Zhao Qingshu couldn’t bear the humiliation and turned to leave, but he was blocked by a few classmates who were egging him on.

Song Ning found the scene amusing. Judging by their attire, these scholars must come from well-off families; their clothes were far finer than Zhao Qingshu’s. He couldn’t tell if they were genuinely standing up for him or just teasing him, but either way, Zhao Qingshu was so embarrassed he wanted to sink into the ground.

The group toyed with Zhao Qingshu like a monkey on a tightrope, accusing him of having accepted someone’s financial support only to turn around and force someone else to marry him with her dowry in tow. The Shangsi Festival was typically filled with young people out on excursions; upon hearing that this scholar was a faithless scoundrel, some young men and women felt even more indignant.

On such a beautiful holiday, when everyone is out to pray for blessings, what business does a faithless scoundrel like this have out here!

Someone threw a vegetable at him, hitting Zhao Qingshu and making him yelp in pain. The onlookers joined in, hurling things at him. The other scholars quickly stepped aside to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Song Ning patted the arm around his waist. “Put me down.”

Only then did Wei Hu set him down. Song Ning hadn’t expected to catch a glimpse of Zhao Qingshu’s little drama today—it was far more entertaining than the monkey show next door.

Song Ning tugged Wei Hu away. “What a waste of those vegetables. They were so tender. It’s a shame to have thrown them at Zhao Qingshu—we could’ve picked them up and fed them to our cow.”

Wei Hu chuckled. “Would we really eat those dirty vegetable leaves?” 

“True.”

The two pushed their way through the crowd to join the festivities. There was a local deity temple by the South Lake, with a “marriage tree” at the entrance. Today, quite a few young men and women have come to pray for love.

Song Ning tugged Wei Hu over as well. “Let’s go pay our respects to the Earth God, too.”

Wei Hu, a burly man, stood out like a sore thumb among the crowd of young men and women. If Song Ning hadn’t been holding onto him, people would have wondered where this rough-looking fellow had come from. But upon closer look, they realized he was there with his fulang to pay respects to the Earth God.

The two approached the altar and bowed. Song Ning closed his eyes, lost in whatever wish he was making, while Wei Hu silently prayed for his fulang’s lifelong safety and happiness.

After making his wish, Song Ning stood up, his eyes sparkling. “Brother Wei Hu, we haven’t had our wedding ceremony yet. Even though we’re already married, let’s treat this as our ceremony.”

Wei Hu paused for a moment, his heart swelling with emotion. He took his fulang’s hand and led him down the steps. “All right.”

Song Ning was in a particularly cheerful mood today. The two strolled through the market, stopping here and there, while Wei Hu carried a bag full of snacks.

Song Ning spotted a bookstall nearby. He peered over and saw that a local bookshop was selling storybooks there—the shop was quite savvy in its business dealings.

Song Ning’s interest was piqued. He’d grown a bit tired of these storybooks; it was mostly young men and women who hadn’t yet married who liked to buy them to pass the time.

Song Ning noticed a basket behind the stall; he had no idea what books were inside. Curious, he asked, “Brother, what kind of books are those? Why aren’t they on display?”

“Oh, those? They’re books I can’t really put out.”

The young man selling the storybooks was still reading one himself while he worked. When someone asked about the books in the back, he gave Song Ning a knowing wink, as if to say, “You know what I mean.”

Song Ning cleared his throat awkwardly. “Do you have any with illustrations?”

The ger’s eyes widened—he’d found a kindred spirit. “Oh, yes, yes, yes! You can take them home to read with your husband. Just wait a moment; I’ll get you the best ones and give you a good price.”

The young man started rummaging through the pile in the back. Song Ning waited until his face turned red; he wanted to hurry him along, but was too shy to do so. The man bent over and rummaged for a long time before finally pulling one out. “I’ll give you a good price—twenty copper coins.”

Without even glancing at it, Song Ning snatched it and shoved it into Wei Hu’s arms. “Hide it well. You’re not allowed to look!” 

The young man grinned knowingly. “Twenty copper coins, mind you.”

Song Ning frantically fished out the copper coins, then dragged Wei Hu away in a panic. The young vendor sat back down on his stool and resumed reading his storybook. Hmm, the next book could be titled *The Rude Man and the Tender Fulang*—it’d definitely be a bestseller.

Wei Hu had no idea what book Song Ning had bought; he couldn’t read. He reached out to ask his ger what he’d bought, but before his hand could even come out, his ger slapped it away. “Don’t touch it!”

“Don’t worry, I can’t read.”

Song Ning grumbled, trying to hide his unease. “Even if you can’t read, you still can’t touch it. I bought it for you. There are too many people out here—you can read it once you get home.” Wei Hu was even more curious now. How could an illiterate country bumpkin possibly understand a book? His curiosity was piqued.

“How can I read it if I’m illiterate?”

“You can read it. Hurry up, we haven’t even looked at the ones over there yet!”

Song Ning led Wei Hu over to the other side, where they happened to run into Qiu-ger and his partner. Qiu-ger looked thrilled. “Ning-ger, business is really booming today! We sold all these pouches—twenty wen each!”

“Qiu-ger, you’re amazing!”

Qiu-ger craned his neck to take a look at Song Ning. “Ning-ger, why is your face so red? It’s not even hot out.” 

At Qiu-ger’s question, Song Ning’s face turned even redder. “It’s… It’s crowded. It’s so packed.”

“Oh, my pouches just sold out. Let’s go browse together.”

Hearing the sound of an erhu, a few of them looked over. Sure enough, it was that half-blind old man from the village who played the erhu. The old man played and sang, while his frail young ger stood beside him collecting copper coins.

Song Ning fished out a few copper coins and dropped them into the bowl. The ger thanked him, and Qiu-ger, taking pity on the ger—he’d just made a decent profit selling his pouches today—also fished out a few coins to give him.

“Brother Wei Hu, let’s give him some of the sesame candy we bought.”

“Alright.” Wei Hu opened the paper wrapper in his hand and scooped some sesame candy for the ger. Qiu-ger watched and shook his head. “He’s really pitiful.”

Chen Cuihua soon came over as well, carrying two straw baskets. “Look, Mom bought something.” 

“Chicks and ducklings!”

“The old woman’s chicks are in great shape. I was afraid they’d be sold out by the time we left, so I bought some in advance—ten chicks and ten ducklings.”

Upon hearing this, Qiu-ger looked over. “Aunt Cuihua, where did you buy these? I’d like to raise a few ducklings too.” 

“Right over there, where they’re selling sugar cakes.”

Qiu-ger sent Sun Dazhuang off to buy some ducklings for him, and before long, he came back carrying a few.

The group ate at the temple fair before heading back. Song Ning didn’t eat much; he’d been talking nonstop all morning. At noon, they had meat soup; Song Ning took just a couple of bites before passing the bowl to Wei Hu.

The oxcart was waiting at the town entrance. Once they were full, they strolled leisurely along the road. As they passed a private academy, someone called out to Song Ning. At first, he didn’t realize they were addressing him; the man kept shouting, “Hey, ger! Hey, ger!” How was he to know they were talking to him?

It wasn’t until the man ran up that Song Ning realized he was being called. “Is that for me?”

“Yep, that’s right, ger. I’ve got a job copying some texts—wanna take it?”

“Copying? How did you know I could read?”

The man who had stopped him was a middle-aged fellow, likely the proprietor of this private academy. He said, “I saw you selling New Year’s couplets in town during the holidays. Your handwriting was truly excellent. As it happens, I often have books that need copying, and your handwriting is superb.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. It pays two or three hundred wen per book, and we’ll provide the paper—no need to worry about that.”

Upon hearing that this job would pay more than his flower-painting work, Song Ning immediately agreed, “I’ll take it.”

“Perfect timing. We have some *Lanruo Heart Sutras* that need copying—people need them for prayers. What a coincidence! This job is just right for you, ger.”

Song Ning hadn’t expected to land a book-copying job just by stepping out for a bit. The group turned and headed back into the study, which turned out to be quite spacious—spanning two floors.

Apart from Song Ning, everyone else was entering the study for the first time. Qiu-ger looked around curiously but dared not touch anything—the books were precious, after all, and he didn’t want to damage them.

A sign reading “Nanshan Study” hung above the entrance. Song Ning had never actually bought books from this shop before. As the shopkeeper handed him the materials, he said, “My surname is Zhang. Once you’re done, just take it to town. I’ve seen your handwriting—as long as it’s neat, that’s all that matters.”

Song Ning nodded in agreement. “My surname is Song. My name is Song Ning.”

“Young Master Ning doesn’t look very old, but your handwriting is excellent. My own son is about the same age as you, but he’s always running around all over the place, never settling down.”

Song Ning smiled, unsure how to respond. The shopkeeper’s ger must be a very lively ger.

The shopkeeper handed the paper to Song Ning. “Just write it as you see fit, ger. Make it look nice—this *Lanruo Heart Sutra* is for an elderly lady.”

“Alright, I got it. Thanks a lot, shopkeeper.”

At the agreed-upon time, Song Ning came out with the items.

Qiu-ger seemed even happier than Song Ning. “This job actually pays two or three hundred wen! If I had to embroider it myself, I don’t know how long it would take!”

“But Qiu-ger, you can do that and I can’t.”

“Well, I’m not as good as you. Being able to read is definitely better.” Qiu-ger looked on with envy, then turned to Sun Dazhuang and said, “Once we have a kid, whether it’s a ger or a girl, we’ll send them to school. It’s always good to know a few characters.”

Sun Dazhuang always listened to Qiu-ger and nodded in agreement. Although it wasn’t easy for a rural family to support a scholar, they weren’t aiming for him to pass the exams to become a Tongsheng or a Xiucai; knowing a few characters was good enough.

Song Ning also began to entertain the idea; perhaps once they had saved up some silver in the future, they could make it happen.

The group headed back in the oxcart. Song Ning planned to start copying the Heart Sutra the very next day; today, he was too tired from playing and needed to rest.

Chen Cuihua separated the chicks and ducklings they’d bought and put them in the backyard. Song Ning carried Xiao Caili over to look at the chickens and ducks, afraid that Xiao Caili might pounce on the chicks. Song Ning nagged her over and over, “No biting, no biting, got it?”

Xiao Caili now weighed about five or six pounds. Held in Song Ning’s arms, she was a big, fluffy bundle. Annoyed by Song Ning’s constant nagging, Xiao Caili kicked out with her hind legs and scampered off to the side.

“Mom, do you think Xiao Caili will bite the chicks or ducklings?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her. If she bites anything, I’ll tie her up.”

Song Ning wasn’t too keen on tying up Xiao Caili. He was thinking to herself that if Xiao Caili did bite the chicks or ducklings, he’d have Wei Hu raise the fence a bit.

Fortunately, Xiao Caili was a good girl. She wandered around as if patrolling her territory, but didn’t jump into the pen. Delighted, Song Ning hugged her and kissed her several times. “You’re such a good girl.”

Beaming with joy, Song Ning carried Xiao Caili into the house. “Brother Wei Hu, Xiao Caili is so smart—if we tell her not to bite our chickens and ducks, she won’t.”

Song Ning looked up and saw Wei Hu reading—and it was the very book he’d bought today!

Song Ning froze for a moment, then hurriedly ran back out with Xiao Caili in his arms. Goodness, who reads that kind of book in broad daylight!

Wei Hu hadn’t expected Song Ning to suddenly walk in either. Song Ning had said he’d bought that book for him. When he’d first returned, he’d been busy feeding some grass to the family’s big yellow ox. It wasn’t until he went inside to change out of his work clothes that he remembered there was a book tucked in his shirt.

Wei Hu was filled with curiosity. He didn’t know a single character? How could he possibly read a book? He looked at it, and he understood.

Wei Hu was a bit shaken. So that’s how it works, then.

Wei Hu tucked the book away under his pillow. Then, as if remembering something, he frowned slightly. Why had his Ning-ger bought him a book like this? Could it be that he’d done something to upset him?

Dinner that night was prepared by Chen Cuihua. She stir-fried cured pork with bamboo shoots and chives with eggs. Since it was a holiday, the meal was much better than usual.

Song Ning sat silently with his bowl, shoveling rice into his mouth, not even daring to look at Wei Hu.

Wei Hu cleared his throat. “Mother, the farm work is all done now. I’m heading into the mountains tomorrow. I plan to stay up there for a few days before coming back down.”

“That won’t do. You should stick to hunting on the outskirts. Why go so deep into the mountains? Now that we’ve bought a cow and have chickens and ducks, you, Ning-ger, and I can all earn a few copper coins. Why should you risk your life for that money?”

Song Ning nodded in agreement. “Mother’s right. We can all earn money now. We may not be rich, but we’ll never go hungry. Brother Wei Hu, you just need to hunt some wild chickens and rabbits out there.”

“I’m the man of the house; I can’t let you and Mother keep working yourselves to the bone.”

Song Ning shook his head repeatedly. “I’m not tired. I actually enjoy drawing pictures and copying books for people.”

“We have so little land. It makes me feel uneasy. I want to earn some silver as soon as possible so we can buy more land. Then we won’t have to worry about food.”

That was true, but Song Ning still couldn’t bear the thought of Wei Hu venturing deep into the dense forests to hunt. It was so dangerous out there—what if he encountered some wild beast?

Back when the family was short on silver, Wei Hu used to go in there often to hunt large game—roe deer, wild boar, and deer—all valuable game. Though they weren’t easy to catch, they always helped ease their immediate financial strain.

“Don’t worry. Ask mother—I’ve been there before. Once we’ve saved up some money, we can buy more farmland or even open a shop in town.”

Although Song Ning wasn’t entirely keen on the idea, he agreed to it anyway.

That night, as they slept, Song Ning curled up against Wei Hu’s chest. “Brother Wei Hu, the mountains are so dangerous—could you please not go? We’ve got three or five taels of silver left now, and the three of us are working hard every day. We’ve got enough to eat and drink. I think life is pretty good like this.”

“What do you want to do in the future, Ning-ger?”

“Me? I haven’t decided yet.”

“You little liar.”

“I want to buy more land for our family. Mom’s always wanted to run a little shop in town, but we never had enough silver. What about you, Ning-ger?”

Song Ning perked up his head. “I want to be a teacher—teaching gers and girls to read and write. I’ll take three or five kids with me, and you’ll come pick me up, and we’ll go home together for dinner. At night, when we go to sleep, you’ll hold me.”

Wei Hu chuckled. “Alright, we’ll set up a school for our Ning-ger in town someday.”

Song Ning snorted. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll save up the money myself. Mom said the mountains are so dangerous; she doesn’t want you to go.”

“Mom’s exaggerating. Last time I went into the mountains, she even came along to gather some wild delicacies.”

“Really?”

“Really. Strangers shouldn’t go up there lightly. I’ve been roaming those mountains for years—you’re not worried I’ll get lost, are you?”

“I’m worried you’ll get eaten by a tiger. Hmph.”

“I am the tiger—who’s going to eat me?”

“Then take me into the mountains with you sometime. I want to see it too.” 

“Sure, I’ll take you in for a visit sometime.”

Only then did Song Ning put down his pastry. He wrapped his arms around Wei Hu and began to act coy, rubbing against his chest now and then like a kitten.

“I’m heading into the mountains tomorrow.” “Mm-hmm, I know.”

“I won’t be back for three or five days.”

Song Ning rolled off Wei Hu. “I know. Come on!”

Wei Hu chuckled softly and kissed him without hesitation. Perhaps it was because he’d just finished reading a book, but Wei Hu was particularly energetic today. He pulled Song Ning into a series of positions, and Song Ning couldn’t stop the tears from falling—he didn’t know if it was from pain or pleasure.

He regretted it—he never should have bought him that book in the first place!

“Wei… Brother Wei Hu, if it were winter, we’d both catch a cold for sure.”

Wei Hu paused for a moment, wondering if he hadn’t been trying hard enough—his little Fulang still had the energy to think about such things. He pulled him close into his embrace, and the scattered sobs were silenced; only then did Song Ning fall silent.

When he opened his eyes the next day, no one was beside him. Song Ning let out a hiss as he scrambled to his feet; his legs were weak. It had been pleasurable, but he’d gone a bit too far.

Qiu-ger was right after all—you can’t spoil a man!

Song Ning got dressed and went out. He saw his mother making pancakes in the kitchen, so he went over to help stoke the fire. His voice was a little hoarse. “Mother, where’s Brother Wei Hu?”

“He’s cleaning up in the back yard.”

Seeing that Wei Hu hadn’t left, Song Ning finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Chen Cuihua had gotten up early to let the dough rise. She’d bought some meat from town yesterday, minced it, and stir-fried it into a savory meat sauce. Once the leavened flatbreads were fried, she spread the meat sauce on top—it would smell absolutely delicious.

Since Wei Hu was heading into the mountains today, she’d made plenty of these meat-stuffed flatbreads. Cooking alone in the mountains was never as convenient as at home, so these flatbreads would be ready to eat once he warmed them over a fire.

“By the way, Mom, where does Brother Wei Hu sleep up on the mountain?”

“There’s a camp up on the mountain—it was set up by a few experienced hunters. Anyone who goes up there can stay there for a while.” 

“That’s good.”

Wei Hu finished tidying up in the backyard and came out. The three of them ate meat pies and drank red bean porridge. Chen Cuihua helped pack some rice, flour, and dry rations for them. “Don’t stay up on the mountain too long. Come down when it’s time.”

“I know, Mother.”

Song Ning reluctantly saw Wei Hu off at the door and didn’t return to his room until he was out of sight. He’d never been apart from Wei Hu for this long before.

Song Ning tidied up and began copying texts. Before he knew it, time had flown by. Midway through, his mother brought him a cup of jujube tea. By the time he snapped back to reality, it was nearly noon. The sound of unloading goods outside finally jolted him back to attention.

Song Ning rubbed his wrists and stepped outside, only to see a large pile of young bamboo shoots in their courtyard. “Mom, you’ve gathered this many shoots!”

“It’s the perfect season for bamboo shoots, so I dug some up. If I had to carry them to town by the basketful, I wouldn’t have enough manpower. Now that we have an oxcart, we can actually make a little money.”

Bamboo shoots aren’t exactly a valuable commodity—a single basket barely brings in a few copper coins. Not only are they heavy, but they don’t fetch a good price either. Still, now that the family has an ox cart, any money earned is better than nothing, and it’s certainly better than sitting idle.

“Mom, I’ll go help you this afternoon.”

“You’re not cut out for this kind of work. You’d make more money copying books than selling these bamboo shoots. I just can’t sit still—I’ll gather a few copper coins just for fun.”

With Wei Hu gone, only Song Ning and Chen Cuihua were at the table for dinner, and Song Ning felt a bit out of place.

In the afternoon, Song Ning continued copying texts. Fortunately, he was careful and made no mistakes. When he grew tired, he went to the back mountain to find his mother and take a stroll. Song Ning stretched. The spring weather was lovely; wildflowers bloomed everywhere, and the peach trees by the roadside were ablaze with crimson blossoms.

When Song Ning arrived, Chen Cuihua was swinging a hoe, digging up bamboo shoots. As soon as the tips of the shoots peeked out, his mother pulled them out in a few swift motions; a small pile had already been tossed aside nearby.

“Mom.”

“Ning-ger, you’re here. Go sit over there and rest a bit.”

“Mom, I’ve never dug for bamboo shoots before. Let me help you.” 

“Sure, just have a little fun with it—don’t overdo it.”

“Okay.”

Back when the Song family was well-off, as soon as March rolled around, he’d go on spring outings with some young gers and girls. Thinking about it now, this was actually more fun.

Song Ning picked up a small hoe and started digging too. There were quite a few people on the back hill right now—some picking wild vegetables, some cutting grass, and some digging for bamboo shoots, and even children were running around playing on the hillside.

After digging for a while, a light sheen of sweat had formed on Song Ning’s forehead, but he was thoroughly engrossed. Spotting a bamboo shoot tip, he used the hoe to dig around the edge of the soil, then gave it a sharp jab with the blade to sever it, and out came the shoot.

The bamboo shoots Song Ning dug up weren’t very big—not as good as the ones Chen Cuihua had dug—but he really enjoyed digging them. He buried his head in the soil, huffing and puffing, and soon had a whole pile of them.

Chen Cuihua smiled when she saw this. “That’s quite a few. Come on, let’s carry them home first.”

Song Ning helped gather the bamboo shoots into the carrying basket. Chen Cuihua was worried he wouldn’t be able to carry it, so she wouldn’t let him; she hoisted it onto her back with ease.

Song Ning followed behind, carrying two hoes in his hands, and the two of them headed straight home.

Song Ning was in a great mood today. “Mom, I love bamboo shoots—they’re so fresh.”

“Well, I know plenty of ways to cook them—braised bamboo shoots in oil, braised bamboo shoots with pork belly, stir-fried bamboo shoots with snow cabbage, pickled bamboo shoots… Oh, and I can even pickle some of them. Come winter, we’ll make old duck and pickled bamboo shoot soup—it’s absolutely delicious.”

Song Ning swallowed hard. “Mom, you’re such a great cook.”

“Of course. I dare say no one in this village cooks as well as your mother. This afternoon, let’s make some stir-fried bamboo shoots with cured pork—it’ll be the perfect way to use up that chunk of cured pork. And when I have some free time, I’ll make a whole string of smoked cured pork.”

“Oh!”

The two chatted as they walked home. On the way, they ran into Li Guifen, who shot Chen Cuihua a venomous glare. Chen Cuihua glared right back. “Bad luck!”

Chen Cuihua walked off, carrying the bamboo shoots on her back. “If you’re jealous that I married Huzi’s father back in the day, then go cry on his grave. It’s ancient history—why are you still dwelling on it every day?”

“Who’s thinking about your dead husband anyway!”

All these years later, Li Guifen could no longer tell why she felt this way. She just couldn’t stand seeing Chen Cuihua living a better life than she did. What right did she have to?

To be honest, Li Guifen’s life wasn’t too bad. She had children, grandchildren, and things were going reasonably well. It was just that in the past couple of years, the Wei family had started doing well, and with all this trouble in her own household, she felt uneasy.

“Mom, she’s just being petty.”

“Don’t pay her any mind. I’ll go home and make you some stir-fried pork.”