By the time they returned, noon had passed. Wei Hu placed the game in the backyard and brought out the old hen.

“Brother Wei Hu, are we slaughtering the chicken today?”

“Mhm. Keeping it just wastes grain. Better to kill it and eat it.”

Song Ning squeezed closer. “Mother said this hen is laying eggs. She’ll start again when it warms up next year. Let’s not kill her. Mother will be upset if she finds out.”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright.”

Song Ning licked his lips. He hadn’t eaten chicken in a year and was feeling rather hungry.

The weather wasn’t particularly good today—overcast and gloomy. These past few days, the sky has changed rapidly. Once winter arrived, the cold grew more intense. Even in his thin quilted jacket, Song Ning felt a chill. In a few more days, he’d likely need to put on his thicker quilted coat.

Wei Hu was holding a knife, ready to slaughter the chicken. Intrigued, Song Ning squeezed over to crouch beside him. “Brother Wei Hu, let’s stew it this afternoon. We can eat together when Mother gets back.”

“It’s fine. Looks like snow’s coming soon. Mother’ll be back any minute.”

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it to me. It’s not that cold yet.”

“Are you hungry? Once it’s stewed, I’ll make you a bowl of chicken soup with noodles first.”

“Not really. I ate late this morning.”

Wei Hu had already plucked the feathers from the chicken’s neck and was about to make the cut with his knife. The little ger beside him wouldn’t budge, crowding close with a face full of curiosity, insisting on watching him slaughter the chicken.

Wei Hu nudged Song Ning-gerntly with his elbow. “Didn’t you say you wanted to go gather hazelnuts and walnuts?”

“Oh.”

Wei Hu took the knife and walked off to slaughter the chicken. He turned his back to Song Ning, afraid he might scare the timid ger.

Song Ning went inside, found a bamboo basket, and dumped today’s gathering into it. The loot from the squirrel’s nest was plentiful—this basket was half full. He pulled up a small stool, sat down, and began sorting the nuts.

Most were hazelnuts, hickory nuts, and chestnuts—all needed sorting. Mixed together, they wouldn’t fetch a good price.

Over at Wei Hu’s end, he’d swiftly butchered the chicken. He chopped it up and placed it in a large-bellied ceramic pot to simmer. He also kneaded some dough and rolled out noodles. Soon, he’d whip up a bowl of chicken noodle soup for the ger to eat.

After finishing his tasks, Wei Hu also went to gather nuts. Song Ning smiled as he pulled a small stool over for him, insisting on sitting close.

Neither spoke, yet their glances carried an indescribable, unspoken meaning.

The aroma of chicken broth wafted from the kitchen. Song Ning sniffed the air. “Brother Wei Hu, it smells so good.”

“Mm, the meat needs to simmer a bit longer. The broth will be ready soon.”

As they spoke, a gust of wind blew in, carrying with it tiny snowflakes that had begun falling outside. They were so fine, like needle tips, that one might not notice them without close attention. “Brother Wei Hu, it’s snowing!”

Song Ning dropped the dried fruit he was holding and dashed outside. This was the first snowfall of the year. He remembered last winter, when his father had just passed away, and Wu Cai’e had come to snatch away his winter coat. Last winter had been bitterly cold.

Chen Cuihua returned, carrying a bamboo basket on her back. “Ning-ger, aren’t you cold out in the yard? Hurry inside.”

“Mother, you’re back! Brother Wei Hu said you’d return early today. He even stewed a chicken!”

“That’s perfect. We haven’t had chicken in ages.”

Times had been tight at home. Though Wei Hu often hunted wild game like pheasants and rabbits, Chen Cuihua couldn’t bear to eat them and always had him sell them in town.

Song Ning circled around Chen Cuihua to help her unload the bamboo basket. Inside were a bundle of fruits and several blocks of tofu. Chen Cuihua pulled them out and handed them to Song Ning. “Business was good today. A steward from the village wanted baskets—he bought five at once. I sold the remaining two cheaply and came back early.”

Song Ning felt a warm glow inside. Those baskets, woven with such hard work, weren’t worth much in copper coins. That bag of dried fruit would probably cost half of what they earned.

As soon as Chen Cuihua entered the house, she spotted the generous amount of dried fruit in the bamboo basket. “Wow, where did all this dried fruit come from?”

Wei Hu recounted everything they’d hunted in the mountains today. Chen Cuihua listened with a broad smile. “What a good haul today! That fox pelt alone is worth a few silver coins. With the snow falling, we might even get a better price for it.”

Chen Cuihua pitched in to help sort the dried fruits. Song Ning untied the bundle of nuts and held them out for everyone to share. “Mother, Brother Wei Hu, have some nuts.”

Chen Cuihua casually picked up a small twisted pastry. Wei Hu didn’t care for sweets, but since the ger had offered it to him, he took a plain one instead. Song Ning grabbed a piece of his favorite sesame cake and began nibbling it slowly.

Chen Cuihua teased, “I told you Ning-ger is a lucky charm. Just look—ever since he came to our home, even the game has been easier to hunt!”

Song Ning blushed at the praise, being the only one in the family who didn’t work much. “It’s because Mother and Brother Wei Hu are so capable.”

The ger was so sweet-talking—how could Chen Cuihua not adore him? She’d only given birth to Wei Hu, who was never one for words. Now that her home had gained this soft-spoken, thoughtful ger, Chen Cuihua was naturally delighted.

Seeing Chen Cuihua’s happiness, Song Ning nudged Wei Hu discreetly with his elbow. Wei Hu understood perfectly. Clearing his throat, he said, “Mother, we stewed the hen from our yard. She hadn’t been looking well these past few days, so we decided to stew her.”

Chen Cuihua gasped, “Oh dear! Why stew that hen? I was planning to keep her for her eggs!”

Song Ning and Wei Hu huddled together, nervous about being scolded, nearly making Chen Cuihua laugh. “Well, it’s done now. Let’s just enjoy a good meal today.”

Chen Cuihua stood up. “We just bought tofu today. I’ll make you some Chinese cabbage and tofu stew with glass noodles. Simmered in chicken broth—it’ll be delicious.”

“Mom, I’ll tend the fire for you!”

Chen Cuihua pulled Song Ning along. “Alright. The kitchen’s warm. We’ll have Brother Wei Hu tidy up these things.”

Song Ning had recently learned to stoke the fire, and now that his help was needed, he happily followed her to the kitchen to pitch in.

Wei Hu watched the young ger’s retreating figure and let the corners of his mouth turn up. This ger… no wonder his mother dotes on him.

Outside, the snow fell steadily, though not heavily. It was early winter, so the cold wasn’t too biting, and Song Ning, stoking the fire in the kitchen, hardly felt the chill.

Chen Cuihua was a skilled cook. She scooped lard into the large iron pot to fry tofu, then simply added dried chili peppers, scallions, and garlic for a quick stir-fry. Pouring in some chicken broth, she simmered Chinese cabbage leaves inside. The pot bubbled and sizzled, its rim glistening with a layer of golden-orange oil.

The aroma of stewed chicken filled the room, making Song Ning’s stomach growl. He peered into the pot, his eyes glistening with hunger.

Outside, light snowflakes continued to flutter down, soon blanketing the ground with a thin layer. Song Ning poked his head out of the kitchen. “Brother Wei Hu, dinner’s ready.”

Wei Hu responded with a grunt and came over. Since the cold weather had set in, the three of them had moved their meals to the warm kitchen.

With the first snowfall of the year, the three of them ate an especially hearty meal. Chen Cuihua had been very frugal ever since Wei Hu’s incident, unwilling to spend a single extra copper coin.

Now that Song Ning was part of the family, she allowed herself to spend more on food and clothing. Though the household still had little silver, they could still afford some decent meals.

On the table sat a large bowl of chicken soup stewed with Chinese cabbage and tofu, thickened with glass noodles. alongside a steaming pot of chicken broth. Wei Hu’s hand-rolled noodles hadn’t been used, so Chen Cuihua planned to cook them later that evening. Instead, she had baked several multigrain flatbreads by the stove.

Though made from multigrain flour, the flatbreads were crisp and golden brown on the bottom, tasting every bit as good as their white-flour counterparts.

Song Ning devoured two cakes in a row, particularly loving the glass noodles in the Chinese cabbage stew. He ate so much he barely touched the chicken.

Chen Cuihua was delighted to see Song Ning eating heartily. “Those glass noodles were made by your brother Hu-zi this year. If you like them, I’ll have him make more for you next year.”

Song Ning nodded, “I do.”

The Wei family stewed chicken today, its aroma wafting to several neighboring households. With the snowfall making the cold even more biting, everyone stayed indoors after eating, avoiding the usual post-meal chatter.

Li Guifen’s family was also indoors. Leaning against the doorframe while picking her teeth, she sniffed the drifting aroma of meat and hummed disapprovingly. “That Wei Hu may be a hunter, but Chen Cuihua never used to spare a chicken. Today she’s suddenly willing to slaughter one for dinner.”

Li Gui’er’s wife piped up, “Mother, our old hen isn’t laying eggs anymore. Why don’t we slaughter one and try some meat too?”

Li Guifen shot her daughter-in-law a glare. “That old hen could fetch forty or fifty wen in town! All you think about is eating! If you want meat, go ask the Wei family for some. You won’t get any here!”

Li Gui’er’s wife curled her lip and nudged him with her elbow. Li Gui’er was terrified of his mother and dared not utter a word, shrinking his neck in defeat. His wife spat, “Useless coward! Wimp!”

Before Li Guifen could respond, Li Xiaolian spoke up. “Sister-in-law, how can you speak to my brother like that? You know very well how poor our family is.”

“You know we’re poor. We haven’t had meat in months. Xiaolian, you’re no longer a child. If you married off early, we’d have one less mouth to feed. That would ease the burden and even bring in a few taels of silver.”

Li Gui’er’s wife had a few choice words for Li Xiaolian. She couldn’t stand this younger sister-in-law—she’d never seen a younger sister-in-law meddle in her own sister-in-law’s affairs like this.

This Li Xiaolian was just like her mother-in-law—neither of them were pushovers. They were always stirring up trouble with Li Gui’er. Getting her married off sooner would bring some peace.

Li Xiaolian stamped her foot in anger. “Mother, just look at her!”

Li Guifen remained silent. Her own daughter was no longer young—seventeen now—well past the age for matchmaking. But after several suitors, she still hadn’t found one she liked. Li Guifen feared her daughter might become an old maid.

Li Gui’er’s eyes lit up at his wife’s words. “Your sister-in-law’s right. You’re no spring chicken, Xiaolian. You can’t stay unmarried forever. How can a few meager acres feed five mouths?”

Fuming, Li Xiaolian stormed back inside. Everyone wanted to marry her off tomorrow! She wouldn’t marry!

Li Xiaolian thought of Song Ning again. Why should he get a good life just by marrying into the Wei family?

After dinner, Song Ning’s family of three had little else to do. Their woodpile stood tall, the house was packed with several sacks of grain, and even the vegetable cellar held plenty of stored produce. They weren’t afraid of winter, no matter how thick the snow fell.

In the afternoon, they lit the fire in the small clay stove. A little copper kettle sat atop it, burning efficiently and providing warmth without consuming much fuel.

Wei Hu brought out the straw mat and hung it over the main room’s doorway. Though it dimmed the light inside, it made the space considerably warmer. They could simply roll it up on clear days.

After hanging the mat, Wei Hu clapped his hands and stepped inside. The initial snowfall hadn’t felt particularly cold, but the chill deepened by afternoon. Song Ning had already put on his new padded jacket, and by the fire, he felt perfectly warm.

Hot water simmered on the small stove. While the daylight lasted, Wei Hu went to the backyard to prepare the fox he’d caught. He’d take it to town in a couple of days to sell it. With the cold weather setting in, he might get a good price for it.

By late afternoon, the snow fell heavier and heavier. It had already piled up in the yard, deep enough to cover the tops of shoes. Song Ning instinctively pulled his neck back, tucking himself into the warmth of his collar. The day had turned cold all at once.

Out in the yard, two hunting dogs wrestled playfully, tangled together. Song Ning peeked through the straw curtain, amused by the spectacle. With the snowfall, darkness fell earlier. He remembered there was still some chicken soup left, and Brother Wei Hu had already rolled out the noodles. He could just cook them up.

Seeing the late hour, Song Ning headed out to prepare dinner. No sooner had he stepped into the kitchen than Wei Hu followed close behind. Song Ning gave him a playful wink. “Brother Wei Hu, what brings you here?”

“Cooking.”

“I can boil noodles. Brother Wei Hu, why don’t you tend the fire for me?”

“Alright.”

Song Ning felt quite content. The two of them were snuggled close together in the small thatched hut, and he felt a bit embarrassed.

After dinner, there wasn’t much else to do. Chen Cuihua, reluctant to keep the oil lamp burning, went to bed early. Song Ning, also feeling the chill, washed his feet and crawled into bed.

The cold sheets made him shiver. He curled himself into a ball, leaving only half his face exposed. “Brother Wei Hu, come up here. It’s a bit cold under the covers.”

Without a word, Wei Hu pulled another blanket over them. “One more layer.”

Song Ning grumbled under his breath. That wasn’t what he meant! Why was this man so wooden? Annoyed, he rolled over, presenting Wei Hu with only his round, plump back.

The snow had stopped at some point. Wei Hu rose early, first tossing a few logs into the pot to heat water, then grabbing a broom to sweep the fallen snow from the floor. This snowfall hadn’t been heavy, barely reaching ankle height.

Song Ning was still roused by the rustling sound of sweeping. After a night of restful dreams, he stretched lazily and rose. Needless to say, the man had been up since who-knows-when.

Outside, the sky hadn’t even fully brightened yet, and the room was still dim. Song Ning wrapped himself in his cotton robe and came out. “Brother Wei Hu, why so early?”

In the dead of winter, with no real work to be done, why get up so early?

“I need to head into the mountains early.”

Song Ning gasped. “You’re going into the mountains in this freezing weather?”

“The snow makes the game easier to catch. Once the heavy snow seals off the mountains, we won’t be able to go up.”

Wei Hu hoped to catch more pheasants and hares. With luck, he might even snag a fox—a silver fox would be even better.

“Then I’ll go cook.”

Song Ning turned and headed straight for the kitchen. Even after living with the Wei family for so long, he still couldn’t cook. But he could manage to boil some congee in the morning. His mother hadn’t figured out he couldn’t cook yet, thanks to Brother Wei Hu covering for him.

Wei Hu finished shoveling snow and joined him in the kitchen. He kneaded dough to bake some flatbreads on the stove. He wouldn’t be back until early afternoon, so he planned to catch as much game as possible while the snow still held.

Chen Cuihua rose not long after and entered to find the young couple bustling about. She stifled a quiet chuckle at their affectionate clinginess.

“Hu-zi, heading into the mountains today?”

“Aye.”

“Be careful out there. Snowy paths are slippery. Watch your step.”

“Got it, Mom.”

Wei Hu baked a few flatbreads and scrambled a dish of eggs. Breakfast consisted of flatbread wrapped around eggs and pickled vegetables. Song Ning thought Wei Hu had put too few eggs in his portion, so she added several more pieces to his flatbread.

After breakfast, Wei Hu left with his two hunting dogs. Song Ning, with little to do at home, took a book and leaned against the main room doorway to read. Chen Cuihua, however, seemed perpetually restless, always with some task at hand—if not sewing shoe soles, then mending clothes.

The two sat quietly, each occupied with their own tasks. A charcoal brazier warmed the main room—Wei Hu had deliberately burned extra firewood while cooking that morning. After preparing the meal, he placed the embers in the earthenware basin for them to keep warm.

“Hu-zi’s mom, I’m here.”

“Oh, Master Ma, the carpenter is here.”

Chen Cuihua set down her work and went out to greet him. Song Ning also looked over, seeing a middle-aged man pushing a handcart loaded with a brand-new writing desk and bookshelf.

Song Ning went out too, helping unload the items. Carpenter Ma chuckled softly. “The weather’s been bad these past few days. The lacquer didn’t dry properly, so it took a few extra days.”

“No problem, no problem,” Chen Cuihua replied with a smile.

“This must be Hu-zi’s fulang, right? I’ve never met him before. When Hu-zi and his wife got married, I didn’t have much to give them, so I carved a pair of paperweights as a gift for the couple.”

“Carpenter Ma, you’re being far too kind.”

Carpenter Ma gave a low “Ah,” replying, “We’re all from the same village. No need for formalities.”

Carpenter Ma handed the pair of paperweights to Song Ning. Holding them, Song Ning was quite pleased. Crafted from fine pear wood, they bore carved auspicious characters and were finished with lacquer—evidently made with great care.

Carpenter Ma helped carry the items into the east room. Song Ning beamed with joy at the sight of his new writing desk, happily arranging his books upon it.

Carpenter Ma sat by the main hall doorway, sipping warm water. “Hu-zi’s fulang can read? That’s quite something.”

“Just idle reading for the little one, passing the time.”

Chen Cuihua felt pleased by the praise for Song Ning. Her family had endured plenty of gossip from the villagers over the years. Master Ma was one of the most skilled craftsmen in the village, and his family lived well. Praising Song Ning was essentially praising her own household.

Song Ning had quite a collection of books. It took him several trips to carry them all over. The east room would now be his study.

Master Ma, who’d assumed Song Ning knew only a few characters, watched him make multiple trips carrying all those books. He couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise, “So many books! That’s more than even my son Xiangyuan has!”

Song Ning smiled too. “They’re all old books from before.”

After exchanging a few words, Carpenter Ma took his leave. With Wei Hu absent, he felt it was inappropriate to linger. Country folk held scholars in high regard, and though Song Ning was just a ger, Carpenter Ma admired him from the bottom of his heart.

Villagers had long gossiped that the Wei family had married home a pretty face—one who couldn’t tend a fire or cook a meal, acting like royalty while Chen Cuihua and Wei Hu fussed over him. But now they saw this was no mere pretty face. Not a single literate ger could be found in all of Daliushu Village.

When Wei Hu came asking him to make a desk and bookshelves, he’d already begun to wonder. He’d heard Wei Hu’s fulang came from a town family, so he’d thought he might know a few characters. But seeing Song Ning carry out so many books today, his learning likely surpassed even Xiangyuan’s.

Song Ning’s writing desk and bookshelves were finished. Placed by the window, they caught plenty of light, and on sunny days, they could even bask in the sun. Chen Cuihua came over to help tidy up. “Master Ma, the carpenter is truly skilled. People from several villages around here come to him for furniture.”

Song Ning hummed in acknowledgment. “Master Ma is a kind man. He even gave me a paperweight.”

“Mother doesn’t know what these two pieces of wood are for, but Master Ma does. His son studies in town. Only two families in our village can afford to send their children to school—one is the village chief’s, and the other is Master Ma’s.”

Song Ning nodded obediently, playing the role of the dutiful child.

Chen Cuihua patted the chair. “It’s freezing sitting on this in the middle of winter. When I have time, I’ll make you a cushion pad. It’ll keep you warm when you sit.”

“Thanks, Mother!”

Wei Hu had been roaming the mountains these past few days. On his first day out, he’d wandered so long that dusk had fallen by the time he reached home. Before he even reached the door, he spotted the ger waiting for him there.

Wei Hu had been quite successful, catching three wild rabbits and a pheasant that day—far more than usual—which was why he’d returned late.

As soon as Wei Hu arrived, Chen Cuihua gave him a scolding. “Look at you! I know you want to hunt more, but you should still come back early. Ning-ger was worried sick about you and ran to the door several times.”

Seeing Wei Hu return, Song Ning finally breathed a sigh of relief. He’d heard from his mother that Wei Hu’s father had died while hunting. With snow falling now and the mountain paths slippery, how could he not worry?

Knowing Song Ning worried about him, Wei Hu returned early from his hunting trips over the next few days. He only stopped going out once the snow melted and the mountain paths became difficult to traverse. He waited until the ground dried out before venturing back into the mountains.

These past few days, Wei Hu had bagged quite a haul. Combined with what he hadn’t sold earlier, he now had nine pheasants, eight hares, and even two foxes.

Wei Hu skinned the foxes at home, boiling the meat to feed to Hei Dou and Hua Dou. He also killed two hares; their combined pelts were ample to make a scarf for Song Ning.

Though he wasn’t venturing into the mountains anymore, Wei Hu packed his things to head to town. He needed to sell this game early; keeping it at home would require constant tending.

This trip to town, Wei Hu didn’t take Song Ning along. The snow had just melted, making the roads treacherous. The ger was fastidious about cleanliness, and with mud everywhere outside, Wei Hu didn’t want him covered in it.

Wei Hu borrowed a cart from Master Ma, the carpenter. Pushing it, he headed to town to sell the game and the dried goods they’d gathered earlier. “Is there anything you want?”

Song Ning shook his head. “Nothing, Brother Wei Hu. Take care on the road.”

“Alright.”

Seeing Wei Hu work so hard to earn copper coins for the family, Song Ning longed to contribute too. But he knew nothing—not even how to cook properly. Brother Wei Hu treated him so well. This trip to town, he hadn’t forgotten to bring some pumpkin and Chinese cabbage for Granny Zhang.

Wei Hu hadn’t been gone long when Qiu-ger arrived. The moment he stepped inside, he let out a satisfied sigh. “You’ve got charcoal burning in your room? This weather is freezing to death! It didn’t feel so bad when it was snowing, but this thaw is brutal.”

Song Ning had been feeling a bit down, but Qiu-ger’s arrival lifted his spirits. Qiu-ger hadn’t visited in a while—the snow had made the roads treacherous.

“Qiu-ger, you’re here! Warm your hands quickly.”

Qiu-ger arrived still carrying his embroidery basket. Even during the farming off-season, he never idled. Whenever he had free time, he embroidered. When he had enough pieces, he’d take them to town to sell, earning a few copper coins to supplement the household income.

Chen Cuihua was nearby, weaving a straw mat. She was making one for Song Ning—first weaving the base from straw, then tearing up one of Wei Hu’s old short coats to use as the cover. It would look quite nice when finished.

Qiu-ger was a lively boy. Though he hadn’t known Chen Cuihua well before, after visiting Song Ning several times, they’d become acquainted. After chatting a bit and learning she was making a mat for Song Ning, he grew envious. “Ning-ger, your mom’s so much better than my old hag of a mother. All she ever does is give me chores.”