“Ming-ger?”

“Xiao Qi!”

Before the men could react, the two gers had already scampered forward, their hands clasping tightly together.

Yan Qi scrutinized him from head to toe. Seeing him neat and tidy, showing no signs of distress, he relaxed slightly. “Why are you here? Are you feeling unwell?”

Xiao Mingming shook his head slightly, his voice barely audible to anyone but Yan Qi. “I’m fine. It’s… It’s Changsui and his mother who were worried. They insisted on coming to check my pulse, just to ease their minds.”

Xiao Mingming was timid by nature, barely daring to speak loudly around strangers. But once he trusted someone, he was as loyal as gold.

He and Yan Qi had met by chance on the road. Their hometowns were different, and both had lost many relatives.

Before entering the city, Yan Qi still had his mother. Xiao Mingming had lost both his father and stepfather. He had once had an older brother, but on the road, while trying to secure an extra meal for their family, he was beaten to death by others.

The two boys supported each other through hunger and danger, forging a bond forged in adversity.

What others didn’t know was that back in Shuangjing Village, the Shen family had considered taking Xiao Mingming in. They said he was a bit small and thin, but seemed fairly clever and could probably manage as a general servant.

But Xiao Mingming remembered Yan Qi’s words from their journey: serving as a servant in a wealthy household might not be better than marrying a poor man as a proper husband.

As a servant, you’d be beaten and scolded at will. Once you stepped through that door, you’d be trapped inside for life—what joy could there be in that?

Coincidentally, a fellow traveler who’d always been at odds with them deliberately told the Shen family’s matron in charge of the selection that Yan Qi carried an illness. Since Xiao Mingming was always by his side, he might well have caught it too.

Upon hearing this, the matron promptly dismissed Matchmaker Zhao, ordering her to take the boy away immediately and only keep the previously selected candidates.

Now, after staying with the Lins for several days and seeing their kindness, Xiao Mingming realized Yan Qi had been right. He felt grateful he’d listened to him.

The two young men hadn’t seen each other in a while and had much to discuss. But before they could exchange many words, Bearded Ma came out to deliver the medicine. After collecting payment, he called Xiao Mingming inside to take his pulse.

Huo Ling knew Yan Qi was reluctant to leave just like that, so he said, “We’re not in a hurry. Why not wait for them a little while? We can pick up lamp oil later and head back to the village together. At least we’ll have someone to talk to on the way.”

Yan Qi’s face lit up at the suggestion.

With nothing to do while waiting, Huo Ling pointed out some herbs drying in the Ma family courtyard. He picked out the ones he recognized and told Yan Qi which could be found on Bailong Mountain.

The profession of mountain-traversing hunters didn’t exist in Yan Qi’s hometown. Though their region had mountains too, with hunters like his father. Yet those were not ancient, towering forests capable of nurturing such valuable mountain produce that could sustain specialized mountain guides.

Unlike Bailong Mountain, famed for its three treasures: ginseng, sable fur, and wula grass.

Other tales mentioned deer antlers, lingzhi mushrooms, and such luxuries whose very names hinted at exorbitant prices.

He asked Huo Ling if she’d seen them all. She nodded.

“You’ve already seen the Wula grass—the stuff every household keeps to line their kangs. I’ve handled the rest, too.”

Yet even with these items, peddlers would drive down the prices when buying them. Though he knew these goods could fetch several times their value once sold inside the pass, there was nothing he could do about it.

Yan Qi understood this logic. “It can’t be helped. Those merchants have their networks, traveling far and wide to trade. Naturally, they must factor in their travel expenses.”

He told Huo Ling that they had encountered many caravans on the road out of the pass.

“Some were kind-hearted, sharing food with us and letting us follow behind them. Others were harsh and drove us away. When we met those, we kept our distance to avoid causing trouble.”

Huo Ling found himself unable to bear Yan Qi recounting these experiences. “From now on, with me here, no one will be able to bully you.”

Yan Qi hadn’t intended to dwell on it. Having endured so much along the way, he’d long since learned not to let things get to him. Yet, when Huo Ling suddenly blurted out those words, his heart still gave two sharp jolts.

Huo Ling watched the ger’s ears flush crimson. He covered his mouth with a light cough, suddenly tense.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Why would a perfectly healthy person suddenly blush? Could he be running a fever again?

He raised his large hand to check Yan Qi’s forehead. The boy knew perfectly well he wasn’t feverish, but Huo Ling’s actions left him both amused and exasperated. Too shy to admit it, he mumbled, “I don’t have a fever.”

He rubbed his ears and made up an excuse.

“I… I’m always like this. Probably just the wind.”

“My fault. Why were you out in the yard catching the wind on such a fine day? You should’ve waited inside.”

Huo Ling pulled Yan Qi into the house, just as Bearded Ma finished examining Xiao Mingming and prescribed several days’ worth of warming tonic herbs.

Lin Changsui pulled out his money pouch and counted out copper coins—earnings he’d saved during the recent farming lull by working as a laborer in town. It was perfect timing.

Fortunately, this extra income meant he could afford to buy medicine for Xiao Mingming.

Before leaving Ma’er Village, Huo Ling went alone to the Wang family oil mill to fetch lamp oil. Yan Qi offered to carry a jar for him, but Huo Ling avoided his hand.

“You go talk with Ming-ger. Two jars of oil aren’t that heavy.”

Hearing this, Yan Qi and Xiao Mingming trailed behind the two men, strolling back at a leisurely pace.

Judging that those ahead couldn’t hear them, Xiao Mingming whispered to Yan Qi, “Xiao Qi, how does Brother Huo treat you?”

Yan Qi knew this was coming—Xiao Mingming had probably been holding it in for ages. “He treats me well enough,” he replied. “Not to mention, when I was sick like that earlier, he didn’t even complain. That alone shows he’s a kind-hearted man.”

Xiao Mingming, however, admitted he found Huo Ling a bit intimidating. “He looks so cold and stern, and he even carries a knife when he goes out.”

A man like that always made one wonder if he was one person in public and another in private.

“He makes his living in the mountains. Carrying a knife is just a habit, like how farmers take a hoe or a shovel when they go to the fields.”

Xiao Mingming hooked his arm around Yan Qi’s. “See? You’re already speaking up for him.”

Yan Qi merely smiled. After a moment, he rolled up his sleeve to show Xiao Mingming the small gourd tied to a red string. “He gave this to me,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “He said he noticed I’m often haunted by nightmares, and peach wood can ward off evil spirits.”

Xiao Mingming had seen it and was genuinely happy for him.

“He truly has a kind heart.”

Yan Qi turned the question back to him, asking how things were at the Lin household. Xiao Mingming glanced at Lin Changsui’s retreating figure and replied, “Life there is a bit tough, but as long as we have enough to eat and wear, it’s like living in paradise for us. Both he and his mother are easygoing people, not the type to make life miserable.”

Ultimately, both had feared the other was struggling before meeting. Now, after asking about each other’s lives, they were both reassured and agreed to visit often in the future.

After returning from the physician’s, the family had a simple lunch.

Huo Feng and Ye Suping inquired briefly about Yan Qi’s condition. Learning it was unchanged from last time, with only restorative herbs prescribed, they reassured him to rest easy.

After clearing the tableware, farm chores never end, so they dispersed to their respective tasks.

Huo Ling shouldered his tools and followed Huo Feng to the fields.

Yan Qi’s visit had delayed Huo Ling from going up the mountain for several extra days. Normally, he would only stay home for two days, leaving early the morning after the market day.

He took advantage of these two extra days to help Huo Feng with some of the farm work.

The Huo family now owned five acres of land. Typically, two acres were planted with wheat, two with sorghum, and the remaining acre with corn. Among these, wheat was the most valuable, sorghum came next, and corn yielded the most abundant harvest.

After paying grain taxes, the harvest from five acres wouldn’t sustain the family for a full year. They’d still need to buy extra grain. Huo Feng and Huo Ling had once crunched the numbers: adding three more acres would allow them to be self-sufficient in grain during a good harvest year.

But good land came at a steep price, and it couldn’t be too far from their current fields. Otherwise, they’d be stretched too thin during the busy farming season. Plus, since Huo Ling hadn’t married yet, Huo Feng wouldn’t let him spend heavily. After all, a proper wedding required a dowry and banquet costs—at least ten or twenty taels of silver, if not more.

The land purchase had been shelved, unmentioned for quite some time.

Huo Ling worked the field in a single-layer shirt, sleeves rolled high, swinging his arms until drenched in sweat. Taking a break at the field’s edge, he surveyed the land before him and shared his plans, pondered for days, with his elder brother.

“Even though Qi’er is already considered married in name, I believe we shouldn’t skimp on the formalities. We ought to pick an auspicious day for the banquet. Then, when we visit our parents’ graves, we’ll have a proper reason to do so.”

He paused, then added, “I have some silver on hand now. After the banquet, we can tally up the expenses. If we come across good farmland, we might as well buy it early.”

Huo Feng wasn’t surprised by Huo Ling’s plan to host a banquet. Just as he’d ignored warnings about venturing into the mountains, his second brother always had his own convictions—once he set his mind on something, he would see it through.

“It’s only right to host a banquet. First, it shows everyone our satisfaction with Qi-ger—we won’t skimp on the cost. Second, let’s be honest: these past years, you’ve spent heavily on village celebrations—births, funerals, hundred-day feasts, full-moon banquets. Hosting a banquet lets you recoup some of those expenses. That’s the tricky part of social obligations.”

This was undeniably true. Huo Ling never skimped on gifts, and such matters were all about reciprocity. Those who valued propriety kept a mental tally. If someone received a generous gift but returned a meager one later, they’d be gossiped about behind their back.

The host who arranged the banquet and prepared the food ensured the guests didn’t feel shortchanged by their gifts, allowing both sides to maintain a good reputation.

“Then we absolutely must do it. Do it properly.”

Huo Ling took off his shoes, brushed off the dust inside, put them back on, then hopped up in place. Stretching his shoulders, he said, “I’ll go tomorrow… No, better to head up the mountain the day after tomorrow. Gather some mountain goods, rush back down by the fifteenth, trade them for silver at the big market to cover the banquet costs. Set a few more animal traps, too. If we catch some game, it’ll add another dish to the feast.”

“You perk right up whenever mountains are mentioned.”

Huo Feng couldn’t help but shake his head at the remark before rising to his feet.

The weather was cold beyond the pass. Seizing the late spring window for plowing, the five acres were turned over by two strong young men in a single day’s work.

They unearthed plenty of limp earthworms along the way. Taking them home to feed the chickens, they pulled them out, causing Huo Ying to shriek in delight.

Hearing the commotion, the kitchen door opened. Yan Qi emerged carrying two cups of water.

“Where’s your brother? Here, have some water.”

Huo Ling took one. “Big Brother took Yingzi to the backyard to fetch earthworms for the chickens. Set his bowl aside for now.”

As he drank, he noticed the apron tied around Yan Qi’s waist and asked curiously, “Are you preparing dinner tonight?”

Just then, Ye Suping arrived carrying fresh firewood. She’d noticed the stove was running low while tending the fire and fetched a bundle from the woodshed. Hearing the exchange, she interjected, “He insisted on helping me. We argued about it for ages. I wanted him to rest—he was quite ill just days ago. We have others at home; he doesn’t need to handle the cooking.”

Yan Qi reached out to take the wood, his voice tinged with shame. “I’m fully recovered now. How can I just sit around eating meals all day? Even if my sister-in-law doesn’t mind my clumsiness, I can’t bear it myself.”

Seeing this, Huo Ling immediately handed the bowl back to Yan Qi and helped carry the wood into the kitchen.

Ye Suping watched Yan Qi from behind and gave him a knowing nudge. “See how doting Second Brother is?”

Yan Qi, being shy, merely pressed his lips together in a smile, refusing to speak.

Upon entering, Huo Ling saw several dishes already prepared on the stove. A cast-iron pot steamed dried rice, filling the air with the aroma of grains.

The dishes consisted of two bowls of dried vegetables soaked in water—one of dried potato slices, the other of dried cucumber strips—along with a plate of dried tofu.

At this time of year, families still relied on winter-stored provisions: either fresh vegetables from the cellar or dried goods prepared before the winter snows fell.

“I’ll stir-fry the dried potatoes with the cucumber strips and braise the dried tofu in sauce.”

Yan Qi noticed Huo Ling staring intently and assumed he was hungry. “I’ll hurry up and get it ready. We can eat in fifteen minutes.”

As he spoke, he wiped his skirt twice, picked up the cleaver, and sliced the dried tofu. With a few swift swishes, he cut it into even strips as wide as a finger.

He then plucked several dried chilies from the wall, chopped them into segments along with the peeled garlic, and set them aside in a corner of the cutting board, ready to toss into the pot later.

Seeing this display, it was clear the ger wasn’t bluffing—he must have frequently tended the stove back home.

Ye Suping had slipped out unnoticed. Huo Ling instinctively hooked a stool over with his foot, sat down, and helped stoke the fire.

Yan Qi had intended to say he didn’t need help. Back home, before his father and grandfather split households, there were ten people, including grandparents. With two households taking turns cooking, preparing meals for the entire family alone was no trouble.

Now, with only five mouths to feed at the Huo household, it was far simpler.

But seeing Huo Ling bent over the fire, his eyes illuminated by the flames, showing no sign of moving, Yan Qi remained silent. Deep down, he was quite content to stay with Huo Ling.

The young couple worked hand in hand, and before long, a meal was ready—fragrant and steaming hot.