Wei Hu carried the cotton, placing the several bolts of cloth he’d bought into Song Ning’s small basket for him to carry. He then went to the general store to buy a sweat towel, a pig-bristle toothbrush, and tooth powder.

He himself brushed his teeth with willow twigs and coarse salt. Hearing that households in town used toothbrushes and tooth powder, Wei Hu thought this ger hadn’t known hardship before. He couldn’t very well make him endure hardship now that he was part of his family. These items weren’t cheap, costing him a few more silver coins.

Song Ning felt terribly embarrassed. Technically, he had married into the Wei family, but he’d brought nothing but a small bundle with him. The Wei household didn’t have much silver to begin with, and they’d just sold a deer, spending quite a bit on his own expenses.

“Brother Wei Hu, we should go. It’s almost noon, and we still haven’t bought the salt Mother asked for.”

“I remember. Let’s grab a bite in town before heading out. I already told Mother not to cook for us.”

“Then just grab something simple. No need to spend all that silver.”

“Alright.” Wei Hu agreed readily.

After circling the market, Song Ning’s small basket was filled to the brim, nearly all with items for him. His heart warmed. How fortunate he was to have found such a kind family.

The two went together to buy salt and some items for the return visit to the bride’s family, so they wouldn’t be scrambling later.

They had barely stepped out of the general store when they encountered a young woman dressed in a red skirt, adorned with a red silk flower in her hair—clearly a bride-to-be.

“Oh, isn’t this Ning-ger?”

Song Ning glanced up and saw his step-sister Song Baozhu standing beside the Xiucai. “Sister Baozhu.”

Song Baozhu’s gaze drifted to the basket in Song Ning’s hands. The fabric was clearly not cheap—though not silk or brocade, it was still fine cotton. Her mother had said Song Ning had married a poor hunter who was unlucky for his wives. How could these two be carrying such fine things?

Then she noticed the hunter’s dignified bearing, which made her own husband look like a sickly chicken chick by comparison. Song Baozhu turned to find her husband staring intently at Song Ning!

Wei Hu noticed too. He frowned and blocked the man’s line of sight. He looked like a scholar, robed in scholar’s attire, wearing a square cap, thin and refined. But he clearly knew nothing of propriety! What kind of grown man stares at a ger like that?

Furious, Song Baozhu stomped right on Zhao Qingshu’s foot. The pain contorted his features. She spat, “Zhao Qingshu, what are you staring at? I’m your wife!”

“I know, I know. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen my little brother. I was concerned.”

“Like I need your concern! Can’t you see his man standing right there? Who do you think you are? Neglecting your own wife to fuss over someone else’s husband!”

Song Baozhu’s loud quarrel drew stares from passersby on the street. Zhao Qingshu felt mortified. As a scholar, he was usually treated with respect when out in public—this was nothing like being gawked at like this.

“Ning-ger, who’s this?” Wei Hu asked, clearly displeased. If they weren’t related, he wouldn’t have held back.

“Yes, she’s my eldest sister.”

Song Baozhu crossed her arms. “Well, since you remember I’m your elder sister, stop trying to seduce other men!”

Her harsh words made Wei Hu’s face darken. “My Ning-ger was standing here properly. It’s you, you woman, who’s hurling baseless accusations. Your husband looks like a scholar—how can he be so disgraceful?”

Song Baozhu hadn’t expected this poor hunter to be so sharp-tongued. He shut her up so completely that her face flushed crimson. She tried to retort, but Zhao Qingshu, embarrassed, hurriedly pulled her away. “Baozhu, let’s go. What kind of scene is this?”

Wei Hu also led Song Ning away. He remained puzzled—they were siblings, after all. Why did this girl speak so harshly to her own brother?

“Ning-ger, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Song Ning shook his head. “She’s always been like this. She’s my step-sister, brought back by my stepmother. She bullied me since we were little.”

Only then did Wei Hu grasp the reason. From now on, he’d have no need to be polite with this family. Ning-ger’s stepmother treated him poorly too—otherwise, she wouldn’t have married this ger to this “unlucky” man.

If not for sparing Ning-ger’s dignity, he wouldn’t have bothered returning to their doorstep. But if he didn’t, the villagers would surely mock Ning-ger for being neglected.

Wei Hu bought another jar of liquor. Eggs and chickens could be purchased back in the countryside—the village had plenty of those, saving him the trouble of lugging them home.

With all his shopping done, it was now past noon. Both sides of the market were lined with food stalls: scallion pancakes, mutton soup, spring noodles, small wontons, large steamed buns…

Wei Hu lowered his head slightly and asked, “Is there anything you’d like to eat?”

Song Ning pointed to a stall nearby. “I’d like some scallion pancakes.”

Wei Hu walked over and bought three golden, crispy cakes. Handing one to Song Ning, he cautioned, “Careful, it’s hot.”

Song Ning nodded eagerly. Seeing him eat the cake with both hands while awkwardly holding the basket under his arm, Wei Hu took it from him. “Let me carry that.”

Song Ning gave Wei Hu a little wink. He wasn’t afraid of him anymore. The man might look a bit fierce when he was quiet, but he was actually incredibly gentle.

Wei Hu sat down in front of a small wonton stall, basket in hand. Song Ning didn’t join him. “Let’s not sit here. We’ll get in the way of business.”

Wei Hu smiled too. “No bother. Owner, one bowl of plain noodles, one bowl of small wontons.”

“Got it!”

The owner responded briskly. Song Ning hurriedly said, “Never mind, it’ll cost more copper coins.”

“It’s just a few coins. Sit down and have some water.”

Song Ning had no choice but to sit down. Soon, their meals arrived—Wei Hu’s bowl of plain noodles in lard, and Song Ning’s bowl of small wontons, dotted with tiny dried shrimp.

Wei Hu already had one hand holding a scallion pancake and the other scooping up noodles, eating heartily.

Warmth filled Song Ning’s heart. He scooped a bowl of small wontons into Wei Hu’s bowl. Wei Hu waved him off. “Eat yours. Don’t mind me.”

“I can’t finish it all.”

“Just leave it. I’ll eat it later.”

Song Ning nodded and continued eating. He’d been craving scallion pancakes ever since seeing a child munching on one from an oxcart the day he arrived.

Song Ning didn’t have much of an appetite. After finishing one scallion pancake, he was nearly full. He ate a few of the small wontons in the bowl but couldn’t manage more. Wei Hu frowned slightly at his sparse eating. “Don’t like it?”

“No, I’m full.”

“Have two more.”

Wei Hu knew Song Ning had had a rough year. His face looked sallow, and he was so thin—how could he not eat more?

Song Ning obediently ate two more, then pushed his bowl toward Wei Hu. Wei Hu sighed helplessly. He’d only asked for two more.

Wei Hu finished his bowl in a few bites. They gathered their things and headed home.

At the town entrance, Wei Hu flagged down an ox cart as usual. Song Ning shook his head, refusing to ride. “I… I’m stuffed. I want to walk with you.”

“Then tell me when you get tired.”

Song Ning obediently nodded. Wei Hu carried all their purchases, leaving Song Ning empty-handed. When Song Ning offered to take his basket, Wei Hu refused. The weight was as light as a feather to him—no need for Song Ning to carry it.

With no rush to sell their catch, the two strolled leisurely toward home.

Song Ning, unusually in a good mood, followed Wei Hu all the way back.

Midway, Wei Hu asked twice if he was tired and wanted to ride the oxcart, but Song Ning shook his head both times. He wanted to walk. He whispered to the person beside him, “I don’t remember what my mother looked like. When I was very young, my father married my current stepmother. She brought an older sister who was a year ahead of me, and within a couple of years, she gave birth to a younger brother.”

“My father treated me well. Even after my brother was born, he never withheld anything from me. But Sister Baozhu disliked me. She was always snatching my things and even tore my books to shreds. I didn’t like her either.”

The young ger beside him chattered on about his childhood. Wei Hu listened, leaning slightly to the side. The ger’s voice was faint, as if a breeze could scatter it away.

But the ger’s voice was lovely—soft and sweet, soothing to the ear, like a feather landing in the palm of your hand.

If Wei Hu had come to town alone, he would have strode straight home long ago. But walking back with the ger today, the road didn’t seem nearly as long.

When they returned, Chen Cuihua was weaving a wicker basket in the courtyard. Seven or eight baskets already lay on the ground. Song Ning held a basket in his hand—one Wei Hu had given him near the village entrance.

Song Ning obediently called out, “Ning-ger!” Chen Cuihua responded happily, “What did you buy?”

Wei Hu handed five taels of silver from his bosom to Chen Cuihua, keeping the remaining three taels and change for himself. “Ning-ger and I bought fabric and cotton. He’s not good with needlework, so please help him sew it.”

“Alright, put it over there.”

Chen Cuihua glanced at the basket. The fabric looked high-quality—her Hu-zi really knew how to care for people.

Though Chen Cuihua was frugal by nature, she didn’t say anything. With this new son-in-law joining the family, they were all one now. She couldn’t keep being as tight-fisted as before.

Wei Hu didn’t idle upon his return either, pitching in to weave bamboo strips. Song Ning didn’t know how to do it either, so he fetched a small stool and sat obediently nearby. “Mother, please teach me.”

“Alright, first watch how it’s woven. You won’t learn it in a moment. Just help Mother trim the small branches off the bamboo strips.”

Song Ning happily got to work. This was something he knew how to do, and he felt pleased to be helping with the household chores. He’d spent quite a bit of silver today all by himself, and he felt guilty about it.

Chen Cuihua took a short break. Wei Hu brought back a scallion pancake, which he had just warmed on the stove’s charcoal fire. Song Ning, holding the scissors, trimmed the small branches somewhat clumsily.

Chen Cuihua didn’t mind his slow pace. Learning gradually was fine. This ger had such a good nature and was so sensible. Marrying him into the family wouldn’t bring endless trouble, unlike that daughter-in-law from Li Guifen’s household who caused constant chaos. Her Ning-ger was truly the better choice.

Wei Hu deftly wove the vine as he spoke, “Mother, that piece of maroon fabric in the basket is the cloth I bought for you.”

Chen Cuihua gave him a playful scolding with a smile, “You spend money so recklessly! Buy something for Ning-ger, but I don’t need new clothes. Why waste the silver on me?”

Wei Hu just chuckled without reply. He knew full well his mother had never bought herself a new outfit in years, saving every penny she could just for him.

Though Chen Cuihua scolded him with her words, her heart was filled with joy. Her Tiger not only thought of his husband but also of her, his old mother—how could she not be happy?

The silver was spent, but it was spent. As long as her family was happy, that was all that mattered.