseng peddlers” at the market, one had better be on guard.

If a young ginseng plant can slip out of the market, where there’s a first, there will be a second.

“Here’s five taels as a deposit. Please read this receipt and affix your thumbprint—we’ll keep it here. When you bring the rest of the payment next time, we’ll tear this receipt up right in front of you to settle the transaction. We’re doing this entirely out of respect for Boss Hou; otherwise, if you’d only paid the deposit, you wouldn’t be able to take this ox away.”

After the broker finished explaining, he handed the receipt to Huo Ling. Hou Li, who could read, took a look and indicated there were no issues. Huo Ling then pressed his thumbprint onto the receipt and quickly took the rope tying the ox.

Yan Qi stroked the ox, his face beaming with joy.

Before coming, he’d only hoped to select an ox; he never expected to be able to lead one home today.

Having successfully fulfilled his role and repaid the favor, Hou Li retired from the scene and strolled off leisurely to wander elsewhere.

Though he seemed to have little to do all day, in reality, he was quite busy with social engagements like drinking tea and wine. Besides collecting rent, his money was also circulating through several business ventures.

Since Huo Ling and his wife had been brought by Hou Li, the broker remained courteous even after he’d left. Seeing that they were still carrying two bolts of cloth, he brought over some rope to tie them to the ox’s back so they could be transported.

Before leaving, Huo Ling specifically asked where he could buy sturdy bridles and whips; he planned to purchase a set right away so they could be used immediately once hitched to the cart.

The broker pointed them in the right direction. Huo Ling and Yan Qi led the oxen there and spent five wen on a set of bits and sturdy reins. As for whips, there were both leather-braided and hemp-rope varieties; the latter being cheaper, they discussed it briefly and had the shopkeeper give them one for free.

When they led the ox back to the stall, the three from the Lin family had also finished their shopping and returned, carrying a basket full of goods. Everyone gathered together, and naturally, there was a lot of commotion.

“Second Brother, weren’t you guys supposed to be delivering goods? Why did you bring an ox back with you?”

“There are some things best not discussed in public,” Huo Ling explained briefly. “We happened to run into Brother Hou. He mentioned knowing a broker at the livestock market who was offering a truly good price. We didn’t want to miss out, so we bought it.”

“How good of a deal? How much did you pay?”

Huo Feng didn’t think twice and asked straight out.

“It wasn’t that much of a bargain. We didn’t have enough cash on us, so we relied on Brother Hou’s connections and just put down a deposit for now.” 

“That’s really not bad.”

Huo Feng ran his hand along the bull’s horns, his eyes lighting up.

“Livestock prices change daily. If the price is right, it’s best to buy it as soon as possible. This bull is in excellent condition—it’s just at the prime age for hard work.”

Since there were still some buns and mountain produce left unsold, Huo Feng led the ox away first so it wouldn’t block the path.

Once the stall was cleared, Huo Ling counted the copper coins he’d received. The total sales amounted to three taels and eight wen; he kept two taels and five wen for himself and gave Lin Changshui one tael and three wen.

In the past, when Lin Changshui went into town to do odd jobs, earning fifty wen a day was considered a good day. As he accepted the heavy copper coins, he once again pondered Huo Ling’s earlier suggestion.

Thanks to the earnings from going into the mountains this year, the family would finally have enough money before winter to buy new tiles and repair the roof. During the New Year festivities, they could also afford a few extra pounds of fatty pork and a few hearty, rich dishes—though that was all they could manage.

But when he mentioned it after coming down from the mountains last time, his mother strongly disapproved. She said that while farming and manual labor might bring in money slowly, they were reliable, whereas herding in the mountains was too risky—one couldn’t just see others feasting without seeing them take the blows.

“Don’t forget how Old Huo Shuan met his end. You’re not even as good as Erlang—he was a complete novice who took up the trade on a whim. If this line of work were so easy, why didn’t even Huo Feng stick with it?”

As she spoke, tears welled up in her eyes. “You’re my only son. I’ve waited so long to see you settle down. If anything were to happen to you, how would Mingming and I go on?”

As far as Mother Lin was concerned, a single trip into the mountains after harvest each year—no matter the amount—would be enough as long as they brought home some earnings.

Her words left Lin Changshui torn. His family wasn’t like the Huo family—after all, the Huo brothers had one of them tilling the fields down in the valley, so their farm work wasn’t neglected. If he went up into the mountains, he would likely have to leave his wife at home with his mother. Thinking about it that way, he really couldn’t bear to part with him.

He couldn’t help but smile wryly to himself, thinking that he still lacked a bit of wit and resolve; otherwise, his family’s circumstances wouldn’t have remained stagnant for so many years. Huo Ling had kindly shown him the way, and though he was determined to follow it, he always hesitated just as he was about to take that first step.

The ox was named Dazhuang and moved into the Huo family’s newly built cattle shed on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The five members of the Huo family—or rather, six if you counted the unborn child in Ye Suping’s womb—shared a hearty reunion dinner. The table was set with meat, fish, vegetables, and wine. After the meal, each person received a white flaky-crust mooncake bought in town. They admired the full moon together before retiring to their respective rooms.

Though the ger had rinsed his mouth, the sweet scent of red date paste still lingered between his lips and teeth. Huo Ling gently kissed those soft lips twice.

On such a festive occasion of reunion, Yan Qi had initially felt a touch of melancholy, for the family mausoleum had not yet been completed. Earlier that day, he had gone to the City God Temple to burn joss paper and offer incense for his parents, which inevitably stirred up some sorrowful memories.

How could Huo Ling fail to notice? As soon as the festivities in the courtyard died down, he pulled him into bed, leaving him no opportunity for idle thoughts. With his clothes half-undone, the flames danced wildly, their heat making it impossible to tell what time it was.

The lamp’s light was small and round, flickering faintly.

When his vision was obscured by a hazy mist, Yan Qi momentarily thought the moon on the horizon had fallen into the room.

To avoid any complications that might arise during the long night, the two didn’t linger and quickly made their way to town to pay the full amount for the cow.

Since most of their savings were stored on the mountain, they borrowed the money from their older brother and sister-in-law for the time being, intending to repay them the next time they came down.

Fifteen taels was no small sum, but perhaps because they’d gotten such a good deal on the ox, it didn’t feel like much of a financial strain. Even now, when they went to the backyard and saw the living, breathing ox standing there, they still felt a bit dazed, unable to believe it was real.

“Eldest Brother, with all the sorghum and corn we’ve harvested, are you sure you don’t want us to stay?”

Huo Ling was packing the things he needed to take up the mountain the next day. The window was open, and he happened to see Huo Feng walking by, so he called out to him.

“No need. I’ve called for help. You and Qi’er should hurry back to the mountain and tend to the vegetable patches and fruit trees before the snow falls.”

After the Mid-Autumn Festival, the weather on Bailong Mountain grows colder by the day; the first snow is sure to fall within a month.

But with all the recent hustle of herding the livestock, their mountain household hadn’t yet officially begun stockpiling winter vegetables, and Huo Feng was genuinely worried for them.

Huo Feng didn’t press the matter further. His older brother valued the fields and wouldn’t let anything go wrong with the harvest; since he’d said they didn’t need help, it wasn’t just a polite refusal. A while later, Yan Qi returned, wiping his wet hair. Seeing Huo Ling struggling to stuff a bundle of fluffy cotton into his backpack, he hurried over to lend a hand.

This was cotton they’d just bought that afternoon in town when they went to pay for the cow. Yan Qi didn’t have a cotton coat to wear, and Huo Ling’s was too old—Yan Qi had taken it apart earlier to make knee pads.

Although there was still some old cotton left over from the dismantling at home, it wasn’t enough to make a coat—only enough for shoes.

Originally, Huo Ling had wanted to persuade Yan Qi to use the new, high-quality fabric—that persimmon red really flattered his complexion and would be perfect for the New Year.

But on second thought, it wouldn’t be appropriate for Yan Qi to wear red this year. Even though the rules regarding the mourning period no longer applied to their marriage, one thing was one thing—it was still best to avoid taboos whenever possible.

The other bolt of blue fabric was certainly attractive, but it was a bit too light. Yan Qi was reluctant to use it, and Huo Ling respected his wishes. So when they bought the cotton, they also picked up a few yards of dark-colored cotton cloth that was durable and stain-resistant.

In fact, a single cotton coat is simply not enough to get through the winter beyond the Great Wall; you need at least four layers. Start with a close-fitting undershirt, then a fur vest over it to protect your front and back. Over that goes the cotton coat, and on top of that, a leather coat.

The same goes for footwear. On snowy days, wearing cotton shoes is practically useless; you must also slip on a pair of fur-lined boot covers—with the fur on the inside and the leather on the outside—to block the wind and keep you warm.

They had no shortage of hides at home; in past years, whenever they came across good-quality hides, they’d save them. Plus, since pests are rare beyond the Pass, even hides from several years ago were still in perfect condition—just dig them out, air them out, and they’re ready to use.

A few days later, when they went into the mountains, a layer of dust had settled everywhere, even though the doors and windows had been kept shut.

The two of them set down their belongings and began fetching water to clean up; even the rafters were swept by Huo Ling, who held an extended feather duster. Outside the courtyard, dogs barked in bursts—it was Dager and Huang Yae chasing each other and frolicking.

After a while, the barking grew fainter, and the tone changed, and Huo Ling knew the two of them had likely encountered prey.

After finishing their work, they poured out the dirty water. The two dug out a few mooncakes—leftovers from the holiday—from the supplies they’d brought up the mountain, shared them to tide themselves over, and strolled into the courtyard while eating, looking up at the jujube tree heavy with fruit.

“They were still a bit green when we came up the mountain, but in just a few days, they’ve turned red by seven or eight parts.”

Huo Ling finished the mooncake in his hand in a few bites, then found a long stick to knock the jujubes down. A handful of them fell with a clatter; Yan Qi picked them all up, washed them clean, and tasted them with Huo Ling.

“These jujubes are big and red.”

Yan Qi took a bite, the corners of his mouth curving upward. “They’re wonderfully crisp and sweet. Once they’re dried, they’ll surely be even sweeter. Then, when we make steamed buns or sponge cakes, we can place a few on top. They’ll look great and taste delicious when served on the table on New Year’s Eve.”

Huo Ling, upon hearing this, narrowed his eyes and counted the fruit on the tree. “It’s about the same as last year’s harvest. I’d say there’s around fifty pounds, which should yield about ten pounds of dried jujubes.”

He then added, “We won’t sell a single pound this year. My sister-in-law is having a baby, and this is your first winter outside the Great Wall—you both need to eat plenty of jujubes to build up your strength.”

After sorting out the jujubes, the two of them went to inspect the vegetable patch.

The cabbage and radishes from the previous crop had already been harvested last time. Now, all the newly sown seeds had sprouted. In two months, this crop will be ready. Once they harvested this batch, they would head down the mountain to spend the winter, returning in the spring.

There were still some eggplants, cucumbers, and chili peppers hidden among the leaves, along with a few unharvested winter melons and pumpkins. As for leafy greens, there were still two rows of red-stemmed greens.

Old gourds hang from the trellises up high; like the old loofahs, they’re being saved to make gourd ladles and loofah pulp.

Although the vegetable cellar can store some fresh produce, winter survival beyond the Great Wall relies primarily on various dried vegetables. As before, the two of them had already stockpiled quite a few dried wild greens, along with dried cucumber slices, dried eggplant, and dried green beans.

Winter melon and pumpkin can also be sun-dried. Before eating, the winter melon is soaked in warm water to rehydrate it; when stewed with meat or used in soup, it enhances the flavor. If the pumpkin is dried directly, the resulting dried vegetable can be used in dishes; if it is steamed before drying, it becomes a snack similar to dried sweet potato, with a sweet, chewy texture.

To ensure they’d have plenty of good food to eat through the winter, the two of them worked nonstop for three days, chopping vegetables and blanching them, the steam rising thickly.

Afterward, they hung the leafy greens on wooden poles and spread the rest out on straw mats or bamboo baskets. Now all they could do was hope for good weather—praying desperately that it wouldn’t rain, and that the sun would shine as high as possible.