Qiu-ger let out a cry. “How did that ger run off?”

“Last time I saw him, it was those same kids picking on him, and now it’s them again. Whose kids are they? They’re way out of line!”

“The ringleader is the kid from the Lao family—his name’s Tiedan. His family spoils him rotten; a good beating will set him straight.” The two chatted for a while, then Song Ning led his family’s ox back home.

When Song Ning returned, Chen Cuihua was in the courtyard peeling and slicing bamboo shoots, with Wei Hu helping her. They’d just come back from gathering more from the back mountain, and there was quite a pile of bamboo shoots on the ground.

Seeing Song Ning’s long face, Wei Hu assumed he’d been picked on. “You just said you were going out to tend the cattle—why are you so upset now that you’re back?”

“What’s wrong? Did someone pick on you?”

“No.” Song Ning tied the cow to a tree in the courtyard. “Brother Wei Hu, do you remember Lan-ger? The young man from that family who plays the erhu.”

“I remember him. What about him?”

“Every time I’ve gone out to tend the cattle lately, I’ve seen a few village boys picking on him. Lan-ger is already pitiful enough as it is—he shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

“Speaking of Lan-ger, his family’s having a rough time. I haven’t seen Zhang Banxia out and about lately either. I hope he hasn’t fallen ill.” Chen Cuihua said.

“I’ll take some rice and flour over to his family later. They’re having a hard time—it’s not easy for them.”

Song Ning shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. That boy’s too proud—he’d never accept it. Instead… Brother Wei Hu, Mother, since we have to tend our cows every day anyway, why don’t we hire Lan-ger to help us? It’d make his life a little easier.”

“That’s a great idea. My Ning-ger is the smart one,” Chen Cuihua agreed immediately. “I’ll slice these bamboo shoots and go check on him later. Would five copper coins a day be enough?”

“Mother, that’s plenty. If we give him more, he might think we’re pitying him. We can just send him some food every now and then.” 

“Alright.”

Song Ning finally cheered up. The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed. Although his family’s cows weren’t short of someone to tend them, giving Lan-ger a job would make his life a little easier.

Song Ning set to work peeling the bamboo shoots himself. After finishing, he made a quick trip to Lan-ger’s house—though he didn’t even know where the young man lived.

Seeing how eager Song Ning was, Wei Hu grabbed a knife and joined in to help slice the bamboo shoots. Song Ning could easily peel enough bamboo shoots to feed both of them on his own.

Chen Cuihua deftly marinated the bamboo shoots in a brine of pickled chili peppers. Last year, she’d pickled a whole jar, but it was gone before winter even arrived, so this year she’d prepared a larger batch.

Chen Cuihua said proudly, “You’ve never had the bamboo shoots I’ve pickled before, have you, Ning-ger? They’re sour and spicy—really delicious. They taste wonderful when you scoop them out in the morning and eat them with some congee.”

Song Ning’s eyes lit up. “Mom, how long do these bamboo shoots need to marinate?”

“At least ten days to a fortnight before they’re ready.”

“Then can I scoop out a bowl for Qiu-ger?”

“Sure, why not? We’ve pickled plenty of bamboo shoots this year—two whole jars, in fact.”

Song Ning thought about how Qiu-ger had mentioned he didn’t have much of an appetite. Once the bamboo shoots were ready, she’d send him some—maybe he’d like them.

Chen Cuihua came out after washing her hands. She took a basket and packed five eggs and some roasted peanuts—not too much, for fear that taking too much would make people think her family was trying to pity others.

“All right, Ning-ger, let’s go check on Zhang Banxia.”  

“Okay!” Song Ning hurried after her.

Song Ning followed Chen Cuihua for quite a while before they finally found Zhang Banxia’s home. Song Ning had always lived a comfortable life; even after coming to the Wei household, he hadn’t suffered any hardships. Even when they first arrived, and the family was short on money, Wei Hu went hunting, so they never went without meat.

Now, looking at Zhang Banxia’s house with its gaping holes and crooked fence, Song Ning finally realized what a hard life this ger had been leading. No wonder he was so thin.

Although the house was a bit run-down, the yard was still quite clean. The fence was made of branches buried in the ground—probably something Lan-ger had put together himself. In the yard, Zhang Banxia sat motionless, leaning on his cane.

“Zhang Banxia, are you home?”

Chen Cuihua called out, and only then did Zhang Banxia lift his head to look over—though she wasn’t sure if he could actually see. “Who is it? What do you want?” 

Chen Cuihua walked over, carrying a basket. “It’s me, Chen Cuihua—Wei Hu’s mother.”

“Oh, Huzi’s mother.”

Zhang Banxia gripped his cane and shakily stood up, groping around to fetch a stool. Chen Cuihua let out a soft “Ah.”

“Just sit right there. I’ll manage on my own.”

Zhang Banxia sat back down. Song Ning went into the house, found two stools, and brought them out. Looking up, he saw that the thatched roof of Zhang Banxia’s hut was completely exposed. He couldn’t imagine how the two of them managed to get by.

“Mother, please sit.”

Zhang Banxia made a gurgling sound in his throat; his breathing sounded rough and heavy. “Huzi’s here too.”

“Zhang Banxia, you’re getting senile. It’s Huzi’s fulang who’s here.”

“Oh, oh.”

Song Ning stole a glance at Zhang Banxia. The old man was frail and scrawny, a bit disheveled, and reeked of a foul odor. His eyes were a murky gray; upon closer inspection, he looked somewhat frightening.

He’d only seen Zhang Banxia twice before—once during the New Year when the old man was playing the erhu at the village entrance, and once during the Shangsi Festival when he saw him performing in town. He seemed to be in even worse shape now.

It was already late March; everyone had taken off their padded jackets, yet Zhang Banxia was still wrapped in his tattered coat, so filthy it had turned a glossy black.

“Zhang Banxia, how have you been lately? Where’s your son Lan? I haven’t seen him around,” Chen Cuihua said, making small talk.

“Not good, not good. Business isn’t as good as it was in the winter. More people die in the winter; once it warms up, fewer people die—fewer.” Zhang Banxia said, shivering. “I heard—I heard that Old Tongsheng from our village is on his last legs. When the time comes, I’ll be able to perform at his funeral.”

“I hadn’t heard that.”

Chen Cuihua wasn’t as well-informed as Zhang Banxia. That was his line of work—whenever someone passed away in the surrounding villages, they’d call on Zhang Banxia to play the erhu and sing a funeral dirge. He’d get twenty or thirty copper coins and a meal to eat.

Zhang Banxia chuckled, “That Tongsheng’s family is fairly well-off; they’ll definitely call us over. We’ll get to eat some good food then.” 

“You old man, how can you be hoping for someone’s death?”

Chen Cuihua retorted offhandedly. She knew full well that Zhang Banxia and his grandson made their living this way. While it was a day of grief for the family, for them it meant not only earning some coins but also getting to eat a piece of meat.

“Where’s your son Lan-ger? I haven’t seen him around.”

“He’s out somewhere. He’ll be back in a bit. He’ll be back.”

Chen Cuihua knew that Old Man Zhang wasn’t just half-blind anymore—he was probably completely blind. She cut straight to the point: “We bought a cow this year, but everyone in my family is busy and doesn’t have time to tend it. Is your Lan-ger free? If so, could he help us tend the cow?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Five copper coins a day. Just once in the morning. Meals included.”

Zhang Banxia seemed to be trying hard to open his eyes to look at the person across from him, but his eyes were so wide that, aside from looking a bit scary, he couldn’t see anything clearly. “Alright, alright.”

“I brought you a few eggs and some roasted peanuts—I’ll leave them here. Have Lan-ger come over to my place first thing tomorrow morning to lead the cow.” 

“Okay, okay.”

Chen Cuihua set down the basket and left with Song Ning. Zhang Banxia wanted to get up to see them off, but Chen Cuihua told him to stay put. Seeing him shakily leaning on his cane, she was afraid he might fall.

“No wonder I haven’t seen Zhang Banxia go to the back mountain to gather firewood or pick wild vegetables this year. I’m afraid his eyes have gone completely blind by now.” 

Chen Cuihua sighed. “I’ve never been to his house, but it’s really quite pitiful.”

Song Ning hummed in agreement. “Zhang Banxia looks like he’s sick.”

“Who doesn’t get sick when they get old? And with his family in such a state… He even said Old Tongsheng is on his last legs. I’m afraid it won’t be easy for him either. If Zhang Banxia passes away, how on earth will Lan-ger manage?”

Chen Cuihua shook her head, and the two of them headed home together.

Lan-ger had gone to the back mountain to pick wild vegetables; there was hardly anything to eat at home. Since the New Year, few people had called for his grandfather to play the erhu, and the family didn’t even have enough copper coins to buy rice.

He’d gone to town a few days ago to sell some bamboo shoots and had only managed to scrape together a dozen or so copper coins. Even after buying some rice, it wouldn’t last more than a few days. Lan-ger sniffed and headed home. As soon as he arrived, he saw his grandfather sitting in the courtyard eating peanuts. Lan-ger ran over and said,

“Grandpa, where did you get these? And there are eggs too—five of them!”

Zhang Banxia nodded, “I found them—five of them. I cracked one into the pot while cooking today.” 

“Grandpa, where did you get them? Did someone’s family have a death and call us over to work?”

It was no wonder Lan-ger asked that. Whenever a family had a ceremony and called them over to play the erhu, they’d always send some food their way. Those days were the happiest for Lan-ger—not only did he get to eat his fill, but he got to eat well, too!

Zhang Banxia spat twice. “Children speak without malice, children speak without malice. May the gods and the Lord of Heaven not hold it against us.”

Zhang Banxia mumbled a few words of apology before saying, “It’s not that kind of job. This is a good gig. You know Uncle Huzi, right? The one who was said to be a widow-maker? He’s asking you to go herd cattle for him. He’s paying five copper coins a day.”

“Is that the family whose wife married a handsome Fulang?”

“You little ger, how would I know if his Fulang is handsome or not? An old man like me is blind—I can’t see a thing. Head over first thing tomorrow morning, and they’ll even treat you to breakfast.”

“Deal!”

Lan-ger happily agreed. He wasn’t taking anything for free—he was going to work for them. Lan-ger thought of Song Ning; that handsome fulang had helped him before. Every time they met, he’d been herding cattle—he must have been too busy to handle it all on his own, which is why he’d called on him.

Lan-ger was very happy. That evening, he cooked wild shepherd’s purse with rice, adding a bit of lard and cracking in one egg. He carefully stored the remaining four eggs in a clay jar to keep the mice from stealing them.

When serving the rice, Lan-ger scooped out a bowl full of egg yolks for Zhang Banxia, and the rice in his own bowl was much thicker than usual. “Grandpa, dinner’s ready!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Lan-ger carried the food out to the courtyard, helped Zhang Banxia sit down, and placed a spoon in his hand. Zhang Banxia picked up the bowl with trembling hands. “Lan-ger, did you beat the eggs?”

“Yeah.”

“Hehe, Grandpa could smell it.”

Not only was Lan-ger happy, but Song Ning was quite pleased as well; at night, when he went to sleep, he could barely wait to roll around in Wei Hu’s arms.

Wei Hu held him tight to keep him from fidgeting, lest he end up getting himself all worked up again. Song Ning giggled, “I’m really so clever. How did I come up with such a great idea?”

“Mm-hmm, smart.”

“We’ll pay for the copper coins ourselves—we won’t let our mother pay. Lan’er is so pitiful; I’ve never seen such a run-down house in all my life.”

Wei Hu’s heart melted at Song Ning’s words. How could there be such a wonderful ger? He pulled him closer into his embrace. “Time to sleep.”

Song Ning couldn’t quite fall asleep just yet. His little hand crept quietly under Wei Hu’s undershirt, but Wei Hu pulled it out. “Not tonight. You’re too tired.”

Song Ning pouted. “Fine. We’ve been married for almost half a year now. Is it you who can’t, or is it me?” 

Wei Hu’s temple twitched slightly. “You tell me.”

Song Ning chuckled a couple of times. “I don’t know. I won’t kick you next time. Let me tell you, Qiu-ger already has a kid. Tsk, why don’t I have one?”

Wei Hu wondered why the ger was being so forward today—it turned out to be because of this. “It’s not easy for a ger to get pregnant; it could take three or five years. Don’t worry about it.”

Song Ning was a bit annoyed by this and gave him a kick. “Who’s in a hurry? I’m not in a hurry at all. If it doesn’t happen, you and Mom will be the ones in a panic.”

“Yeah, I’m worried, I’m worried. Let’s go to sleep—I didn’t get much rest last night.” 

“Whose fault is that? You kept me up way too late.”

The two whispered to each other for a while before going to sleep. Wei Hu was so reluctant to leave his wife’s side that he didn’t even want to go into the mountains; this ger had truly got him by the throat.

Early the next morning, Song Ning woke up upon hearing voices on the road. He was up earlier than usual today; Lan-ger was coming over to tend the cattle, so he got up to take a look.

The family of three got up around the same time. It was just beginning to get light out. Song Ning stretched and went to open the gate to their yard; Lan-ger should be arriving any minute.

Yawning, Song Ning opened the gate. The moment he did, a dark figure sitting by the entrance stood up, startling him. “Why are you here so early?”

Chen Cuihua came out with her hair tied up. “Ning-ger, who is it?” 

“Mom, it’s Lan-ger.”

“Oh, you’re here this early?”

Lan-ger followed Song Ning into the courtyard and stole a curious glance around. People in the village said his family lived well—they even had a hunter in the household, so they were never short on meat. Lan-ger thought how wonderful it would be if he could eat meat every day.

The Old Tongsheng was on his last legs, and his family was doing well, too. If he asked them for help when the time came, he’d be able to eat meat.

“I’ll take you to the back yard to lead the cow. There are two dogs back there, but don’t be afraid—they don’t bite.”

Song Ning led Lan-ger to the backyard. The hunting dogs, lying in their kennels, all stood up when they saw a stranger enter. The dogs were so big they looked almost as tall as the little ger.

Hei Dou and Hua Dou didn’t bark when they saw the visitors. Worried the boy might be scared, Song Ning scolded them gently, “Hei Dou, Hua Dou, sit down, sit down.”

The two dogs were enormous. Song Ning had been afraid of them when he first arrived, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. Hei Dou and Hua Dou never barked without reason, let alone biting people. Plus, they helped the family hunt to earn some extra cash, so naturally, he wasn’t afraid.

Lan-ger, on the other hand, didn’t seem afraid at all. He even stuck his head in to look at the chicken and duck pens. He’d heard the sounds, so they must be in their nests. Song Ning untied the rope and handed it to Lan-ger. “Just let it graze for a while, then bring it back when it’s time to eat. If you need anything, just come back and call for someone.” 

Lan-ger nodded and led the cow out.

Song Ning had been worried he wouldn’t be able to handle such a big ox, but to his surprise, he handled it quite deftly—it was clear he’d done plenty of work at home. Song Ning then let the chicks and ducklings out into the backyard to run around, telling them to come back for feeding after he’d finished his meal.

After finishing these chores, Song Ning came out as well. His mother had likely gone out to pick wild vegetables by now, and Wei Hu had gone to fetch water. Song Ning first lit the fire to cook some millet porridge.

Wei Hu carried the water over and poured it into the water jar. “What do you want to eat? I’ll make it.”

“Lan’er is eating here today, too, so let’s make a bit more. Steam some buns. I’ll go cut some chives from the vegetable patch.” 

“Sure.”

Wei Hu rolled up his sleeves and began kneading the dough. There was no need to let it rise; he simply poured boiling water over half of it, kneading it into scalded dough. When steamed, the wrappers would turn out translucent and delicate.

Song Ning went outside and cut a large bunch of chives. After trimming and washing them, he brought them inside and stood by to help Wei Hu tend the fire.

Wei Hu scrambled four eggs in a small cast-iron skillet, soaked some glass noodles, and mixed them with the chives to make the filling. Finally, he drizzled a little sesame oil over it. The kitchen was filled with the delightful aroma of chives mingling with sesame oil.

“Brother Wei Hu, your cooking skills are almost as good as Mom’s.”

A smile tugged at Wei Hu’s lips. Though he didn’t say a word, it was clear he was in a great mood. This ger had a sweet tongue—and his kisses were just as sweet. Wei Hu made a potful of chive buns, then sent Song Ning off to wash his face, telling him he’d handle the stove from there.

Song Ning gave him a quick kiss and slipped out. With nothing else to do for the moment, he decided to take his paper out to the courtyard and start copying texts.

Copying scriptures early in the morning left Song Ning feeling calm and serene. He only looked up when he heard a noise at the door. It was Lan-ger leading the ox back. Song Ning smiled at him. “You’re back. Uncle Wei’s making dumplings; they’ll be ready in a bit.”

Lan-ger led the ox to the back yard. Seeing that he had just a little left to copy on this page, Song Ning simply sat down to continue. The meal wasn’t ready yet, but it would likely be soon.

By the time Song Ning finished copying, Lan-ger was nowhere to be seen. She asked Wei Hu, “Brother Wei Hu, have you seen Lan-ger? Didn’t he just come back?”

Wei Hu was steaming the buns in the kitchen; the room filled with steam. “No, I haven’t.”

Chen Cuihua had also returned. She’d picked some purslane from the back mountain and made a quick trip to her family’s fields, so she came back a little later than Lan-ger. She’d assumed Lan-ger hadn’t returned from herding the cow yet.

Song Ning went to check the backyard and immediately saw their cow tied up safely at the wooden pen. Lan-ger was cleaning the chicken coop, and he’d made all the nests spotless.

“This ger is really hardworking,” she thought. “Lan-ger, come out and eat.”

Lan’er had almost finished tidying up; he set down his broom and came out.

Wei Hu brought out a basket of buns and had the porridge ready. Lan-ger washed his hands, grabbed two buns, and said, “I’m going home to eat.” As soon as he finished speaking, he ran off. When he reached the door, he turned back and said, “I’ll come back this afternoon to tend the cattle. Five copper coins a day.”

Before anyone could say a word, Lan-ger had already run off. Song Ning had been planning to have him take a bowl of porridge home with him.

“That Lan-ger is such a dutiful ger—he’s always thinking of Zhang Banxia. What a fine ger. What heartless parents would abandon a ger like that?”

Chen Cuihua shook her head.

After breakfast, everyone went about their business. Song Ning continued copying texts under the shade of a tree, while Wei Hu carried some straw out from the back yard, planning to sort through it to repair the roof of his house—otherwise, he feared it might leak when the summer rains came.

Song Ning sat at the small table, resting his chin in his hand. “Brother Wei Hu, are you going to re-thatch our roof?” 

“Yeah, I’m going to replace some of the old stuff.”

“Could you spare some extra? I noticed Brother Lan’s roof is practically open to the sky.” 

“Sure thing.”

“Brother Wei Hu, you’re so kind.”

Lan-ger came by again that afternoon to lead his cow. The young ger, not much bigger than a child himself, was leading a full-grown cow. Song Ning was worried he wouldn’t be able to handle it, so he cautiously reminded him, “If you need help, come back and call for someone.”

“Got it.”

Lan-ger led the cow away. Song Ning had only said that much because he was worried those other boys might pick on Lan-ger again.

Later that afternoon, someone arrived looking cheerful, carrying two bags of fruit. Song Ning didn’t recognize the woman, but Chen Cuihua hurriedly pulled out a stool for her to sit on. “Zhuzi’s mother is here.”

The woman smiled as she handed over the gifts. Chen Cuihua looked puzzled. “Zhuzi’s mom, what’s this all about? It’s not a holiday or anything—we can’t possibly accept your gifts.”

“I’ve come to see your Ning-ger. He’s writing right now—his handwriting is truly beautiful.” Zhuzi’s mother came over to take a look, and Song Ning gave her a polite smile.

Fearing it might be a difficult request, Chen Cuihua tried to smooth things over. “He’s just a ger—what could he possibly do to help you?” Her family and Zhuzi’s weren’t even related; this sudden gift felt a bit off to her.

“Cuihua, you’re being too modest. I’ll just come out and say it: my Zhuzi is getting married on the fifteenth of next month, and I’d like to ask your Ning-ger to help write the wedding guest list.”

Chen Cuihua gasped. “In the past, whenever there was an event in the village, we always turned to Old Tongsheng. My Ning-ger is still young—I’m afraid he won’t be able to handle the situation.” 

“The old Tongsheng is sick. He’s really ill this time.”

“But he was fine just the other day.”

Zhuzi’s mother whispered, “When Li Guifen’s daughter got married, didn’t they ask Old Tongsheng to write the wedding registry? It was the dead of winter, and he’s so old—the cold wind must have really taken a toll on him. I’m afraid he won’t make it. Oh dear, the date for my son’s wedding has been set for a long time now—please don’t let them fall on the same day.”

Chen Cuihua, however, hadn’t heard about this. She’d only found out Old Tongsheng was sick yesterday at Zhang Banxia’s place—Zhang Banxia was even waiting to play the erhu for him. She’d thought Zhang Banxia was just making things up, but she never imagined Old Tongsheng was this sick.

“Cuihua, don’t turn me down. Your Ning-ger may be young, but he did a fine job keeping the gift registry for the Wang family last time. It’s the fifteenth of next month—don’t forget.”

Song Ning hadn’t realized they were asking him to be the village scribe. Though the job didn’t pay much, it came with plenty of gifts and respect. His family had long been looked down upon in the village, so there was no reason not to accept such a good opportunity.

Chen Cuihua glanced at Song Ning, and he quickly nodded. “Mother, the village chief will be there too—it’ll be fine.”

“Alright, Zhuzi’s mother, please be patient with him—Ning-ger is still young.” 

“What are you saying? It’s your family helping mine.”

Zhuzi’s mother left after settling the matter. Song Ning was quite pleased—he hadn’t expected he’d get to work as a scribe for someone else. Chen Cuihua sat down beside him. “Good ger, do a good job. You’ll bring honor to our family.”

“I know, Mother!”

By late afternoon, Lan’er returned from herding the cattle, carrying a basket of fresh grass on his back. Song Ning hurried to take it from him,

“Why did you go out to cut the grass?”

“For him to eat at night.”

Lan’er tied the cow up in the backyard, and Song Ning hurried inside to count out some copper coins. It was the ger’s first day working for them—herding cattle, cleaning the chicken coop, and even cutting grass for their cow.

Song Ning was afraid Lan-ger might refuse if he gave him too much, so he decided to make it up to him later; for now, he counted out seven copper coins.