Thanks to WANGXIANNURSE for the kofis. Enjoy these bonus chapters!

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Before long, it was mid-April. The wheat in the fields had already formed heads, a lush green expanse that was a joy to behold. There was a wedding in the village, but Chen Cuihua didn’t go to town to set up her stall. Since the family had no close ties to hers, Wei Hu didn’t come down from the mountain.

The family had approached Song Ning early on to serve as their scribe. They came over the day before to invite him to dinner, and since Lan’er was there too, Song Ning decided to bring him along.

Song Ning had mentioned this to his mother early that morning. Since the little guy had nothing better to do at home anyway, he might as well tag along and enjoy some good food. Song Ning took some old clothes he had lying around and asked his mother to alter them into a new outfit. Although the fabric was a bit worn, at least it didn’t have any patches, making it perfect for Lan-ger.

As soon as Chen Cuihua finished, she had Lan-ger try it on. She pulled him around in circles to get a good look. “It looks great! Tomorrow, when you come back from herding the cattle, you’ll go with your Aunt Ning to the banquet.”

Lan-ger was quite happy too. It had been a long time since he’d worn such new clothes. Before, he’d been rotating between just two sets—ones his grandfather had bought him ages ago—and whenever they got torn, he’d mend them himself.

Song Ning was pleased with the result. The little fellow had been working at his house for a while now, and his cheeks had filled out a bit. Lan-ger had naturally handsome eyes—big and round—but before, he’d been malnourished and poorly clothed. Now that he was well-fed and dressed, he was a handsome young ger.

As soon as Lan-ger ran home, he told his grandfather about it. “Grandpa, I’m going to a banquet tomorrow. I’ll bring you some meat when I get back!” 

“Who’s hosting it? Whose house is it?”

“I don’t know them. Aunt Ning works as a scribe for them, and he’s taking me along.”

Lan-ger’s voice was full of excitement; he loved banquet feasts more than anything. Back when his grandfather used to play the erhu for others, those were the rare good days for their family.

Having received a new set of clothes and knowing he’d get to go to the banquet again tomorrow, Lan-ger was so excited he couldn’t sleep that night. Hearing his grandfather’s heavy breathing, Lan-ger got up in the dark and brought him a bowl of water. “Grandpa, are you feeling better?”

“It’s nothing, nothing. It’s just what happens when you get old.”

Lan-ger was still a little worried. He wanted to take his grandfather to see a doctor, but his grandfather refused, saying he wasn’t sick. After giving his grandfather some water, Lan-ger finally went to bed.

The next day, he got up early again to tend the cattle. He said a quick goodbye, led the ox out, and took them to graze. Once their bellies were full, he’d simply lead them back.

Song Ning was also wearing a robe he didn’t usually wear; he still preferred his short brown tunic, as it was more convenient at home. Chen Cuihua was going too—Song Ning was going to work as a scribe for the family, and she could tag along to the banquet. Besides, this family wasn’t closely related to her, so she wouldn’t have to help with the chores.

The three of them ate breakfast and went over together. The hosts warmly served them tea and had laid out red paper on the table by the door. Song Ning had brought the ink and inkstone with him, as ordinary households rarely had such items.

Although the two families had little interaction, since Chen Cuihua had come to the banquet as well, she presented a gift of twenty wen and simply sat by Song Ning’s side.

On the other side sat the village chief, who was serving as the master of ceremonies; he was now sitting nearby, chatting idly with the hosts.

It was Lan-ger’s first time attending a wedding banquet without his grandfather, and he was terrified of being looked down upon. He clung tightly to Song Ning, afraid to wander off. The village children had gathered in small groups to watch the festivities, but Lan-ger, who had never had a playmate since childhood, didn’t go over to join them; he just stayed close to Song Ning.

Song Ning could tell Lan-ger was a bit nervous, so he ruffled his hair. “You know how to grind ink, right? Help me grind some ink.”

“Okay!”

Lan-ger poured some water from the table into the inkstone, stood on a bench, and began grinding the ink. He already knew a few characters—sometimes when he came back early from herding cattle in the afternoon, Song Ning would teach him a few.

The village children looked on with envy as Lan-ger assisted Song Ning. At that moment, during the banquet, the guests were seated loosely, and no one was scrambling for the meat yet.

Those who came early in the morning to offer gifts were all villagers. Song Ning wasn’t as nervous as he had been the first time he served as a scribe for others; he sat there calmly and began writing.

Some villagers didn’t recognize Lan-ger. Seeing a child beside Song Ning, they asked, “Whose little boy is this? I’ve never seen him before.”

“That’s Lan-ger. I brought him along to help grind the ink,” Song Ning explained, afraid they might think Lan-ger was just there to freeload. “Oh, so it’s Lan-ger! It’s been ages since we’ve seen you two. He’s grown so much!”

Lan-ger used to be dressed in rags and had a dark complexion, but now that he was all cleaned up, he turned out to be a rather handsome young ger. The villagers who came to offer their respects couldn’t help but take a second look.

Lan-ger didn’t mind following Song Ning around; he let them look as they pleased while he obediently helped Song Ning grind ink.

When no one was around, Song Ning grabbed some roasted sunflower seeds from the table and slipped them into Lan-ger’s pouch. “Have some sunflower seeds.”

The two of them each grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds and started munching. It was such a lively occasion—in the past, Qiu’er would have surely dragged him along to join the fun. But Qiu’er was now visibly pregnant, and Granny Sun would certainly never let him push his way into the crowd.

Chen Cuihua was also chatting idly with the villagers nearby, just waiting for lunchtime to roll around.

In the past, the village women and men hadn’t liked to talk to Chen Cuihua. Back then, she knew her reputation wasn’t good, so she didn’t join in the fun either—she was too busy earning a living.

Things were different now. Wei Hu and his wife were both hardworking, and Song Ning even worked as a scribe for others. Who knew when someone might need their help? Chen Cuihua had also set up a small stall in town. People used to say her family had bad luck, but look at them now—their lives were thriving.

A few women and men from the village gathered around Chen Cuihua. “Cuihua, didn’t you go to town to set up your stall today?”

“No, Ning-ger is here, so I came over to keep an eye on things.” Chen Cuihua was all smiles, looking radiant. “You should take a break. I see you’re out there driving the oxcart every day at the crack of dawn. You must be making a pretty penny.”

“Not really. Just enough to scrape by.”

Some were there to pay her a compliment, others to pry into her private affairs, but Chen Cuihua was a shrewd woman; she brushed them off with a few casual remarks.

She was secretly pleased. In the past, when villagers had weddings or other celebrations, they never sought her out. Though no one was asking for her services now either, her son was currently sitting at the doorstep keeping the accounts.

Everyone in the village now thinks Chen Cuihua’s family is rich—they even hire someone just to tend their ox. Word is they pay several copper coins a day, but who else would be willing to hire someone for that?

Song Ning had been busy until nearly noon, when he finally packed up his things. He’d neatly organized the silver, eggs, rice, and flour, and the employer came over to collect them. He invited Song Ning to sit down, saying lunch would be served shortly.

Weddings are such lively affairs; Song Ning was delighted just hearing the sound of the trumpets.

At lunchtime, he sat at a table with his mother and Lan-ger. There weren’t many people at their table, and since Song Ning hadn’t been to a banquet in a long time, the food tasted especially delicious.

Song Ning kept serving meat to Lan-ger, and Lan-ger ate so eagerly he didn’t even lift his head.

The village chief, who was sitting at the same table, chuckled. “Lan’er does look a bit fairer than before. Remember when he first came to our village? Zhang Banxia carried him over—he was so tiny back then. In the blink of an eye, he’s grown this big. Keep working hard with your mother, Ning, and let your grandfather enjoy the blessings of having you.”

Fearing Lan-ger might feel upset by this, Song Ning tried to smooth things over, saying, “Lan-ger is quite capable.”

“That’s right. When he came with me to town to collect copper coins, he kept track of everything perfectly—who came first, who came later—he remembered it all better than I did,” Chen Cuihua added.

There were still some leftovers on the table after the meal. Song Ning found a bowl and served some to Lan-ger. Although it was leftovers, there was still some meat in it.

After finishing his meal, Song Ning took Lan-ger home first. Lan-ger had eaten until his belly was bulging, and Song Ning was worried he might overeat.

“I’ll get you a couple of hawthorn berries later. Don’t let yourself get sick from overeating.”

Lan-ger belched contentedly. “Okay~”

Lately, the little guy had been flashing a smile every now and then, and Song Ning smiled too. He remembered that when he first met the little guy, he was as prickly as a hedgehog, but now he’d become a bit more lively.

Song Ning figured that Wei Hu would be coming down from the mountains in a couple of days. Once he returned, they’d have a chicken stew. He currently had nearly twenty taels of silver—some saved by the two of them, plus a little his mother gave them now and then. They were doing quite well financially.

Song Ning had saved up quite a bit of money, and since he hadn’t been to town in a few days, he decided to go with his mother tomorrow.

Song Ning first helped his mother set up their little stall. Though Lan-ger was still small, he bustled about helping out too—though the man selling baked buns next to them kept rolling his eyes at them as they set up.

Song Ning whispered to his mother, “Mother, that man hasn’t been giving you a hard time, has he?” 

Chen Cuihua snorted. “How dare he?”

Chen Cuihua had been running this small business for over a month now, and the man selling baked buns next door hadn’t been fond of her for just a day or two. He just didn’t dare do anything to her—not to mention that Wei Hu always stopped by whenever he came to town to sell game, and Chen Cuihua wasn’t someone to be messed with.

“He’s always thinking we’re stealing his business. But these butter pancakes are different from his baked buns, and everyone has different tastes. Even though they’re both pastries, there’s no such thing as ‘stealing business.’”

Song Ning was relieved to see that Chen Cuihua wasn’t being bullied, but the man kept rolling his eyes at them, which was quite off-putting.

The morning market was bustling, so Song Ning pitched in to flip the cakes. Chen Cuihua, with her hands still greasy, started stacking the cakes. The stall wasn’t big, and on a typical day, Chen Cuihua could easily handle it all with Lan-ger by her side. But now that there were three of them, they were swamped.

Chen Cuihua’s business was booming. Her pancakes were fluffy and soft, a favorite among both children and the elderly. From early morning on, customers kept coming in droves—two or three at a time—and the pan was never empty. In fact, business was even better than before.

Song Ning was happy for his mother too. She was quite capable—whatever she did, she did well. This little stall brought in a decent profit every day, and now she even had regular customers.

Song Ning was helping flip the pancakes when he noticed someone glaring at him. He looked up and saw it was Song Baozhu. He hadn’t seen his stepsister in ages. She was dressed in coarse cloth, a far cry from the glamorous life she’d led back at the Song household.

Song Ning averted his gaze and went back to work. He had long since forgotten about what happened in the past; his life was going just fine now. He and Wu Cai’e had long since gone their separate ways; he just needed to live his own life.

Song Ning picked up two pancakes and handed them to her. “Here you go. Be careful, they’re hot.”

When he looked up, Song Baozhu was no longer in the crowd. Song Ning helped out with the business for a while, and once the morning market rush had died down, he grabbed his cloth bag and headed for the study.

There weren’t many people left now. Chen Cuihua wiped her hands. “Take Lan-ger with you for a walk. If you see anything to eat, buy some.” 

“Okay, Mom.”

Song Ning reached out to Lan-ger. “Come on, I’ll take you to the study. We’ll go eat at Aunt Yun’s place.” Lan-ger gave a little “Mm-hmm” and followed Song Ning to the study.

Before Song Ning even reached the study door, he heard Bai Xiaoyun’s shrill voice: “Old man, just try hitting me! I’ll go tell Dad on you!”

Song Ning led Bai Xiaoyun inside and found the place in complete chaos. Manager Bai was chasing Bai Xiaoyun with a feather duster in hand, while Bai Xiaoyun was hurling books at his father—several of them had already landed on the floor.

Seeing someone enter, both of them froze for a moment. Mr. Bai cleared his throat and tucked the feather duster away, while Song Ning froze in place. What on earth was going on?

Seeing Song Ning arrive, Bai Xiaoyun ducked behind him. “Song Ning, just look at this! Is this any way for a father to behave? He’s trying to beat me to death! I’m going to make sure everyone knows this old monster is a heartless tyrant!”

Mr. Bai, furious, puffed out his cheeks and glared, “You little brat, what nonsense are you spouting?” Bai Xiaoyun stuck out his neck and retorted, “Then you’re an old brat!”

Song Ning almost burst out laughing. Shopkeeper Bai was usually such a gentle man; he was always kind to him whenever he visited, and he treated Bai Xiaoyun—his only son—with great affection. Yet today, the two of them were actually arguing with each other.

Seeing that there were strangers present, Mr. Bai didn’t feel it was appropriate to say anything more. Fuming, he tapped the table a few times with his feather duster. “This is infuriating, absolutely infuriating.” Bai Xiaoyun stuck his tongue out at his father, but Mr. Bai, preferring not to see it, turned and headed straight for the back yard.

Only then did Bai Xiaoyun step out from behind Song Ning, sitting slouching in a chair with his legs crossed. “Song Xiaoning, who’s this? Haven’t seen you in a few days, and you’ve already got such a big kid.”

Seeing that Bai Xiaoyun was still in the mood to tease him, Song Ning knew there was nothing serious going on between him and his father. “He’s a kid from our village. He helps my mom with the chores, so I brought him over to play.”

Bai Xiaoyun beckoned to Lan-ger as if calling a puppy. “Come here, come here. I’ll give you some snacks.” Song Ning gave his hand a light tap. “Stop fooling around. What’s going on with you and your dad?”

Song Ning took Lan-ger by the hand and sat down. He was now quite familiar with the study and picked up some snacks from the table to give to Lan-ger.

As soon as Bai Xiaoyun brought this up, she pursed her lips. “Don’t even mention it. That old man wants to marry me off. Hmph, look at the types he’s been setting me up with—all ugly.”

Shopkeeper Bai was eavesdropping from behind. Hearing Bai Xiaoyun say this, he shouted, “Nonsense! That Mr. Ma is a fine-looking young man and a scholar to boot—how could he be ugly!”

“Oh, come on, what’s not ugly about him? You think even a pair of eyes and a nose are good-looking. As for that so-called Master Ma or Master Niu, their drool’s hanging three feet long. If you like him, Dad, I’ll marry you off to him!”

This made Manager Bai so furious that he stomped his foot. He was so angry he could die!

Song Ning almost burst out laughing. Bai Xiaoyun was the same age as him—not exactly a spring chicken anymore. No wonder Manager Bai was so anxious. With the two of them arguing like this, this matter was definitely no simple affair. “What did you do to that Mr. Ma?”

Bai Xiaoyun let out a mocking “Ooh. You really know me. I slipped some croton seeds into his tea—hahaha.” Song Ning laughed too. “No wonder your dad beat you.”

Bai Xiaoyun rolled his eyes. “Who told him to look at me like that? Hey, that old geezer never finds me anything good—what on earth is he looking for?”

Bai Xiaoyun was getting annoyed by the nagging. “That old geezer is hounding me. I’m going to follow you back to the countryside to live.” 

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to adjust.”

“Why not? If you can handle it, so can I.”

Bai Xiaoyun let out a sigh, deciding not to think about it anymore. He pulled Lan-ger close and started rubbing his cheeks. “This little guy’s quite a smart one. Why don’t you call me ‘Daddy’? Once that old geezer kicks the bucket, this study will be all ours.”

Lan-ger let out a couple of muffled whimpers as he was being pinched, but Song Ning stepped in to rescue him. “Don’t bully the little one.” 

“I’m not bullying him. Here, have some.”

Bai Xiaoyun grabbed a handful of candied fruit from his pouch and handed it to Lan-ger. He was only joking; any child Ning-ger would bring along was likely someone close to him.

Song Ning exchanged a few casual words with Bai Xiaoyun, then picked up a copy of the Thousand Character Classic from the study. Bai Xiaoyun waved his hand dismissively. “Just take it. Don’t bother giving it to me.”

Song Ning wasn’t about to take it for free; he calculated the value in his mind and handed it over. “Let’s keep things separate.” Bai Xiaoyun snorted. “You’ve drained the old man’s entire fortune!”

Song Ning chuckled to himself. What a pair, this father and son.

Song Ning now occasionally taught Lan-ger a few characters. He bought a copy of *The Thousand Character Classic* for Lan-ger to read, intending to use it as a textbook in the future. Seeing that it was getting late, Song Ning took Lan-ger home.

Before they even got close, they saw a crowd gathered in front of his family’s stall from a distance, with the sound of commotion coming from inside. Song Ning quickly pulled Lan-ger over. “Mother!”

Chen Cuihua was surrounded by the crowd, her hair a tangled mess. The man selling baked buns next to her had his hair just as disheveled, and there were scratch marks on his face—it seemed a scuffle had already taken place.

Song Ning’s heart sank. “Mother, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. That man was just looking for a fight. I’d just dropped that string of copper coins on the ground, and he claimed they were his—but they were clearly ours!”

Just now, when no one was around, Chen Cuihua had been stringing the copper coins from her money box. As soon as she finished, a string of coins fell to the ground. The man selling baked buns nearby saw it and claimed the coins were his. The two of them started fighting, and it even drew the attention of the Market Bureau’s officers.

“That guy selling baked buns is still holding the coin in his hand,” he said. “That’s clearly my family’s coin. What gives you the right to claim it’s yours? Call out to it—if it answers me, I’ll give it to you!”

“Bullshit! That coin is clearly ours!”

A crowd had gathered around to watch the spectacle, and the two constables, unsure whose coin it was, were at a loss for a moment.

The man selling baked buns shouted loudly, “Your Honor, this woman has dirty hands—she stole my coin. I caught her red-handed, yet she’s turning the tables on me. I say we just kick her out right now, so we don’t have to do business in constant fear.”

Chen Cuihua was furious. “Nonsense! I’ll tear your mouth to shreds! You think you can chase me away? No way!”

So he’d been waiting here for her all along. He was just jealous of her thriving business.

Song Ning pulled his mother aside. “Then how do you prove these copper coins belong to your family?” 

“If they’re in my hands, of course they’re mine. Your mother stole them, and I caught her.”

Both families claimed the copper coin as their own. The constable, annoyed by the commotion, snapped, “Enough! I say ten lashes for each of you. Whoever can’t take it is the one lying.”

“Fine, even if I have to take the beating, that copper coin is still mine!” Chen Cuihua stepped forward. “But if he’s slandering me, Your Honor, you can’t let him off lightly!”

“Mother, you mustn’t!”

Song Ning hurriedly grabbed Chen Cuihua’s arm. Not only was she nearly forty, but if she were beaten, her frail body might be ruined.

The pancake vendor’s husband, upon hearing he might face the cane, shifted his gaze nervously, his voice trembling slightly. “Fine… fine, I’ll go. Do you really think I’m afraid of you?”

“Your Honor, I have a way to tell the difference. Let me try.”

Song Ning had thought of a way—he’d been so preoccupied with worrying about his mother earlier that it hadn’t occurred to him at the time. The two constables were intrigued. “But the copper coin can’t speak. What method do you have?” 

“Your Honor, please wait a moment.”

There was still water on the oxcart. Song Ning poured a bowl of clear water. “Bring that suspended copper coin over here.”

The husband held onto it, refusing to hand it over, but after the constables glared at him, he finally gave it to Song Ning. He didn’t believe Song Ning could make the copper coin speak. Song Ning took the coin and placed it in the bowl. “Your Honor, please look.”

The two constables leaned in to take a look. They saw a patch of oil floating on the surface of the clear water, and instantly understood. “You’re just making things up, you scoundrel!”

The two constables grabbed the man and were about to drag him off to the Market Bureau for processing, but the husband collapsed to the ground, refusing to move. “I’m innocent! I’m innocent, Your Honor!” 

“You still claim innocence? There’s clearly oil on that copper coin. You’re still trying to deny it?”

“But… but that doesn’t prove it’s hers!”

As soon as Chen Cuihua heard this, she snapped to attention. “You’re still trying to make false accusations! You’re a bun seller—why would you need oil? And you dare say it’s not from my shop!”

The man had no choice but to admit it. The constables dragged him away, and it looked like he’d never be able to run his business again.

The onlookers cheered and praised Song Ning, calling him a clever young lad. Song Ning smiled sheepishly. “I’ve just read a few miscellaneous books.” Lan-ger also looked at Song Ning with sparkling eyes. Ning Xiao’ma is so impressive!

“Madam, give me a pastry.” 

“Give me one too.”

The onlookers didn’t disperse; they all clamored for a pastry to try. That young lad was truly clever. Even though the morning market had long since ended, Chen Cuihua’s business picked up again, and the half-basin of dough was sold out in no time.

The three of them packed up their things and headed back in the ox cart. Chen Cuihua still said angrily, “Ning Ge, you really know how to handle things. If that husband had gotten his way, I’m afraid our business would have been finished.”

Lan’er looked at Song Ning with admiration. “Auntie Ning, I want to be as awesome as you someday.”

Song Ning ruffled Lan-ger’s hair. “It’s just a matter of reading a few more books. When Lan-ger grows up, he’ll be just as smart.”

“Mm-hmm! Lan-ger wants to read books too!”

The oxcart swayed gently along the road home. Song Ning was in a playful mood. “Then I’ll tell Lan’er a story. See if you can guess who the county magistrate ruled the sheepskin belonged to.”

“Okay!”

“Once upon a time, there was a county magistrate. One day, a merchant and a shepherd ended up in his courtroom over a few sheepskins. The shepherd had about ten sheep at home, while the merchant had been traveling to distant lands to bring back salt and spices. Both claimed the sheepskins were theirs, and neither would back down.”

Lan-ger listened without blinking once. “Aunt Ning, those sheepskins must belong to the shepherd.” 

“Just because he’s a shepherd?”

Lan-ger nodded.

“The onlookers thought so too. They all said the merchant was cunning, and that the sheepskin must belong to the shepherd. The merchant couldn’t produce any evidence, only claiming he’d brought it back from foreign lands, that it had fallen to the ground and been picked up by the shepherd—clearly, it was his.”

“The two couldn’t agree, each sticking to their own story. The county magistrate grew annoyed, slammed his gavel down with a loud crack, and said, ‘This sheepskin isn’t telling the truth—it’s actually causing trouble! Guards, first give this sheepskin ten lashes to see if it’ll talk!”

Lan-ger giggled, “Auntie Ning, this magistrate is truly a clueless official.” 

Song Ning laughed as well, “Yes, how could a piece of sheepskin possibly speak?”