Song Ning put down his brush and came over. Chen Cuihua called out to him, “Come on, Ning-ger, let’s count them together. There seem to be quite a few.” 

“Hey!”

Song Ning loved counting copper coins, too. He and Brother Wei Hu had saved up fifteen taels of silver so far; if they saved another ten taels, they might just be able to buy a cow.

Wei Hu returned as well, sat down, and joined in the counting. Song Ning’s eyes sparkled—he’d even put his mother’s copper coins in there today, and they’d actually earned one tael and four wen in silver!

“Brother Wei Hu, Mom, I never expected to make this much!”

Chen Cuihua couldn’t help but praise Song Ning: “Our Ning-ger really knows how to earn copper coins.” 

“Not at all—the three of us earned this together.”

“I’ll go make braised pork ribs with pickled mustard greens. You should eat plenty of meat later, Ning-ger.” 

“Okay!”

Chen Cuihua got up and went to the kitchen to cook. Seeing the straw curtain in the main room drawn, Song Ning couldn’t contain his joy. He sat on Wei Hu’s lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Brother Wei Hu, we actually made over a tael!”

Song Ning puckered his lips and planted several soft kisses on Wei Hu. Wei Hu’s heart swelled with joy as he kissed him. “You’re better than your brother.” 

“No way, Brother Wei Hu is pretty amazing too.”

Back when Wei Hu used to go hunting in the mountains, he’d make two or three taels of silver a month during the good times. When he was lucky, he’d even catch larger game like wild boars or deer. But now that winter had arrived and heavy snow had cut off the mountains, he could only earn half a tael a month by chopping firewood, which wasn’t nearly as much as his little ger had earned.

Song Ning counted on his fingers and said, “We’ve saved up fifteen taels so far. With today’s earnings and the next few days, we’ll probably have about twenty taels!”

“Hmm.”

“If we save a little more, by next winter when Brother Wei Hu goes to town to sell firewood, we’ll be able to use our own ox cart!”

Song Ning grew more and more excited as he spoke. He hugged Wei Hu’s neck and clung to him for quite a while before finally letting go, then ran back inside to work on his couplets.

That evening, the three of them gathered around the stove to eat braised pork ribs with pickled mustard greens. Song Ning loved it so much that he gobbled down three servings in a row. Worried he might overeat, Wei Hu made him a bowl of hawthorn tea to drink.

The three of them turned in early, and the next morning they packed up and headed back to town.

Fortunately, no one had taken their spot. Song Ning was looking for the area near the market entrance—spacious and uncrowded. According to his mother, there were already two other stalls selling couplets in the market.

As soon as Song Ning arrived, he spotted someone he disliked not far away—it was Zhao Qingshu. 

Of course—Zhao Qingshu’s family was poor; how could his mother alone afford to support a scholar like him? If it weren’t for his father, how could Zhao Qingshu have passed the examination to become a Xiucai?

Wei Hu spotted him too and shot him a few hostile glances. Zhao Qingshu wanted to say hello to Song Ning, but with Wei Hu standing there, he held back. Last time, Wei Hu had beaten him pretty badly—he’d even lost two teeth. Now, in the winter, every time he opened his mouth, the cold wind blew right into his stomach.

Chen Cuihua helped hang the couplets on the rope and arranged some window decorations, weighing them down with small stones on the bamboo blinds. Once everything was tidied up, they were ready to go out and sell the window decorations door-to-door.

“There’s another couple-couplet seller in our neighborhood today.”

“Ugh, what a bad omen, Mother. It’s that Xiucai.” Song Ning was in a pretty good mood today, but the moment he spotted Zhao Qingshu, his little face fell. As soon as Chen Cuihua heard it was that Xiucai, she spat in Zhao Qingshu’s direction. “What a piece of trash!”

Chen Cuihua was speaking so loudly that Zhao Qingshu couldn’t help but hear her. Shivering from the cold, he set down the bundle he was holding on the table.

In this bitterly cold, Zhao Qingshu was wearing nothing but a thin, patched robe. Song Baozhu hadn’t made him a new one, saying that the sages had taught that warmth breeds lustful thoughts, so having him wear something lighter would help him focus on his studies.

Song Ning’s business was still doing quite well, though Zhao Qingshu’s arrival had clearly taken a bite out of his sales. Even so, he couldn’t match Zhao Qingshu’s success. Zhao Qingshu’s small stall offered a wider variety of goods, and if a customer bought in bulk, he’d throw in a few extras as a bonus—so naturally, his business was thriving.

Some people, seeing that Song Ning was just a ger, feared he might not write well and went to Zhao Qingshu’s stall instead. “How much is a pair of couplets at your stall?”

“Eight wen. How many do you want?”

“Eight wen? I heard the guy over there is only charging six. Why are you charging so much?”

“Well, I’m a Xiucai.”

“You’re a Xiucai? Well, that guy over there is just a ger!”

The man thought Zhao Qingshu’s couplets were overpriced, so he returned to Song Ning’s stall. He peered at them and exclaimed, “Wow, this ger’s handwriting is even better than that poor Xiucai’s!”

“So what if he’s a Xiucai? It’s not like he passed the Juren exams! Is his calligraphy gilded with gold or something that it’s so expensive?” 

Wei Hu was helping out over there, shouting, “Couplets for sale! Couplets for sale! Six wen a pair! We also have window decorations and firewood!”

Song Ning’s business was still booming, crowding out Zhao Qingshu’s stall, so few people went over to buy from him.

Shoppers compared prices at all the stalls: Song Ning’s not only had a wider selection and better calligraphy, but his prices were also lower than Zhao Qingshu’s.

Zhao Qingshu’s title as a Xiucai didn’t help him much, but some people still came to buy from him. Since Song Ning’s stall was so crowded, some people didn’t want to wait and came to Zhao Qingshu instead. He also sold them for six wen a pair and managed to sell a few.

It would be a lie to say Zhao Qingshu didn’t feel a twinge of envy seeing how well Song Ning’s business was going.

That Ning-ger was doing it on purpose—knowing full well his family was poor yet still coming to compete with him—must surely have him seething with anger.

He’d originally planned to earn a few copper coins selling couplets over the New Year so he could buy some meat to celebrate, but who knew that after a whole morning, he hadn’t sold many pairs—instead, the wind had blown his nose to a runny mess.

Around noon, Chen Cuihua returned. Today, a noodle vendor had set up across from the couplet stall. Taking advantage of the lull in business, the three of them sat down at the vendor’s stall, and each had a bowl of noodle soup topped with chicken and shiitake mushrooms—it smelled quite delicious.

Song Ning picked up her bowl and began to eat. Business was good today; as the New Year drew nearer, more and more people were buying couplets. Song Ning planned to keep selling until noon on the thirtieth, then close up shop.

Just as the three of them were eating, Song Baozhu came over carrying a basket to bring food to Zhao Qingshu. When she saw Song Ning, she snorted. Chen Cuihua hadn’t yet figured out who it was, but seeing this young woman giving her son-in-law the cold shoulder, she immediately stood up. “Who are you snorting at?”

Wei Hu also shot her a hostile glare, scaring Song Baozhu into hurrying away.

“Ning-ger, who is that?”

“My stepsister, Song Baozhu.”

“So it’s her. Let her try coming over here. Did she bully you back home? If she doesn’t behave, I’ve got plenty of strength.”

Song Ning was amused by his mother’s words. “Mom, if anyone ever bullies me, I’ll come straight to you and Brother Wei Hu.”

The three of them went back to eating. Over at Zhao Qingshu’s table, a commotion had broken out for some reason; all they could make out was the word “copper coins.”

Song Baozhu was so furious that she threw her basket to the ground. “Zhao Qingshu, you good-for-nothing! That’s all you’ve earned this whole morning! Since I married you, I’ve been eating nothing but pickles day in and day out—I even smell like pickles now!”

Song Baozhu saw that the Song Ning family was eating chicken noodles, while she herself was eating coarse-grain steamed buns with pickles. She was already in a bad mood, and seeing that Zhao Qingshu hadn’t earned much money made her even angrier. She threw down the basket and stormed off.

Zhao Qingshu was already dressed lightly; he huddled up, his neck drawn in against the cold. The steamed buns she’d brought him had fallen to the ground. Though he seethed with hatred for Song Baozhu, he dared not show it—he was still counting on her and the Song family to provide him with silver come spring.

After all, Zhao Qingshu was a scholar with an official title to his name, yet Song Baozhu had humiliated him so publicly.

Ashamed, he lowered his head, unable to meet anyone’s gaze, and hurriedly picked up the steamed bun from the ground, wiped it off, and began to eat.

Chen Cuihua saw this and muttered, “Serves him right.”

The group sold for another half-hour in the afternoon before heading home. Business in the afternoon wasn’t as good as in the morning, but they’d just come back tomorrow.

As the New Year drew nearer, more and more people came to buy couplets. While Song Ning was selling them, he even ran into some villagers. With the New Year just a couple of days away, even the poorest rural families would set aside some money for meat, and roasted nuts and dried fruits were also essential.

Those who were a bit better off would even buy silk flower hairbands for their families. The market was getting livelier by the day, and the stalls were stretching out further and further. No one dared to take Song Ning’s spot—Wei Hu was standing guard right beside him. Who would dare to take over Song Ning’s stall?

Aunt Ma and a few other women and Fulang from the village came to town to buy New Year’s supplies. As soon as they reached the edge of the market, they saw Song Ning setting up his stall. Auntie Ma came over to say hello, “Ning-ger, Huzi, you two are selling couplets here.”

Song Ning replied, “Auntie, are you here to buy New Year’s supplies?” 

“Oh, have you bought your New Year’s supplies yet?”

“Not yet. My mom said to wait until noon on the thirtieth to buy them.”

“It’s not too late.”

Aunt Ma exchanged a few casual words with Song Ning before leaving—after all, he was busy. A Fulang from the village who had come with her saw that Song Ning was selling couplets and wanted to buy some. “Ning-ger, how much are these couplets?”

“Six wen a pair.”

The young man said, “Give me a discount. We’re all from the same village, and none of our families have bought any yet. Make it five wen.”

Wei Hu chimed in, “Since we’re all from the same village, just come pick them up at my place.”

Aunt Ma hurriedly pulled the Fulang aside. “How can you be so clueless? Don’t you see all the people buying over there? You get a one-wen discount, but what about the others? Aren’t you ruining his business?”

The fulang’s face flushed red. “I—I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“Alright then, come on, let’s go buy our New Year’s supplies first. We’re all from the same village—no need to ask for a discount. They’ll give us a good price without us even asking. Didn’t you hear what Huzi said? He told us to just go pick them up from his place.”

The group set off with their baskets to buy New Year’s supplies, while Song Ning stayed behind to write couplets for the villagers. Sure enough, as soon as the Fulang from the village opened his mouth to haggle, the crowd around him asked, “Can you knock a little off the price? That guy just said five wen.”

Song Ning smiled. “I can’t go any lower. This red paper is expensive—I don’t make much profit on it. It’s all hard-earned money.”

Song Ning hadn’t even sold to anyone from his own village yet, and already an outsider was haggling. If that fulang had insisted on buying, Song Ning really wouldn’t have had the heart to charge him much—he wouldn’t have been able to make a living that way. Luckily, Aunt Ma pulled him away.