Chen Cuihua cheerfully led Song Ning inside. Song Ning glanced around the courtyard. It was quite spacious, enclosed by a waist-high bamboo fence. Three mud-walled thatched cottages stood within: a larger main house flanked by two smaller ones on either side.

Neat vegetable beds lined both sides of the courtyard. Late autumn had arrived, and the greens within were turning yellow.

Today happened to be Shuangjiang. He didn’t recognize most of the vegetables in this garden, only identifying chili peppers and eggplants. One bed seemed to be chives, but the rest remained unfamiliar.

He hadn’t done much manual labor before. After his father passed away last year, his stepmother, Wu Caie, had put him to work as a servant.

The Song family was better off than most in town, running a small shop selling rice and flour. They had meat with every meal, though not as wealthy as the rich landlords, they lived comfortably. When times were good, even Song Ning had attended school for a few years.

The household had two maids, but after his father died, Song Ning had to work too.

Unskilled in laundry or cooking, he attended to Wu Caie and the siblings Song Baozhu and her brother. He served tea, fetched water, and swept the courtyard. Should he fail to please any of them, a torrent of abuse would rain down. Last winter, Song Baozhu, displeased with him, ordered him to wash her clothes in icy water, leaving his fingers crimson and frozen.

As for food, it was even worse. He got one cornbread per meal, and sometimes not even that. He often went hungry. The two maids in the house ate better than he did. One of them, an old woman surnamed Zhang, would secretly give him her own food, making his days a little less unbearable.

Wu Caie dared not mistreat the two maids in her household. They were merely hired help; if they weren’t satisfied, they could simply find another family.

But he was family. Wu Caie could deliberately mistreat him without fear of his running away—Song Ning had nowhere else to go.

Though the household seemed frugal, it was kept spotlessly clean. In the depths of autumn, the courtyard was swept so thoroughly that not a single leaf remained. Seeing this tidy yard, Song Ning’s anxious heart eased a little. Perhaps life here would be better than it had been at the Song family’s?

As Song Ning surveyed the yard, a slender black dog charged toward him, barking furiously. Chen Cuihua quickly slapped it several times. “Hei Dou, stop barking! Get over there!”

Caught off guard by Hei Dou’s sudden lunge, Song Ning stumbled backward in fright, his little face turning pale as tears welled up.

Chen Cuihua saw it all. She smacked the dog hard on the head several more times. “You inhuman creature! You don’t even recognize your own family!”

After being hit, Hei Dou whimpered and scurried off to the side. Chen Cuihua hurried over to comfort Song Ning. “It’s okay, it’s okay. This is Hu-zi’s dog. I’m sorry it scared you. I’ll tie it up right now.”

Song Ning shook his head, eyes red. “I’m… I’m fine.”

Chen Cuihua felt terribly sorry for him. She pulled Song Ning into the main hall. “Sit down first. I’ll go tie up Hei Dou.”

Song Ning obediently nodded. Chen Cuihua turned and left the room, fetching a rope to tie Hei Dou beside the vegetable garden.

Sitting in the main hall, Song Ning wiped away tears. Today, he’d officially become a married man—already unsettled, he’d been startled upon entering the house, and his heart was still pounding.

He heard Chen Cuihua’s voice from the courtyard, her mother-in-law cursing the black dog again. Song Ning was somewhat afraid of Chen Cuihua, sensing she was formidable, dreading she might treat him as harshly as Wu Caie had.

Song Ning quietly surveyed the room. This was the main thatched cottage, with a modest central hall and separate compartments on either side. Naturally, the thatch couldn’t compare to the brightness of a tiled house, but though dim, the interior was kept immaculately clean.

The furnishings were simple: a square table, several long benches, and a longbow hanging on the hall wall.

Song Ning recalled what Zhang Laopo had told him: Wu Caie had arranged a marriage with a rural hunter. That day, Zhang Laopo had cursed his stepmother upon mentioning the hunter’s family, saying that just a year after his father’s death, Wu Caie dared to torment him like this, pairing him with a hunter known to bring misfortune to his wives. Wasn’t this a death wish?

Song Ning had thought of his father then and started crying too. Then he thought of his future life and felt even more sorrowful. He had no say in this marriage; he only hoped the other family would be ordinary, that they wouldn’t beat or scold him.

Sitting timidly in the main hall, Song Ning dared not move. Chen Cuihua soon returned, her face beaming. “Have some water first. It’s almost noon. I’ll make you a meal. Don’t be afraid. I’ll treat you well from now on.”

Song Ning said nothing, merely nodding.

Only after Chen Cuihua left did Song Ning dare lift the water from the table and take a couple of sips. Today was a day of celebration for the Song family, but not for him—it was for his eldest sister. He’d only eaten half a steamed corn bun yesterday and hadn’t even had a sip of water this morning.

This new son-in-law had just arrived, and Chen Cuihua was doting on him like crazy. The day before yesterday, the two girls hadn’t even made it through the door of the Wei family before they were gone. This was the first ger to enter her family’s door. Chen Cuihua was terrified something might happen to him, and right now she was happily cooking.

In these rural households, when a new bride and groom arrived, the mother-in-law wouldn’t cook for them. But Chen Cuihua knew Song Ning had been treated harshly by his stepmother. She didn’t even call him to tend the fire. Instead, she deftly scooped out some white flour and began rolling out noodles.

Usually, she and Wei Hu ate meals of white flour mixed with cornmeal. Today, she used pure white flour. Even the lard for stir-frying in the pot was generously scooped—a full spoonful. Earlier that day, she’d bought a piece of pork at the town market and sliced some off to fry.

She also picked nearly overripe eggplants from the vegetable patch, coated them in flour, and tossed them into the wok. Once the eggplants and pork were fried to a crispy golden brown, she added water. Soon, the noodles would be ready.

Song Ning sat timidly in the main hall. Though he’d never seen his husband’s face, his mother-in-law seemed quite decent now.

Back then, Zhang Laopo had said this family was hunters. Anyone who could be a hunter couldn’t be frail—otherwise, they wouldn’t make hunters. It might be a good match after all, certainly better than that ungrateful, poor scholar!

Song Ning swallowed hard at the aroma of meat wafting through the air. It had been ages since he’d tasted meat. The last time was when Zhang Laopo brought some from home, allowing him to have a small portion.

Zhang Laopo had worked at their house for years. She was getting old and could barely manage anymore. Now that Song Ning was married off, Zhang Laopo had left too.

Wu Caie disliked Zhang Laopo. Knowing the old woman secretly helped him, Wu Caie feared driving her away would cause gossip. After seeing him off at his wedding today, Zhang Laopo would also leave.

Wu Caie treated her servants poorly, and Zhang Laopo no longer wished to serve her. She could earn a few copper coins doing odd jobs back home.

Song Ning began crying again at the thought of Zhang Laopo. She dared not cry loudly, silently shedding tears and sniffling softly.

Chen Cuihua happily carried two bowls of noodles into the room, only to find the ger crying again. “Oh dear,” she exclaimed, “my poor ger, why are you crying again?”

Fearing others would despise him, Song Ning hastily wiped his tears with the back of his hand.

Chen Cuihua set down the large bowls she carried. She pulled a worn, yellowed handkerchief from her waistband and gently dabbed at Song Ning’s tears. “There, there. Don’t cry. Don’t worry. Your brother Hu-zi is perfectly fine—all his arms and legs are intact. He’s not that ugly monster. Once you come live with us, no one will ever bully you.”

“I… I miss my father.”

This was the first time Chen Cuihua had heard Song Ning speak. The ger’s voice was soft and sweet, like the mew of a tiny kitten. She’d never seen such a delicate ger before—in the countryside, boys and girls were all rough and tumble.

He missed his own father? Chen Cuihua couldn’t help that. The boy’s father had been gone for a year already. How could she possibly let him see him again?

Chen Cuihua wiped away Song Ning’s tears, but her hand slipped, rubbing the ger’s face until it turned bright red. She inwardly clicked her tongue in surprise—this ger felt as delicate as tofu.

“Stop crying, stop crying, okay?”

Song Ning nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, what are you apologizing for? We’re family. Hurry up and eat—the food will get cold.”

Chen Cuihua pushed the noodles toward Song Ning. It had been ages since the family had white flour noodles, and they hadn’t skimped on the meat in the pot today either.

Song Ning’s eyes were red from crying. Afraid that crying on his first day in the house would make them dislike him, he forced back the tears welling up.

He picked up his bowl and began eating slowly. The noodles were fragrant, and there was even meat. After a few bites, Song Ning felt much better, and warmth spread through his body.

Chen Cuihua even picked meat from her own bowl for Song Ning. “Eat up! Your mother here is a pretty good cook, you know.”

It had been ages since Song Ning had tasted meat. Though he ate a bit hastily, he did so properly and politely. This drew Chen Cuihua’s frequent glances. Town folk really were different—even their eating manners were refined.

Chen Cuihua served the noodles in a large, coarse porcelain bowl. She usually ate one and a half bowls herself, and her son Hu-zi devoured over two bowls. So she generously filled a whole bowl for Song Ning.

Song Ning could only manage half a bowl before feeling full. Afraid of seeming fussy, he began eating in tiny bites. Chen Cuihua saw right through him. “Are you full already?”

Song Ning blushed and nodded. “Yes… I can’t eat anymore.”

“It’s fine. Leave it if you can’t finish. I’ll warm it up for you tonight.”

Chen Cuihua muttered to herself: How could he eat so little? Less than a kitten! Was he just being shy on his first day, too embarrassed to eat more?

After they finished eating, Chen Cuihua quickly cleared the bowls away, not letting Song Ning lift a finger. “Go rest on the bed first. There’s nothing much to do around here now. This will be your home from now on. The west room is yours and Hu-zi’s. I made up two beds for you early this morning.”

Chen Cuihua’s face lit up at the mention of this. After Wei Hu left, she’d been busy preparing. She’d brought out two new quilts—made years ago for the engagement ceremony but never used. Now that her son-in-law had arrived, they were finally put to use.

Yesterday, she’d taken advantage of the sunny weather to air them out. When Wei Hu asked about it, she’d simply said she was afraid the quilts might get damp and needed to be sun-dried.

Chen Cuihua pushed Song Ning into the west room. “Take a nap.”

Chen Cuihua, fearing Song Ning might feel uncomfortable with her present, left after ushering him inside. Her smile hadn’t left her face all day—finally, her son Hu-zi had a husband. She couldn’t wait to hold a grandson soon.

Song Ning saw fresh quilts spread on the bed, and a rack by the bedside holding men’s clothes. This must be the hunter’s room. Song Ning dared not move about carelessly, feeling a bit afraid. Sitting by the bed, he fell asleep face down on the quilts.

Chen Cuihua hadn’t been idle since leaving. Today was a day of great celebration; they had to have a proper meal. She plucked two heads of Chinese cabbage from the vegetable patch, then washed and chopped the meat.

The sound of mincing meat filled the courtyard. Since learning of his impending marriage, Song Ning had slept poorly for days. Yet now, the chopping didn’t rouse him; he lay sound asleep beneath the quilt.

News of the Wei family marrying a husband spread throughout Daliushu Village in just an afternoon. By now, the second crop had long been planted, leaving little work to be done. Everyone had settled into a leisurely pace.

Hearing that the Wei family had married a husband, many people came over to see the commotion.