He was still a little inexperienced, but he knew how to treat people well. Up until now, harmony reigned among the brothers.
At his elder brother’s house, he felt completely at ease—able to ask freely for food or drink, making everyone put down what they were doing just to chat with him.
The Luo brothers weren’t going out today; they were staying home to chop firewood.
Winter demanded a lot of firewood, and the bought logs had to be split. As in the past, each brother sat at his own chopping block with an axe, splitting the wood and stacking it neatly so both households could use it.
Those with free time would chop extra; those busy could conserve energy, knowing someone at home would take care of the rest.
Lu Yang arrived, and they greeted him, keeping him company for a while before sending him off.
“See? You’re completely shameless! Talking to you makes us stop working. If we don’t work, who will? Should we drag your weak scholar brother to chop wood? You’d break his poor heart!”
Lu Yang grinned. “You wouldn’t dare drag a scholar lord to chop wood, right? You’d make him study day and night instead?”
Luo Dayong nodded. “Fine, tonight we’ll just make him study.”
Luo Erwu added, “Don’t worry, when he’s with us, nothing will happen to him.”
Lu Yang teased them, “Am I scared? I can just roll up my bedding and lie down with you. When we live together, it’ll be lively and fun!”
His usual roughness had softened; his antics were no longer bratty but playful, almost like teasing affection.
Luo Dayong suggested, “You sleep with your sister-in-law, we’ll sleep with your husband. Then we can hear if he talks in his sleep or badmouths you.”
Lu Yang covered his face dramatically. “Oh my! What could he possibly say? I bet all I’d hear is love talk—so embarrassing I wouldn’t sleep!”
Now there was no chance to chop wood. They laughed, felt goosebumps, and lost all energy.
Luo Erwu went outside and called Lu Liu over to play.
“You’re a first-time younger brother,” he said. “No experience. Learn well from your brother, and you’ll know how to cling to him properly.”
Lu Yang: “……”
What was going on here?
Lu Liu’s eyes shone with curiosity, eager to see exactly how his brother clung to someone and how a younger brother should behave.
“Brother, show me! Show me how to be a younger brother.”
Lu Yang: “……”
A proud elder brother, he decided to take Lu Liu home.
With the visiting over, the Luo brothers continued chopping wood at home, their laughter loud enough to carry down the alley, which Lu Yang heard perfectly clearly.
Lu Yang: Ah!
Li Feng needed to return to the mountain village. His supplies were no fewer than those Xie Yan had brought when returning home.
Although they had only recently settled in the prefectural city, Chen Guizhi calculated that for the next year or two, it would be difficult for them to visit. She was worried about family and friends, so she made a list, leaving no one out.
He brought Erhuang along, and from the moment they left the city, the dog ran as if released from a leash, occasionally dashing back along the route, barking joyfully or urging them onward.
This trip included Sun Fulang and his family of three, all seated in Li Feng’s carriage.
Li Feng explained the village’s location. From the city gate, it would take five to seven days on foot; in bad weather, rain or snow, about ten days.
They knew the route well. Even without hiring escort services, their reputation for living off the mountains kept bandits away.
Near the end of the year, besides common bandits, there were some villagers forced into outlawry by hunger. Their intelligence was limited, so encounters might occur.
If the villagers weren’t cruel, Li Feng would offer grain and negotiate, avoiding conflict. If they were violent, he ensured the Sun family’s safety.
The path was easy to follow—main roads, no detours. After three “shichen” (roughly nine hours) from the city, they left other small villages’ territories. Only in Sanshui County could they see new settlements, where paths began to branch.
Entering the county, they would cross it to exit via the West Gate, continue along Shangguan Road westward, and eventually see the new Li Village.
Beyond the new village, heading toward the mountains, lay the Western Hills, also called Tomb Hills.
Sun Fulang held his two children tightly, silent.
Traveling far from home, with only a contract guaranteed by a scholar, it was understandable.
Li Feng didn’t press him, but explained the village’s main work and population.
Previously, villagers lived off the mountains, so most men could hunt; a few could not hunt but could herd.
Li Feng distinguished between herding and hunting before discussing the new village’s farmland.
“After the land was divided, we quickly built the new village. Everyone helped, used trees from the mountains, dug soil for bricks, and began farming life.”
Families were large. When the village was built, households split further. Those farming lived in the new village; hunters stayed at the foot of the mountains. A few families shared several rooms, lively and bustling.
Li Feng also described customs for holidays, festivals, and food.
Sanshui County, under Yunping Prefecture, shared similar customs and crops, though the prefectural city was more prosperous, offering greater variety.
“But in our mountain village, we honor the mountain during Qingming before visiting graves,” Li Feng said.
The journey was dusty; talking was cumbersome, and they soon had dust in their mouths.
Sun Fulang, hearing Li Feng’s repeated “spit” sounds and rinsing with water, finally asked, “Where will our family stay?”
Li Feng had prepared housing for them.
“I have two houses: one in the new village, one at the mountain’s base. My second brother and his family live in the new village—they’re not convenient for you to visit. You can rest temporarily at the drying field. When we build the honey workshop, we’ll make a proper place for you.”
Sun Fulang had not heard this arrangement before; he had only been told there were empty houses. This was reassuring, with the promise of something better later.
During a rest, Sun Fulang let the children play outside.
The elder was four; the younger, just one, posthumous. They had recently been forced into a situation with no foothold in the village.
Sun Fulang was anxious for their future, brows constantly furrowed.
His natal family refused to take him back, considering it shameful for a married person to return home. They couldn’t bear the loss of face.
Many families had proposed; some were willing to let him bring the children, change their surname, and raise them together. But the in-laws refused, insisting the children stay and arranging a husband for him from relatives.
Though he knew honey production, those people looked at him like livestock, not humans—like cows or donkeys.
Marriage talk focused on bloodline continuation. Even after children were born, if the father died, such promises counted for nothing.
Children, meant to carry on the family line, could be sold along with their parents.
Sold separately, wives or husbands paired with new partners, children’s whereabouts unknown for life.
Sun Fulang bore this for a long time, but eventually could no longer endure it.
He had previously gone to the county to sell honey, considering whether he and his sons could be sold together to one place.
Outside, he didn’t dare enter.
He feared the officials would force him to sign away their freedom.
Before agreeing to move to Li Village, Sun Fulang even considered accepting marriage, taking the children with him.
But hearing of the many cases of child abuse, he hesitated. He only knew honey-making; managing one child was already difficult. Two boys? Who could tolerate that?
