The sky was clear, and the sun was shining brightly; the whole family was sitting in the courtyard soaking up the sun.

Si-ger was already ten months old. He’d only just learned to stand a few days ago and couldn’t walk yet—he could only stand there with an adult’s support. Tiny as he was, standing in place, he looked a bit wobbly, but with his handsome features, he was utterly adorable.

Wang Susu watched him for a moment, his heart melting as she reached out to pick him up, saying, “Look how adorable he is.”

Zhang Hainiu leaned in to take a closer look at his little brother in his father’s arms. When he called out “little brother,” Tang Xianling didn’t catch on at first—he just felt something was off. Tieniu explained, “Si-ger should be calling you ‘Uncle.’”

“Huh?” Zhang Hainiu was bewildered, but in the next instant, he became very excited. “He should call me ‘Uncle’?”

Tang Xianling thought for a moment, then explained, “That’s right. You call me ‘big brother,’ and I call my second sister ‘second sister.’ The three of us are peers. Since Si-ger is my second sister’s child, he calls you ‘uncle.’”

Zhang Hainiu had already been curious and fascinated by the boy from Wu-ger’s relatives’ family. Now that he heard this—that he’d suddenly gained a higher status in the family hierarchy—he was even happier. He wasn’t as clumsy, rough, or brash as usual; instead, he gently and carefully reached out to pat Si-ger on the head.

After touching him, he chuckled.

“His hair is so nice—all fluffy and soft, just like a rabbit’s.”

Zhang Huai glared at his son. “Stop spouting nonsense.”

“Uncle Zhang, don’t be so harsh on Hainiu. He just meant that Si-ger has a lot of hair—he’s complimenting him,” said Tang Xianling. Hainiu was simply paying the price for never having gone to school.

His choice of words was limited, but his heart was in the right place—there was no malice intended.

Zhang Hainiu asked his dad if he could hold the baby. Wang Susu knew his son’s temperament—he was clumsy—so he refused, “What if you drop him? I’ll hold him; you can just look, but don’t touch him.”

“Oh, come on, Dad, I’m begging you! I promise I’ll be quiet and won’t make a fuss,” Zhang Hainiu said, almost swearing an oath.

Wang Susu said seriously and sternly, “This is a real, living person—not one of your wooden toys or the porcelain bowls at home. If you accidentally drop him, he’s broken. If you hurt him, I’ll have to deal with you.”

“I won’t. I’ll hold him gently, and look—Si-ger wants his Uncle to hold him, too,” Zhang Hainiu said.

Tang Xianling: …All right, all right. It hasn’t even been that long, and he’s already calling himself “Uncle.”

In the end, Wang Susu couldn’t argue with him and turned to Wu-ger and Second Sister. Tang Zhen nodded with a smile, saying it was fine—she trusted Hainiu; he was a big boy now.

When she said this, Tang Zhen meant it sincerely. For the first time, she felt that everyone’s affection for Si-ger and the three sisters came from the heart—a genuine fondness and admiration—rather than just paying lip service by saying, “The girls and boys are fine, everything’s okay.”

If they were truly fine, why did they add “everything’s okay” afterward to comfort her?

Tang Zhen paused for a moment, lost in thought.

Wang Susu was teaching his son how to hold a baby: “…Your hands—don’t be so stiff. Sit here and hold him first; once you’re used to it, then stand up.”

Zhang Hainiu followed his father’s instructions, his whole body stiff yet cautious.

The little ger in his arms wasn’t comfortable, but instead of crying, he looked up at Uncle Hainiu with pleading eyes. When Zhang Hainiu met the little one’s gaze, his sense of responsibility kicked in. He slowly adjusted his posture, determined to make his little cousin happy.

Holding a baby was even more tiring than going out, wading in the river, or climbing trees.

Zhang Hainiu thought to himself, but he was also very happy. When he got back, he would tell Shuanzi that he was an uncle now—that he had a little Si-ger who called him “Uncle.” The little boy had a head of hair as thick as a rabbit’s, soft to the touch, and looked adorable and well-behaved—unlike Xiaohua’s little brother, who did nothing but wail and was as black as a lump of charcoal.

Since it was rare for Zhang Huai and Wang Susu to come into town, Tang Xianling invited them to stay the night, saying he had a place for them to stay. The two thought about it for a moment, exchanged a glance, and readily agreed.

“I still need to go to the East Market to buy an ox. There’s no rush—I’ll see whether to buy an ox or a mule. Mules travel faster, but oxen can plow the fields,” Zhang Huai said.

Wang Susu didn’t mind either way; whether they bought an ox or a mule, it would help his husband save some effort.

At dinnertime, Tang Xianling cooked a table full of home-style dishes, and everyone ate in the courtyard. After dinner, they carried the freshly washed bedding to the rented room. Tang Xianling and Tieniu went to deliver it, chatting at length with Uncle Zhang and Uncle Wang along the way, and settled the bill for the duck eggs the two men had brought.

Zhang Hainiu was still a bit reluctant to leave and wanted to play with Si-ger for a while longer.

Zhang Huai gave his son a light tap on the back of the head and said, “You’re just gonna get jealous again. If we really took Si-ger home, he’d definitely find it a nuisance.” He said that last part to everyone.

“I wouldn’t!” Zhang Hainiu said.

Zhang Huai knew his son all too well and said, “Then you can’t climb trees, go down to the river, or play with Shuanzi—you’ll just have to stay home and watch the kid every day.”

Zhang Hainiu: …

He put on a brave face. “Fine.”

“‘Fine’ my ass,” Zhang Huai cursed under his breath.

What’s this kid playing at? Acting so fond of his younger brothers and sisters—if Susu hears this, he’ll take it to heart. Back then, when Susu fell into the river, he saved him, but he was injured and took a long time to recover. It wasn’t until several years after they were married that they finally had Hainiu. Zhang Huai didn’t want Susu to get the wrong idea; one child was trouble enough.

Why would he want a second one? Whether it’s a son or a daughter, he doesn’t care anymore.

Zhang Hainiu dared not “go against” his father, so he could only keep his head down, grumbling and acting like a stubborn mule. Wang Susu and Zhang Huai were used to this—even Tang Xianling had long since stopped finding it strange—so no one paid Zhang Hainiu any mind. They certainly couldn’t say, “Why don’t you ask your dad to have a little brother for you, too?”

This kind of behavior—urging and pressuring people to have a second child—lacks tact and respect for personal boundaries, and it’s downright annoying.

Sure enough, when the adults ignored Zhang Hainiu, he actually calmed down. He stopped being stubborn, took his father’s hand, and asked if they were going to the West Market tomorrow, if his father would buy him a toy, and if he could have a slingshot.

“I’ll buy you an egg,” Zhang Huai said.

Wang Susu smiled gently and said, “We’ll see tomorrow.”

The next day, the Tang family was opening their shop for business, so Tang Xianling and Tieniu didn’t bother asking Uncle Zhang or Uncle Wang about their plans—Uncle Zhang had been a hunter in his younger days and still went to Fengyuan City to sell his goods from time to time. Even though he came less often now, the layout of the East and West Markets hadn’t changed much, so there was no risk of getting lost or taking a wrong turn.

Shortly after noon, when business at the restaurant had slowed down a bit, Uncle Zhang and Uncle Wang returned with Hainiu. The three of them led the mule, with Hainiu sitting happily on its back. Once they reached the Tang family’s backyard, he couldn’t wait to show off the little bow strapped to his back to Brother Tieniu and Wu-ger.

His dad and Uncle Wang had bought him a bow—a real bow, not a slingshot.

Huangfu Tieniu found it amusing and said, “I saw it.”

“Stop showing off in front of your brother. Go home and practice hard. We’ll talk about it once you can actually hit something with your bow and arrow,” Zhang Huai said.

Zhang Hainiu was still very happy.

That evening, just before the city gates closed, the family of three headed home in their mule cart. This time, Zhang Huai had bought a mule and stocked up on salt for the household, as well as some sewing supplies, fabric scraps, and salt to bring back to the villagers—enough to fill half the cart.

By the time the three of them arrived home, it was already completely dark.

It wasn’t quite the middle of the night yet.

At midnight, a fierce wind began to howl outside, and soon thunder clapped, and lightning flashed. Tang Xianling was startled awake from under the covers; as soon as he woke up, Tieniu also woke up and said in a hoarse voice, “It’s nothing—it’s just raining.”

“Oh no, Uncle Zhang and the others—” As soon as Tang Xianling heard this, he thought of Uncle Zhang’s family of three, who had been traveling back through the night. “What time is it now?”

Huangfu Tieniu hugged his husband and reassured him, “It’s well past midnight now. Uncle Zhang and his family set out before the city gates closed. Since they’re traveling by mule, they’ll get there faster than on foot—they must be home by now.”

“That’s a relief.”

The Zhang family in Xu Village.

The family of three made their way in the dark. It was thanks to Zhang Huai’s experience traveling overnight that they were able to continue; most people would find walking at night rather unnerving. Halfway there, Zhang Huai looked up at the sky and felt the wind had picked up a bit, so he jumped down from the cart and led the mule forward.

The cart was light, and since the mule was newly purchased and didn’t know the way yet, leading it on foot allowed them to make faster progress.

Sure enough, as they neared Xu Village, the wind picked up, making their progress difficult.

Wang Su’s soft voice was carried away by the wind as she said, “I’m getting off—I’m getting off.”

“No need—we’re just a few steps from home,” Zhang Huai called out.

When the three of them arrived home, they lit a candle in the dark and began unloading the cart. Zhang Hainiu had been sleeping fitfully, so Zhang Huai set the child down on the bed and told Susu to boil water, wash up, and go to sleep first, while he took care of unloading the goods.

Wang Susu went into the kitchen to boil water.

By the time everything was settled, a fierce wind was howling in the sky, and rain began to pour down with thunder and lightning.

Zhang Huai crawled under the covers, hugged his husband, and sighed, “Heaven still cares for us. Let’s sleep, let’s sleep. We won’t go anywhere tomorrow—we’ll just stay home and sleep all day.”

“No way. We have to return the handcart tomorrow, and there are several families who asked us to buy things for them—we have to deliver those items too…”

They didn’t need to pay the villagers for the duck eggs; Wang Susu had already settled the bill with his own cash.

Overnight, the temperature dropped sharply.

Mr. Tang had said earlier that he wouldn’t take the hot pot off the stove, fearing a late-winter cold snap—and now his words have come true. Even though it’s already the start of spring, the day before the sun was blazing hot enough to make people sweat, and they were thinking, “Summer must be just around the corner.” But after just one night, they found themselves shivering even in their winter coats.

“You’d think winter is over—why is it still so cold?”

“The wind doesn’t look that strong, but it feels like it’s blowing right through your bones.”

“I’m craving something hot.”

When it comes to something hot, that means hot pot. Throughout all of Fengyuan City, for those who know their food and love to eat, the first place that comes to mind when mentioning hot pot isn’t one of the big restaurants in the East or West Markets, but Tang’s in Baxing District.

“It just so happens I’ve been craving something lately. Their pickled cabbage broth—and I’m not just saying this—other hot pot places have tried to copy their sour soup broth, but none of them quite match the Tang family’s flavor.”

“I wonder if they still have lamb?”

When it gets cold, you crave lamb for its nourishing properties, but some connoisseurs avoid eating it in spring. As the old saying goes, “Stay warm in spring, stay cool in fall.” Eating lamb in the fall is highly nourishing, but in spring, when you’re already keeping warm to build up your strength, adding nourishing foods could cause internal heat.

Some people follow these traditions; others don’t—it all comes down to satisfying one’s own appetite.

Tang Xianling could sell one sheep over two days and almost sell it all—unlike in winter, when hot pot season is at its peak, and he’d sell one or two sheep a day. Besides lamb, his shop also offered other meat and vegetable dishes, so that’s quite a selection.

With mutton in the pot, the local diners were delighted—they could also enjoy mutton offal soup.

This cold snap didn’t last long—about half a month—and then the weather cleared up.

Mr. Tang timed it perfectly and said, “We’ll work overtime this Saturday to give the place a thorough cleaning. We’ll put away the hot pot pots and stoves, update the menu, and starting next week, we’ll stop serving hot pot and switch to stir-fried dishes.”

Of course, overtime pay was provided.

On Saturday, the staff came in for the deep clean. They pulled back the curtains at the restaurant entrance—since hot pot cooking involves charcoal stoves, the whole place inevitably gets a bit smoky—and wiped down the tables, floors, chairs, and pillars, as well as the roller blinds.

Owner Tang and the young owner made a trip to the West Market, where they picked out a few vases and bought some potted plants. At this time of year, plants are thriving, so they brought them home to care for themselves, occasionally cutting branches to arrange in the vases.

The restaurant has gained a touch of greenery, exuding a vibrant, spring-like vitality.

The menu has been updated. The classic main dishes remain: braised meatballs, sweet and sour spare ribs, braised pork, and steamed pork with rice flour. The vegetarian options have been replaced with seasonal items like toon tree sprouts, wild greens, and spring bamboo shoots—thanks to the recent spell of rain, the bamboo shoots have been popping up in abundance.

When the restaurant opened on Monday, diners arriving to find the heavy tung oil curtains removed were greeted by a space that suddenly felt bright and airy. On each table stood a slender, narrow-necked vase, some filled with snow willow, others with lucky bamboo—all adding a touch of greenery.

The tabletops were wiped spotless, set with bowls and chopsticks, the chopsticks resting neatly on their holders.

Diners stepped through the door with smiles on their faces, in good spirits, and asked, “Did you give the place a good cleaning?”

“We just gave it a quick sweep. The owner and the young boss bought some vases and decorations,” Aunt Tong said with a smile to a regular customer, inviting them to take a seat and explaining the menu.

“Spring bamboo shoots and Chinese toon are in season right now. Stir-fried with duck eggs, they’re incredibly fragrant—light, tender, and absolutely delicious.”

Upon hearing this, the diner praised, “That sounds quite rustic. I’ll have the Chinese toon stir-fried with duck eggs. What else can you stir-fry with spring bamboo shoots?”

“We have shrimp—river shrimp delivered just this morning, freshly peeled,” Mrs. Tong replied.

The diner made up his mind: “Then I’ll have the spring bamboo shoots stir-fried with shrimp as well.”

Before long, the diner had finished ordering: two light vegetarian dishes and a serving of braised pork.

Aunt Tong went to place the order. A new customer arrived at the shop, and A-Liang went to greet them.

Tang Zhen watched and took note. When she first met Mrs. Tong and A-Liang, she’d thought they resembled each other—not in appearance, but in that certain vibe. Yet once they were in the shop greeting customers, they seemed quite different; the smile on Mrs. Tong’s face was somehow brighter.

It was quite different.

Business was brisk that day. The diners were all pleasantly surprised, and they were thoroughly satisfied with their meals. In recent days, they’d been eating hot pot until their stomachs were heavy with grease—day after day of lamb slices, all kinds of meatballs, fried foods, and braised dishes—and they’d even started to feel a bit tighter around the waist. Today, when they arrived at Tang’s Restaurant, they’d initially hesitated, wondering, “What should we order?”

The food at Tang’s was indeed delicious, but another hot pot meal would be too greasy and heavy.

To their surprise, the menu was full of stir-fried dishes, and the vegetarian options were especially to their liking. The light, delicate, and sweet shrimp stir-fried with tender bamboo shoots had a refreshing texture; they could eat one bite after another without feeling the slightest bit greasy.

The simple greenery on the table radiated vitality.

Great—the food is delicious, and enjoying it here makes it even more delightful.

Throughout the spring, Tang’s Restaurant was bustling yet orderly. Over at the pot-sticker bun counter, the supply of dried plum vegetables was running low, and Cui Dabao grew anxious. He asked the owner, “I’m afraid we won’t have enough of these dried plum vegetables to last even ten days or half a month.”

“Once it’s sold out, we’ll switch to something else. We’ll just stop making pot-sticker buns for a few months—we’ll have to wait until the summer weather is nice enough to make the dried mustard greens in batches,” said Tang Xianling.

Cui Dabao felt a mix of joy and worry. He was glad he still had a job—thankfully, the boss hadn’t told him to take time off—but he was worried because he didn’t know how to make anything besides pot-sticker buns.

“What are you worried about? You just picked up how to make pot-sticker buns on the fly. I’ll teach you—don’t worry. You’ve still got half a month to learn.”

“Boss, are we going to sell pork floss bread?” Cui Dabao was afraid of this very thing, and his expression turned troubled: “I really don’t know how to make them.”

Upon hearing this, Tang Xianling nodded and said, “You can learn that, sure. Actually, I was thinking of some other options—”

Roujiamo and Caijiamo.

These two are simple. The oven for baking buns is already set up, and Cui Dabao is now an expert at making them. All he needs to do is braise a pot of pork. The weather’s cool now, so eating a meat-stuffed bun first thing in the morning won’t be too heavy. And if someone wants something cheaper, they can have a vegetable-stuffed bun.

You can put just about anything in a bun.

“As for the pork floss bread, I’m afraid you might be too busy to handle it, but the meat and vegetable-stuffed buns are easy to prepare. Once the vegetables are ready, just let the customers stuff them themselves—as much as they want.”

Cui Dabao: Huh?

Is that how it works?

“There aren’t any fancy dishes—just cold salads.”

Cui Dabao’s eyes widened. “It’s still a bit chilly this time of year—are we really going to serve cold dishes?”

“Freshly baked hot buns filled with cold dishes—” Tang Xianling realized his explanation didn’t make sense. “Here’s what we’ll do: after you sell out your breakfast today, don’t go home. This afternoon, I’ll find some time to teach you how to make the buns for the new dishes, as well as how to prepare the meat and the cold dishes.”

When Tang Xianling visited Chang’an during college, he followed an online recommendation and headed to the school gates early in the morning. There, he found a street vendor’s cart with freshly baked buns and a selection of cold dishes: shredded cabbage, shredded carrots, pickled vegetables, cucumber, shredded potatoes, stir-fried chili peppers, and pot-bottom rice.

Locals say the key to a good vegetable-stuffed bun is: the bun must be crispy, the fillings must be plentiful and flavorful, and that final spoonful of pot-bottom rice is the soul of the dish.

Tang Xianling tried one, and it was indeed delicious—a simple, unpretentious charm. The bread was so crispy and the pot-bottom rice so crunchy that after finishing it, the skin on the roof of his mouth practically peeled off.

The meat for the roujiamo is selected from pork belly on the hind leg, which has a relatively tender texture. There’s a secret to cooking the meat, and one of the key ingredients is a long-simmered broth—which isn’t difficult. After finishing his meal, Tang Xianling watched many instructional videos online.

In the spring, while cooking, Boss Tang taught Cui Dabao how to make “La Zhu” pork and freshly baked flatbreads. As usual, he told customers in advance that the preserved mustard greens were running low, estimating how many more days they’d be available before switching to a new item.

After Cui Dabao finished speaking, the neighbors in the alley burst out laughing, saying, “What’s this? Has your breakfast shop started adopting the style of the restaurant next door?”

The Tang family’s restaurant served food in seasonal cycles. The neighbors in the neighborhood didn’t eat there often, but they found it intriguing—as if they had something to look forward to all year round: spring dishes, grilled skewers in summer, and mutton hot pot in fall and winter.

It was actually quite novel.

“So what’s the new twist you’re introducing here?”

“Could it be toasted bread?”

Tang’s pork floss bread is truly delicious.

Cui Dabao shook his head. The boss had said it was dangerous for him to bake the pork floss bread in that oven right now—he wasn’t sure exactly what the boss meant by “dangerous,” but it didn’t matter; he’d just follow the boss’s instructions.

Last fall and winter, Tang Xianling had used the oven from the breakfast shop to bake a batch of pork floss bread to sell. He discovered that this oven was better suited for baking flatbreads; baking buns required precise control over the heat—the amount of charcoal, the oven temperature—and since it was a cylindrical oven, it was a hassle to take the buns in and out from the top and bottom.

The bread was fluffy and a bit wider.

As for Cui Dabao, he still had half a month to learn how to bake pork floss bread. After thinking it over, he decided against it. He’d start by selling vegetable-stuffed buns to replace the pot-sticker buns, and once the summer’s supply of preserved mustard greens was used up, he’d switch back to selling pot-sticker buns in the fall.

Switching things up keeps things fresh.

By April, it had started to rain—a light, steady drizzle—though the temperature wasn’t cold.

The Lu family’s courtyard.

“Erniang next door has been staying at her parents’ house for several months now—isn’t she going back yet?” Chen Qiaolian muttered in puzzlement.

Zou Ling didn’t respond. Over the past two months, she and Sanniang had been visiting the Tang family from time to time, and she’d grown fond of Erniang’s three daughters. The three sisters were very well-behaved, studied diligently, weren’t afraid of hard work, and were very obedient.

Because she taught the three sisters, Erniang would sometimes chat with her as well.

Zou Ling felt that Erniang’s husband wasn’t as good as Lu Dalang. She could sense something was off just from the way Tang Erniang spoke; Tang Erniang probably sensed it too but brushed it off. Zou Ling didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up—after all, Tang Erniang was older than her, so what right did she have to say anything?

However, sometimes as they chatted, Zou Ling couldn’t hold back the resentment in her heart and ended up talking about her own situation—her relationship with Lu Dalang.

To outsiders, the Lu family seemed perfect in every way—Lu Dalang was filial, obedient, down-to-earth, and hardworking. But behind closed doors, only Zou Ling knew the truth of their life together. It was as if, every few days, a sharp, stinging pain would pierce her heart.

And she couldn’t even speak of it.

She knew exactly what her mother-in-law was getting at—it was nothing more than saying that Erniang had stayed at her parents’ home for too long and that her in-laws treated her poorly, or perhaps using Erniang’s situation as a warning to tell her not to keep running back to her parents’ home.

Zou Ling didn’t respond, so Chen Qiaolian continued on her own: “From before the New Year until now—when a young couple is apart for this long, their feelings will fade.”

“Did something happen at Tang Zhen’s in-laws’ house?”

Zou Ling shook her head. Her mother-in-law was asking her directly.

“Mother, I’m going to the kitchen to cook,” Zou Ling said as she stood up.

Chen Qiaolian didn’t like this eldest daughter-in-law—why did she always act as if she were the only clever one around? She also disliked how she wanted to gossip about the neighbors’ affairs, but this daughter-in-law pretended not to understand when she was clearly in on it; she didn’t get close to her but instead kept closer to the neighbors.

She said the Tang family hadn’t said anything bad about them, nor had they done anything malicious. She figured the Tang family next door probably talked about the Lu family too—but what’s the big deal? They were all neighbors, after all.

The Tang family next door is closed for business today.

Si-ger is already one year old.

Tang Xianling had asked about it earlier and discussed with her mother and second sister the idea of holding a “grabbing ceremony” for the child—her second sister didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so Tang Xianling said, “It’s just our family; let’s keep it simple and have a meal.”

Early in the morning, the two of them went to the West Market to buy what they needed for the ceremony. Since they already had brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones at home, they didn’t buy those; instead, they bought toys, a tiger-head cap, a small abacus, books, and the like.

As Tang Xianling was buying the books, he chuckled to himself, “Our family really is something—we’ve searched high and low, but we can’t find a single book in the whole house.”

Tieniu laughed too and said, “Mr. Tang may not read books, but he’s a man of wisdom and good manners.”

“Heh heh heh, you’re just flattering me.”

He bought a copy of *The Hundred Family Surnames*.

When they got home, Mom and my second older sister dressed up Si-ger. It was drizzling outside, so they held the “grabbing ceremony” on the four-poster bed in the main hall, and Si-ger grabbed a tiger-head cap.

Tang Xianling clapped his hands and said, “He’s as fierce as a tiger—that means our Si-ger will be able to slay tigers in the future.”

Everyone in the room laughed. Xiao Daniangie exclaimed, “Little Brother’s going to hunt tigers!”

“Little Brother’s arms are so skinny—he’ll never be able to take down a tiger,” said Xiao Sanniang.

Tang Xianling, that offbeat uncle of theirs, chimed in to correct her: “That just means he’ll grow up to be as sturdy and strong as a tiger.”

“Being healthy is enough. He’s just a ger who’s going to get married someday—what’s the point of being so strong?” Tang Zhen said with a smile.

Tang Xianling: “If he’s built solidly, when his future in-laws see him, they’ll immediately feel a pang of sympathy. And if they try to lay a hand on him, they’ll have to think twice—they certainly won’t stand a chance against Si-ger.”

Tang Zhen felt that her younger brother was now throwing in witty remarks from time to time—remarks that were unexpected yet always made people laugh.

She didn’t pay much attention to his remarks.

Huangfu Tieniu, however, nodded solemnly, fully agreeing with what her husband had said.

Si-ger grabbed a tiger-head cap and also snatched the abacus. This time, Tang Xianling praised him, saying, “You’re smart and quick-witted—you’ll make a fortune in business one day.”

“He’s just a ger—let him handle the accounts for his future in-laws,” Tang Zhen said.

The Cui family were small merchants; it was likely that their third daughter and Si-ger would marry into merchant families as well. Having a counting frame would certainly be a useful skill to have—though she didn’t know if her future in-laws would let her handle the accounts.

In any case, she was never allowed to ask too many questions or look too closely at the Cui family’s accounts—and naturally, the same went for her mother-in-law.

Just a few days after the fourth son’s first-birthday ceremony, the Cui family’s carriage arrived at Baxing District. Second Sister’s husband, Cui Bo’an, rode up on a mule to greet them. Since the restaurant was open for business that day and bustling with customers, no one had time to greet Cui Bo’an properly; they simply told him to make himself at home.

Today, the restaurant had a private banquet—two tables filled with guests brought by Liu Baojian. When these guests first walked in, Aunt Tong and A-Liang were startled: how could they be so tall and dark-skinned, and why did their eyes have such a distinct color!

Aunt Tong and A-Liang were a bit startled and didn’t even dare to speak up to greet them.

Seeing this, Tieniu stepped in to greet the guests himself.

Liu Baojian ordered a full spread and invited the guests to take their seats.

Tang Xianling was in the middle of cooking when he heard his second older sister running back to tell him, “Wu-ger, there are a lot of people here with blue eyes and curly hair—”

“And the ring on his hand has a gemstone as big as a pearl,” Mrs. Tong added as she came to serve the dishes.

Since they’d never seen people like this before, they naturally found them fascinating.

Upon hearing this, Tang Xianling addressed everyone first: “Treat them as you would any other guests—don’t stare out of curiosity. I know you’re curious; it’s natural to be intrigued by something you’ve never seen before, and there’s no ill will behind it. But if you stare too long, it might upset our guests. It wouldn’t be good if they misunderstood and thought we were looking down on them.”

Upon hearing this, Tang Zhen, Mrs. Tong, and A-Liang immediately nodded cautiously and dared not look any longer.

It was only then that Tang Zhen noticed her husband had entered the courtyard.

Cui Bo’an, having heard talk of “blue eyes” and “gemstones this large,” was also curious. He hadn’t witnessed the restaurant’s bustling scene during the previous New Year’s celebrations; he’d only heard people say business was booming and that some distinguished guests had even returned New Year’s gifts. Now that he’d seen it for himself, he realized the reputation was well-deserved.

His brother-in-law was truly remarkable and capable.