On the oxcart heading to the countryside sat three or four people returning from town—an old woman, a child, a young woman, and a ger. Stacked atop them were bamboo baskets and other odds and ends, filled with firewood, rice, cooking oil, and salt bought in town.

Song Ning, clutching a small bundle, was squeezed into a corner of the cart. He kept his head down, lost in thought. Ahead, a child held a scallion pancake in his hand. Song Ning swallowed hard. He was so hungry.

Beside him sat a sharp-looking woman—soon to be his mother-in-law. She wore a coarse blue cotton dress with patches on the shoulders, her head wrapped in a faded cloth scarf. She looked remarkably capable and efficient.

The woman was beaming as she studied Song Ning. How could he not notice? He could only bury his head deeper.

The cart jolted, and Song Ning was jostled by the unfamiliar old woman beside him. She seemed to be pushing toward him deliberately. Song Ning could only hunch his shoulders, curling himself into a ball.

Chen Cuihua couldn’t stand seeing Song Ning treated this way. After all, this ger would soon be her son-in-law. The oxcart was filled with villagers returning from the town market. The spot where Song Ning sat was one she had deliberately fought for him—spacious and relatively smooth.

The old woman had arrived a split second after Chen Cuihua and missed out on that prime spot. Now she deliberately elbowed Song Ning. Chen Cuihua couldn’t stand it. Pushing past Song Ning, she shoved the old woman. “What are you shoving for? There’s plenty of room over there!”

The old woman rolled her eyes. “Can’t you see it’s next to the animal pens?”

Though none of the people crammed into the oxcart knew each other, Chen Cuihua wasn’t about to take this humiliation lying down. Besides, she hadn’t even brought Song Ning home yet—how could she let anyone bully him like this?

“That chicken coop isn’t even yours, and you’re complaining about it?”

Song Ning was sandwiched between Chen Cuihua and an unfamiliar old woman. This woman was clutching a chicken cage filled with two stinking birds, which was precisely why she insisted on squeezing toward Song Ning.

Chen Cuihua wasn’t one to back down. She exchanged a few sharp words with the old woman across Song Ning. Startled, Song Ning flinched slightly, though Chen Cuihua didn’t notice. She tugged at Song Ning. “Ning-ger, let’s switch places. I bet this old woman wouldn’t dare push me!”

Song Ning obediently swapped places with Chen Cuihua. Though the spot beside her was cramped against a pile of baskets, it was far more spacious than his previous spot and finally spared him from being pressed against that old hag.

The old hag muttered under her breath, “If you’ve got copper coins, why not rent a cart yourself? Sit however you like—you could even lie down, and no one would care.”

Chen Cuihua spat out, ”Why don’t you rent a cart yourself, you old hag? You only dare bully children! Try squeezing me, if you dare!”

The old woman snorted and stopped talking. She could tell this woman wasn’t someone to mess with. Knowing she was no match, she could only roll her eyes under her breath.

Country folk were poor; few could spare the copper coins for a cart ride. The journey from Daliushu Village to town took over an hour. When Chen Cuihua went to town to sell baskets or other goods, she never spent the three copper coins for a cart ride.

But today was her new son-in-law’s first day in the family. Though they weren’t throwing a banquet, Chen Cuihua had still scraped together a few coins from between her teeth to pay for the ox cart.

This new son-in-law was the ger of a town family, and she’d heard they even owned a shop. If not for his stepmother pretending to be poor, her family wouldn’t have been able to marry him. Even so, they’d spent ten taels of silver on the betrothal gift—every last coin her family possessed.

She’d just bought a string of meat in town, leaving her with barely any coins left. On her new son-in-law’s first day home, Chen Cuihua couldn’t bear to have Song Ning walk back with her. She spent her last five copper coins on the ox cart. They were actually short one coin, but after much pleading, the driver finally let them board.

Though she’d exchanged a few sharp words with the old woman, Chen Cuihua was still in high spirits. Her son, Hu-zi, had finally married a husband.

All the way home, Chen Cuihua watched over Song Ning carefully. Even when buying meat at the market, she held his hand, fearing any mishap.

Her caution was understandable. Her son, Wei Hu, had been betrothed twice before. The first ger caught a cold and died before the wedding. The second ger was attacked by wild beasts in the mountains after the engagement was set. Only a bloodstained corner of his garment was found; the man himself vanished without a trace.

Her son, Wei Hu, was handsome and tall, a skilled farmhand and hunter. By all accounts, he should have no trouble finding a wife. Yet both engagements fell through, and the dowries were too shameful to reclaim. Worse, her son gained a reputation for being a wife-killer.

Chen Cuihua was nearly consumed by worry. Her son Hu-zi was already twenty and still without a wife. Yet this match had come to them of the other family’s own accord. How could Chen Cuihua refuse? She gathered every last possession they owned and brought the ger home.

Chen Cuihua couldn’t help but be pleased with Song Ning. The boy was sixteen this year, with a gentle, obedient look about him. His eyes were large and round, his skin as white as dough. Aside from being a bit frail, he seemed perfectly fine. Chen Cuihua figured she’d just have to take good care of him in the future.

But today, as luck would have it, when she went to bring Song Ning home, the Song family’s front courtyard was bustling with the lively scene of a daughter being married off.

Chen Cuihua knew full well that the wicked stepmother was quite the villain. While the front courtyard boasted the grand wedding of her own daughter, the back courtyard was cold and quiet, dispatching this ger.

Ah, she’d heard that his real father had passed away two years prior. Living under his stepmother’s care, even as a ger of a town family, life couldn’t have been easy.

When she led him out today, a gray-haired old woman wept as she escorted him. She must be a servant of the household. The Song family seemed quite well-off—though not wealthy beyond measure, they certainly lived comfortably.

She’d met the ger’s stepmother once before. When she’d given the ten taels of silver—called a dowry, though both families knew better—the stepmother was dressed splendidly in silk robes, her hair adorned with two gleaming silver hairpins, and even a jade bracelet graced her wrist.

The ger, however, wore a half-worn robe, his complexion waxy and sallow—clear signs of hardship.

Yet even after enduring a year of suffering under his stepmother, he had known better days before. Chen Cuihua recalled how, when she’d taken him to buy meat today, his hands showed not a single callus.

Nothing like the children in their own village, who were practically thrown into farm work the moment they could walk.

Gers and girls barely six or seven, not even taller than the stove, were already standing on stools to cook. Older children went into the mountains to gather firewood or cut grass, and during the busy farming season, they had to follow the adults to harvest rice.

The oxcart swayed steadily toward Daliushu Village. Song Ning kept his head bowed, his expression somewhat vacant. He clutched the small bundle in his arms, his fingertips turning slightly white from the tight grip.

He didn’t know who the other person was. He’d heard that life in the countryside was hard and poor. Having been pampered all these years, facing an unknown life, he couldn’t help but feel anxious and uneasy.

Today was a day of great celebration for the Song family—but it was for his eldest sister. Not only was he being married off, but so was she. His sister, Song Baozhu, had walked out the front door in her red wedding gown, while he emerged from the back door clad in a coarse cotton robe.

Song Ning sniffed, forcing back the tears welling in his eyes. Song Baozhu had been his step-sister, brought home by his stepmother, only a year older than him.

Today, she was marrying a Xiucai from the town. This Xiucai had originally been betrothed to him. But after his father passed away, his stepmother seized the marriage. Fearing he might cause trouble, she hurriedly married him off instead.

By the time the ox cart stopped, Song Ning was still dazed. Chen Cuihua had already deftly climbed down, basket slung over one arm, the other reaching out to Ning-ger. “Ning-ger, we’re here. Quick, get down.”

Only her call snapped Song Ning back to reality. He took Chen Cuihua’s hand and stepped down from the cart.

Chen Cuihua led Song Ning by the hand toward the village, her head held high and chest puffed out like a victorious warrior, her face beaming with pride. At the village entrance, a stone mill was bustling with people grinding flour or pounding rice, creating a lively scene.

Chen Cuihua passed by someone walking with their head bowed. Though she couldn’t see the mole on their face, the silhouette clearly indicated it was a ger.

A villager called out, “Cuihua, you got company at home?”

Beaming with joy, Chen Cuihua let go of Song Ning’s hand and walked over. “No, this is Hu-zi’s husband. He just came to live with us today. The boy’s timid, so don’t bully my Ning-ger in the future.”

Chen Cuihua’s words sent ripples through the crowd, drawing everyone closer. “Oh my! So this is Hu-ziua’s husband! Auntie Cuihua, why did you bring him home without a word?”

Chen Cuihua had specially bought some roasted peanuts and placed them in a basket, topped with a piece of meat she’d cut. Chen Cuihua lifted the tattered cloth covering the basket. “Oh dear, I had someone calculate the auspicious date. This marriage must be handled quietly. Otherwise, disturbing the spirits would be most unwise.”

Everyone offered congratulations while glancing at Song Ning standing nearby. The new husband wore a slightly worn blue robe, his hair half-tied back. He kept his head bowed, his features obscured.

Chen Cuihua held out the basket, gesturing for everyone to take some. “Have some roasted nuts. I just bought them in town today.”

People at the village entrance each grabbed a handful of peanuts. While Chen Cuihua was distributing them, Old Sun took advantage of the moment and thrust her shriveled hand toward Song Ning. “What’s your name? How old are you? Where’s your family from?”

Startled by the sudden hand, Song Ning yelped and stumbled backward, nearly falling. Hearing the commotion, Chen Cuihua whirled around to find Old Sun tugging at her Ning-ger!

Chen Cuihua rushed over, yanked Song Ning behind her, and scolded, “What are you doing, Old Sun? With that old, gnarled face of yours, you’re scaring my Ning-ger!”

Old Sun snorted. “I just wanted to see what your new husband looks like.”

“As if you need to see!”

Chen Cuihua took Song Ning’s hand and walked away, not forgetting to call back to the villagers at the entrance: “Come visit my Ning-ger for play another day!”

Only after the pair had walked far away did the villagers at the entrance begin to discuss. “Chen Cuihua has actually found another match for Wei Hu!”

Granny Sun, stung by Chen Cuihua’s words, curled her lip. “I just hope he doesn’t get cursed to death again. That ger’s so frail, he’d run away at the first gust of wind. Don’t tell me the Wei family will be…”

“Granny Sun, what nonsense are you spouting? Why curse that poor ger for no reason?”

“Didn’t you hear Aunt Cuihua just now? They’re not even holding a banquet. Just bringing the groom home counts as marriage.”

“That’s probably for the best. I’ve heard elders say that when a man cursed to bring his wives misfortune quietly takes a bride without disturbing the spirits, he might just manage to keep his wife alive.”

“But Wei Hu was perfectly fine. Why would he be unlucky in marriage? If not for that, who knows how many ger in the village would’ve gladly married him?”

Chen Cuihua happily led Song Ning home, reassuring him on the way that it was just her and her son. Her son, Wei Hu, had gone hunting in the mountains early that morning and would return by nightfall.

Song Ning nodded obediently. Chen Cuihua knew he was timid and quiet, but she was grateful her son had found a husband at all. Besides, Ning-ger was handsome—far more so than most village gers. His timidity wouldn’t matter; she’d protect him from being bullied.

At that very moment, Wei Hu, carrying his bow, arrows, and broadsword, was weaving through the dense forest, completely unaware that his mother had already brought a husband into the house while he was away.