Ten people, eight horses—not enough for everyone. Why could some ride horses while others had to drive mules?
Because the horses were earned by skill; those who didn’t get a horse had no choice but to drive mules.
This was both discouraging and motivating. The two hunters who didn’t get horses this time vowed to seize a fine horse next time. Other men in the mountain village, hearing this, felt a rush of excitement and also wanted to seize a horse.
Da Qiang was one of them, so he came to ask about it.
Lifeng didn’t worry about the others—he knew Da Qiang had just become a father and it wasn’t easy, so he gave him some advice.
Inside the house, Yao Furlong held Yuan Yuan on the kang while watching Lu Liu move about. “You can’t sit still either. I just came from Mr. Chen’s place—his belly is huge, and he’s pacing indoors too. Strange as it seems, not long ago I was in the same state. Now I feel light and free, walking outside, I forget the old feelings. Looking back, it was actually quite amusing—how could anyone be so miserable?”
Lu Liu laughed: “Seems carrying a child is like that. I often cried not long ago.”
Yao Furlong was surprised: “When? I thought you were steady, not as restless as me.”
Lu Liu replied, “You were about to give birth; I surely wouldn’t tell you. Later, during your confinement, I couldn’t go out, and afterward I was fine, my brother kept me company, so I stopped crying.”
Yao Furlong teased, “You’re such a clingy one. As long as someone’s nearby—your brother or Da Feng—you’re fine.”
Lu Liu asked, “Then what are you?”
“I’m a prickly ball; anyone comes near, I poke.”
Lu Liu laughed.
His legs were weak; after walking a bit, he started sweating.
Shun brother brought him water, wiped him down, and helped him lie on the kang.
The chatter inside couldn’t wake the two babies—they slept soundly.
Yao Furlong placed Yuan Yuan beside Lu Liu, lying flat, looking just like him.
Lu Liu, seeing how obedient Yuan Yuan was, remarked, “You’re lucky; he knows how to care for you—a good child.”
Yao Furlong grinned, replying, “Babies this month need careful handling. We don’t dare tease them much. It’s cold; I rarely hold him outside. Indoors, the kang is stuffy; better not suffocate him. Your place is close; just a short walk, I can bring him here to play a bit.”
They went outside for fresh air, then back inside to the warm kang. A short walk again, back to the kang—never cold.
Yuan Yuan also had a wool sleeping bag, made by Second Sister Yao. Smaller than Lu Liu’s, but enough for him. When outside, he was wrapped up, small and fluffy—looking at him melted hearts.
Lu Liu looked at his two little ones, hoping they’d reach their first month quickly, so they too could sleep in wool sleeping bags, softening his heart daily.
They chatted about everything and nothing.
Snow fell again, colder than last year. Those going to the market complained of icy roads—one trip was enough.
Of course, those with money didn’t mind; silver in hand warms the heart.
This year, some borrowed carriages to welcome newlyweds—quite grand. People from the bride’s village came, and onlookers were drawn by the horses. So many horses!
Yao Furlong told Lu Liu that many people were scheming to find spouses in the county.
“Is it easy? They don’t know anyone. Too embarrassed to approach you, too shy to ask your brother for an introduction, they cling to Sanmiao and her husband. Those two have been in the county just over a month; how many can they know? My goodness, their doorstep must be trampled. Others, while at the market, barge into shops and make demands, forcing Sanmiao’s couple to comply. Sanmiao got angry and asked why they didn’t just grab someone from the street.”
Lu Liu laughed: “He’s got a point. Why didn’t they?”
Yao Furlong laughed too: “Exactly.”
After a while, he said, “Your Da Feng married you with a bride price of twenty taels of silver. This year, that’s still the highest. Those who can’t pay silver may seek wealthy in-laws—can’t blame them.”
It was this silver that persuaded the Chen family to let his brother marry; Lu Liu felt it was worth it.
If Lifeng had been stingy, the Chen family might have married his brother off elsewhere.
Lu Liu shook his head and asked Yao Furlong if he wanted paper-cut decorations.
“I cut them myself. Aunt Zhao taught us recently. I’m fairly skilled; I cut a few rabbit and fortune-character designs. Take some home to paste.”
With New Year approaching—the Year of the Rabbit—they could paste the rabbit designs.
Yao Furlong picked from the sheets on the table: two sets of rabbit designs and four fortune-character designs.
Lu Liu also had some couplets written by Xie Yan; he let Yao Furlong take two sets.
“My brother-in-law is talented. Once pasted, let Yuan Yuan touch them to absorb the literary star’s brilliance—maybe he’ll become a great scholar.”
Yao Furlong couldn’t refuse, taking two sets of couplets.
“Coming all this way, eating and taking things…so impolite of me?”
Lu Liu laughed softly: “Not at all. Our place is small; we still have extras after pasting. Giving them makes me happy.”
Yao Furlong asked about Chen Jiu; Lu Liu said they’d send his family couplets and window decorations in a few days.
Yao Furlong said, “He’s expecting a child; he knows he can’t enjoy the festivities this year. He’s probably realized: every year there are new marriages in the village. Even without him, others will raise children. You can’t envy them endlessly. Looking at others’ lives won’t improve your own. A father is different from a newlywed husband; we’ll all mature eventually.”
Lu Liu said nothing, keeping family and brotherly loyalty in mind so his mother and Da Feng wouldn’t be troubled.
After chatting, the wet nurse arrived to feed the babies.
Yao Furlong watched eagerly; Lu Liu, feeling shy, let him observe.
Yao Furlong said, “Goodness, I can barely squeeze a few drops, not enough for one child.”
The wet nurse laughed and scolded: “Yao Furlong, stop staring! I had nothing to begin with, and now you two are watching, I’m running dry!”
To ensure Zhuang Zhuang and Xiao Mai were full, Lu Liu and Yao Furlong looked away.
After feeding, it was lunchtime. Yao Furlong carried the child back; Da Qiang returned home. Lifeng invited Lu Liu inside to see the babies.
At lunch, Lu Liu finally rested. His mother told him not to sit too long, to lie down more. He obeyed, sitting only while eating. Soft foods were served—porridge-like noodles, easy to digest.
Lu Liu ate everything, drank some broth, and his complexion improved day by day.
In the afternoon, idle, he absentmindedly tried to express milk. There was little, just a few drops.
Lifeng saw him, and he felt embarrassed, stammering an explanation.
This little milk was enough for a man, not a child. After Lifeng drank it, Lu Liu didn’t dare try again.
By mid-December, Wang Dongmei gave birth.
The new village reported the news; Chen Guizhi went to help.
Lifeng noticed the Er Tian household was empty, so Shun brother went with her.
Hearing the news, Lu Liu felt uneasy.
That year, Er Tian’s house had been lifeless; he didn’t know how Wang Dongmei was faring.
In such a household, having a daughter or son meant suffering—the couple wouldn’t care for the child. He wondered what Wang Dongmei would give birth to.
Lifeng rubbed his brow: “Why worry so much?”
Lu Liu’s heart was soft: “Poor thing—I wonder if her family will even visit.”
Lifeng shook his head: “No. The Wang family, like the Chen family, only come when it benefits them. Er Tian split from the family, no money or grain. After the past quarrel, both families were at odds. This year, no holiday gifts, no visits. For childbirth, even if you report it, the Wang family will drive people away, claiming they have no money.”
