Long after the three had walked away, Granny Sun’s curses could still be heard. Judging by the tone, she was berating Qiu-ger, accusing him of siding with outsiders to bully his grandmother.

Chen Cuihua shook her head in exasperation. “That Sun woman is such a handful. We should’ve let her stomach ache a bit longer just now.”

Song Ning chuckled. “She’s got plenty of energy left—must mean her stomach pain’s gone.”

The two walked ahead, Wei Hu following behind, his protective stance firmly anchored just behind Song Ning.

Chen Cuihua inquired, “Ning-ger, how did you know these persimmons shouldn’t be eaten in excess? And you even know that prescription? Could it be… you’re skilled in medicine?”

Song Ning hastily shook his head. “I’m no doctor. I just read many miscellaneous books before and learned from them.”

“I see. Indeed, those who study books are formidable.”

The three made their way home. Over at the Sun household, things were still unsettled. Granny Sun was berating Qiu-ger for siding with outsiders and bullying her, his own mother. Qiu-ger snorted and stormed out, too lazy to bother with her.

Sun Dazhuang helped his mother drink some hot water, and Granny Sun perked up, her scolding growing even more vicious.

“Mother, why are you being so unreasonable? Qiu-ger only did it for your own good. See, your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Granny Sun paused, rubbing her belly. It still ached, though not as intensely as before. Her eyes darted about. “But that doesn’t mean he should team up with outsiders to bully his own mother!”

Sun Dazhuang knew his mother was feeling better by her demeanor. He left her behind and went outside to placate his husband. He approached Qiu-ger with a fawning expression, coaxing, “Come on, Qiu-ger, don’t be angry. That’s just how our mother is. Don’t get upset.”

“I’m not angry! Get lost!” Qiu-ger shoved Sun Dazhuang away, turning his back on him in refusal.

Sun Dazhuang circled back. “I was wrong! Hit me if you must, just don’t be angry! Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it right now!”

Hearing this, Qiu-ger recalled Ning-ger mentioning earlier that Hu-zi Ge’er had cooked for him. An idea immediately formed. “Then go cook.”

“Ah, but I don’t know how!”

Qiu-ger glared at him. “I said, do it. Stop talking nonsense.”

“Alright, alright, alright. Fine, Qiu-ger, don’t be angry.”

Only then did Qiu-ger cheer up. Brother Hu-zi not only hunted but also cooked for his husband. Why couldn’t his own Dazhuang do the same? Did he have an extra set of eyes or something?

Qiu-ger directed Sun Dazhuang in the cooking. Lying on the bed, Granny Sun heard the commotion and started cursing again. “You little brat, Qiu-ger! Who lets their husband do the cooking? I’ll tell your mother about this!”

Qiu-ger ignored him. He kicked Sun Dazhuang. “Hmph! If I’d known your mother was such a pain, who would’ve married into your family?”

Sun Dazhuang scrambled to appease her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Whatever you say goes in this house. I’ll listen to you.”

Only then did Qiu-ger feel satisfied. A rotten bamboo can still produce good bamboo shoots—back then, he’d only set his sights on Sun Dazhuang. Who knew his mother-in-law would turn out to be such a handful?

“Thanks to Ning-ger for recommending that remedy today. It only costs five copper coins. If I’d gone to see a doctor secretly, it would’ve easily been twenty coins.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Brother Hu-zi and Sister-in-law are both good people.”

The couple bustled sweetly about preparing dinner in the kitchen, while inside, Granny Sun raged and cursed. Qiu-ger thought to himself that when it came time for the medicine that night, he’d slip in some bitter yellow lotus root. Let’s see if she’d still be cursing then.

The next day, Granny Sun was up and about as lively as ever. Qiu-ger picked all the persimmons from the tree. When he saw his mother-in-law come out, he deliberately asked, “Mother, would you like some persimmons? They’re even sweeter now that the frost has hit them.”

Granny Sun’s face darkened. “No, I won’t have any!”

Qiu-ger chuckled. There were plenty more on the tree. Now his grandmother couldn’t claim she was too stingy to share. He picked three baskets full, giving two to each child he met at the door.

Ning-ger had warned that persimmons shouldn’t be eaten in excess—one or two a day was fine—so he dared not give the other children more, afraid they might overindulge.

He planned to send one basket to his maternal home and another to Ning-ger, who loved them.

Qiu-ger carried a basket brimming with ripe, crimson persimmons over to Song Ning’s house. The sun had peeked out today, and it wasn’t as cold as yesterday. When he arrived, Chen Cuihua was in the courtyard helping Song Ning try on a little quilted jacket.

“Aunt Cuihua, your needlework is truly exquisite.”

“Ah, Qiu-ger! How is your mother? Has she recovered?”

“She’s fine. She went out early this morning to gossip again.” Qiu-ger set down the basket of persimmons. “She didn’t even say she wouldn’t let anyone eat them—she made me pick them all down.”

Qiu-ger circled around Song Ning, then ran his hand over the thin jacket. “This fabric is really nice—so soft.”

Song Ning’s eyes crinkled. “It’s warm too.”

Qiu-ger played for a while before leaving, leaving Song Ning and the others with a basket full of persimmons. “Mother, what should we do with so many persimmons?”

“No worries. We’ll eat two a day. They won’t go bad.”

“Alright.”

Chen Cuihua hadn’t known that persimmons shouldn’t be eaten in excess. Seeing how much pain Grandma Sun was in yesterday, she hadn’t dared to eat much herself. But these persimmons from the Sun family were delicious—sweet as could be.

Because it had rained all day yesterday and the roads were treacherous, Wei Hu hadn’t gone into the mountains. Instead, he stayed home to help weave baskets. When it was time to cook, he coaxed his mother to go buy tofu outside, and he quietly prepared the meal for Song Ning.

Song Ning sat before the stove, his little face scrunched up in frustration. All he knew how to do now was tend the fire and cook porridge. He still hadn’t mastered stir-frying or anything else.

“Brother Wei Hu, what should I do? I still can’t learn how to cook.”

“Just keep practicing. If you really can’t manage, tell Mother.”

“No, no! I’m afraid Mother will look down on me. Qiu-ger said he does all the cooking at his house.”

Song Ning shook his little head so vigorously that it left a blur. He wasn’t just afraid his mother would scold him—he dreaded the village gossip.

Wei Hu was busy slicing a radish on the cutting board when Song Ning squeezed over. “Wei Hu, let me try.”

Wei Hu reluctantly handed him the knife. The little fellow sliced the radish clumsily, making Wei Hu watch with bated breath, terrified the blade might land on those jade-like fingers.

Fortunately, the ger was careful enough. Though the radish shreds were uneven—some thin, some thick—his eyes sparkled brightly. “Brother Wei Hu, look! I can slice radish shreds now!”

“Hmm, very impressive.”

The oil in the small iron pot was already hot. Wei Hu swiftly tossed in some dried chili peppers and scallions. He dared not let Song Ning stir-fry—earlier that morning, oil had splashed onto the boy’s hand, leaving another red mark.

“Tomorrow, Mother’s going to town to sell baskets. Don’t worry about lunch. I’ll hunt and come back early to cook for you.”

Song Ning nodded, “Got it.”

Footsteps approached the doorway. Wei Hu hurriedly shoved the spatula into the little boy’s hands. Chen Cuihua entered, carrying a bowl. “Quite a few folks bought tofu today. With the cold weather setting in, everyone loves stewed tofu.”

Song Ning gave a sheepish smile. “Mom, put it over there.”

“Alright.”

Song Ning stirred the pot twice with the spatula. In that brief moment, several radish shreds had already turned black. He urgently whispered to Wei Hu for help, “Brother Wei Hu! Brother Wei Hu!”

Wei Hu took the spatula and gave the pot two sharp, decisive stirs.

Chen Cuihua had finished sewing Song Ning’s winter padded jacket these past two days. She didn’t idle either, weaving baskets whenever she had free time. Once she had enough, she’d take them to town to sell.

The tofu stew was also Wei Hu’s doing. Song Ning felt defeated. Why was cooking so hard? He had to learn quickly, or else the villagers would laugh at him if they found out.

That night, Song Ning tossed and turned, unable to sleep from worry. The warmth in the bedding dissipated as he moved. Giving up, he opened his eyes. “Brother Wei Hu, are you asleep?”

“No.”

Song Ning tried to snuggle closer to Wei Hu, but Wei Hu pushed him away through the quilt. Song Ning felt a bit annoyed. The more Wei Hu resisted, the more he rolled outward. They were married now—what was wrong with getting close?

Already troubled by his inability to cook, Song Ning now faced marital discord. His frustration mounted—how could they conceive a child if they weren’t even sharing a bed?

Wei Hu was getting a headache from this little brat. He sat up and rolled the kid into a little ball. Song Ning grumbled a couple of times but didn’t shake off the quilt. He felt even more wronged. “Brother Wei Hu, do you think I’m too stupid to? Everyone knows how to do it, but I don’t.”

“No.”

“Then why won’t you hold me?”

“We’ll talk about that later.” Wei Hu feared growing too close might hinder Song Ning’s future.

Song Ning wouldn’t listen. After kicking twice, he finally tossed the quilt aside. His voice trembled with hurt, “You just think I’m stupid.”

Wei Hu’s headache intensified. “No.”

In the darkness, Wei Hu heard the ger sniffle.

“You just… I can’t sew, I can’t cook, I can’t even work the fields. All I know how to do is spend money. You just think I’m useless.”

No matter what Wei Hu said, the ger wouldn’t listen. He was probably crying again.

“Come here.”

A rustling sound came from beside him. The ger inched closer, inch by inch. Even when he was right beside him, he only dared to reach out and grab his arm.

“Brother Wei Hu, please don’t send me away.”

“Song Ning, why can’t you understand? I’m a coarse man with a bad fate. I’m unworthy of you. When the day comes—when we divorce—you should find someone else to marry, pure and untouched.”

In response, he received a light kick to the calf. The young lad replied in a muffled voice: “Brother Wei Hu, you’re so silly. We already sleep in the same bed. What purity do I have left? To outsiders, we’ve slept together countless times already.”

“Don’t talk nonsense!”

Wei Hu scolded the young lad softly. Thankfully, it was night—his face felt like it was on fire. What kind of nonsense was this person spouting?

“Oh.”

How could Song Ning not be troubled? The schoolmaster praised him as clever and quick-witted, but that wasn’t true at all. Not only was he useless at chores, but he couldn’t even perform properly in bed—utterly hopeless.

But today, when he snuggled up to Brother Wei Hu, he wasn’t pushed away~

Song Ning was so worried. Lost in his worries, he ended up pulling on Wei Hu’s sleeve and drifted off to sleep. Half-asleep, he thought he’d ask Qiu-ger when he saw him next. After all, he was a new husband too.

Wei Hu had been home for several days already. Before dawn, he rose to cook and pack, preparing to head into the mountains. Song Ning got up too. Wei Hu glanced at him. “Why are you up? It’s still early.”

Song Ning yawned. “I’ll make breakfast for you.”

Wei Hu fell silent for a moment. Make breakfast for him…