Noticing the visitor, Qiu-ger immediately stopped talking. Though he wasn’t close with Li Xiaolian, he feared she might spread gossip. He stepped aside to help Song Ning stoke the fire beneath the pot.

Li Xiaolian smiled. “I came to see you. It’s been ages since I last visited.”

“I’m cooking now. I’ll come find you another day.”

Li Xiaolian hummed in acknowledgment. “Alright, I’ll head home then.”

Qiu-ger poked his head out of the kitchen, watching Li Xiaolian walk away. He turned back to the stove and exclaimed, “Oh dear! How could stir-fried mustard greens that release water end up burning in the pot?”

Qiu-ger hurried to lend a hand, but in the end, they still managed to produce a plate of sour and spicy shredded mustard greens dotted with black spots.

Qiu-ger couldn’t understand it. Was cooking really that hard? He’d known how to do it since he was a kid.

Song Ning didn’t dare meet Qiu-ger’s gaze. He had no idea how he’d managed to ruin the dish like this. Qiu-ger slapped his thigh. “This won’t do! I’m teaching you how to make a proper dish today, no matter what! Aunt Cuihua usually comes back late, so I can still teach you!”

Tears welled up in Song Ning’s eyes. “Qiu-ger, you’re so kind.”

Qiu-ger skipped his own dinner and ate with Song Ning at his place instead. They warmed up some scallion pancakes, with a dish of dark, sour-spicy shredded Chinese cabbage in between.

Qiu-ger tasted a bite of the scallion pancake. “This pancake is well made—and it’s all white flour. Aunt Cuihua really has excellent skills.”

“Brother Wei Hu made it,” Song Ning said proudly. “He was worried I wouldn’t get lunch, so he made it especially for me.”

Qiu-ger’s tone turned slightly sour. “Brother Wei Hu is so kind to you. Even my own Dazhuang isn’t as considerate as him.”

He picked up a forkful of the stir-fried dish Song Ning had prepared, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ning-ger, how much vinegar did you put in this?”

Song Ning felt a twinge of guilt but quickly shifted the blame. “You were watching me cook. You told me to add it.”

Qiu-ger rolled his eyes. “Nonsense! When did I ever tell you to use that much vinegar? Vinegar and salt are precious commodities—use sparingly! And that oil—who scoops it out like you do when cooking? If my mother-in-law saw that, she’d scold me to no end!”

“But Brother Wei Hu uses that much,”

Qiu-ger was momentarily speechless. “Brother Hu really treats you well. He’s generous with the oil when cooking. No one else in the village uses as much oil as he does.”

Cooks know that more oil makes food taste better, but country folk are frugal. They’re stingy with oil for cooking, let alone frying anything—that’s even more of a sacrifice. Some poor families cook without oil at all, just boiling things in plain water.

Song Ning tasted the dish he’d prepared, spat it out, and Qiu-ger scolded him, “Wasting food.”

In the end, Qiu-ger ate the entire plate of Chinese cabbage himself. He couldn’t bear to throw it away, so Song Ning just nibbled on a flatbread and sipped some tea.

After finishing their meal, it was just past noon. The two sat in the courtyard basking in the sun. Song Ning propped his chin up, eyes half-closed. “Qiu-ger, you really aren’t going home to cook?”

“No. Anyway, my Dazhuang isn’t home. Let her cook for herself.”

Dazhuang had taken on a job building someone’s house and would be busy for several days. Qiu-ger was too lazy to go home and tend to Granny Sun, so he stayed put at Song Ning’s place.

With nothing else to do, Qiu-ger sat in the courtyard for a while before wandering into the house. It was his first time inside the Wei residence. Upon entering, he spotted a colorful hanging scroll painting. He gasped, “Ning-ger, your family bought a painting? It’s so beautiful! That must have cost two taels of silver, right?”

“I painted it myself. I have another ink painting with no place to hang it. Want it?”

“You… you painted it! Ning-ger, you’re not useless after all! That’s amazing!” Qiu-ger dashed out of the room. “Ning-ger, you’re so talented! I’ve never met a little ger who can paint!”

Song Ning felt a bit embarrassed by the praise. “But I’m not as good as you. You can do so many things.”

“That’s different! If we’re talking about it, no one in the whole village is as good as you. I’ve never seen anyone who can paint—not just gers, but even I’ve never seen it!”

“R-really?”

“Really! I’ll tell you what—maybe you could sell your calligraphy and paintings! Those things are worth a lot!”

Song Ning’s eyes lit up, then dimmed. “But… but I don’t have any copper coins to buy paper. Painting usually requires good Xuan paper, but it’s too expensive. I can’t afford it.”

“I forgot—paper and books are expensive things. It’s okay. You can buy them later when you’ve saved up some copper coins.”

Qiu-ger didn’t understand these things, but he knew that supporting a scholar was costly. For an ordinary rural family, raising a scholar would mean selling everything they owned.

Song Ning went inside to fetch some calligraphy and paintings for Qiu-ger. He still had a small, already-mounted ink painting he’d done while living at the Song residence. “This is the last one I have. I’ll give it to you as a parting gift.”

Qiu-ger was delighted to receive the landscape painting. Beside it were several lines of small calligraphy, and beneath it sat a red seal—a rather beautiful piece of art.

Qiu-ger gasped in surprise. “Ning-ger, you actually know how to read?”

“I know a little. I studied some books in my early years.”

“Ning-ger, don’t ever say you’re slow! Compared to you, I’m the real slow one. Though I can’t read, I can tell this calligraphy is beautifully written!”

Noticing four more exquisite landscape paintings hanging on the wall beside Song Ning’s bed, Qiu-ger exclaimed, “I’ll take this home and hang it above my bed too—it’s so beautiful!”

Song Ning blushed at the praise. Was he really that skilled?

Qiu-ger chatted idly with Song Ning all afternoon, teaching him how to stir-fry dried radish with cured pork and braise Chinese cabbage. The dishes looked far more presentable than the midday meal.

But Song Ning’s hands suffered greatly. While slicing the cured pork, he not only cut himself, but oil splashed onto his hands while stir-frying. Though his eyes stung, he thought it was manageable—he just hated the pain.

After teaching Song Ning to cook, Qiu-ger headed home. In a good mood, he hummed a tune as he carried his firewood back. As expected, his mother-in-law gave him a scolding, but Qiu-ger ignored her, going straight to hang a painting above his bed.

Song Ning finished cooking and kept the meal warm in the pot. Sitting in the courtyard, chin resting in his hand, he waited for Wei Hu to return. His eyes sparkled brightly—Brother Wei Hu would surely praise him for being so capable!

Song Ning sat obediently in the courtyard. Only a sliver of sunlight remained now. Wei Hu had said he’d come back early, so he should arrive before Mother, right?

Song Ning’s eyes crinkled. This felt so good. He loved this life.

As Song Ning waited in the courtyard, two distant dog barks echoed. He sprang to his feet—sounded like Hei Dou and Hua Dou.

She trotted toward the gate, and sure enough, Wei Hu was walking down the path toward them, the two hunting dogs racing ahead.

Wei Hu spotted Song Nin,g too. The little ger broke into a smile the moment he saw him. Wei Hu felt an indescribable emotion well up inside. Seeing Song Ning smile, he instinctively quickened his pace.

“Brother Wei Hu, you’re back!”

Wei Hu nodded to Song Ning, then barked at the two excited hounds, “Hei Dou! Hua Dou!”

The dogs turned and ran back to their master. At the gate, Wei Hu leashed them one by one to a corner of the yard.

Song Ning felt a warm glow inside. Brother Wei Hu knew he was afraid of dogs. Though the man seemed rough around the edges, his heart was more thoughtful than anyone else’s.

As Wei Hu unloaded the basket from his back, Song Ning buzzed around him excitedly. “Wow, Brother Wei Hu, you’re amazing! You actually caught two wild pheasants!”

“Not bad.”

Hearing the ger’s praise, Wei Hu felt a bit embarrassed. These were just ordinary things he was used to doing.

Wei Hu reached into the cloth bag at his waist and pulled out a handful of something, handing it to Song Ning. “I picked some mountain walnuts. Here, have some.”

Song Ning reached out to take them, but Wei Hu’s expression turned cold when he saw the fine cuts on the ger’s fingers. “How did you hurt your hands?”

Song Ning hadn’t noticed Wei Hu’s change in mood. Like a little fox begging for praise, his voice was full of excitement. “Brother Wei Hu! I went to the mountain with Qiu-ger today to gather firewood. Look, I filled a whole basket! I’ve already cooked dinner, so you don’t need to come back and make it!“

”Your hands. Let me see.”

Wei Hu had already set aside the mountain walnuts he was holding. Only then did Song Ning notice Wei Hu’s stern expression. Song Ning blinked. Brother Wei Hu seemed upset.

Song Ning murmured, “Oh,” and placed his hand over Wei Hu’s palm. Wei Hu’s breath caught. That wasn’t his intention—he’d only instinctively reached out, and the ger’s hand had simply landed there.

A deeper cut was visible on the ger’s finger. Wei Hu’s voice was hoarse. “What about the other hand?”

Song Ning obediently placed his other hand over Wei Hu’s palm. Wei Hu’s brow furrowed slightly. The left hand was injured, and the right hand was reddened from oil splatters. He’d been away for just one day, and the ger had already gotten himself into this state.

Song Ning placed both hands in Wei Hu’s palms, wiggling his fingers restlessly. “Brother Wei Hu, your hands are so big they can wrap around both of mine.”

The ger’s clear eyes stared unblinkingly at him, his hands still obediently nestled in Wei Hu’s. Wei Hu thought to himself, I’ve truly met my match.

Wei Hu withdrew his hands and silently placed the two fluttering wild chickens in the backyard before giving Hei Dou and Hua Dou some water.

Song Ning followed Wei Hu around in circles, cautiously asking, “Brother Wei Hu, what’s wrong? Are you upset?”

“No.”

” Brother Wei Hu, you’re lying. Did I upset you? But… but I went to gather firewood and cooked dinner today.“

”No.“

”Brother Wei Hu, Brother Wei Hu…”

Wei Hu’s heart melted at the ger’s soft voice. He turned around, and the ger following behind him collided straight into his arms.

Wei Hu instinctively reached to steady the ger’s waist, then jerked his hand away as if burned. The ger bumped against his chest without lifting his head. Wei Hu looked down and could only see the ger’s pale, slender neck. He quickly averted his gaze.

“Brother Wei Hu, are you angry?”

“No.”