Right now, the family business was busy, and Li Feng no longer had time to sell books. Fortunately, the snack shop was still running; otherwise, their two fathers would feel useless, thinking they could not help.
Lu Yang planned to set aside a shelf in the bookstore specifically for these illustrated booklets. Every bookstore had them—so his had to as well.
“I won’t take any of the money from sales,” he said. “Let’s do it this way—you provide the woodblocks, I provide the space. Whatever we sell will be their retirement money. This is something they can keep doing even when they’re very old—something steady, long-term.”
He hoped the elders would learn to enjoy life, though that would take time.
Lu Liu could make the decision. Woodblocks had once been extremely expensive for them—but now, not so much.
“I’ll have Dafeng and me buy the paper and ink too,” Lu Liu said.
Lu Yang did not argue. In these matters, Lu Liu and Li Feng were indeed more meticulous.
After living as neighbors for so long, the two of them knew every household’s supplies—rice, flour, oil, firewood, vegetables, eggs.
If someone was running out of rice or oil, or short on firewood, they would notice in advance and take care of it a day early, so no one had to rush out to buy things at the last minute.
Living with them, Lu Yang had even started to “slack off,” growing dependent on them.
Holding Lu Liu’s hand, Lu Yang pulled him along to get something tasty.
“They’re already selling rice cakes now—I want brown sugar rice cakes. Let’s go buy some. Don’t go to the shop this afternoon—stay with me and roast rice cakes. We’ll make extra so everyone can have some. Oh, and we’re low on sugar—we should buy a couple of jin of brown sugar. And I’ll get you two pieces of dragon beard candy.”
Since the shop was running smoothly, Lu Liu did not need to be there every day. After telling their mother, he could go out with his brother.
He slung a basket over his back so he could carry things later, leaving his hands free to link arms with Lu Yang.
Walking arm in arm, Lu Yang teased him deliberately. “Hey, Liu-ge’er, why didn’t you ask why I’m only buying you two pieces of dragon beard candy?”
Li Feng liked dragon beard candy, so Lu Yang always used it to tease him.
Lu Liu pretended not to understand. “One for you, one for me—we’ll finish them together!”
Lu Yang laughed. “Who are you fooling? Missing your husband that badly, huh? Who was the one crying because he missed his man? That would be our Liu-ge’er!”
Li Feng had been away longer than Xie Yan, and Lu Liu often waited by the door or outside the courtyard. Recently, he had grown more anxious, unconsciously stepping out to check again and again. When he had free time, he could stand there for ages, as if he could not feel the cold wind.
Lu Liu’s cheeks flushed red. “Living too close isn’t good—you can see everything I do.”
Lu Yang asked, “Do you know what I’ve been doing?”
Lu Liu did not.
“I’ll show you something,” Lu Yang said.
After buying rice cakes, brown sugar, and dragon beard candy, they went home, lit the stove, and set up the grill. Lu Liu sliced the rice cakes thinly. By the time he brought two plates over, Lu Yang had already taken out the mounted painting.
He showed it to Lu Liu and explained the meaning of the transparent head and chest.
“Now you know what I’ve been doing, right?”
Lu Liu lowered his head and sighed, then accused him, “Brother, how can you show off like this when I’m missing Dafeng!”
“I’m not showing off,” Lu Yang said. “Do you want one? I’ll have your brother-in-law draw one for you. When Dafeng comes back, show it to him—he’ll feel like he’s seeing your thoughts and your heart. It’ll charm him to death.”
Lu Liu wanted one—but worried it would interfere with Xie Yan’s studies.
Lu Yang had seen how quickly Xie Yan could draw. “He can finish it in no time—after he gets back in the evening, before dinner. Once it’s done, we’ll have my godfather mount it. No need to trouble him with that part.”
Lu Liu smiled sweetly. “Thank you, brother—I want one!”
Lu Yang patted his cheek. “With this painting, you can wait at home. Don’t keep standing outside in the wind—it makes me worry.”
Lu Liu nodded firmly. After a while, he said softly, “Brother, it’s a habit. Back in Lu Village, I was often home alone. Father and Dad were always working—there was endless work in the fields, and after that, they’d go gather wild vegetables, collect manure, catch pests. I was always alone. When it got close to the time they should come back, I’d stand at the door and look. If I didn’t see them, I’d go outside the yard. When I finally saw them in the distance, I’d start crying.”
After marrying Li Feng and moving to a completely unfamiliar place, the habit remained. If Li Feng said he would come home for dinner, Lu Liu would start looking forward to it early.
He would tidy up, cook according to the time, and once everything was ready, he would go outside to look. The moment he spotted him in the distance, he could not stop smiling.
“In Lu Village, I was mostly afraid,” he said. “Afraid someone would bully me. So when I saw them come back, I cried. Here, no one bullies me. When I see him come home, I feel at ease—and I smile.”
Lu Yang had grown closer to their clan back in Lu Village and had been helping them.
“Who bullied you?” he asked. “Tell me—I’ll stand up for you.”
Lu Liu shook his head. “No need. People in the village are just like that. I’ve already come to the prefectural city—why bother arguing with them?”
He picked up a piece of rice cake with his chopsticks. Thin slices roasted quickly, puffing up and splitting open to reveal the soft white inside. When the bottom turned golden, he placed them onto a plate.
The two of them roasted and ate, leaving some at the edge of the grill to keep warm. Once they had enough, they put them into small bowls, sprinkled brown sugar on top, and sent portions to each household.
Lu Liu insisted on going out to deliver them himself, telling Lu Yang to stay and make osmanthus tea.
Lu Yang clapped his hands and happily agreed.
He had a thoughtful younger brother. He took care of Lu Liu, and Lu Liu took care of him in return.
By November, the matchmakers had begun sending replies, and Shun-ge’er started meeting potential matches.
After listening to his mother, he had accepted that even after marriage, he could live separately. So during these meetings, he chose openly and confidently—like someone selecting a husband to marry into his family. Most men responded with polite refusals.
He did not ask for reasons. After all, he would not beg a man who had already rejected him to marry him.
No one in the family pressed the matter either. Li Feng had not returned yet, so Lu Liu and Chen Guizhi took turns accompanying him. Not only were there men who refused—there were many they themselves did not like.
But the matchmakers thought differently. They insisted on explaining—this concern, that concern—and in the end, it all came down to one thing: asking for more money.
It turned out that many of those refusals were staged in cooperation with the matchmakers, simply to raise the price.
That made them even less worth considering.
Before this, they had thought that men willing to marry into a family were rare. But during the process, they realized there were quite a few—mostly from poor families, struggling to get by.
Even so, most did not meet Shun-ge’er’s standards. Some were too old, some too thin and unhealthy-looking, some were idlers who had coasted through life on their parents’ support and now wanted to keep coasting through marriage.
After filtering them out, a few decent candidates remained.
They shared similar traits: honest and introverted, or timid and dull—easy to control, unlikely to cause trouble.
But they were too dull. Conversation never flowed. Even when Shun-ge’er tried to start topics, it quickly became awkward. Either they did not understand, could not respond, or answered haltingly.
Having grown up among bold and forthright men, Shun-ge’er felt deeply dissatisfied at the thought of marrying someone so meek.
Chen Guizhi had long said they should find someone clever, with a bit of good looks—for the sake of future children. So these candidates were ruled out as well.
Among those remaining, there was one who stood out.
He was tall, fair, the youngest in his family—pampered growing up, never having suffered much. He had even studied for two years. But after his parents passed away, his brothers could no longer support him, and he did not receive any inheritance. Now without a job and unable to afford marriage, he was considering marrying into a family.
He was fairly honest—answering what he could, admitting when he did not know. When the atmosphere grew awkward, he would try to start a conversation himself.
But he was nervous—so nervous that even Shun-ge’er could clearly see his unease.
