Song Ning walked home carrying his bowl. Dinner was already set out on the small table in the courtyard, and Wei Hu was scooping rice into his bowl. “You’re back.”

Song Ning gave a soft “Mm-hmm” and set the bowl of pea jelly on the table.

Today’s lunch was especially lavish: roast duck, bamboo shoots with cured pork, stir-fried greens, and the bowl of cold noodles Song Ning had just bought.

Chen Cuihua also brought out some soup from the kitchen. “Your brother Huzi went to the market especially today to buy a roast duck. Everyone, give it a try—I haven’t had any in ages either.”

“Brother Wei Hu, you’re so kind,” Song Ning whispered, squeezing close to Wei Hu.

Wei Hu had been busy in town these past few days, and had been bringing back quite a few things from home bit by bit. Once his mother’s shop opened in a couple of days, he planned to spend a little more time in the mountains. With autumn approaching, the game was at its fattest; hunting more large game would help him save up some silver.

After eating at home and taking a short nap, Song Ning took Lan-ger to school. Fortunately, the gers and girls at school were all well-behaved, so Song Ning didn’t find it too much trouble to look after them.

Before he knew it, it was the day off. Chen Cuihua had specifically chosen this day to open her shop, inviting Bai Xiaoyun and his father, as well as Qiu-ger and the others.

Qiu-ger arrived early, having come straight from the countryside after eating. Granny Sun was worried about him, so she came along as well; after all, she and Chen Cuihua had known each other for over ten years, and since it was the grand opening of her shop today, she wanted to celebrate with her.

Qiu-ger was well into his pregnancy and had trouble getting around, so as soon as Sun Dazhuang reached the village entrance, he flagged down an oxcart, and the three of them rode over. Qiu-ger brought Song Ning a string of meat, a basket of eggs, and a few embroidered handkerchiefs.

Qiu-ger hadn’t seen Song Ning in quite some time, so first thing in the morning he urged Sun Dazhuang to hurry up and cook, so as not to miss the right time.

It was Qiu-ger’s first time visiting the place where Song Ning and his family lived. He had to ask around to find it, and, worried he might have come to the wrong house, he only stepped inside after seeing Heidou and Huadou lying by the door. “Ning-ger!”

“Hey!”

Song Ning had also gotten up early that morning and was now helping his mother pack vegetables into a back basket; they planned to take them to the shop at noon to treat their customers.

Song Ning hurriedly pulled Qiu-ger down to sit with him. “Were you tired on the way here? Was it hot?”

“Not at all. I came here by oxcart.”

When Granny Sun saw Chen Cuihua, she offered her congratulations, “I never would’ve thought you’d become the first person in our village to open a shop, Cuihua. You’ve really made something of yourself—I don’t know how many people in our village envy you.”

“I’ve heard what they’ve been saying. Anyway, enough with the compliments—come on in and have a good meal at my place today. Try out my cooking.”

The group sat in the courtyard for a while before heading to the shop, where Bai Xiaoyun had been waiting for them all along—she’d even bought two strings of firecrackers to liven things up.

Wei Hu lit the firecrackers, and Chen Cuihua tossed out two handfuls of wen. A crowd of onlookers gathered at the doorway, scrambling to grab the wen.

“Oh~ Let’s grab the wen!”

The children crowded together and began scrambling for the coins, while quite a few passersby also gathered to watch the commotion. In the crowd, Song Baozhu stood holding her vegetable basket, her eyes filled with resentment—she never expected Song Ning to return after marrying into the countryside!

He was wearing a brand-new robe, his face pale and fair—he didn’t look like he’d suffered at all. As she looked at herself, she realized the dress she was wearing was the very one her mother had made for her back when she was still a maiden in her parents’ home.

Ever since she’d married Zhao Qingshu, forget about new clothes—it was a blessing just to have a decent meal. Now her life was actually worse than Song Ning’s. It was all her mother’s fault—what kind of family had she found for her?

Song Baozhu walked away carrying her basket, hoping that Zhao Qingshu would pass the provincial examination this fall. If he did, all her hardships would have been worth it—she’d be the most prestigious wife of a Juren in town.

Chen Cuihua sold breakfast. It wasn’t early anymore, so she just went through the motions of heating the pot, made a batch of pancakes, and sent them all out, then opened her shop amid the hustle and bustle.

Granny Sun took a look around the shop, then joined in to help with the cooking. “Chen Cuihua, you’re quite something—you’ve really made quite a shop out of this place.”

Song Ning and a few other gers sat up front chatting idly, while Wei Hu and Sun Dazhuang kept an eye on things, occasionally bringing over some snacks for the group to enjoy.

Manager Bai looked around at everyone in couples—and one of them was even pregnant—and let out a sigh, only to immediately get a withering glare from Bai Xiaoyun. “Old man, it’s a day of great joy, you know.”

Mr. Bai immediately shut his mouth—you just can’t say a word to that ger these days.

Chen Cuihua had prepared a table full of dishes. She was an excellent cook, and the aroma drew passersby at the door to crane their necks to take a look. Some even asked, “Owner, what are you serving here?”

“We serve breakfast—we’ve got butter pastries and steamed buns!”

Qiu-ger teased, “Aunt Cuihua, if you made something else, I don’t think business would be any worse.”

“Nonsense, Qiu-ger is just joking.”

The group gathered around the table and enjoyed a lively meal. Afterward, they returned to the courtyard to drink tea and chat. When it was time to leave, Chen Cuihua gave both families a portion of pastries to take home.

Song Ning took Qiu-ger by the hand and saw them out the door. “I’ll come visit you next time I’m back.”

“Sure. I don’t have anyone to play with at home anyway.”

Chen Cuihua’s shop opened to a lively crowd. Wei Hu planned to go over and help out for a couple of days before heading into the mountains to take advantage of the good weather and bag some game.

That night, as he lay in bed, Song Ning felt a pang of reluctance at the thought of Wei Hu being alone in the countryside. Now that his school had little to keep him busy and his mother’s shop was doing well, Song Ning didn’t really want Wei Hu to head into the mountains again.

“Brother Wei Hu, why don’t you just help my mom run the shop? It’s our own family business, and once things get busier, we can always hire other people later.”

“You’re still worried that Mom won’t be able to run a shop on her own.”

“Not at all. I just think hunting in the mountains is a bit too hard.”

“In a few months, it’ll get cold, and we won’t be able to go into the mountains for much longer. By then, I’ll find a job in town, and we’ll still be together.”

Wei Hu wanted to join an escort party. He’d been asking around town these past few days and learned that if they traveled far, he could earn a decent sum per trip—and even more if he sold some goods along the way.

Fengnian Town had a wharf where ships came and went daily; joining an escort would be far better than hunting.

Wei Hu didn’t mention this to Song Ning; they’d only just moved to town, and it wouldn’t be too late to join an escort once his family’s situation had stabilized.

After helping out at the shop for two days, Wei Hu returned to the countryside to hunt. He could make a round trip home every three to five days; the town wasn’t exactly close to his home, but it wasn’t far either.

There wasn’t much to do at home. Every day, Song Ning took Lan-ger to school. His mother got up earlier than he did to tend to the shop, but she’d close up and come back before noon. According to her, business at the shop was going quite well, and even the regular customers from before were still dropping by to make purchases.

After Wei Hu left, there was no one to tend to the family’s ox, so Chen Cuihua would lead it out to graze every afternoon and return carrying a large basket of fodder on her back.

Song Ning felt this was too hard on his mother, so he suggested to her that they hire a child to help cut grass for them, which would save her the trouble of leading the ox out herself.

Chen Cuihua thought it was a good idea, but wondered where they could find a child.

“I’ve seen Madame Zhou’s son—he’s quite tall and looks old enough. Why don’t I go ask Madame Zhou if her son would be willing to do this work?”

“All right, then go ask her.”

Chen Cuihua ran a breakfast stall and had to get up before dawn. She was the only one working at the shop right now, selling steamed buns, pastries, and egg soup. Business was pretty good, though mornings were a bit hectic.

Song Ning brought some red date steamed cakes from home. Madame Zhou had two children, so it was the perfect opportunity to take Lan’er along for a visit. Lan’er got along quite well with the other children at school, but when he came home, there was no one to play with. Madame Zhou’s ger was about the same age as Lan’er.

It was just getting dark, and Song Ning figured Madame Zhou should be home, so he came over carrying his basket. He knocked on the door, and a child’s voice from inside asked, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Song Ning from next door.”

Madame Zhou was washing dishes. Hearing Song Ning’s voice, she quickly wiped her hands and opened the door. “Little Ning, come on in.”

This was Song Ning’s first time visiting their home. Madame Zhou’s family didn’t seem particularly well-off—his mother had told him she was a widow raising two young children—but the house was spotlessly clean, and the two children were fair-skinned and well-groomed.

Song Ning invited the Zhou family’s ger over to have some jujube cake. “What’s your name? This is my brother Lan. Why don’t the two of you play together from now on?”

The Zhou family’s ger was a bit shy; his face turned red when Song Ning asked him that question.

Madame Zhou poured a bowl of hot tea and sat down beside them. “His name is Yan’er. He’s not much of a talker.”

Song Ning asked Madame Zhou if she’d be willing to cut grass for his family’s cow—four baskets a day, at three wen per basket. “My mother has to go to the shop first thing in the morning and come back in the afternoon to feed the cow. I thought it would be better to find someone to cut the grass so she can get some rest.”

As soon as Madame Zhou heard this, she readily agreed. “My oldest is already ten—he can cut grass.”

Twelve wen a day—that’s not bad. The child had nothing else to do at home anyway, and at such a young age, no one would hire him for work. Earning a few wen could help supplement the household income.

“All right then. Just cut the grass and bring it over to my house when you’re done.”

Seeing that Lan-ger was playing with Yan-ger at that moment, Song Ning sat for a while longer, chatting with Madame Zhou, and only left with Lan-ger once the two little ones had finished playing.

Lan-ger had become much livelier than before. That afternoon, while he was out seeing the other kids off, Lan-ger helped him clean the schoolhouse—he was quite the hard worker.

Having been given this task, Madame Zhou specifically instructed Zhou Xiaoshu to cut two back baskets’ worth in the morning and another two in the afternoon. Zhou Xiaoshu was quite sensible; he listened to his mother and delivered the two back baskets in the morning before Song Ning had even left the house.

Song Ning didn’t need to get up that early to go to the schoolhouse; his mother got up much earlier than he did. She’d get up, take Lan-ger with her to the morning market to buy some vegetables, then stop by a shop for a meal, and only then head to the schoolhouse at a leisurely pace.

Song Ning really enjoyed being a teacher; there wasn’t much to do, and the children were well-behaved.

Early one morning, Song Ning was carrying a basket to buy some vegetables when he happened to run into Zhou Xiaoshu, who was delivering fresh grass for him. Yan-ger was right by his side, holding a sickle—it seemed he’d come along to help.

“So early already?”

Song Ning took the fodder from him. The grass was tender and fresh, with a pleasant, crisp scent. He set some aside for the big yellow ox at home.

Song Ning first gave Zhou Xiaoshu the wen for the day; if no one was home, he could leave them there and bring them over in the afternoon.

The two little children at Madame Zhou’s house were both well-behaved. As soon as Zhou Xiaoshu received the wen, he took Yan-ger home.

Yan-ger wasn’t very tall; he skipped along, tugging at his older brother’s shirttail.

Both little ones were quite endearing, so Song Ning chuckled and headed out with Lan-ger to buy vegetables.

He didn’t need to buy much produce for his own household; Wei Hu would bring some back from the countryside whenever he returned. Song Ning was just strolling through the market as he passed by. Even this early in the morning, the streets were quite bustling, with vendors’ shouts rising and falling all around.

Song Ning noticed that the tofu at a stall by the roadside looked good, so he walked over and bought a block. He also asked the woman there to grab some yellow bean sprouts for him. She recognized Song Ning—a new breakfast shop had just opened on this street, run by her son-in-law, and he went there every morning.

“Ger, you’re up early today. Are you taking your child to school?”

Song Ning smiled at her. “Yeah.”

Song Ning took the items and placed them in his basket. Lan-ger, walking beside him, trailed behind like a little tail, a small schoolbag slung over his shoulder—it was obvious he was taking the child to school.

A little further on was his mother’s shop. Song Ning led Lan-ger over there. It was the busiest time of the day; Chen Cuihua was frying pancakes in the back, with several large steamers steaming beside her, each filled with plump, round white buns.

“Two pork-and-sauce buns, one vegetarian-filled butter pastry, and a bowl of meatball soup.”

Chen Cuihua acknowledged the order, then turned to see Song Ning holding a small bamboo basket and helping a customer pick out buns. “Ning-ger’s here.”

“Mom, there are so many people today.”

“That’s because the meatball soup is selling so well.”

It was the busiest time of the day; the small shop was packed with people having breakfast. Lan-ger was also helping to clear tables and serve meals, and with the two of them pitching in, Chen Cuihua finally felt a little more at ease.

Once the crowd had thinned out a bit, Song Ning took Lan-ger to eat. They each had a bowl of meatball soup, and Chen Cuihua picked out a few buns from the small bamboo basket. “Try Mom’s new spare-rib buns, and these brown sugar steamed buns—I saved them especially for the two of you.”

Although Chen Cuihua’s shop had only been open for a few days, she was gradually gaining regular customers. When she used to run a small street stall, she sold only butter cakes and buns, but now that she had a shop, she’d added eight-treasure porridge and vegetarian meatball soup to her menu.

Her meatball soup was second to none. The broth was simmered overnight from large bones until it turned milky white. The meatballs were vegetarian, filled with daikon sprouts and glass noodles. When a customer ordered the soup, she’d grab a handful of tofu skin and glass noodles, blanch them briefly in the pot, then add the meatballs, chopped scallions, and cilantro—making each bowl look generously loaded with ingredients.

Song Ning also loved the meatball soup his mother made. He liked to add a little vinegar and chili flakes to it, along with some steamed buns; after eating, his stomach felt much more settled.

Lan’er loved brown sugar steamed buns; they were filled with red dates, making them sweet, fluffy, and soft.

At a nearby table sat a Fulang with his young child. The little boy saw Lan-ger eating a brown sugar steamed bun and wanted one too. He tugged at his dad’s sleeve, begging, “Daddy, I want that steamed bun.”

“Sir, do you have any more of those buns left? Give me two, please.”

Chen Cuihua hadn’t made many to begin with—she’d just made them to entertain Lan-ger—so she hadn’t expected any customers to want them. She came out from the back and said, “I’m sorry, I made these for my own child. There’s only one left—just take it and enjoy it.”

Chen Cuihua gave the last one to the little boy, who wiggled his feet with delight at the sweet steamed bun.

The Fulang who’d received the free steamed bun was also quite pleased. “Auntie, I think your brown sugar steamed buns are really good. Why not make more? Kids just love something sweet.”

“Sure, I’ll make some tomorrow,” Chen Cuihua said with a beaming smile—it would just mean working a little harder in the morning.

Song Ning finished his bowl of meatball soup, cleared his bowl away, and said, “Mom, I’m off to school.”

“All right, take it easy on your way there.”

Song Ning took Lan-ger and headed out. With not many people around at that hour, Chen Cuihua was wiping down the table with a dishcloth when Fulang struck up a conversation with her. “Auntie, you’re sending your ger to school, aren’t you? That must cost quite a bit of silver each year.”

“Not at all. My Fulang set up a small school here, teaching a few gers and girls, and my child is studying there too.”

“Wow, your son-in-law is actually a Fulang? That’s quite something.”

Chen Cuihua smiled at the praise for Song Ning. Her ger was wonderful in every way; he even helped her with chores for a while before heading to school—he was actually a bit more considerate than her own ger, Huzi.

Upon hearing that Song Ning was a teacher, the Fulang grew much more polite in his conversation with Chen Cuihua. After all, even in town, few boys and girls were literate—and the tuition for a full year of schooling was quite steep, something only wealthy families could afford.

Song Ning and Lan-ger headed to the school. Lan-ger, with his little backpack on his back, tugged at Song Ning’s hem. The two of them were so handsome that as they walked down the street, they drew plenty of furtive glances from passersby. “Whose Fulang is that?”

When the two arrived, some children were already there. A little boy with a round face spotted Song Ning, bowed politely, and called him “Master,” prompting Song Ning to give the child’s little face a gentle rub.

“You’re here so early.”

“My dad said the day’s work begins at dawn.”

The little one’s voice was soft and babyish, and Song Ning’s mood brightened. “All right, Master will go get a pot of hot water for you all. Sit tight—Master will be right back.”

With a smile on his face, Song Ning went to fetch some hot water, then headed to the front to gather some red dates and dried longan to steep in the pot—things children like.

“Yun, where are your dried longans? Let me grab some for you.”

“They’re on the shelf, along with some dried apricots. Take some.”

Bai Xiaoyun was busy up front at the moment. A scholar had come looking for a job copying texts, so Bai Xiaoyun handed him a brush and asked him to write a few characters to show his skills.

The writing was decent, though not as good as Ning-ger’s.

The scholar heard the voices and looked up; when he saw it was Song Ning-ger, he paused for a moment. “Ning-ger,” he said.

The smile on Song Ning’s lips faded. Why was it him?

Bai Xiaoyun raised an eyebrow. “Ning-ger, do you two know each other?”

“Zhao Qingshu.”

Bai Xiaoyun didn’t catch on at first; she had to mull it over in her mind for a moment before it clicked. “So it’s you!”

Furious, Bai Xiaoyun snatched the brush from Zhao Qingshu’s hand and crumpled the paper he’d been using into a ball, hurling it at his face. “Get lost! My family doesn’t need you! What on earth is this supposed to be? Even my chickens scratching around on the ground look better than this!”

Zhao Qingshu was chased out by Bai Xiaoyun without a moment’s hesitation, with no regard for his dignity as a scholar. When Zhao Qingshu suddenly spotted Song Ning and tried to approach him, Bai Xiaoyun, furious, threw a pot of hot tea at him. “If you dare come any closer, I’ll beat you every time I see you, and I’ll make sure everyone knows about your shameful life as a kept man!”

Bai Xiaoyun’s voice was loud, and her outburst immediately drew the shop assistants from across the street, who rushed out to gawk at the commotion. Zhao Qingshu, not daring to linger any longer, hurriedly walked away.

Holding the teapot, Bai Xiaoyun clicked her tongue twice. “What a waste of my fine tea leaves.”

He quickly turned back into the shop to comfort Song Ning. “Don’t be upset, Ning-ger. I’ve already chased him out.”

“I’m not angry. He’s no better than a vagrant on the street now. I just feel sorry that my father’s silver went to waste all those years ago.”

“Your dad didn’t have much of an eye for things. All he’s got going for him is a fair complexion—he’s as weak as a chicken. I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

Song Ning burst out laughing. “All right, you look even angrier than I am. Don’t get so worked up—pass me some dried longan.”

Bai Xiaoyun took some out from behind the counter and slammed them down on the table with a thud. “No way. I’ve got to get back to writing my storybook right away. This is driving me crazy!”

Seeing him acting like a ruffled rooster, Song Ning smoothed his hair and headed to the backyard to look after the children.

Zhao Qingshu walked away dejected. He didn’t want to go home either. With the autumn imperial examinations approaching, he hadn’t even scraped together enough travel money yet. The families of other Xiucai in town had left for the prefectural capital long ago. The journey alone would take more than half a month, and renting a house or staying at an inn would all cost silver—without at least a dozen taels, how could he possibly manage?

Song Baozhu had started playing hard to get with him these past few days. Knowing full well that he needed silver for the autumn examinations, she deliberately dragged her feet about going. Her mother was pampering her with fine food and drink, and even he was being run ragged by her orders, yet Song Baozhu simply refused to go to her parents’ home to get the silver.

He’d originally planned to find a study to copy some books; he figured that after getting to know the people there in a few days, he might be able to borrow some silver. But he didn’t dare go to the studies near his home that he usually frequented—everyone knew he’d married the eldest daughter of the rice shop owner.

He found a study a bit off the beaten path, but who would have thought he’d run right into Song Ning there? Although he didn’t end up getting the copying job, he felt deep down that he and Song Ning were meant to meet—otherwise, how could they have crossed paths like that?

Zhao Qingshu was seething inside. He was determined to pass the Juren examination this time—then let’s see if the Song family dared to look down on him anymore.

Zhao Qingshu headed home. As soon as he walked in, he saw Song Baozhu slumped against her pillow, while his white-haired mother was massaging her legs. Song Baozhu spat out the sunflower seed husk from her mouth. “Where have you been? With the fall exams just around the corner, why aren’t you studying? Where did you run off to?”

“I just went out for a walk. Just a walk.”

Song Baozhu looked down on Zhao Qingshu’s spineless demeanor—what kind of man was he, anyway? She also recalled seeing that Song Ning’s family had opened a shop in town the other day, which only deepened her dissatisfaction with Zhao Qingshu. After all, Song Ning had clearly married a poor hunter, yet in the blink of an eye, her family was back in town!

Zhao Qingshu, mindful of his dignity as a scholar, refused to go to the Song family to borrow money, so he told Song Baozhu to go instead—but she’d been acting all high and mighty these past few days.

Zhao Qingshu gritted his back teeth and shuffled over to the bedside, then grabbed Song Baozhu’s leg. “Baozhu, it’s getting late. They’ve long since left, and it’ll take them a few days to settle in. You—you go ask our mother for some silver.”

Song Baozhu grew even more haughty. “The one thing the Song family has in abundance is silver—we’ve got mountains of rice. Zhao Qingshu, once you pass the provincial examination, don’t forget the favor the Song family has done you.”

“I know, I know.”

Song Baozhu kicked away the hand on her leg, fished a key from her waistband, and unlocked her dowry chest. She’d brought twenty taels of silver with her, and now only three or five taels remained. Fortunately, Zhao Qingshu’s provincial exams were coming up soon, and her hard times would soon be over.

She pulled out a string of wen and handed them to Zhao Qingshu. “Are you planning to go empty-handed? If you wanted to go, why didn’t you buy some gifts to send over sooner? You’re just going to show up empty-handed and beg for handouts.”

Zhao Qingshu took them with a smile on his face. “I forgot. I forgot.”

Zhao Qingshu turned and walked out the door, the smile vanishing from his face. As if he didn’t know he was supposed to borrow money to bring her a gift—he didn’t have a single wen in his name. Song Baozhu managed all the household expenses. If he’d known he wouldn’t get any of that twenty taels of dowry silver, why on earth would he have married Song Baozhu in the first place?