This made Lu Liu feel a bit embarrassed—he hadn’t prepared anything for Yuan Yuan yet.
Yao Fu’er stuffed the bellybands into his hands. “Being with you, giving and receiving, it all feels comfortable in my heart. You’re generous with me, I treat you well. You remember everything, think of all the good things. When I play with others, I always calculate back and forth. With you, it’s effortless.”
Lu Liu smiled and accepted them. “Brother An, have you made the tiger-head shoes and hats yet?”
Yao Fu’er had, and he took them out to show him.
“Da Qiang even bought a few little bells—listen to them.”
Each shoe had a small bell sewn at the heel. Holding the shoes and tapping them on the kang table, the bells jingled crisply.
The hats didn’t have bells—close to the child’s ears, and the child couldn’t say if it was uncomfortable, so he left them off.
Two pairs of shoes were made, four bells in total, all sewn on.
Lu Liu examined the hats and shoes carefully with his hands, growing increasingly pleased.
He couldn’t make such complex items himself; he hadn’t learned before.
He could embroider simple patterns but was still far from tiger-head shoes or hats. He studied the materials and asked questions, planning to wait for his mother’s free time to teach him.
The bells were good, the shoes sounded bright. He liked them and planned that when Da Feng went to the county, he’d buy a few more bells.
Around midday, Shun Ge’er came to call him home for lunch, helping him out and bringing a bowl of chestnuts for Yao Fu’er.
The chestnuts were boiled and then salted—less sweet than candied chestnuts, just enough to satisfy a craving.
Yao Fu’er accepted them and asked Shun Ge’er if he wanted some honey.
Shun Ge’er, always fond of treats, happily took a piece.
The road was well-made: the middle, stone-paved and level; the sides, muddy. With a large belly, it was hard to see the uneven spots, so careful attention was needed, sometimes requiring support.
After lunch, Shun Ge’er had more errands from their mother, delivering a bowl of chestnuts to Jiu Ge’er.
Jiu Ge’er’s table was piled with treats, and he sent back a small bowl of fried dough twists.
Shun Ge’er returned and told Lu Liu, “I’ve realized, the luckiest child in this area is Jiu Ge’er. Look how spoiled he is, treated like the apple of their eyes.”
Lu Liu agreed—he also intended to spoil his own children the same way.
The afternoon was quiet; Shun Ge’er began learning to recognize characters.
After the rain, the air cooled, so everyone wore jackets.
Outside, the wind blew. They sat in the little shop around the stove, doors closed, gathered at the table.
Lu Liu sat in a chair, reading. He didn’t know many characters, circling those unfamiliar.
His brother would come to the village at year’s end to help him, aiming for him to learn every character in Thousand Character Classic and Three Character Classic.
After a while, someone came to sell mushrooms.
Shun Ge’er went out to fetch the scale, verifying the purchase with their mother. Lu Liu went behind the counter, opened the account book, and waited for payment.
The little ones in his belly kicked him.
He’d heard some fetuses kicked hard enough to leave bruises, but his two were gentle, aware of causing pain.
Wherever they kicked, he’d reach out to touch, playing a little game of hide-and-seek.
Day passed. In the evening, Li Feng and the others returned from the mountain with a good haul—they had gathered Ganoderma.
Hu Langzhong didn’t drink, wanting to prepare the Ganoderma first.
Those who went along lingered, watching him process it.
Li Feng called Shun Ge’er over to assist Hu Langzhong—close enough to observe clearly.
Returning inside, he found Lu Liu and gestured about the size of the Ganoderma.
“Looks like a big mushroom.”
Lu Liu asked, “Is it like drying regular mushrooms?”
Li Feng nodded. “Yes. Wash, slice, and sun-dry—nothing special.”
Lu Liu chided him: “If you don’t study properly, will the brothers respect you?”
Li Feng replied, “Do they dare not?”
He leaned his ear against Lu Liu’s belly to listen, asking what he had done today.
Lu Liu showed him the two new small bellybands and described the tiger-head shoes and hats.
“Next time you go to the county, remember to buy a few bells. We have two children; each pair of shoes needs two bells—that’s eight bells total.”
Li Feng said, “Buy ten: you’re the father, so you get two bells too.”
Lu Liu considered it and said, “Right, ten bells. We also have the dog boy and dog girl—one for each of them too.”
Li Feng laughed at this, then looked at the bellybands. He asked, “Should I bring something for Yao Fu’er?”
Lu Liu knew Yao Fu’er was nervous and told Li Feng the situation.
“Find a chance to talk to Da Qiang. See how he frightened Brother An.”
Li Feng agreed seriously. “Yes, we should—he’s about to give birth, thinking this and that—better not have any mishaps.”
Lu Liu praised him: “You’re the best—you didn’t scold me, hehe.”
Li Feng didn’t scold him but playfully nibbled at his hand. Lu Liu teased he sounded like Er Huang. Somehow, Er Huang overheard and barked outside.
Li Feng shook his head. “Silly dog.”
Xie Yan had sorted out his thoughts and spent two more days at home, organizing ideas and writing articles, before returning to the private school.
Once classes began, he left early and returned late, not going home at noon.
Lu Yang hesitated, not bringing meals to school, not wanting to disturb him or distract him.
Winter was approaching. Lu Yang took time to make a doghouse for the little dog.
The yard had no pen—everything was level, no canopy. No place was convenient for a doghouse.
The western side room housed the kitchen and bath area. Inside the bath room were a tub, dry wood, and miscellaneous items. A small doghouse had been casually placed here before.
Earlier, when Lu Liu came to live in the county, he suggested hanging bamboo and straw mats near the tub to block wind and keep warm, making baths more comfortable.
Lu Yang waited for colder weather, then hung the mats, leaving little space. He entered and moved the small dustpan-like doghouse outside, rolled up his sleeves, and tidied the wood and miscellaneous items.
Extra firewood was moved to the kitchen.
Soon, they would burn the kang. This year they wouldn’t need much wood—they were moving to the village for a while, and Xie Yan wasn’t home.
Space for storing firewood was limited, placed beside the tub.
The doghouse was set two steps from the door, away from drafts. When the little dog entered, it had its spot.
The county house, like a common farmhouse, had dirt floors, compacted more than outside soil, making it hard to drive in wooden stakes.
Lu Yang used some firewood as a base to separate the doghouse from the dirt, then covered it with a straw mat.
The straw mat, folded three times, formed a thick cushion. The little dog sank in as it walked, looking pitiful. Lu Yang laughed, lifted it, unfolded the mat once, and put it back—much better.
With the space and size settled, Lu Yang went to the basket store, bought bamboo strips, and planned to weave a larger doghouse for future use.
It would take a few days to finish. Luckily, it wasn’t very cold. He propped two chairs, draping another straw mat on top—sufficient.
Small cuts from weaving were common and insignificant to Lu Yang.
When Xie Yan came home and saw it, he felt tender and worried, his normally fierce gaze softening.
The little dog was usually attached to Lu Yang and Zhao Peilan, and since Xie Yan had only just returned, it wasn’t familiar with him, least of all affectionate.
Xie Yan wanted to discipline it, but waited for Lu Yang to wash up. He picked the dog up in the corner and gave it a “dutiful son” lecture.
