Song Ning just smiled and didn’t respond. People were talking about his mother-in-law, and he certainly couldn’t join in the gossip. But he felt incredibly fortunate to have such a wonderful mother and such a wonderful Wei Hu.

Song Ning grew troubled again at the thought of Wei Hu. Though they shared the same bed, they hadn’t consummated their marriage yet. Song Ning felt a sense of urgency.

Qiu-ger’s hands kept embroidering flowers as she ranted about Granny Sun: “Never met such a tightwad! It’s freezing cold, and she won’t even light a fire in the house for me to warm my hands. When I asked for hot water to wash my face this morning, she scolded me. Honestly, she’s driving me crazy!”

Song Ning gasped, “You can’t use hot water?”

“She’s stingy, won’t let me burn firewood. Besides, didn’t I and Dazhuang bring all the firewood into this house? What’s it piled up for? To lay eggs?”

Only then did Song Ning realize some families were so stingy they wouldn’t even let their own people burn firewood. He felt even more fortunate to have met Wei Hu. He remembered not long after he’d married in, when the cold hadn’t yet set in properly, Wei Hu would often head into the mountains with his axe to chop firewood.

Song Ning felt warm inside. Brother Wei Hu really was the best.

Qiu-ger smiled at Song Ning. “Ning-ger, your place is so much warmer. My hands went numb embroidering at home—the flowers didn’t even turn out pretty.”

“No problem. Just come over more often. Ning-ger’s home every day, and you two can chat together.”

Chen Cuihua immediately invited Qiu-ger to her home. After all, the fire would warm two people just as well as three, and having someone to chat with would liven up the house.

Hearing Chen Cuihua say this, Song Ning chimed in with encouragement: “Just come over. We’ll have the fire going whenever the weather’s bad.”

“Alright then, I won’t hesitate to take you up on that.”

Qiu-ger agreed. With the cold weather, he no longer needed to head into the mountains early to gather firewood. Unless a household hadn’t stockpiled enough, who would go into the mountains to work in the dead of winter?

When he had free time, he embroidered. But his home was bitterly cold, and his mother-in-law wouldn’t let him burn firewood. His fingers turned red from the cold while he embroidered.

Song Ning sat nearby, reading a book. When his mother wasn’t busy at home, she didn’t make him cook, only to tend the fire. If he tried to stir-fry a dish, she’d say hers tasted better. Song Ning never revealed that he couldn’t cook.

Qiu-ger sat right next to him, embroidering. Though Song Ning couldn’t embroider himself, he leaned in to take a look. Qiu-ger chatted idly with him, “See how this leaf isn’t stitched well? It’s too cold, my hands are stiff.”

“It looks quite nice. I wouldn’t know how to do it myself.”

Chen Cuihua chimed in, “Qiu-ger, you say you can’t do it, but your embroidery is quite good. How many in our village can stitch as well as you? It’s fine for personal use, but you couldn’t sell it.”

Song Ning nodded in agreement, “Exactly, exactly.”

“Not at all. This pattern’s been used by my own father for ages—who knows how many years old it is. I work hard to embroider handkerchiefs, but they don’t fetch a good price. Others can sell one for fifteen or twenty wen, but the embroidery workshop only gives me eight wen. Sigh.”

Song Ning peered closer. Qiu-ger’s embroidery patterns were indeed rather crude; the handkerchiefs he’d used before were far more intricate.

“Qiu-ger, if you don’t mind, I could sketch some patterns for you. Maybe they’d turn out better.” Song Ning had intended to help Qiu-ger with designs earlier, but had forgotten. Today seemed like the perfect chance to sketch some and see if they worked.

Qiu-ger’s eyes lit up. “Right! How could I have forgotten you? Ning-ger, you can draw!”

Song Ning hadn’t painted in quite some time. The weather was too cold, and he didn’t have much paper at home. The paper he’d brought wasn’t large enough—just the kind he used for daily calligraphy practice.

Song Ning got up and headed to the east room. Qiu-ger followed him. “Ning-ger, this is a newly made writing desk!”

“Yes, Wei Hu made it for me.”

Qiu-ger stroked it enviously. “It’s even lacquered! That must’ve cost a pretty penny.”

Song Ning had no idea how much the desk cost. “Was it very expensive?”

“Several taels of silver, easily. Lacquered furniture is pricey. When my dad made me a few wooden chests, he couldn’t bring himself to lacquer them—too costly.”

Hearing it cost several taels, Song Ning recalled that Brother Wei Hu still had some silver left from selling that deer. He suspected Wei Hu had spent it all on this desk and bookshelf for him.

Warmth filled Song Ning’s heart. Brother Wei Hu was truly too kind to him.

Song Ning ground ink and selected a fine brush to paint floral patterns for Qiu-ger. The boy had never touched an inkstick before and stood curiously by, helping grind the ink.

Chen Cuihua joined the commotion. “Let me see! I’ve never watched Ning-ger paint either.”

Everyone had gathered in the east room now. Worried the two gers might be cold, Chen Cuihua brought the brazier inside.

Song Ning recalled the embroidery patterns he’d used before—nothing more than flowers and grass, just a bit more intricate than what Qiu-ger was currently stitching. It wasn’t difficult. He picked up his brush and began sketching.

Unlike embroidery, painting only requires outlining the shapes. It wasn’t difficult at all. Soon, Song Ning had sketched a design of butterflies fluttering around orchids.

Qiu-ger gasped, “Ning-ger, you really can draw!”

Song Ning was still worried it might not be usable. “Is this any good? Will this work?”

Qiu-ger, overcome with excitement, threw his arms around Song Ning. Being nearly the same height, their heads collided. Song Ning yelped, and Qiu-ger quickly let go. “I’m just so happy!”

Song Ning was pleased to be of help to Qiu-ger. “As long as it works.”

“It’s more than usable! This pattern is so intricate—embroidered like this, it’d fetch at least fifteen wen!” Qiu-ger chattered away. “The patterns I use now are all from my father. The countryside only has those old designs, and I can’t draw new ones. They can’t compare to the intricate ones from town.”

Song Ning’s eyes crinkled. “Then I’ll help you sketch some new ones.”

“Alright.”

Chen Cuihua watched from the side. Ning-ger’s sketches were truly beautiful. She herself couldn’t embroider—it was a craft in its own right. She’d heard that skilled embroiderers in town could earn several taels of silver a month.

To learn, you’d need to pay tuition and find a master willing to take you on. Or, you’d have to come from a family that practiced it, passing the skill down through generations. Qiu-ger’s skill, for instance, came from his father.

The embroidery patterns were simple, meant for handkerchiefs, so they didn’t need to be large. Song Ning sketched three designs for Qiu-ger in one go: Persimmons Bringing Good Fortune, Joy Blossoming on Plum Branches, and Magnolia Blossoms.

“That’s enough, that’s enough! These will suffice for now,” Qiu-ger hurriedly said. This many patterns would last him ages, and they weren’t disposable—he could keep using them indefinitely.

Qiu-ger was overjoyed, showering Song Ning with praise for his skill. These designs were not only more intricate but also far more beautiful—they were sure to fetch a good price!

Qiu-ger excitedly grabbed Song Ning’s hand. “If these sell, Ning-ger, I’ll give you two copper coins for every handkerchief!”

“No need. It’s just a few small sketches. I’m glad I could help you out.”

Qiu-ger puckered his lips. “You think it’s too little?”

“Of course not! That handkerchief was painstakingly embroidered by you in the dead of winter. How could I possibly accept your copper coins?”

“Then if I ever bring you something in the future, you absolutely must accept it!”

“Alright.” Song Ning agreed with a smile.

Qiu-ger was overjoyed with these floral patterns. With them, he could earn much more. Having Ning-ger’s designs meant he could sell each handkerchief for at least fifteen wen—double the price! And it still took just as much time!

The three moved to the main hall, where Qiu-ger immediately began embroidering the patterns Song Ning had sketched for him. “Ning-ger, can I trace these patterns and give them to my father?”

“Of course. They’re yours to do with as you please.”

“Ning-ger, you’re so kind! My father’s embroidery skills are much better than mine, and his pieces sell for higher prices, too. But his patterns are getting a bit outdated.”

Qiu-ger stayed with Song Ning until nearly noon before leaving. With the family preparing lunch, he felt awkward lingering longer. Song Ning escorted him out. “Come find me to play after you eat.”

“Sure thing!”

As soon as Song Ning saw Qiu-ger leave, Wei Hu returned—quite quickly, actually. Song Ning hurried over, “Brother Wei Hu, you’re back!”

“Why’s he out? It’s freezing out there.”

“I was walking Qiu-ger home.”

The cart’s wheels were caked with thick mud, making it heavy to push. Song Ning helped wheel it into the courtyard. Chen Cuihua was already bustling about in the kitchen, preparing lunch.

Wei Hu was drenched in sweat from the walk. The room was warm with charcoal burning inside. As soon as he entered, he started to unbutton his coat. Song Ning quickly stopped him. “Brother Wei Hu, you can’t do that! You’ll catch a chill. Have some water and rest.”

Water had been kept warm over the charcoal fire. Song Ning quickly poured some, blew on it to cool it down, and handed it to Wei Hu. Wei Hu felt a bit embarrassed—he wasn’t a three-year-old child, after all, needing someone to blow on his water for him.

Wei Hu didn’t hesitate, gulping it down in three or four swift sips. He pulled his money pouch from his chest. “Sold it for over six taels and five mace of silver. Give three taels to Mother. Keep the rest. The few taels we had at home went toward paying for the case.”

Song Ning carefully tucked it away, his heart feeling sweet. “Brother Wei Hu, just tell me when you need silver.”

“Mhm. Those dried fruits sold for over three wen each too. Don’t put those few scattered copper coins back in the pouch—keep them out for spending.”

Song Ning nodded earnestly. “I know, Brother Wei Hu.”

Wei Hu feared Song Ning would be too stingy to spend the copper coins. Though there wasn’t much to buy in town, peddlers sometimes visited the village, offering small purchases.

At noon, Chen Cuihua brought out noodles. On a cold winter day, a warm broth was comforting. Wei Hu handed her three taels of silver. “Mother, this is for you.”

“What do I need this for? Give it to Ning-ger. You’ve got a Fulang now—why should I manage your silver?”

“Mother, Brother Wei Hu gave it to me!” Song Ning’s voice sparkled with excitement.

Chen Cuihua refused. “Your mother can still weave baskets for copper coins. I don’t need your silver. You two young folks keep it.”

Chen Cuihua refused to budge, so Song Ning finally took it. But he didn’t consider it his silver—it belonged to his family. He intended to save it carefully.

All his previous silver had been spent, and now he’d saved up six taels. Song Ning gazed at the small silver ingots with delight. Wei Hu had worked so hard to earn them these past few days. Though he made more than the average family, it was still hard-earned money.

Song Ning felt a pang of sympathy for Wei Hu. He had suggested Wei Hu rest before returning to the mountains, but the man wanted to take advantage of the season before the hunting ban to gather as much game as possible.

Six taels of silver could sustain a rural family for half a year. Saving silver was difficult in the countryside; some households couldn’t even grow enough grain to feed themselves and had to buy more, making life even tighter, let alone saving silver.

Wei Hu wanted to save more silver to build two brick-and-tile houses for his family. He felt that these two thatched cottages were truly a hardship for Song Ning.

Wei Hu chatted over his meal, “The cold weather’s set in, and even those two fox pelts fetched a high price. Before, they’d only bring a little over a tael each, but this time I sold them for two taels apiece.”

Chen Cuihua brightened. “That is indeed higher than before.”

Song Ning chimed in, “Brother Wei Hu, you’re amazing.”

Wei Hu’s lips curved upward. This youngster sure knew how to flatter.

That afternoon, Song Ning, having nothing else to do, sketched a few more embroidery patterns for Qiu-ger. He suggested alternating them, thinking they might sell better that way. Though Wei Hu, being a rough fellow, couldn’t draw, he found them pleasing to the eye.

When Song Ning mentioned they were embroidery patterns, he praised them too: “They look quite nice.”

Song Ning felt flustered under Wei Hu’s gaze. With only the two of them in the room and Wei Hu looking down, Song Ning plucked up the courage to kiss Wei Hu’s chin. Wei Hu froze for a moment before reacting. He cleared his throat lightly, “Don’t be silly.”

Song Ning blushed and said nothing. He’d meant to kiss his lips, but nervousness made him miss, landing instead on Wei Hu’s chin. It seemed to have no effect—it happened too quickly.

Though Wei Hu showed nothing outwardly, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He dared not push forward, choosing instead to proceed cautiously with Song Ning.

“Ning-ger, I’m here!”

Qiu-ger’s cheerful voice echoed from the doorway. Song Ning immediately sat up straight, and even Wei Hu emerged from the east room.

Upon entering the main hall, Qiu-ger first encountered Wei Hu. He greeted him, “Brother Hu-zi is home.”

“Mhm.”

Spotting Song Ning in the east room, Qiu-ger snuck in with his belongings. The moment he entered, he noticed Song Ning’s flushed cheeks. Qiu-ger reached out and touched them. “Ning-ger, what’s wrong? Why are you so red?”

Qiu-ger had just come in from outside, and his cold hand made Song Ning shiver. Having nearly been caught doing something wrong for the first time, Song Ning felt terribly embarrassed. “N-no, n-no. The charcoal fire in the room is just burning too hot right now.”

The weather had been bad these past few days, so the charcoal fire had been kept burning constantly in the room. That was the excuse Song Ning came up with.

Qiu-ger hummed in acknowledgment. Spotting several new embroidery patterns laid out on the table, he picked them up with delight. “Ning-ger, are these for me too? They’re so beautiful!”

“Yes, they’re for you.”

That afternoon, Qiu-ger embroidered while Song Ning read beside him. Each worked quietly, not disturbing the other.

Now that it was cold and dark early, after dinner, the three of them had little to do and went to their respective rooms to sleep.

Usually, Song Ning would tidy up first and lie down in bed before Wei Hu came up. As soon as Wei Hu slipped under the covers, Song Ning would roll over, half his body sprawled across Wei Hu. It was warm and cozy—he liked it.

Ever since the cold weather set in, Song Ning insisted on sleeping close to Wei Hu. At first, Wei Hu wasn’t keen on it, but after Song Ning whined and complained about him being cold-hearted, Wei Hu gave in.

Song Ning snuggled against Wei Hu for warmth. When Wei Hu didn’t embrace him, Song Ning pulled Wei Hu’s arm and placed it around his waist. Wei Hu was utterly helpless against this ger—he was his nemesis!

Song Ning whispered, “Brother Wei Hu, I forgot to ask you earlier—how’s Granny Zhang doing?”

“Mhm, she’s doing well.”

“When the weather clears, I’ll go with you to town to visit her.”

“Mhm.”

As Song Ning spoke, his warm breath tickled Wei Hu’s neck. Wei Hu couldn’t help but swallow hard. Perhaps because his voice was a bit loud, Song Ning, being so close, naturally heard it.

Song Ning grew bolder, carefully shifting his foot until it pressed against Wei Hu’s calf. Wei Hu frowned. “Why are your feet so cold?”

“I get cold easily.”

Song Ning felt playful and wiggled his toes against Wei Hu’s calf. Wei Hu clamped his foot between his legs. “Song Ning, stop fidgeting!”

The lamp had been blown out, plunging the room into pitch darkness. Perhaps because the bedding felt especially warm tonight, Song Ning lay sprawled across Wei Hu’s body, his head feeling heavy and drowsy.

Lying on Wei Hu felt like lying on a block of hardwood—the only difference being that this block of wood was warm and snug, perfect for keeping the bed cozy.

Song Ning couldn’t help but rub against him a few times. So comfortable~

Wei Hu’s eyes snapped open in alarm. He grabbed the ger’s slender waist, his voice laced with gritted teeth. “Song Ning!”

The ger’s head rubbed against his neck a few more times. “Brother Wei Hu, I want it.”

“Reckless!”

Song Ning snorted, trying to kick Wei Hu but finding his foot trapped between the man’s legs. How dare he call him reckless!

Song Ning’s hand slid up Wei Hu’s chest. Wei Hu nearly tumbled off the bed in surprise, grabbing the mischievous ger’s hands. “Song Ning!”

But Song Ning seemed to have found something utterly delightful. Even with his hand caught, he wouldn’t stay still. “Brother Wei Hu, I want you to kiss me. Not like that—kiss me on the mouth.”

“No kiss.”

Song Ning didn’t care. He puckered his lips and planted a kiss on Wei Hu’s chin. Wei Hu, a young man brimming with vitality, couldn’t withstand such teasing. Even the temperature under the covers seemed to rise a few degrees.

Wei Hu could endure it no longer and pulled the boy close. “Song Ning, behave yourself!”

“I won’t.”

Song Ning squirmed a few times before Wei Hu pinned him down. “Brother Wei Hu, it’s hot. I’m uncomfortable.”

His warm breath tickled Wei Hu’s neck, making the young man’s eyes burn with desire. Earlier that afternoon, this very ger had kissed him, nearly sending him over the edge.

Now, the person clinging to him was up to his tricks again. Wei Hu knew better than to resist—if he didn’t give in to the other’s whims, he’d be kept awake all night.

Wei Hu’s hand slid down slowly. The ger beside him gasped, clinging to him with slight tremors before finally settling down.

Song Ning was now completely still, unaware of when he’d fallen asleep. Blame it on the bed being far too warm today.

Though the ger slept, Wei Hu lay awake. He’d gotten up in the dead of night to catch some air before returning—never had he met such a restless ger.

Song Ning slept soundly until dawn. The man beside him was now gone. Resting his head on the pillow, Song Ning blushed with embarrassment. It felt so good… Wei Hu had called him reckless yesterday, and it seemed he might have been a bit.

Song Ning reached over and pulled on his coat. It had been tucked inside the quilt, undoubtedly placed there by Brother Wei Hu. It still carried a faint warmth as he slipped it on.

“Up you go. Wash your face—it’s time to eat.”

Song Ning replied and dashed into the kitchen. The man saw him coming and poured hot water for him. “Wash your face.”

Song Ning now felt awkward looking at Wei Hu’s hands, yet his heart fluttered with excitement. He squeezed past and lifted his head to kiss Wei Hu’s chin. Wei Hu gave a light cough. “No fooling around.”

Song Ning chuckled softly. If not for the man’s flushed ears, he might have thought Wei Hu disliked it.

After receiving the embroidery patterns from Song Ning, Qiu-ger kept his hands busy day after day, stitching away. His sole focus was on saving up ten pieces to sell in town.

Qiu-ger often came to find Song Ning to embroider. With the recent fine weather, the two would sit in the courtyard basking in the sun. Sometimes, when Qiu-ger returned home late, he couldn’t avoid a few words from Granny Sun: “Running out every day—what’s so good out there? Now that you’re hanging around with that Ning-ger, you’ve become even lazier.”

Qiu-ger didn’t care for such remarks and simply ignored her. After all, every copper coin earned from embroidery was his anyway.

Sun Dazhuang sometimes interceded for Qiu-ger, saying, “Mother, Qiu-ger isn’t idle at all. Even in the dead of winter, his hands never rest—he’s always embroidering.”

When Qiu-ger got angry, he refused to cook, which only made Granny Sun more displeased. He often stayed at Song Ning’s place until almost dinnertime before returning. By then, Sun Dazhuang usually had the meal ready, so Qiu-ger could just come back and eat.

Sun Dazhuang understood his Fulang’s hard work. With few households building houses in the depths of winter, he found himself with free time. Seeing Qiu-ger busily embroidering day after day, he took over the cooking duties. The young couple lived in harmony, which only made Granny Sun dislike Qiu-ger even more.

Qiu-ger didn’t mind. As long as he was happy, that was all that mattered. He was on good terms with Song Ning and had been visiting his home often these past few days. He noticed that at Song Ning’s place, either Aunt Cuihua or Wei Hu did the cooking. Why was it that at his own home, he was the one who had to do it?

His mother wasn’t some decrepit old woman who couldn’t move. She wasn’t incapacitated. She was perfectly able-bodied. Instead of thinking about earning some copper coins for the household, she was only concerned with retiring early to enjoy her leisure.

Qiu-ger knew Song Ning couldn’t cook. Now that they were alone in the courtyard, he whispered, “Ning-ger, you don’t cook anymore?”

Song Ning nodded. “My mom says she’s a good cook. Since she doesn’t have much to do now, she just asks me to help tend the fire.”

Chen Cuihua couldn’t sit still. With little work to do in winter, she’d taken over all the cooking duties, leaving no need for Song Ning.

Qiu-ger listened with envy. “So does that mean you have to wash the dishes?”

Song Ning shook his head. “No, Brother Wei Hu won’t let me. I only wash them when he’s not home.”

Qiu-ger grew even more envious. He let out a couple of “ah” sounds and bumped his forehead against Song Ning’s arm. “Ning-ger, Aunt Cuihua, and Brother Wei Hu treat you so well.”

Wei Hu disliked the winter cold. Even though hot water was available, he couldn’t bear to have Song Ning do the work. He knew his little ger had been raised pampered and wouldn’t dream of putting him to labor.

Song Ning also felt a bit troubled. “Even though it’s the off-season for farming, I don’t really help much with the chores at home either. I want to contribute.”

“Ah, if there’s nothing for you to do, just relax.”

“Qiu-ger, what do you think about me going to town to write letters for people?”

“Wei Hu would never let you go. It’s freezing out there—standing all day would be torture. You’re so delicate, catching a chill would be terrible.”

Song Ning sighed and lowered his head. “Alright.”

Qiu-ger’s eyes lit up. “Ning-ger, why don’t you sketch some embroidery patterns? I’m heading to town in a couple of days to sell embroidered handkerchiefs. I’ll ask the embroidery shop owner if they’d like some.”

“Really?”

“Start with just a few. You never know—these embroidery patterns are precious. People won’t even lend them out easily. I’ll take a few of your designs to town in a couple of days and ask around.”

At the thought of possibly selling them, Song Ning perked up. “Then I’ll sketch a few today!”

Song Ning got to work immediately. That afternoon, he stayed in his study and sketched several floral designs—all small patterns meant for handkerchief embroidery. He had no idea if anyone would want them.

In the afternoon, Qiu-ger didn’t come looking for him. Song Ning took the designs and went to find Qiu-ger himself. He’d visited once before, but after so long without coming, he’d almost forgotten the place.

Before he even reached the Sun family’s door, Song Ning heard a commotion inside. He faintly caught Granny Sun’s voice: “What kind of husband and wife are you two? Lazy as can be! Making your man cook your meals? What kind of husband does that?”

“Mind your own business! Ask Dazhuang to judge this! I may be out, but do you think I’m idle? Embroidering in this bitter cold has frozen my hands red!”

“You’re forbidden from seeking out Song Ning again! Other wives have their mothers and husbands tending to them. You should learn from him instead—it’s all Song Ning’s fault you’ve gone astray!”

“Nonsense! He’s just lucky. Why don’t you compare yourself to Aunt Cuihua? She’s far more capable than you. Last autumn, she wove baskets at home nonstop. But you? All you do is gossip outside. I’m embarrassed by you!”