It was already the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month. Song Ning and his two companions packed up their things and headed home. Not long after they arrived, villagers began coming over to buy. Couplets were selling for six, seven, or eight wens elsewhere, so buying them in their own village was naturally a bit cheaper.

Aunt Ma also came over. “Ning-ger, give me four pairs for my family.”

Chen Cuihua rolled up the straw mat to let people in and helped Song Ning welcome the visitors. “We’re all from the same village. I sell them to outsiders for six wen a pair, but for our own villagers, I’ll sell them for five wen a pair.”

Song Ning nodded. “I’ll throw in two small couplets for each household—things like ‘Bountiful Harvest’ or ‘Good Fortune Awaits’—or even a small ‘Fu’ character. Pick whatever you like.”

Hearing they could get some freebies, the people who came to buy the couplets were delighted. When the villagers heard that Song Ning was selling couplets—and at a bargain price—they flocked to his house to buy them.

Song Ning was still busy long after dark. Wei Hu draped a padded jacket over his shoulders and stoked the fire with more wood. “Are you cold?” 

“Not at all. The fire’s burning so hot in here, I’m actually getting a bit warm.”

Wei Hu felt sorry for Song Ning, a young man from a wealthy family who was now working so hard to earn a living. He planned to move up to the mountains come next spring, hoping to hunt some large game so he could build a house for his family as soon as possible.

Wei Hu quietly kept Song Ning company, helping him cut paper, grind ink, and serve tea and water. When he saw it was getting late, he urged Song Ning to go rest. Song Ning was a bit reluctant. “Tomorrow will definitely be the best day for business in the next few days. The 30th is the day after tomorrow, so everyone will have bought most of their couplets by then.”

“Just listen to me. Get some rest early. Whatever we can earn, we’ll earn.”

Wei Hu had already placed the hot water bottle where Song Ning was lying, brought water for him to wash his face, and then brought water for him to wash his feet, helping him take off his shoes.

Song Ning let out a couple of “uh-uhs.” “Brother Wei Hu, I can do it myself. My feet aren’t dirty.” 

“They’re not dirty.”

Wei Hu cupped Song Ning’s feet and placed them in the hot water, then crouched down to massage them. Song Ning’s pale skin flushed a faint pink the moment his feet touched the water—whether from the heat of the water or from embarrassment, he wasn’t sure.

Song Ning muttered under his breath, “What kind of man washes his own Fulang’s feet?”

Wei Hu’s rough hands made Song Ning feel ticklish; he curled his toes and hunched up. Wei Hu paused, then cupped the young man’s feet to dry them off before tucking him into the blankets.

It was toasty warm under the covers. Song Ning rolled around inside and let out a long sigh. “Mmm~ So comfortable~ Brother Wei Hu, you should come up here soon, too.” 

“Mm-hmm.”

Wei Hu washed his own feet in the water Song Ning had used, and as soon as he climbed into bed, the ger clung to him.

After rubbing against him a couple of times, he obediently found a spot and curled up.

Wei Hu held Song Ning’s hand and massaged it. Feeling so comfortable, Song Ning squinted his eyes like a contented cat and fell asleep in no time.

Song Ning had been incredibly busy lately. Business in town was booming; one of his central hall paintings had been sold, leaving just one remaining. His shop was particularly favored by the local Fulang and women, who flocked to him to buy matching pairs, keeping him so busy he couldn’t catch a break.

The pressure made Zhao Qingshu want to move to a different spot, but Song Baozhu wouldn’t agree, saying that if he moved, it would mean he had something to hide. With no other choice, Zhao Qingshu had to keep selling couplets in the same spot; by the end of the day, he was shivering like a leaf from the cold and hadn’t sold many.

By the 30th, Song Ning hadn’t prepared many couplets. On this day, every household was putting them up, and most had already bought what they needed. Song Ning still had one hanging scroll left unsold. Although business was good, he was a bit worried—the hanging scroll had cost a lot to make, and if he didn’t sell it, he’d lose money.

The market was bustling as usual today. Chen Cuihua was going door to door selling window decorations; she and Song Ning had cut quite a few of them earlier, and since today was the last day, they’d almost sold them all.

Chen Cuihua returned before noon, her basket brimming with goods: a large piece of meat—it looked to weigh five or six pounds—and a big pig’s head. She struggled a bit to carry it all.

Wei Hu saw them and took them from her, stowing them in his backpack. Song Ning had also nearly finished selling; everything he’d written yesterday was gone, and there weren’t many people left now.

Chen Cuihua beamed with joy. “I sold every last one of the remaining window decorations. I thought I’d have some left over, but while I was hawking them, I came across a wealthy household. The steward called me in and bought the  whole lot.”

“Mom, you’re really something!”

“Well, there’s not much left now, is there? Just a few window decorations and that hanging scroll. I’ll keep an eye on things here. The market’s still bustling—you and Huzi go wander around and have some fun. We’ll head home after we eat.”

“Okay.”

Song Ning packed up his brush, ink, and inkstone and went off to browse the market with Wei Hu.

Chen Cuihua called out, “Buy a couple of chickens, some dried fruits, and nuts—we haven’t bought any of that yet. You two go get them.” 

“Okay, Mom!”

The further they went, the more people there were. It was the busiest time of the market, with crowds jostling shoulder to shoulder. Song Ning tugged at Wei Hu’s sleeve, looking around in all directions.

This New Year’s market was truly bustling. Stalls lined both sides, selling everything from sewing supplies and sliced cakes to steamed buns and dumplings, along with street performers and fortune-tellers…

The cries of vendors rose and fell in waves. They were selling couplets in town, so they only had time to come and browse today. Song Ning was in a great mood—it was so lively!

“Want some sliced cake?” “

Yes, please!”

Hearing the ger’s excited voice, Wei Hu smiled. He pulled out some copper coins and bought a steaming hot slice of sweet pea paste cake—it even had dates inside and smelled absolutely delicious.

Song Ning loved it. He took a bite himself and then fed Wei Hu a bite. Wei Hu didn’t like sweets, so when Song Ning tried to feed him a second bite, he refused. “I can’t eat any more. I’ll have some later.”

“Well, I’ll finish it then.”

The two weren’t in a hurry to buy New Year’s supplies just yet; they decided to browse first and make their purchases on the way back.

“Brother Wei Hu, wait a minute.”

Song Ning pulled Wei Hu over to a small stall. The Fulang selling silk flowers complimented Song Ning on his good looks.

“Young man, you’re still young—these brighter silk flowers would look great on you.”

Song Ning shook his head repeatedly. “I don’t like wearing silk flowers. I want to buy some for my mother.” 

 “Well, these few would be just right. You’re such a dutiful ger.”

The vendor was quite the smooth talker—and who doesn’t like to hear a few kind words?

Song Ning picked out a smoke-brown silk flower. The color wasn’t too flashy, so his mother could wear it every day. His mother usually wore a cloth headscarf, and a silk flower pinned to it would look quite nice.

“Why don’t you pick out a hairband for yourself, too?” Wei Hu said.

“I don’t need one. My mother made me two, and you bought me another one. I certainly don’t need that many.”

Song Ning selected a silk flower, paid thirty wen, and placed it in the basket, carrying it carefully.

The two continued browsing, buying some roasted sunflower seeds and a packet of candied fruit. When Wei Hu saw sesame candy, he picked up a packet for Song Ning—the ger loved it.

Before long, the basket was filled with New Year’s goods. Wei Hu carried it in his hand, while Song Ning held the silk flower in his own hands, afraid it might get crushed.

On their way back, Wei Hu bought another two pounds of lamb. It was nearly closing time; some stalls had already started packing up to go home, so prices had dropped a bit. They also picked up an old hen.

“Ning-ger！”

Hearing someone call his name, Song Ning turned around to see that it was Qiu-ger. Qiu-ger and Sun Dazhuang had been selling window decorations today and had only come to buy New Year’s supplies around noon. Seeing Song Ning, the two were very happy.

“I was just thinking about looking for you, and here you are!” Qiu-ger ran over. “You’ve bought quite a lot!” 

“You haven’t bought much less yourself. Have you got everything you need?”

Qiu-ger’s basket held two strings of meat, along with other New Year’s goods—quite a lot, in fact—which showed his finances had improved considerably.

“Have you sold out of your paper cutouts yet? We’ve almost sold out of ours.”

“Sold out, sold out,” Qiu-ger whispered to Song Ning with a smile. “I made four taels of silver!”

“That much?”

“You bet. I really have to thank you for that. Now we can have a few extra bites of meat this New Year. I haven’t bought the couplets for my family yet—could you write a few for me later, Ning-ger?”

Qiu-ger giggled as he spoke. This year was going to be a good one—he’d bought plenty of meat, and he planned to bring a string of meat to his mother when visiting relatives during the New Year.

Everyone had finished most of their New Year’s shopping, so they all carried their goods toward the market entrance.

Song Ning had packed up his stall and was heading home for the holidays as well.

The four of them hadn’t even reached their destination when they saw Chen Cuihua, holding onto a young ger, shouting,

“Don’t go! Don’t go!” Beside her, another young man was tugging at the young ger, trying to drag him away. The two of them were ganging up on Chen Cuihua, who was being pulled so hard she was about to fall to the ground, yet her hands still clung desperately to the fulang, refusing to let go.

“Mother!”

Song Ning was startled by the scene. What was going on? Just a moment ago, everyone had been smiling, yet now, barely a few minutes after they’d left, a commotion had erupted.

As soon as Chen Cuihua saw someone from her family arrive, she cried out, “Huzi, Ning-ger, hurry and grab them!”

The man, seeing that someone from Chen Cuihua’s family had arrived, quickly let go and tried to flee, leaving the young man behind. But Wei Hu wasn’t about to let him get away; he grabbed him by the arm and held him fast.

Chen Cuihua finally managed to pin the young man down, and Qiu-ger and his wife came over to help. “Aunt Cuihua, what’s going on here? Is this a thief?!”

Not only did Qiu-ger and the others not recognize these two, but even Wei Hu didn’t recognize them at first. The man he was pinning to the ground tried to run, but Wei Hu grabbed his hands and forced him face down onto the ground.

“Mother, what’s going on?”

Chen Cuihua was drenched in sweat. Thank goodness her son Huzi had returned; those two had nearly gotten away.

“That’s the ger you were engaged to!”

Wei Hu glanced at him and barely recognized him; he’d only met this ger once before.

“He’s the one who got dragged off by a wild beast when he went into the mountains!”

Song Ning also realized what had happened. Furious, his face flushed red as he grabbed the Fulang by the collar. “It’s your fault Wei Hu has been saddled with the reputation of being a husband who brings misfortune to his wives!”

The fulang was so frightened that tears streamed down his face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Huzi, find some rope and tie up that stranger. We’re going to the Cao family to demand our silver back—that’s ten taels of silver we worked so hard to save!”

Qiu-ger and his husband had also figured out what had happened, and Qiu-ger was furious, too. “Dazhuang, go help find a straw rope. We’ll tie this man up and demand an explanation!”