As Song Ning stepped out of the embroidery shop, he was still calculating with Wei Hu. “I can draw seven or eight a day. At best, that’s forty wen a day. In a month, I could earn a tael and two mace of silver!”

“That’s impressive.”

Seeing the ger so delighted, Wei Hu couldn’t help but curve his lips upward. Forty wen a day—that was equivalent to catching a wild pheasant, which was no small feat.

Usually, when he roamed the mountains and forests, catching only pheasants or rabbits netted him three or four taels of silver a month. To earn more, he either needed luck to bag larger game or venture deeper into the wilderness.

Deer, roe deer, and foxes were worth their weight in silver, but they weren’t easy to hunt. Wild boars and bears were even more valuable, dwelling deep in the primeval forests where beasts roamed. Wei Hu generally avoided hunting these fierce creatures.

Song Ning tucked the copper coins into his sleeve. They felt heavy and solid, filling him with delight that lightened his step.

The two headed toward the market together. Seven bamboo rats remained unsold. Wealthy folk disdained eating them, deeming them unfit for the table, but they were still meat. Sold cheaply, they found buyers.

With the weather turning cold, the market now bustled with vendors carrying bundles of firewood and charcoal, alongside sellers of windproof hats and scarves. Wei Hu stopped at a small stall, and Song Ning craned his neck to see that it was a vendor selling hot water bottles.

Wei Hu bent down to examine the hot water bottles. “Which one do you like?”

These brass hot water bottles weren’t cheap. Some were even engraved with beautiful patterns. Song Ning pointed to the plainest one. “Brother Wei Hu, I want this one.”

“That one’s fifty wen. Look, they’re all newly made this year—shiny as can be.”

Wei Hu picked up two. “One for you and one for Mother. Don’t just sit there drawing all the time—hold these to warm your hands.”

“I know, Brother Wei Hu.”

Excitement colored Song Ning’s voice. He knew Wei Hu cared for him. Though the man was quiet, he was thoughtful.

“Two for ninety wen.”

The vendor waved his hand. “No way! Look at this copper—it’s top-notch. If you want something cheaper, these ones are a bargain. I’ll let you have them for forty wen.”

The vendor pointed to a few old, leftover ones. Their brass had lost its shine, dull and gray, nowhere near as pretty as the new ones. But honestly, they all worked the same.

Song Ning agreed they weren’t pretty, but they served the same purpose. “Brother Wei Hu, maybe we could take these ones. They’ll keep us just as warm.”

Wei Hu felt the old hot water bottles weren’t good enough for Song Ning. Though he couldn’t afford the ornately carved ones, he still wanted to buy Song Ning new ones.

“Two hot water bottles for ninety wen, and I’ll throw in a bamboo rat for you.”

The vendor finally agreed. “Deal, deal.”

Wei Hu placed the two new hot water bottles in his basket and asked the vendor to select a bamboo rat. The vendor’s face lit up with a broad smile. This plump bamboo rat would easily yield a bowl of meat after preparation.

“Want the hot water bottle covers too? I’ll give you a discount.”

Song Ning shook his head with a smile. “My mother can make them.”

After buying the soup pots, the two set off to find a place to sell the bamboo rat. Wei Hu brought the cage forward. “Bamboo rat! Bamboo rat! Ten wen each!”

Wei Hu was tall and looked somewhat fierce. When he approached, the women and Fulang scattered.

Song Ning found it slightly amusing—his brother Wei Hu wasn’t intimidating at all. “Brother Wei Hu, hold the basket for me. I’ll give it a try.”

Though Song Ning had never run a stall before, he wasn’t afraid of people. Holding the cage, he began asking customers. As a young ger, he had a naturally friendly face, and his smile made people feel at ease. “Want a bamboo rat? Ten wen each.”

“Sister, would you like a bamboo rat? Ten wen each?”

“Auntie, would you like a bamboo rat?”

With a smile, Song Ning held out the bamboo cage for people to see. These bamboo rats were cheap and plump. After just a few steps, he sold two.

Wei Hu’s lips curved upward. This ger was truly endearing.

Song Ning hadn’t expected to sell two so quickly. His confidence soared, and his voice grew louder. “Bamboo rats! Bamboo rats! Ten wen each!”

A fulang peered over. “These bamboo rats are so plump!”

“Yeah, my mom says stewing them with ginger and soybeans makes the best winter tonic. And the fur—though not much—sewn onto cuffs and collars keeps you warm.”

The young Fulang was swayed by Song Ning’s words. He noticed the white rabbit fur scarf around Song Ning’s neck, which made him look even more handsome. “Then I’ll take two.”

“Alright!”

Song Ning let the Fulang choose for himself. Not daring to touch the animals himself, he pointed them out instead. “These two are good—plump and with bright, shiny fur.”

“Then I’ll take these two.”

Within moments, Song Ning had sold four, leaving only two remaining. Amused by the experience, he found selling rather enjoyable and was about to continue hawking his wares when Wei Hu pulled him back. “Keep these last two. We’ll give them to Granny Zhang.”

“Sounds good. I haven’t visited Granny Zhang in ages either.”

They didn’t plan to dine at the Zhangs’—just an ordinary household. A visit would suffice. With plenty of time to spare, they strolled through the market instead, intending to eat later before calling on Granny Zhang.

Walking side by side, they were hailed by a figure with hunched shoulders and hands tucked deep in sleeves. “Ning-ger!”

Song Ning was in high spirits and didn’t recognize him at first. Only after squinting did he realize who it was—Zhao Qingshu, setting up a small stall by the street to offer letter-writing services.

Song Ning’s face turned cold as he ignored him, tugging Wei Hu’s sleeve to move on.

Zhao Qingshu hurriedly stepped in front of them. “I just saw you selling bamboo rats! How could anyone eat such filthy things?”

“Mind your own business, Brother Wei Hu. Let’s go.”

Zhao Qingshu wasn’t giving up. “Ning-ger, you’re still angry with me. I’m the one who’s wronged you.”

Song Ning’s expression hardened further. What was Zhao Qingshu playing at? A grown man saying such suggestive things to him, a ger! If Wei Hu were the type to hold grudges, how would he ever live? This Zhao Qingshu was truly despicable!

Though Song Ning had a gentle temperament, he wasn’t someone to be pushed around. “Wei Hu, beat him!”

Wei Hu had been itching to act, but he’d held back out of respect for Song Ning’s brother-in-law. Now this Xiucai was shamelessly pestering him. If not for their prior acquaintance, this would be no different from public harassment!

Wei Hu’s fist slammed straight into Zhao Qingshu’s face. Already frail, the scholar was sent flying by the blow, his small frame crashing into his own stall. Ink splattered all over him.

Wei Hu’s punch wasn’t light—it knocked Zhao Qingshu’s jaw askew. He’d aimed carefully; had he struck the eye socket, the Xiucai would’ve been dead or gravely injured.

Zhao Qingshu didn’t even have time to react before flying backward, slamming his lower back against the table. The pain made him curl up, wincing in agony. Wei Hu snorted coldly, “Try coming near me again, and my next punch won’t be so merciful.”

Song Ning felt vindicated, puffing out his chest as he pointed and praised, “Well done, Wei Hu! He got off easy.”

Song Ning thought one punch was hardly punishment at all.

When Zhao Qingshu coughed up blood, two teeth shattered from the blow, and Song Ning recoiled in shock. “Wei Hu, let’s go!”

Pulling Wei Hu’s sleeve, he hurried away. Once they were out of earshot, he muttered, “Brother Wei Hu, he’s okay, right? Don’t beat him to death. What if he comes after us later?”

“He won’t. I held back.”

“Brother Wei Hu, you’re so awesome! Great job!”

Earlier, when Wei Hu struck the man, Li Xiaolian had seen it clearly from the crowd. The man had come to hassle Song Ning, which is why Wei Hu hit him.

But it seemed Song Ning knew him. The way that man looked at Song Ning was off—hope he doesn’t pull any shady moves.

Li Xiaolian’s heart leapt with hope. If something really happened, and Brother Huo grew tired of Song Ning, he might just divorce him!

Zhao Qingshu lay on the ground, groaning in pain. No one came to his aid. This penniless scholar had no silver in his pockets. If someone helped him to the clinic, they’d probably have to pay for his treatment too.

Zhao Qingshu lay on the ground groaning. This hunter, a mud-legged peasant, was so rough. Ning-ger must have suffered following him.

“Help… help me. Go call my mother.”

These were all street vendors, mostly peddling trinkets. None of them were locals who knew this scholar, so naturally, no one paid him any mind.

Zhao Qingshu had taken quite a blow from that punch. His whole body ached, and he couldn’t even stand up. Li Xiaolian swarmed over like a fly drawn to meat. “Young master, are you all right?”

Li Xiaolian helped him into the clinic. His tooth was gone, leaving a gaping hole. His jaw had been dislocated, so the doctor reset it.

Lying on the bed, Zhao Qingshu still worried about Song Ning’s well-being.

Li Xiaolian feigned concern. “Why would anyone attack someone for no reason? That hunter was far too aggressive! Young master, did you have some grudge against him?”

Zhao Qingshu sighed. “That hunter forcibly took Ning-ger. If I’d had the means, I never would’ve let Ning-ger follow that poor hunter.”

“What on earth happened?”

“Ning-ger and I were betrothed. Who knew… well, fate intervened, and we missed our chance.”

Zhao Qingshu’s words were half-truth, half-lie. He didn’t mention that he’d married Song Baozhu for her twenty taels of dowry, nor that life with her was worse than before. He regretted marrying her more and more.

Had he married Song Ning instead, he’d have a beauty by his side. They could compose poetry together—a truly beautiful story.

Li Xiaolian’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She never imagined Song Ning had been betrothed before! Great! If Brother Huzi found out, he might despise Song Ning.

What’s so great about Song Ning anyway? He can’t even tend the fire or cook properly, just scribbles a few worthless flower patterns. She and Brother Huzi grew up together—that’s where the bond lies. She and Brother Huzi are the perfect match.

“I’ll go call your family for you.”

Li Xiaolian stepped out of the clinic and burst into laughter. Who would have thought? Who would have thought? A trip to town would yield such a surprise.

She didn’t bother helping Zhao Qingshu find anyone. She just grabbed her chicken cage and walked off.

Zhao Qingshu lay in the clinic for half a day without his mother showing up. He finally begged the young apprentice to call someone, specifically asking them to fetch his mother.

But just then, Song Baozhu happened to be home instead of out playing leaf cards. She heard the young assistant clearly when he came to collect payment.

Hearing her man had been beaten, Song Baozhu was furious. She’d been counting on Zhao Qingshu passing the provincial exams to bring her some prestige.

She stormed over to find Zhao Qingshu lying there, half his face swollen, barely conscious. She threw herself upon him, wailing, “Good heavens! Which damned soul beat you like this?!”

The sound of Song Baozhu’s voice gave Zhao Qingshu a headache. In his intense pain, he couldn’t be bothered to respond.

Song Baozhu hurriedly cupped Zhao Qingshu’s face. “Don’t let this face get ruined! Zhao Qingshu, tell me—which family beat you? I’ll skin them alive!”

The clinic was usually quiet, but with Song Baozhu wailing and his mother sighing dramatically, the whole place turned to look.

Zhao Qingshu couldn’t bear the embarrassment and struggled to leave. He certainly couldn’t admit he’d gotten into trouble because of Song Ning—otherwise, Song Baozhu would start another scene.

Seeing they were about to leave, the doctor sent a young apprentice to collect payment. “Madam, the total is two taels and eight mace of silver.”

Zhao Qingshu’s mother gasped at the amount, instantly falling silent and stammering. Song Baozhu’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “What! How can it be so much? Are you robbing us or something?”

“Madam, Ji’an Hall has served this town for years. We’ve always been honest with everyone, young and old. How could we demand money without reason? Xiucai Zhao used quite a few premium hemostatic medicines.”

Song Baozhu grabbed Zhao Qingshu by the collar. “Who hit you? I’ll get that silver back from them!”

“No one! No one! I tripped and hit my face myself. Oh dear, let’s hurry home! What a sight! What a sight!” Zhao Qingshu, embarrassed by Song Baozhu’s commotion, no longer needed help. Covering his face, he left first.

Zhao Qingshu’s mother hurried after him. “Baozhu, settle the bill. I’ll go check on Qingshu.”

Song Baozhu had no choice. She didn’t have enough silver on her, so she had to go home to fetch more. The clinic wasn’t worried about the Zhao family not paying—Zhao Qingshu was a Xiucai, and Xiucais valued their reputation above all.

Gritting her teeth, Song Baozhu paid nearly three taels of silver. She seethed inwardly, unable to pry any more details from Zhao Qingshu. Her anger flared again, and she erupted in a fit of rage. “Pah! If that was from a fall, I’d believe you if hell froze over! Three taels of silver! Your annual tuition barely covers five or six taels!”

Lying on his bed, Zhao Qingshu groaned inwardly, bitterly regretting marrying Song Baozhu, a shrew. He despised himself even more for trading twenty taels of silver for this marriage.

While the Zhao household was in utter chaos, Song Ning remained oblivious. Even if he knew, he’d likely cheer it on. At the market, the two shared a bowl of mutton soup, its surface dotted with vibrant green scallions and cilantro, accented by a few drops of chili oil—making it look exceptionally tempting.

Song Ning was in a good mood now, his little face beaming with joy. He held his bowl and took a couple of sips to warm himself up. But as he drank, his face scrunched up again.

Wei Hu sat across from him, observing the ger’s face change like a cloudy sky—one moment sunny, the next overcast as dark clouds swept in. Wei Hu watched the ger’s expression shift several times, finding it rather amusing.

Wei Hu picked out a piece of prime meat from his bowl and offered it to Song Ning. “Eat quickly, before it gets cold.”