Chen Cuihua ate a pancake and rested for a moment before getting back to work. Watching the young couple sitting across from her, she couldn’t help but feel satisfied.

Her son Hu-zi was quiet but capable, and this Ning-ger was also well-behaved and sensible. Now, the lives of the three of them were looking brighter and brighter.

Chen Cuihua beamed with joy. “Our Ning-ger is truly our family’s lucky star. On your very first day married into our family, your brother Hu-zi hunted a deer. It’s truly a blessing for our household.”

Song Ning blushed at the praise. “It’s… It’s all thanks to Brother Wei Hu’s skill.”

This was the first time anyone had ever called him lucky. He felt awkward under the compliment. Back home, his sister Baozhu always called him a burden. Even Song Youcheng, two years his junior, loved to bully him, saying he wasn’t truly part of the Song family—just a dead weight.

Chen Cuihua, however, believed it was all because she had married Song Ning as her husband that he managed to hunt a deer that day. What else could it be but good fortune?

She chuckled, “That deer wasn’t just hunted down easily. Your brother Hu-zi usually only catches things like wild chickens and rabbits. If times are good, he might even get a fox. But deer and roe deer? They’re deep in the woods. We wouldn’t dare go in too far.”

Song Ning glanced up and stole a peek at Wei Hu. He was certain that even if Wei Hu ventured deep into the primeval forest, he could take down any jackal, wolf, tiger, or leopard with a single punch.

Wei Hu also lifted his head, and their eyes met. Song Ning quickly lowered his gaze and resumed trimming the branches.

Wei Hu was utterly baffled. Had this ger just been spying on him?

Chen Cuihua continued, “Ning-ger, when you go into the mountains to gather wild greens or such, you absolutely mustn’t venture too deep. Beyond the thick woods, there aren’t just man-eating beasts—there’s also… that thing!”

Song Ning gasped, “Mother, what thing?”

“Let me tell you,” she continued. “I heard from the elders that if you encounter a beautiful young ger or ger at night who beckons you over, you absolutely must not go. That ger can lead you straight into a tiger’s den, and the tiger will devour you!”

Song Ning was stunned. This was the first time he’d ever heard such a thing. “Mother, is that a ghost? How can it be with a tiger?”

“Exactly! Those devoured by tigers become the beasts’ servants after death—called ghost servants. They’re easy to spot, you know, because they’re missing a little finger.”

Song Ning shuddered. So there really were ghosts in the mountains!

“These ghost servants don’t just lure strangers—they even seduce their own kin. They haunt their loved ones in dreams, tempting them to be eaten by tigers. And what’s more…”

Chen Cuihua was unusually eager to gossip today. Wei Hu’s reputation for being a wife-killer was a constant topic among villagers. If Chen Cuihua overheard such talk, she’d inevitably jump in to tear into him.

Others believed her misfortune—losing her husband in middle age, her son being a widow-maker—made her ill-fated. Some harsh-tongued villagers refused to speak with her, and over time, outsiders rarely visited the Wei household. Even Chen Cuihua found herself shunned.

Now, with a well-behaved ger in the house, Chen Cuihua was delighted and enjoyed sharing gossip with Song Ning.

Before Chen Cuihua could finish, Wei Hu interrupted with a light cough. “Mother, it’s getting late. Let’s buy two blocks of tofu today.”

Chen Cuihua clapped her hands and stood up. “Alright, we haven’t had tofu in ages. I’ll go buy some right now. Ning-ger, you go ahead and steam the rice for me. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mhm.”

Perhaps because the sun was setting, Song Ning felt a chill. Hearing his mother tell him to tend the fire and cook, he got up and headed to the kitchen.

Song Ning stared at the stove, perplexed. How did one steam rice? He had no idea. And these logs—were they thick enough to ignite?

Finding the rice in the kitchen, Song Ning paced around aimlessly like a headless fly. After hesitating, he called out softly, his face flushing, “Brother Wei Hu, Brother Wei Hu.”

Wei Hu looked over. “What is it?”

“I… I don’t know how to steam rice.”

Wei Hu got up and approached. “You don’t know how to cook?”

Song Ning nodded. “Am I too stupid? I can’t even steam rice.”

“Just learn slowly.”

Wei Hu deftly rinsed the rice and lit the fire. Song Ning followed him around like a little shadow—when Wei Hu rinsed the rice, he helped scoop water; when Wei Hu stoked the fire, he handed him wood.

Wei Hu couldn’t help but curve his lips. This ger was so obedient.

Once the fire was stoked, Wei Hu handed it over to Song Ning. “Just keep it going. Call me if you need anything.”

Song Ning nodded earnestly, “I know!”

Wei Hu took advantage of the remaining sunlight to sit in the courtyard and weave a basket.

Song Ning sat on a small stool in the kitchen, tending the fire. He huddled up, eyes fixed on the base of the stove, afraid the flames beneath might die out.

He couldn’t help but think: Wei Hu was truly amazing. Not only could he hunt, but he could cook, too. Why was he so clumsy? He knew nothing. If his mother found out he couldn’t do anything, would she look down on him?

Chen Cuihua soon returned carrying a bowl with two pieces of tender tofu inside. Seeing Song Ning tending the fire, she felt even more delighted. Look how well-behaved this ger is!

Chen Cuihua assumed Song Ning knew how to cook. After all, every ger in the village learned to cook—it was a laughingstock if you didn’t. She naturally believed Song Ning was no exception.

She lit the small stove nearby to stir-fry vegetables. Chinese cabbage stewed with tofu, plus a dish of stir-fried eggplant—two dishes would be enough for her family.

By the time Chen Cuihua finished stir-frying, she saw Song Ning still adding firewood to the pot. “Ouch!” she exclaimed. “Ning-ger, the fire’s too high! Don’t let the water in the pot boil dry!”

Song Ning frantically pulled the firewood away. Sparks flew, one accidentally landing on his hand. Pain made his eyes water, but he bit his lip and endured it.

Sparks also landed on the pile of corn husks used for kindling nearby. The smoke billowing from it made Song Ning cough violently. Startled, he reached to cover his mouth, but a rough, large hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him away. Wei Hu dragged him to the side and stomped the fire out with several kicks.

Chen Cuihua was also choking badly. “Hu-zi, hurry and check if it’s out! Don’t let it catch fire!”

Wei Hu had already pushed Song Ning out of the kitchen. Standing there helplessly, tears welled up in his eyes, ready to spill—whether from fright or the smoke, he couldn’t tell.

Chen Cuihua emerged, too. Coughing from the smoke and wiping tears from her eyes, she looked up and saw Song Ning covered in soot like a little calico cat. Clutching her stomach, she burst out laughing. “Hahaha! Hahaha! Hu-zi, look at Ning-ger! Hahaha~”

Wei Hu extinguished the fire and emerged too. Seeing Song Ning’s pitiful, splattered face, he chuckled softly. “Go wash your face.”

Song Ning wiped his face, only making the mess worse—a smeared, blotchy mess. Chen Cuihua couldn’t stop laughing.

Just moments ago, Song Ning had feared being scolded. Now, seeing everyone laughing at him, he hurried off to wash his face. His ears turned crimson. How could he be so clumsy? Brother Wei Hu clearly wanted him to show off a bit, yet he couldn’t even manage such a simple task. He really was hopeless.

Chen Cuihua went back into the kitchen to serve rice. Wei Hu approached him. “Did you burn your hand?”

Song Ning shook his head. “No… I’m sorry.”

“Let me see.”

Song Ning obediently held out his hand. Aside from the green bruise from handling the vines this afternoon, his palm was fine. He tried to pull his hand back, but the man said, “Turn it over. Let me see the back.”

Song Ning reluctantly turned her hand over. A small red patch, about the size of a fingernail, stood out starkly against her pale skin. Wei Hu frowned. “You burned yourself.”

“Yes… I accidentally touched the fire while gathering wood.”

Wei Hu hummed in acknowledgment. “Time to eat.”

He was indeed a ger raised in luxury. Coming to the countryside, he only knew hardship. Wei Hu resolved to save more silver in the future to settle him properly. He couldn’t let him suffer in the countryside.

Chen Cuihua had already served the rice. The rice in all three bowls had some blackened, burnt bits at the bottom. Wei Hu’s bowl had the most. Song Ning felt even more guilty. He really was too clumsy.

Chen Cuihua smiled and said, “Ning-ger, the fire was too high this time. Just turn it down a bit next time.”

Wei Hu hummed in agreement, “The rice crust got a bit tough. A little less heat would have made it tastier.”

Song Ning felt even worse as he was comforted. He hadn’t done anything since arriving and had even spent several taels of silver on fabric and cotton.

His spirits low, Song Ning silently ate half a bowl of rice.

Chen Cuihua noticed his gloom. When he tried to wash the dishes, she pulled him aside. “Let Hu-zi do it. You must be exhausted from the trip to town today. Clean up and get some rest.”

Understanding Song Ning’s adjustment period, Chen Cuihua spared him any chores for now, deciding to discuss future responsibilities later.

That night, Song Ning found the bed felt more comfortable than usual. He lifted the sheets to discover that a half-worn cotton quilt had been laid underneath at some point. Lying on it felt wonderfully soft.

Wei Hu finished his chores and approached, holding a small bowl. “Your hand—rub some lard on it.”

Song Ning sat up, realizing Wei Hu was referring to the burn on his hand. Was he supposed to apply lard? Though unsure if it would help, Song Ning obediently dipped his finger and rubbed it onto the reddened area.

Wei Hu pulled out three small silver ingots and placed them beside Song Ning. “Keep these.”

Startled, Song Ning shook his head repeatedly. “I don’t want them. No, thank you.”

“Didn’t you say you’d live with me? Since you’re willing, you’ll manage the household silver from now on.”

Seeing the man wasn’t driving him away, Song Ning breathed a sigh of relief. He took the silver. “Then… I’ll put it in the chest at the foot of the bed. You can take it yourself when you need it.”

Wei Hu merely hummed in acknowledgment. He felt guilty toward Song Ning now, realizing he’d caused him injury. Was he truly unlucky for his wife?

He’d been making the bed in the room. His old quilt had been taken by his mother to her own room, so he’d fetched it back and laid it down, failing to notice Song Ning.

That night, Wei Hu lay on the edge of the bed as usual. Song Ning had walked back from town today and was quite tired; he fell asleep shortly after.

Seeing him asleep, Wei Hu blew out the oil lamp. Then he thought: What if Song Ning doesn’t know how to cook when I’m not home?

He usually headed into the mountains early in the morning and didn’t return until dusk. He only hunted near the forest edge; otherwise, he couldn’t manage to go and return in a single day. With the five acres of farmland and the game he brought home, the family lived quite comfortably.

But these past few years, his troubles had drained the family’s savings.

Country ger and girls learn to cook before they’re taller than the stove. Song Ning couldn’t cook. His mother was a proud woman. Wei Hu couldn’t help but worry—would she dislike Song Ning if she found out?