Chapter 31

Song Ning let out an “Oh” and smiled at him; Wei Hu smiled back. This young man was most endearing when he smiled.

After the meal, Song Ning insisted on paying the copper coins. He’d just received a hundred or so wen, and this mutton soup wasn’t cheap—a bowl cost ten wen, plus two wen for a vegetarian bun. There were only two slices of mutton in the bowl; the rest was mostly offal.

“Brother Wei Hu, it’s my treat.”

Wei Hu didn’t argue with him. “Alright.”

Song Ning happily handed over the copper coins; he loved spending them on Wei Hu~

After finishing the bowl of steaming hot mutton soup, they both felt warmed through. Walking side by side toward Granny Zhang’s house, Song Ning fidgeted with his fingers, unsure whether he should tell Wei Hu.

Song Ning was the type who couldn’t keep things to himself. He felt uneasy bottling it up inside, thinking he shouldn’t hide it from Wei Hu, but then he remembered Granny Zhang’s warning not to tell Wei Hu—that if a man was petty and harbored grudges, life would be hard in the future.

Song Ning thought it over, then steeled himself and grabbed Wei Hu’s arm. “Brother Wei Hu, I have something to tell you.”

Wei Hu could tell the ger had something on his mind, but since Song Ning wasn’t saying anything, he didn’t ask—he didn’t want to make the ger cry.

“What’s wrong?”

“Brother Wei Hu, there’s something I need to tell you. Please don’t get mad.”

The ger’s big, watery eyes were fixed on him, his reflection filling the depths of them. Right now, this ger’s heart and eyes were completely filled with him. Wei Hu wanted nothing more than to pull the ger into his arms—how could he possibly be angry?

“Okay, I won’t get angry.”

Wei Hu was quite a bit taller than him, so Song Ning had to tilt his head back to look up at him. He stared intently at Wei Hu, afraid the man might show any sign of disdain, but he also felt uneasy keeping this to himself. So, he gritted his teeth and blurted it all out.

“Actually, that Zhao Qingshu was engaged to me before…”

“Hm?”

“My father held Zhao Qingshu in high regard, thinking he was well-educated, so he often gave him some silver to support his studies. Back then, he passed the preliminary exam to become a ‘tongsheng,’ and within a few years, he passed the ‘Xiucai’ exam. He passed the ‘Xiucai’ exam the year before last, so my father arranged our engagement.”

“Brother Wei Hu, but I’ve only met him once—really! Believe me! My father didn’t even tell me he’d been supporting Zhao Qingshu until after the engagement was set.”

“My father passed away last year, and my stepmother took over the household. She wanted her own daughter to be the Xiucai’s wife, so she snatched the engagement away. Afraid that my outburst would tarnish Zhao Qingshu’s reputation, she hurriedly sent me away…”

As Song Ning spoke, his eyes reddened, and tears welled up, rolling down his cheeks in big drops. Wei Hu sighed softly, “Why are you crying? I’m not angry. So you were engaged before—I’ve been engaged twice myself. You never looked down on me, so why would I look down on you? Why are you being so silly?”

“No, it’s different. I’m just a ger…”

“It’s all the same. What’s the big deal? That Zhao Qingshu is just a scoundrel. Stop crying.”

This young ger had truly hit his weak spot. He couldn’t stand seeing Song Ning shed tears; whenever the ger cried, he felt like he’d give him his very heart.

“I’m not crying over him!” Tears still streaked Song Ning’s face, but his tone turned fierce the moment Zhao Qingshu’s name was mentioned.

The two of them were in a deserted alleyway, tucked away in a sheltered corner. Seeing the ger like this, Wei Hu felt he couldn’t possibly love him enough.

He pulled the ger into his arms and leaned down to kiss him.

Song Ning was so startled that he stopped crying. This… in broad daylight? What if someone saw them?

Wei Hu wasn’t one for sweet talk. Seeing the ger standing there, dumbfounded with his mouth agape, letting him kiss him—even though the tears had already stopped—was enough.

Wei Hu finally let go after he’d had his fill. This time, he was much gentler; they had to see people soon, so he couldn’t be too rough.

“All right, stop crying. It breaks my heart when you cry.”

Song Ning, his face flushed, sniffled. He buried his face in Wei Hu’s chest, rubbing it back and forth to wipe away his tears, then called out hoarsely, “Brother Wei Hu.”

Wei Hu patted the young man on the back. “I’m just a rough-and-tumble guy. I can’t make you a Xiucai’s dulang, but I’ll never let you go hungry or cold. I love you.”

The tips of Song Ning’s ears turned so red they seemed ready to bleed. It wasn’t the kind of tender, romantic talk found in books—it was blunt and straightforward—yet it made his heart race.

Song Ning’s face flushed crimson. “Let’s go, let’s go. We still have to visit Granny Zhang.”

Wei Hu chuckled softly, taking Song Ning’s hand to warm it. He didn’t let go until they reached the Zhang family’s doorstep. Granny Zhang hadn’t seen Song Ning in quite some time, though Wei Hu had dropped off supplies twice. She was overjoyed to see Song Ning arrive.

When the two arrived, Zhang Banzi had gone out to work for someone else. Zhang Sanniang was in the courtyard, taking apart and washing people’s padded jackets. There was a pile of them on the table—clearly meant for others.

“Oh my, it’s Ning-ger! Mother, Ning-ger is here!”

Granny Zhang hurried out to greet them and invited the two inside for some hot water. Song Ning presented his gift with two bamboo rats, which prompted another round of playful scolding from Granny Zhang, who teased him for always bringing gifts to her home.

There was no charcoal fire burning inside the Zhang household; it wasn’t much warmer than outside. In this town, everything costs silver—firewood, charcoal, you name it. Cooking required firewood, so how could they possibly afford to burn charcoal indoors every day?

Wei Hu sat alone on a stool in the main hall while Granny Zhang chatted happily with Song Ning. Zhang Sanniang also came over and grabbed some roasted nuts for the two of them to eat.

Even in the dead of winter, Zhang Sanniang was still washing clothes in cold water; her hands were frozen bright red, and just looking at them made Song Ning feel cold.

Zhang Sanniang went back out to work, and Song Ning asked, “Grandma, is Sanniang taking apart people’s padded jackets?”

“That’s right. It helps bring in a little extra for the household. Sanniang does the washing, and I help with the sewing. We can earn enough for a month’s worth of firewood.” Granny Zhang took Song Ning into the inner room. “I made you a wind hood. I was just thinking about when Huzi would come by to bring it to you, but it just so happens you’re here today.”

The two went into the room to try on the hood, though they were really just chatting about personal matters. Granny Zhang had made Song Ning a blue hood; though simple, it was warm to wear.

Granny Zhang put it on Song Ning. “Make sure it’s tied tight before you leave.”

“Right!”

Granny Zhang quietly asked a few questions about how things were going over there. Time reveals a person’s true character; who isn’t a bit giddy right after getting married? Song Ning whispered his answers, then mentioned that he’d run into Zhao Qingshu in town today. He’d told Wei Hu about his previous engagement.

This made Granny Zhang call him a fool—how could he have mentioned such a thing? If a narrow-minded man were to think there was something going on between them, what then?

Song Ning offered another round of reassurance, and only then did Granny Zhang feel at ease.

The two sat there for a while before heading back. On the way, Song Ning was delighted with his new wind hat, shaking his head and asking Wei Hu if it looked good. Wei Hu naturally said it did.

It wasn’t the coldest time of year yet, and no one else on the road was wearing a wind hat. After wearing it for a while, Song Ning felt hot and tried to take it off, but Wei Hu held his hand down. “Keep it on. You can take it off when we get home.”

“It’s hot.”

“You won’t feel hot once we’re on the ox cart.”

“Then you have to ride with me.”

“Sure.”

As soon as they got home, Wei Hu filled the newly bought hot-water bottle with hot water. Song Ning and Chen Cuihua each got one; Song Ning held his against his chest through his sleeve—it was too hot to touch.

Chen Cuihua was quite pleased with hers as well. In the countryside, people’s hands were always busy with work—who had time to hold a hot water bottle? It was both a hassle and a waste of resources, but she was still happy to have one.

“This hot water bottle is really warm. Mother, I’ll make two cloth covers for it in the next couple of days so it won’t burn your hands.”

Song Ning replied happily.

Chen Cuihua found some scraps of fabric at home to sew the covers. When Qiu-ger came over and saw them, he was quite envious. “I wish I had a hot water bottle too.”

Song Ning teased him, “Your embroidered handkerchiefs now fetch a few coins a month—yet you still can’t afford a hot water bottle.”

Qiu-ger just pouted. “Come on, even my own mother thinks I’m lazy these days. If I were to hold a hot water bottle to warm my hands, she’d definitely call me a spendthrift—not to mention she’d surely scold me for being too delicate.”

As soon as he said it, Qiu-ger realized he’d said the wrong thing and waved his hands frantically. “Ning-ger, I didn’t mean it that way! I wasn’t calling you a wimp—ugh, that’s not what I meant at all!”

Song Ning was nearly laughing out loud. “I know.”

Chen Cuihua, listening nearby, also chuckled. “Just go ahead and buy it. It’s nothing more than a few idle remarks from others—just ignore them.”

Qiu-ger just smiled. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford a hot water bottle—he simply couldn’t bring himself to spend the money. Their family didn’t even have enough grain to eat; every basic necessity required spending copper coins.

“Aunt Cuihua, is this the fabric for a hot water bottle cover?”

“Oh, I’m making a plain one for Ning-ger. This one here is patchwork—I like the colorful ones.”

Chen Cuihua had a small basket on her lap filled with scraps of fabric; she was busy sewing. Qiu-ger took the piece of cloth meant for Song Ning—the same blue fabric Song Ning was wearing.

“Ning-ger, let me embroider a flower for you. It’ll look nice.”

Song Ning’s eyes lit up. “Can you?”

“What’s the big deal? It’s just a cloth cover for a hot water bottle—it’s not like I have to embroider a huge piece.” Qiu-ger thought that since he’d be holding it in his hands every day, making it look nice would be a pleasure to look at.

Song Ning immediately grabbed a pen and drew a tiger on a piece of paper—one with its mouth wide open, stretching lazily. He handed it to Qiu-ger, looking a bit shy. “Qiu-ger, I want it to look like this.”

Qiu-ger took it and cooed a couple of times, making Song Ning’s little face flush crimson. “Oh, it’s a little tiger! Alright, I’ll have it embroidered for you in two or three days.”

Since Song Ning’s cloth coverlet wasn’t finished yet, he didn’t hold it often—it was too hot to the touch. But when he sat inside sketching patterns, he’d often hold the little colored fox.

Sitting for too long in the dead of winter made one feel chilly. On days when Wei Hu didn’t go into the mountains, he’d often see Song Ning sketching patterns. Wei Hu wouldn’t let him do that—it was freezing out there; how could he stand it?

Whenever Wei Hu had free time and the sun was out, he’d take Song Ning for a walk in the back mountains. He’d chop extra firewood to bring back, telling Song Ning not to worry about saving it—if it ran out, he’d just go back up the mountain to chop more.

Song Ning’s hot water bottle was embroidered with flowers in just a couple of days. Chen Cuihua stuffed it with cotton and finished it off; it looked absolutely lovely when slipped over the hot water bottle.

Song Ning held it close, unable to put it down. Qiu-ger’s embroidery skills were truly excellent; the little tiger was embroidered so vividly it seemed to come to life.