After the autumn harvest, the weather gradually turned colder. For the past few days, Wei Hu had been getting up early to chop firewood in the countryside, not returning until the afternoon with a cart full of firewood.

A pile of firewood was left in the courtyard; he’d even brought over the firewood meant for the shop, so when the shop ran out, they could just take some from here.

Every day, Song Ning took Lan-ger to school. Bai Xiaoyun had been in high spirits lately; he held up his new storybook to show Song Ning, saying, “Take a look—a lot of people have been buying this storybook recently.”

Song Ning noticed that the name of the faithless scholar in the story was directly taken from Zhao Qingshu, though the young lady’s name was made up on the spot. Bai Xiaoyun figured they were all just gers and girls—and even though he didn’t like Song Baozhu, he figured he’d give her a little face.

“Let me tell you, those gers and women have been cursing this storybook nonstop after reading it—it’s had me laughing my head off.”

Bai Xiaoyun’s storybooks had quite a following—not only did the gers and women in town love reading them, but they were selling quite well even at the county seat. The old-fashioned tales of scholars, young ladies, and young lovers filled with melancholy and longing were out of fashion; now everyone preferred stories about hunters and blacksmiths.

Bai Xiaoyun was now a bona fide little rich ger—his pockets were getting pretty full.

Song Ning was genuinely happy for Bai Xiaoyun; making a living is always a bit tougher for a ger, and having some silver on hand certainly brings peace of mind.

Right now, his father was minding the school. With nothing else to do, the two of them sat up front drinking tea and eating some pastries. Bai Xiaoyun was on top of the world—ever since his family opened this school, his father had stopped nagging him, and now that he was earning silver, he was all smiles every day.

Bai Xiaoyun sat with his legs crossed, sipping tea with his eyes half-closed. “It’s been a while since the autumn examinations ended. I wonder how many candidates Fengnian Town will produce this year.”

“It’s not that easy to pass, after all.”

“That’s for sure. Sometimes our town doesn’t produce a single candidate for two or three years. It’s not that easy to pass the provincial exams. Just look at my dad—he’s been trying to pass them his whole life, and he’s still just a Xiucai.”

Song Ning chuckled. “Be careful your father doesn’t hear you.”

“I’ll keep my voice down.”

At this, Song Ning frowned. “Zhao Qingshu is taking the exam this year too. If he really passes in the future, I’m afraid… Yun Ge’er, maybe you shouldn’t sell that storybook after all. Zhao Qingshu has ulterior motives. If he ever does pass, I’m afraid he might come after you.”

Bai Xiaoyun couldn’t care less. “Him? Pass as a Juren? Give me a break. Do you think passing Juren is as easy as picking up a white radish at the market?”

Bai Xiaoyun simply looked down on people like Zhao Qingshu. So what if he’d written about him? What could Zhao Qingshu possibly do to him?

Song Ning chuckled. “The results will be posted in a few days. Who knows if anyone from our town will pass this year?”

The Xiucais who’d gone to the prefectural seat to take the provincial examination hadn’t returned yet; they were staying near the examination hall, waiting for the results to be posted.

Zhao Qingshu had taken fifteen taels of silver from the Song family, but Song Baozhu had given him only ten taels. She’d kept the remaining five taels for herself, claiming the family was so poor they couldn’t even afford to put food on the table and that she needed to use the money to make ends meet. Zhao Qingshu didn’t dare say anything.

Several Xiucai from the same town had rented a small courtyard together; those from wealthier families had even brought servants along. Since Zhao Qingshu didn’t have much silver, he arrived at the prefectural seat seven days early.

With the autumn provincial examinations approaching, thousands of Xiucai from across the prefecture had flocked to the prefectural seat. The inns were packed with Xiucai, and prices were sky-high—food, drink, and lodging cost three to five hundred wen a day. Zhao Qingshu didn’t have enough silver, so he had no choice but to stay in the inn’s communal dormitory, sharing quarters with peddlers and common laborers.

He resented Song Baozhu even more, thinking that if he had married Song Ning back then, his life might not be so miserable now. He’d heard that Song Ning had even opened a school in town.

Zhao Qingshu couldn’t eat or sleep properly in the prefectural seat. On the day of the autumn provincial examinations, he practically floated into the examination hall; a few days later, when he emerged, his legs were so weak he collapsed at the entrance to the examination hall, causing the other Xiucai to burst into laughter. “The results haven’t even been posted yet—how could you be so terrified already?”

Zhao Qingshu returned to the inn to wait for the results, surviving on nothing but a cornbread bun and a bowl of hot tea each day. His life was unbearably miserable, and he found himself thinking more and more about the days when Shopkeeper Song was still around—back then, he’d been able to attend school at his leisure.

Song Ning knew none of this; he had long since stopped caring about Zhao Qingshu. Whether Zhao Qingshu was living well or poorly had nothing to do with him.

After school, Song Ning walked home hand-in-hand with Lan-ger. These past few days, Wei Hu had been at home chopping firewood; every time Song Ning returned, Wei Hu had already prepared dinner.

“Brother Wei Hu, I’m back.”

Wei Hu smiled when he saw his Fulang return. “You’re back.”

Wei Hu had almost finished chopping the firewood. The escort agency was set to transport a shipment of cloth in a few days, and Wei Hu planned to go along—though he hadn’t told Song Ning yet, afraid he’d get upset if he found out.

That evening, the four of them gathered around the dinner table. Wei Hu took the opportunity while everyone was present to mention his plan to become an escort. Song Ning was taken aback. “An escort? Doesn’t that mean you’ll be away from home a lot?”

Chen Cuihua was also taken aback. “Why on earth would you suddenly want to become an escort out of the blue?”

“In winter, when heavy snow blocks the mountain passes, and there’s not much work, I might as well escort shipments—I can earn a little extra that way.”

Song Ning thought escorting goods in the dead of winter would be far too arduous. “Mother.”

Chen Cuihua was, of course, opposed to the idea. “Now that we have the shop and the school, we have no worries about food or clothing. You can help your mother here at the shop—why go through all that hardship?”

“Mom, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I can’t keep relying on your support forever.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. We’re family—what’s there to ‘rely on’ or not? This is all our family’s business. When the day comes that I can’t work anymore, won’t you be the one to take over this breakfast shop?”

“Mom, you’re still young. I just want to travel around for a few years and broaden my horizons.”

Seeing that Chen Cuihua couldn’t persuade him, she turned to Song Ning. But how could Song Ning possibly talk him out of it? He knew full well why Brother Wei Hu wanted to leave—it was simply to earn more silver.

After they finished eating, only the two of them were left in the room. Song Ning was still pouting unhappily. “Brother Wei Hu, did you plan this a long time ago?”

“Ning-ger, don’t be upset. Once winter comes, we won’t be able to go into the mountains anyway, and we can’t earn much silver just by chopping firewood. It’s better to go along and see the world.”

Song Ning certainly wouldn’t try to stop Wei Hu, though he was a bit reluctant to see him gone for so long.

“We’ve saved up over thirty taels of silver at home now. It’s not exactly a fortune, but we’re living a stable life.”

“It’s still not enough.”

Song Ning knew exactly what Wei Hu was thinking—he simply felt that while life at home was decent now, it was nowhere near as good as it had been when he was living with the Song family.

Song Ning hugged Wei Hu and nuzzled against him. “Then you have to stay safe.”

“I know.”

These past few days, Song Ning had spent his time either at school or at home with Wei Hu. Whenever Chen Cuihua had a free afternoon, she’d rush to sew a couple more pairs of shoes—after all, escorting cargo really wore out shoes.

On the day Wei Hu was set to leave, Song Ning was very reluctant to see him go. This trip south would take over a month round-trip, and by the time he returned, it would already be cold outside.

Worried that Wei Hu might get cold while sleeping at night, Song Ning slipped his rabbit-fur coat into his bundle—even if he couldn’t wear it now, he could at least use it as a blanket at night.

On the day Wei Hu was to leave, the whole family was up before dawn. Chen Cuihua had prepared plenty of dried rations and jerky, and Wei Hu’s bundle was packed full of goodies. The whole family saw him off at the door, and Wei Hu waved his hand. “Go back now.”

Only after watching Wei Hu turn the corner and disappear from sight did Song Ning take Lan-ger back inside. Chen Cuihua was also getting ready to head to the shop. “Ning-ger, you and Lan-ger should get some more sleep.”

“Okay, Mom. Take it easy on your way there.”

It wasn’t even dawn yet. Song Ning told Lan-ger to go back to bed for a while, but the little guy shook his head and refused to sleep. So Song Ning took him to his own room. Song Ning gave Lan-ger’s little face a gentle tug. “Your dad’s gone, and he won’t be back for a month. When the winter nights get cold, you might as well sleep with your little dad here.”

Lan-ger’s eyes widened. “Mm-hmm!”

After seeing Wei Hu off, Song Ning was completely distracted during class that day. Bai Xiaoyun teased him, “Oh, you’re already missing him.”

“It’s winter now—it’s so cold outside.”

“It’s good to get out and about—broadens your horizons. If I weren’t a ger, I’d want to go out and see the world too.”

The two were chatting in the study when they heard a commotion outside: “The Xiucai from the autumn provincial exams are back!”

As soon as Bai Xiaoyun heard this, he immediately ran to the door. “Did anyone pass?”

The idle man burst out laughing. “Nope. As for a candidate for the provincial examination, we’ll probably have to wait another three years—maybe then Fengnian Town will finally produce one.”

Hearing the commotion, Shopkeeper Bai hurried out from the backyard. “Did anyone pass? Did anyone pass?”

Bai Xiaoyun stuck out her tongue at her father. “No. This year, the Star of Literature didn’t shine on our Fengnian Town.”

Mr. Bai let out a sigh. “How come not a single one passed?”

With that, he went back to the backyard to tend to his chores. Now that the seven gers and girls had three teachers, Mr. Bai had found joy in his new role as a teacher and had stopped pressuring Bai Xiaoyun about marriage—which, to Bai Xiaoyun’s delight, meant he finally had some peace and quiet.

Bai Xiaoyun clicked his tongue. “I told you Zhao Qingshu wouldn’t pass the exam. He’s not even as good as my dad.”

Song Ning smiled and shook his head—passing the Juren examination was no easy feat.

The Xiucai from the town who’d gone to the prefectural capital for this year’s provincial exams had returned, and many well-connected people were asking around to see if anyone had passed. The teahouse was bustling with activity, as scholars sat in groups of three or five, chatting idly.

Upon hearing that not a single one had passed, he couldn’t help but let out a sigh: “How could not a single one have passed?”

As soon as Song Baozhu heard the candidates had returned, she hurriedly grabbed a bystander to ask for news. Upon learning that her husband, Zhao Qingshu, had failed, she was so furious her eyebrows stood on end; she flung her sleeves and stormed back into her room.

Zhao Qingshu’s mother could tell from Song Baozhu’s expression that he likely hadn’t passed the autumn examinations. Daring not to say a word, she slunk out with her head bowed, only to be snapped at by Song Baozhu: “Come back!”

Zhao Qingshu’s mother gave an ingratiating smile. She had been counting on her son passing the exams so she, as his mother, could hold her head high, but now that he had failed, she would have to rely on Song Baozhu to make ends meet—and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment.

“Baozhu, what’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter? Zhao Qingshu didn’t pass the exam—what a good-for-nothing!”

“Well… maybe if he waits another three years, he’ll pass…”

“Three years, three years, and then another three years!”

Song Baozhu was so furious she hurled the teacup beside her across the room. Being the wife of a Xiucai might sound glamorous, but Zhao Qingshu was poor. Living with him meant she couldn’t expect a life of luxury—in fact, she’d be lucky to eat meat even twice a month!

She’d been married to Zhao Qingshu for so long now, and the whole family depended on the twenty taels of silver from her dowry to get by. Now, just to travel to the prefectural capital for the exams, he’d borrowed another fifteen taels from her parents. When would this life of hardship ever end!

Zhao Qingshu’s mother didn’t dare offend Song Baozhu, so she stammered and remained silent. Her family was indeed poor; as a widow supporting a scholar, life had been hard. Things had improved somewhat since Song Baozhu arrived, but her daughter-in-law simply couldn’t stand hardship.

She wouldn’t touch the pickled vegetables or dried sweet potatoes at home; ever since Song Baozhu arrived, every meal had been white rice, and her mother-in-law’s diet had improved as a result.

Song Baozhu simply couldn’t bear this hard life any longer. She packed her things and was about to leave. Zhao Qingshu’s mother saw this and thought, “How could that be?” If Song Baozhu left, she’d be left with nothing to eat. As long as Song Baozhu was there, her family would never go hungry—after all, the Song family ran a rice shop!

Zhao Qingshu’s mother hurriedly tried to persuade her: “Baozhu, Baozhu, don’t be upset. Next time—next time, Qingshu is sure to pass the exam!”

“Three years! If I have to wait another three years, your family will turn me into a haggard old woman!”

Song Baozhu packed the few taels of silver they had left into a bundle, grabbed her belongings, and left. Zhao Qingshu’s mother tried to stop her—if Song Baozhu left, she wouldn’t have a single wen to her name. Wouldn’t she starve to death?

Song Baozhu couldn’t care less. She’d had enough of this miserable life. Back when she was with the Song family, she’d never gone without meat, but now that she’d married Zhao Qingshu and was living in that dilapidated courtyard, she couldn’t even afford meat. What kind of life was this?

As soon as Song Baozhu stepped out the door, she headed straight for the Song family home. It happened to be mealtime; the moment she walked in, she caught the aroma of meat. Without a word, she sat down and snatched a chicken drumstick. Song Youcheng cried out, “What are you doing?!”

Wu Cai’e let out a gasp. “Why are you back? You look like you’re fleeing a famine.”

It had been a while since Song Baozhu had eaten roast chicken. She grabbed the chicken leg and shoveled it into her mouth in big bites, getting her mouth all greasy. “Mother, Zhao Qingshu didn’t pass the imperial exams. I’m going to file for divorce—I can’t stand that miserable life at her family’s house anymore!”

“What! Zhao Qingshu didn’t pass the exam!”

Wu Cai’e thought of the fifteen taels of silver she’d lent out. If Zhao Qingshu hadn’t passed this time, wouldn’t she have to wait another three years?

Why on earth had that dead man set his sights on Zhao Qingshu back then? She didn’t understand the ways of scholars. The person Song Ning’s father had chosen—she’d assumed he couldn’t be a bad match. He’d passed the Xiucai exam on his very first try. Since Song Ning’s father had approved of him, she’d originally thought he’d pass the Juren exam this time—but who would’ve thought he’d fail!

Wasn’t that a losing deal!

“Has Zhao Qingshu come back yet?”

“No, who knows when he’ll be back.” Song Baozhu, her craving now satisfied, grabbed her mother’s sleeve with her greasy hands. “Mother, I don’t want to go back to that miserable life. I want a divorce from Zhao Qingshu!”

Song Youcheng was still resentful that his sister had snatched food from him. “Tsk, that good-for-nothing Zhao Qingshu—he’s nothing but a mere Xiucai.”

Wu Cai’e was still fretting over the loss of her silver. “Fine, let’s just call it off for now. We’ll wait for Zhao Qingshu to come back and finalize the divorce.”

Only then did Song Baozhu perk up. With all the good food and drink at her parents’ house, who would want to go back to a life of hardship?

“My life right now isn’t as good as Song Ning’s. Mother, why didn’t you marry Song Ning off to Zhao Qingshu back then, so he could suffer alongside some poor scholar?”

“Your dead father always thought of Song Ning for everything good. Zhao Qingshu is, after all, a Xiucai. Back then, didn’t you also want to be a Xiucai’s wife and live in style? Why are you blaming it all on me now?”

Song Baozhu fell silent. That’s exactly what she’d thought back then—who could have known that life after marriage would be so hard?

The Xiucais who’d gone to town to take the imperial exams returned early after the results were posted, but Zhao Qingshu didn’t come back until several days later than the others. He’d run out of silver, so he had to hitch a ride on a cheap oxcart passing by. Exhausted and starving, by the time he reached Fengnian Town, his legs were shaking—all he could think of was getting home for a proper meal.

Leaning on a stick, Zhao Qingshu made his way home. As he pushed open the door, he saw his mother washing a large basin of clothes. “Mother, I’m back.”

Zhao Qingshu’s mother let out a cry of alarm. “You’re back! Why did you come back so late? You scared the life out of me!”

Zhao Qingshu was shivering from hunger. “Mom, is there any food? Hurry up and give me something to eat.”

His mother hurried to the kitchen to fetch some food, grabbing two hard, dry corn buns. Zhao Qingshu snatched them and shoved them straight into his mouth, choking so badly that his eyes rolled back; he quickly scooped up some water from the bucket with his hands to drink.

Mother Zhao paced anxiously, “How did things come to this? How did things come to this?”

Zhao Qingshu hadn’t brought enough silver with him. After more than a month of struggles in the prefectural capital, he nearly had to beg for food on his way back—but at least he’d finally made it home.

“Mother, I’ve spent all the silver.”

Mrs. Zhao sighed deeply. “Song Baozhu has left too. She said she was waiting for you to come back so she could get a divorce. What on earth is going on? What a misfortune for our family—how could you have married such a… such a… oh!”

Mrs. Zhao thought back to how it would have been better to marry Song Ning instead. That young man, Song Ning, seemed to have a gentle temperament; even if her son hadn’t passed the Juren examination, the two of them could have made a life together.

Besides, Song Ning was literate—she’s heard he’s even opened a school in town now—and he knows how to make a living. If only they’d married Song Ning back then, given his temperament, wouldn’t he have been able to support her son’s education? Then she wouldn’t have to be washing clothes for others like this now.

Thinking about it now, she really regrets it. All things considered, Song Ning was the better choice.

Meanwhile, Zhao Qingshu and Song Baozhu were in the midst of a divorce dispute, but Song Ning had no idea. He was too busy with school to have any time to pry into such trivial matters.

Wei Hu was currently on an escort mission; by the time he returned, it would likely be snowing. As the weather grew colder, Song Ning let Lan-ger sleep with him so the two could chat at night.

Lan-ger was overjoyed. At night, he’d curl up in bed with his feet propped up, his eyes sparkling as he looked at Song Ning. Every night before bed, his “little dad” would read to him—and he loved it.

Song Ning’s voice was clear and gentle, and Lan-ger could never get enough of it. Leaning against Song Ning’s side, he refused to sleep even as his eyelids began to droop. Song Ning found it somewhat amusing, so he gently set the book aside and blew out the candle.

“Little… little dad, I’m not sleepy…”

Song Ning patted Lan-ger on the back to soothe him to sleep. “We’ll read more tomorrow.”

Lan-ger squeezed closer to Song Ning and nuzzled against him like a little animal. He loved sleeping with his little dad—his little dad smelled so nice.

Song Ning also really enjoyed sleeping with Lan-ger. The little guy had grown plump and fair-skinned, with a bit of meat on his bones now; sleeping together kept them both nice and warm.

Chen Cuihua’s business was booming right now. The meatball soup at her shop was especially popular, and she was now staying open until the afternoon. She and Zhang Sanniang couldn’t keep up with the work, so they hired another woman to wash dishes.

With business booming, coins clattered into the cash box—and hearing that sound alone was enough to lift anyone’s spirits.

Chen Cuihua would head to the shop before dawn every morning. Although she was busier than ever, having something to keep her occupied made her look radiant.

“Little Dad, Little Dad, wake up.”

Song Ning slept straight through until dawn and was finally woken up by Lan-ger. When he opened his eyes, the sun was already high in the sky. Song Ning let out an “Ah!” and scrambled out of bed. “How could I have slept so soundly!”

“You’re not late at all, Little Dad.”

Song Ning frantically got dressed. It had gotten a bit colder now, so he’d slipped a cotton vest under his robe. He hurried off to wash up.

How could he have slept so soundly? He didn’t even notice Lan-ger had woken up.

When Song Ning got up, he saw that the chicken coop and duck pen were spotless, and the cow was already grazing—the little rascal Lan-ger had gotten up and done quite a bit of work already.

Song Ning took out a small satchel and slung it over Lan-ger’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go have breakfast at your grandma’s shop.”

“Mm-hmm!”

When Song Ning and Lan-ger arrived at the shop, it was bustling with people. Since the weather had turned a bit colder, the meatball soup was selling exceptionally well. Zhang Sanniang was just serving soup to customers when she spotted the two of them and called out, “Ning-ger is here! Come on in and sit down.”

Song Ning replied and led Lan-ger inside. The dining area out front was packed, but there was a small table in the back reserved for family members.

Chen Cuihua saw her two gers arrive, so she ladled out two bowls of meatball soup and brought them over. “Here you go.”

“Oh, Mom, I almost overslept today, but luckily Lan-ger woke me up.”

It’s getting a bit chilly this morning, but a steaming bowl of pork bone meatball soup—filled with dried tofu skin, glass noodles, pig’s blood, offal, and chive blossoms—warms you right up when you add a spoonful of chili oil and take a bowlful.

Chen Cuihua also brought the two of them a bowl of shredded flatbread—a new item she’d just added to the menu recently that many customers love. The layered flatbread, once cooked, is cut into strips about half a finger-knuckle wide and eaten straight from the meatball soup, soaking up the rich broth as it softens.

Chen Cuihua’s little breakfast shop had gained a bit of fame in town. During the morning rush, the place was so packed you couldn’t even move. After finishing his bowl of soup, Song Ning squeezed his way out with Lan-ger—there really were a lot of people.

Song Ning had been feeling a bit tired these past few days. He hadn’t really been doing much—the three of them were taking care of the school, and it wasn’t particularly busy—but he just felt a bit sleepy. As he sat with Bai Xiaoyun sipping tea, he started yawning.

Bai Xiaoyun teased him, “What have you been up to at night that you’re so sleepy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just been getting a bit colder lately, and I’ve been having trouble getting up.”

Bai Xiaoyun teased Song Ning for being such a late riser at his age, making him blush. She giggled as she chatted with him, “Have you heard about Zhao Qingshu yet?”

Song Ning shook his head—he certainly didn’t have the time for that.

Bai Xiaoyun giggled. “Your stepsister is currently in the middle of a divorce battle with Zhao Qingshu. I hear he still owes the Song family over a dozen taels of silver. Naturally, Zhao Qingshu refuses to pay. Even though your maternal family isn’t exactly wealthy, they do run a rice shop, after all.”

Song Ning hummed in acknowledgment. “That shop’s reputation has pretty much gone to the dogs by now.”