Song Ning sat up front, idly swinging his legs. It was a beautiful spring day with a gentle breeze blowing across his face; the spring wheat he’d planted had already begun to sprout. In high spirits, he leaned against Wei Hu.

The sun was warm at that moment. Song Ning hadn’t slept well the night before, and as he leaned against Wei Hu, he began to yawn.

“Tired?”

“It’s all your fault.”

Song Ning blushed slightly. If they hadn’t stayed up so late last night, would he really be feeling this sleepy?

Wei Hu chuckled softly, prompting Song Ning to give him a light punch—it felt more like a tickle against Wei Hu’s body.

Someone was coming up ahead, so Wei Hu tugged the ox to the side to make way. The person carrying the basket on their back looked like a child; the massive basket left only their head visible, making it look as if they were carrying a heavy turtle shell.

Song Ning quickly tugged at the person beside him. “Look, isn’t that Lan-ger?” 

“Lan-ger? Whose young man is that?”

“Oh, he’s the ger from Zhang Banxia’s family.”

As soon as Song Ning mentioned Zhang Banxia, Wei Hu finally realized he knew the family had a ger, though he didn’t know the ger’s name. Wei Hu drove the oxcart past, then looked back and saw it was indeed Zhang Banxia’s ger.

Wei Hu tugged on the reins to stop the ox cart. “Lan-ger is on his way to town.”

Song Ning hopped down, too. “We’re heading to town anyway—we can give you a ride.”

The ger eyed the two men warily, clearly reluctant to get on their cart. Song Ning smiled at him. “We’ll take you to town and drop you off right away. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.”

Only then did the boy approach. Wei Hu lifted the bamboo basket with both hands and placed it on the cart. Though it contained only half a basket of bamboo shoots, it was already quite heavy for a ger of six or seven, who knew how long he’d been carrying it to get here.

Lan-ger didn’t need any help either; he climbed up onto the oxcart on his own, sat down in the back, and said nothing. Song Ning waited until he was settled before tugging at Wei Hu to signal them to set off.

Song Ning hadn’t expected this ger to be gathering bamboo shoots to sell in town. How many copper coins could that half-basket possibly fetch?

A few days ago, he’d seen the ger being bullied, and since he hadn’t been able to help him, it had been weighing on his mind. Now that he’d run into him again, he finally had a chance to lend the ger a hand.

He sat up front without speaking to the ger. Lan-ger didn’t seem too keen on talking to him; his eyes were full of wariness whenever he looked at people.

The oxcart swayed its way into town. As soon as they arrived, Lan-ger jumped down first. Song Ning smiled at him. “Want to sell with us? We’ll give you a ride back when we leave.”

“No, thanks.”

This was the first time Song Ning had heard the ger speak. His voice was a bit hoarse. Lan-ger got off the ox cart, slung his belongings over his back, and walked away. Song Ning was about to say something else, but the ger walked off without looking back.

Oh well, Lan-ger didn’t seem too keen on accepting a favor. He wondered how Zhang Banxia managed to raise this ger—it must’ve been tough for the two of them, grandfather and grandson.

His mother had said he was already seven years old, yet he was still so small and frail, dressed in ragged clothes. Even though it was March and the weather had warmed up, he really didn’t need to be wearing straw sandals.

“He really is pitiful.”

“Lan’er seems to have a bit of a stubborn streak.”

Song Ning nodded. “If I tried to give him something, he’d definitely refuse.”

The two weren’t selling their goods at the market either; otherwise, they’d have to pay five wen of market fees. A whole basket of bamboo shoots wouldn’t even bring in that many copper coins—it just wasn’t worth it. Since they had an oxcart anyway, they might as well pull it along the streets and hawk their wares.

“Bamboo shoots for sale! Wild chickens and rabbits for sale…”

Wei Hu began his sales pitch, and Song Ning joined in. His clear voice seemed to draw more attention than Wei Hu’s.

Someone opened their door to ask about the price. Song Ning held up a bamboo shoot to show them. “They’re all fresh. One wen each—a real bargain.”

Since the bamboo shoots were so cheap, they sold like hotcakes. The woman pointed to a spot for Song Ning, “Go sell them over by that tree—people will come out as soon as you call out.” 

“Alright, thanks a lot.”

The woman followed him over and called out to the neighbors, “Sister Wang, Mr. Fulang, someone’s selling bamboo shoots—any takers?”

As soon as the woman called out, people from the neighboring houses came out one after another. It wasn’t anything rare—just one cash per bamboo shoot, and you could pick any you liked. Some people filled their baskets and took them home; after all, they were cheap.

“They’ve got wild chicken and rabbit, too. How much are those?”

“Forty wen for a pheasant, thirty wen for a hare.”

“Your pheasants are way too expensive. I’ll take one for thirty-five wen.”

Song Ning smiled and said, “My husband worked hard to catch these pheasants and rabbits. If you’d like them for thirty-eight wen each, I’ll throw in some bamboo shoots. Pheasant stewed with bamboo shoots makes the broth incredibly rich and flavorful—my mother made a pot yesterday, and the broth was a beautiful golden yellow.”

The woman was tempted by Song Ning’s words and bought a pheasant. Song Ning gave her a few bamboo shoots as well, and everyone was happy.

The two piglets in the basket were squealing. Wei Hu took them out and tied them to the ox cart, which immediately drew the attention of quite a few people. “Wow, they even hunted a wild boar piglet! That’s not something you see every day.”

Few households in town raised pigs, so while people were used to seeing piglets, wild boar piglets were a rare sight. Upon hearing there was a wild boar piglet, a crowd quickly gathered to gawk.

Children gathered around to look at the wild boar, and even the adults craned their necks to get a better view. As the crowd grew, a curious onlooker asked, “How much are you selling this wild boar piglet for?”

“Two for three taels of silver.” 

“That’s not cheap.”

Most were just there for the spectacle; even if they bought the piglets, they had nowhere to raise them. These piglets would either be sold to rural families to raise or to wealthy households to be roasted as suckling pigs.

Still, it certainly helped draw a crowd. They’d originally planned to sell this plot and move elsewhere, but with so many onlookers gathering, they ended up selling all the bamboo shoots, partridges, and wild rabbits.

In the end, even the smaller bamboo shoots were sold off at a discount—he never expected they’d go so fast.

The two wild piglets were surrounded by onlookers, grunting and squealing. With everything sold out, there were still quite a few people lingering to watch. Wei Hu put the two piglets into his back basket, thanked the crowd, and drove off in his ox cart.

The money pouch at Song Ning’s waist was bulging. He’d made over two hundred and seventy wen from the wild chickens and rabbits, and the six baskets of bamboo shoots should have brought in about forty wen. Song Ning was quite pleased.

“Brother Wei Hu, let’s stop by the study first. I’ll drop off the books I’ve copied.”

“Alright.”

The two of them drove the oxcart to the Nandhan Study. There wasn’t anyone around at the moment. Song Ning walked in carrying a cloth bundle. “Is anyone here? Is anyone here?”

“Hey, hey, hey! Over here! What books do you need?”

A ger with slightly disheveled hair crawled out from under the counter, holding a brush in his hand, his face smeared with ink—who knows what he’d been doing crouched there.

“I’m looking for the shopkeeper.”

“I’m the shopkeeper. I know every book in the house like the back of my hand.”

As soon as Song Ning heard he was from the bookshop, he pulled the item out. “I took on a book-copying job from you. I’ve finished copying this Heart Sutra and brought it over.”

“Did my father mention the price?” 

“Two hundred and twenty wen.”

The ger took the transcribed text, glanced at it, and readily handed over the copper coins. “I didn’t expect your handwriting to be so good—this Heart Sutra is beautifully transcribed.”

Song Ning blinked. “You recognize me?”

“Oh, you’ve forgotten me? That would really break my heart. You bought a book from me at the Shangsi Festival.” 

The shopkeeper’s ger winked at Song Ning. “What do you think? Not bad, right? I drew it myself.”

Song Ning’s face flushed bright red. He hadn’t expected that just buying a book would lead him to run into that ger again!

He grabbed some copper coins and fled in a panic. Bai Xiaoyun hurriedly called after him, “Hey, hey! There are still books to copy—don’t leave yet!”

Wei Hu was standing at the doorway and hadn’t come inside, but he’d heard what the two were saying. Seeing his fulang run out, Wei Hu felt like laughing—he really was that easily embarrassed.

Song Ning had just been teased. He’d originally intended to ask if there were any more book-copying jobs available, but after being teased, his head went hot, and he ran out, forgetting to even ask about the business at hand.

Hearing him call him, he finally walked in, his face flushed. “What? What kind of work?”

Bai Xiaoyun pulled a few sutra books from the shelf and handed them to him. “Those wealthy young masters and their wives prefer hand-copied sutras when making offerings. Just take these home and copy them. Your handwriting is good, so you won’t have any trouble selling them.”

“Thank you.”

Bai Xiaoyun counted out the sheets of paper and handed them to Song Ning. Song Ning carefully wrapped them in cloth, and just as he was about to leave, Bai Xiaoyun stopped him. “Have a sip of water before you go. What’s the rush?”

Song Ning wished he could crawl into a hole; there was no way he was going to drink his tea. If he hadn’t been holding him back, he would have run off long ago. Bai Xiaoyun, however, thought Song Ning was a charming fellow. He held him back and called out to the hallway, “Hey, this ger’s husband—why don’t you come in for a cup of tea, too?”

“No, no, he’s not thirsty.”

Song Ning shook his head repeatedly; there was no way he was going to let Wei Hu come in and join the commotion. If Wei Hu came in, he’d find a block of tofu and smash his head against it.

Wei Hu was sitting right there on the oxcart by the door, so naturally he heard every word. The two ger were talking among themselves—what business did he have butting in? Bai Xiaoyun, ever the friendly soul, pulled Song Ning over to sit on a nearby chair, then eagerly grabbed a can of tea leaves from the counter.

“My favorite Longjing tea. Give it a try.”

Now Song Ning couldn’t leave even if he wanted to, so he gritted his teeth and started drinking the tea. Bai Xiaoyun really did like Song Ning. “By the way, you haven’t told me your name yet. I’m Bai Xiaoyun. What’s yours? I originally thought you were from the countryside, but I never expected you to actually know how to read.”

“I—I’m Song Ning.”

“Song Ning, huh? That’s a pretty nice name.” Bai Xiaoyun smiled as he poured Song Ning a cup of tea. “Try this tea—I snuck it from my old man. He said I was wasting good tea on a country bumpkin and wouldn’t let me have it.”

Song Ning smiled back at him. The tea had a delicate fragrance—it was indeed fine tea.

Bai Xiaoyun nodded toward the outside. “Is your husband a farmer? Then your family must be pretty well-off, since you’re able to send a ger like you to school.”

“My family used to be from the town, but things fell on hard times later.” 

“Oh, whose ger are you, then?”

“The Song family. We have a rice shop, and I went to school for a few years when I was young.”

“Oh, I see. No wonder.”

Bai Xiaoyun chattered away to Song Ning for quite a while, then whispered, “I’ve just finished a new painting of ‘Spring Breeze.’ Do you still want it?” Song Ning was in the middle of drinking water; the sudden question made him cough so hard his face turned red. “No, no, no—I don’t want it.”

“Tsk, what a shame. I paint so well, yet no one appreciates it.”

Song Ning grabbed his things and hurried off. “I’m outta here!”

Bai Xiaoyun chased after him and called out, “Next time, once you’ve finished copying it, come deliver it yourself. If you send your husband over to bring it, I’ll make things difficult for him!”

Song Ning scrambled into the cart, tugging at Wei Hu’s sleeve to hurry up. Wei Hu chuckled and drove the oxcart away.

Song Ning had finally managed to stop blushing, but after being teased like that just as he was leaving, his face flushed again, and a fine layer of sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Hot?” Wei Hu teased him, prompting Song Ning to give him another annoyed shove. “Stop laughing!”

Wei Hu dared not laugh anymore, afraid he might push him too far and make her angry.

The two of them drove the oxcart to the market. Song Ning sat in the cart watching the traffic, while Wei Hu, carrying a basket on his back, went down to sell the piglets.

Once Wei Hu was out of sight, Song Ning finally let out a quiet sigh of relief. If only she’d known, she never would have bought that book. She rubbed her face and buried it in her knees—how embarrassing!

Wei Hu wandered through the market with his basket on his back, calling out, “Wild piglets for sale! Wild piglets for sale!”

Hearing someone selling wild boar piglets, quite a few people turned to look, but they were just there for the spectacle; no one seemed interested in buying. Two for three or two taels of silver—not cheap—and besides, they had nowhere to keep them.

The two piglets weren’t selling well. Wei Hu carried his basket to the other end of the market, but still no one showed interest. If he couldn’t sell them, he’d have to sell them cheaply to the tavern—taking them home would just mean more trouble to care for them.

Wei Hu turned back with his basket. Along the way, people craned their necks to look, but no one seemed interested in buying. Wei Hu was already preparing to take them to the inn when someone called out to him, “Hey, you there! Let me take a look.”

The one who called out to him was a butcher from the meat market. He actually thought the wild boar piglets looked quite good. He came over, picked up the boar’s hind leg, and examined it. “One male and one female, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“They’d make fine breeding stock once they’re grown. I’ll take them.”

The butcher handed over three taels of silver without hesitation. He kept a dozen or so pigs outside town; many wealthy families wanted something fresh to eat. Once they were grown, he could use them for breeding. Wild boar meat was firmer than domestic pork, so there would be plenty of buyers when the time came.

Wei Hu took the silver and cut off a piece of meat there.

As he passed by a jewelry shop, he spotted a bamboo-patterned bracelet that would look perfect on his Fulang. He’d been wanting to buy his ger a silver bracelet or a silver hairpin for his young man, but he’d been preoccupied with buying a cow, and with the mountains blocked by heavy snow, he hadn’t been able to go into the mountains.

Now that he had three taels of silver, he was feeling a bit more flush. He had the shop assistant wrap up the bamboo-patterned bracelet, tucked it against his chest, and set off toward the market entrance in high spirits.

Song Ning saw him coming and untied the oxcart from the tree. He glanced at the empty basket on his back. “You sold it? I thought you couldn’t get it off your hands.”

“Sold it to a butcher shop.”

Song Ning gasped, “When they’re so small? That’s a shame.”

“No, they bought it to use as a breeding pig.”

Song Ning laughed. “Why do you always leave things unsaid?”

The two had sold their goods quickly today, and Wei Hu had butchered some meat, so by the time they headed home, it was just past noon—they might as well eat there.

Wei Hu reached over and took the money pouch from Song Ning’s waist, putting the remaining silver inside. Song Ning saw there weren’t even three taels left, but didn’t ask, figuring Wei Hu always needed to carry some silver on him.

Song Ning was in a good mood; they’d sold quite a bit today and made a decent profit.

“Brother Wei Hu, rest at home for a few days before heading back into the mountains. Don’t just tell Mother to rest—you need a break too. The mountain path is so long, and up there you won’t even get a hot meal for days…”

Song Ning chattered on, when suddenly he felt a cool sensation on his wrist. He looked down to see a shiny silver bracelet slipped onto his wrist. Song Ning froze for a moment. “When did you buy this?”

“I just bought it. It suits you perfectly.”

Song Ning had slender wrists and fair skin. He didn’t know how many times he’d held them, but the silver bracelet he’d bought fit his fulang perfectly—it was rare and beautiful.

Song Ning happily twirled the bamboo-patterned silver bracelet on his wrist. “I really like it, Brother Wei Hu. Thank you.”

He’d had no shortage of silver bracelets to wear back at the Song household, but when he left, Wu Cai’e wouldn’t let him take a single one with him. This one, however, was different—it was something Wei Hu had worked hard to obtain by hunting deep in the mountains.

Song Ning’s heart melted. Seeing that no one was around, he quickly planted a kiss on Wei Hu’s cheek, then looked straight ahead as if nothing had happened. Wei Hu couldn’t wipe the smile from his lips, captivated by Song Ning’s charm.

Song Ning was quite fond of the silver bracelet on her wrist and kept glancing at it, jingling it now and then. “If Mom sees this, will she say we’re wasting money? How much did it cost?”

“One and a half taels. It’s fine. Mom wears one on her wrist too—it was a gift from Dad.”

The implication was that he should have given one to Song Ning as well. In the countryside, families who were a bit better off would often include a bracelet as part of the betrothal gifts. Wei Hu actually felt he’d been a bit late in buying his own.

They returned early and saw that more bamboo shoots had been unloaded in their courtyard. Song Ning jumped down from the oxcart and said,

“Mom, why did you go out to get more bamboo shoots again?”

“No, I just got a little bit. I thought I’d bring some over while I had the chance—we’ll make some pickled bamboo shoots for ourselves.” Song Ning grabbed a handful of copper coins from his money pouch without counting them. “Mom, these are the coins from selling bamboo shoots today.” 

Chen Cuihua refused to take them. “Just keep them yourselves. We’re family—why make such a distinction?”

Song Ning insisted on shoving them into her hand. “Mother, take them. Use them to buy things for the kids later.”

Chen Cuihua was amused by this. “Alright then. When the time comes, I’ll take care of everything the kids need—food and clothes.”

As Chen Cuihua took the coins, she noticed a silver bracelet on Song Ning’s wrist. She took Song Ning’s hand to examine it. “Oh, that bracelet is really pretty. Did Huzi buy it for you? The one on my wrist was bought by Wei Hu’s father, you know. I’ve been wearing it for over twenty years now.”

Song Ning hummed in acknowledgment. “Brother Wei Hu bought it for me.”

They’d bought some meat from town that day, so Chen Cuihua had Wei Hu roll out some noodles. She made a batch of fried meat sauce, and it was delicious mixed in with the noodles.

Song Ning didn’t have much to do that afternoon, so he took his family’s ox out to graze. He asked Qiu-ger to come along—the spring weather was just perfect, and it felt so good to take a stroll outside.

Qiu-ger came out carrying his embroidered basket. Granny Sun saw him and gasped, “Qiu-ger, you should rest at home. Going out to run out there?”

“Mother, I feel so stuffy at home. I want to go out.” 

“Well, don’t go too far. Just come back after you’ve played for a while.” 

“Got it.”

Song Ning was puzzled. What was going on? He used to ask Qiu-ger to go out and play all the time, so why was his mother-in-law being so concerned about him today? The two of them found a spot with lush grass and sat down together. Song Ning also set his basket down on the grass.

Qiu-ger’s basket was filled with sewing supplies and the like, while Song Ning’s was packed with roasted nuts, dried fruits, and other snacks. The two sat on the grass, eating and chatting.

When Qiu-ger saw the dried apricots in the basket, he couldn’t help but take a couple extra. Song Ning pushed the basket toward him. “These dried apricots are really sour. I can’t eat more than a few at a time. You have them.”

Qiu-ger didn’t hesitate to grab a few and start eating. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he whispered to Song Ning, “Ning-ger, I’ve got it.”

“Got what?”

Qiu-ger let out a little gasp. “I’m having a baby!”

The dried fruit in Song Ning’s hand fell onto the grass. “You… you’re having a baby! How long has it been?”

“Not even a month yet. My lower back’s been aching for a while—I thought I’d just strained myself working in the fields. I went to see the doctor, and it turns out I’m pregnant. It scared the life out of me! He even prescribed two doses of medicine to help the pregnancy along.”

Song Ning grew anxious, too. “No wonder your mom wouldn’t let you come out. I’ll take you home.”

“It’s fine. I’ve been resting at home for several days now. I was getting so bored; it’s much better to get out and walk around.”

Song Ning looked at Qiu-ger with a touch of envy. Why didn’t he have one? He wanted one too. “Can I feel it?” 

“Sure, but you won’t feel anything—it’s just my belly.”

Qiu-ger giggled as he spoke, then took Song Ning’s hand and placed it on his belly. Song Ning couldn’t feel anything either, so he laughed along with him.

“Your mother’s always one to gossip. How come I haven’t heard anything about you being pregnant this time?”

“She may have a big mouth, but she wouldn’t dare talk about this. The old folks say you shouldn’t talk about it when you’re still in the early stages—I don’t know why.” Qiu-ger laughed. “But she hasn’t been going out much lately. She cooks more often now, and she doesn’t nag me anymore.”

“That’s great, isn’t it?”

“It is good, but it’s only because I’m pregnant now. She, well, she’s no match for Aunt Cuihua. I told her to stop going out and gossiping about others—if she doesn’t build up some virtue, the child born into this family will have a big mouth too. So she’s been behaving herself.”

Song Ning laughed too. “You’ve got a way with her.”

Qiu-ger had been cooped up at home for a few days, and getting out for some fresh air today made him feel much better. He’d eaten quite a few of the dried apricots Song Ning had brought.

Just as the two were talking, they heard children shouting and running toward them. “Come here! Come here!” 

“Wah! Hahaha!”

Song Ning turned to see a few children not far away kicking a backpack lying on the ground. The child in the middle had been shoved to the ground. Song Ning quickly stood up—he hadn’t taught them a proper lesson last time, and now these kids were bullying someone again!

Song Ning stepped forward and shoved the kid who’d pushed the other one to the ground. “How dare you bully people!” The kid he’d knocked down scrambled to his feet. “You’re the one bullying kids!”

Qiu-ger came over as well. Song Ning called out, “Qiu-ger, don’t come over here—stay back!”

Song Ning was afraid these kids might provoke Qiu-ger. They were just a bunch of brats—was he really unable to handle them?

“Whose kid are you?”

“None of your business!”

The kid snorted and ran off with his friends. Lan-ger had been knocked to the ground and was covered in mud. Song Ning pulled him up and brushed the dirt off him. “Next time someone bullies you, tell me, and I’ll beat them up for you.”

Qiu-ger came over, too. “He’s Zhang Banxia’s kid. I think his name is Lan-ger.”

“That’s right, Lan-ger. Those kids really went too far!” Song Ning was a bit angry. Lan-ger brushed Song Ning’s hand aside, grabbed the backpack lying on the ground, and ran off.