The next morning, before dawn, Bai Lan vaguely heard the servants muttering under the eaves that it had snowed.
He had stayed up late the previous night and was still groggy, but hearing that, he climbed out of bed.
He wrapped himself in a thick winter coat hanging on the rack and opened a crack in the Tianmendong door to peek outside.
The piercing wind blew straight through the narrow opening, and Bai Lan shivered, pulling his coat tighter.
“It really has snowed,” he whispered.
Breath pluming in the cold air, the courtyard was already lit with most of the lanterns, lighting the paths for the servants preparing for the master’s wake-up. The estate was quiet enough not to disturb anyone yet orderly in its activity.
Even so, the servants and maids stole moments to admire the snowy scene.
They were happy for the first snow but lamented the added chore of sweeping the snow and breaking icicles from the eaves.
Bai Lan watched the courtyard, now white under the snow. The lantern light cast a warm glow over the scene, softening the chill.
He rubbed his hands together and covered his face with them, standing in the corridor for a while before hurrying back inside.
Though it was early, he had no intention of sleeping longer. He quickly changed, grabbed his collecting jars, and headed out again.
The matriarch’s health was now fully under his care. He had been using the snow he had collected in previous years as a medicinal medium. Recently, he had used up the last of the stock he had brought from home. Now, with the first snow falling, it was the perfect time to gather fresh snow.
After the winter solstice, the third day is traditionally considered the start of “La,” the period for curing medicine with snow. The best snow must fall before La. With winter already set in, the first snow was the ideal opportunity.
Snow wasn’t only for medicine; it was also excellent for tea. Bai Lan could not afford to oversleep and miss collecting it.
He headed straight to the garden. At this hour, no one else was there, allowing him to gather the purest snow in peace.
When Ning Muyan finally rose, the day had already brightened—he rarely slept in so late.
Qing Mo, seeing that he hadn’t stirred, had not called him but had instead added two more layers of bed curtains to block out the morning light.
As Ning Muyan lifted the drapes and stepped down from the bed, he noticed the charcoal stove burning warmly and the room unusually bright.
He pushed open the window and saw that it had indeed snowed.
Ning Muyan stared for a moment, lost in thought. He wondered whether to make a round of the shops today or handle letters from scholars and literati seeking advice, when the soft crunch of footsteps in the snow broke his train of thought.
The sound came from the plum garden. Ning Muyan turned and saw a hunched figure holding a clay jar, standing on tiptoe to scoop the snow from blooming red plum blossoms.
The garden’s snow was untouched, reaching halfway up his foot with each step. From a distance, Ning Muyan saw Bai Lan wearing a fluffy little round hat and a cerulean cloak. In the snow, he looked like a short pine tree.
Ning Muyan watched silently from the window for a while. Seeing Bai Lan shiver in the cold, he hurriedly dressed and went outside.
“Up so early in this cold, and still running about in the snow.”
Bai Lan’s hands were already red from the cold. Ning Muyan appeared with a rabbit-fur scarf and wrapped it around Bai Lan’s neck. “Young Master is up?”
Ning Muyan said nothing. He handed the warming stove to Bai Lan and took the clay jar from him, then helped scoop the snow from the plum blossoms.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
“Thanks to you,” Bai Lan replied, clutching the warm stove.
“Then tonight I’ll light another coil of calming incense for you.”
Ning Muyan glanced at him but said nothing. Bai Lan smiled softly.
“What are you collecting this snow for?”
Bai Lan tucked the stove under his arm and continued gathering snow. “The matriarch’s medicinal medium requires winter snow. We nearly used up the last batch when preparing medicine recently. I need to collect more while it snows. This snow is particular—it must be collected before sunrise.”
Ning Muyan noticed Bai Lan’s reddened nose and his occasional sniffles, realizing he had been at it for at least an hour.
Looking down, he saw Bai Lan’s shoes already wet from trampled snow. “Go change your clothes and shoes. I’ll take over.”
Bai Lan shook his head, not out of distrust, but because he liked doing these tasks himself.
“I won’t change. The sun is about to rise; I need to collect as much as I can. If the matriarch sees how hard I work to gather snow for her, she’ll like me even more.”
Ning Muyan chuckled. “You sure know how to win people over.”
Together, they gathered the snow, starting with plum-scented snow and then moving to the bamboo grove. Snow on flowers and grass was easier to collect, but the free-falling snow from the sky—rootless snow—was more scarce. By sunrise, the jar Bai Lan had set in the courtyard was only an inch deep, and it would shrink further once melted. He sighed at this year’s meager first snow harvest.
“Let’s go inside to warm up,” Ning Muyan said.
After spending a short incense-burning’s time in the garden together, their cloaks had collected a dusting of snow. Bai Lan, carrying the jars, said, “I’ll go to Tianmendong.”
“I’ll warm up in Tianmendong as well.”
“….”
Bai Lan led Ning Muyan inside. Sanling had just added charcoal to the stove, making the room immediately cozy despite being smaller than Ning Muyan’s quarters.
Ning Muyan handed over his cloak to Sanling and watched as Bai Lan placed the jars on the medicine table, not immediately warming up himself, clearly intent on handling the snow.
“What’s next?” Ning Muyan asked.
Bai Lan covered the jars with lids, sealing them with oiled paper. “This snow must be buried in the ground over winter, or its medicinal potency will weaken.”
Seeing Bai Lan about to bury the jars anonymously, and recalling their previous misunderstanding, Ning Muyan wrote labels on the oiled paper to mark the snow clearly.
Bai Lan had wanted to argue that even buried, the jars could still be tampered with by insects, so he had used jars of different colors and shapes for distinction, recording the details in his medicine log. Yet he stayed silent, letting Ning Muyan affix the labels.
Afterward, the two carried two jars each to the back courtyard of Tianmendong. Once a desolate space, the yard was now dominated by medicinal herbs. Bai Lan chose a spot beneath an existing pear tree to bury the winter snow.
Sanling handed Bai Lan a small hoe from the tool shed, but Ning Muyan took it. “Sanling, go buy some roasted chestnuts from the street and bring them back.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Bai Lan placed his hands on his hips. “You stole my hoe and sent my helper away. Just sending them away is one thing, but giving them a task too—Young Master, you really are domineering.”
Ning Muyan shoveled the weeds beneath the pear tree. “I just don’t want others to see me digging.”
“Even if you are the remarkable Young Master, no one would think it shameful for you to dig. Besides, I didn’t ask you to dig.”
“Are you being sincere?” Ning Muyan asked. “In your studies, I teach you the Six Arts, give and take. You should teach me the principles of herb cultivation too.”
Bai Lan leaned against the pear tree, raising an eyebrow. “Hmm~ I’m officially a physician now. You’re an accomplished scholar. Being teachers to each other seems quite fitting.”
Ning Muyan’s brows tightened slightly, but he smiled. “Then let’s begin.”
Meanwhile, Ning Zhengyu ran into Tianmendong carrying a warming stove. Today was the first snow, and he had heard a new roasted meat shop had opened on Zhuque Street, famous for its venison. He wanted to try it.
However, there had been no prior invitation, and by this hour, his mother had already gone out with city ladies to admire the snow, while his classmates and friends likely went out together early as well.
Since he would be going out alone, Ning Zhengyu’s spirits were somewhat flat. Thinking of Bai Lan’s insatiable appetite, he decided to bring him along.
Bai Lan not only ate a lot but also seemed to have a better appetite when dining with someone else.
When they arrived at Tianmendong, nobody was in sight—not even Sanling. Ning Zhengyu hurried toward the back courtyard and, from a distance, spotted the two figures beneath the pear tree, now silver-coated with snow. He quickened his pace.
He clenched his teeth. What kind of spell had Bai Lan put him under that his elder brother was digging the earth!
“You dig like this, Young Master, and back in our village, you’d never be able to win a bride with such skills,” he teased.
Ning Muyan, holding the hoe, raised an eyebrow. “Is it really that bad?”
“Indeed.” Bai Lan grinned. “You once said my handwriting was like a chick scratching at the ground—now look at your face, all dirtied.”
Ning Muyan wiped his face but missed some spots. Bai Lan sighed and plucked the remaining soil off for him.
From afar, Ning Zhengyu’s eyes widened: the incorrigible fellow was still getting handsy with his elder brother, truly never letting a moment pass unobserved.
“Ahem! It’s snowing and even colder today. Take some medicine for your cough!”
Hearing the voice, Bai Lan hastily withdrew his hands behind his back. Ning Muyan frowned and looked up at Ning Zhengyu running in.
“Ah, Brother is here too?” Ning Zhengyu strode over. “Why are you digging soil?”
With a hint of displeasure, Ning Muyan replied, “Grandmother’s medicinal medium requires winter snow. I collected some to bury in the ground to preserve its potency.”
He’d even gathered snow together! Ning Zhengyu silently scowled at Bai Lan.
Bai Lan understood his meaning at a glance. “Second Young Master needs cough medicine? I’ll go fetch it.”
“Not in a hurry. I’ll stay in Brother’s garden a bit longer before heading back.”
“Alright then.”
Bai Lan entered the house, cleaned his hands, and warmed them by the stove. Ning Muyan, noticing this, glanced at Ning Zhengyu, then tossed him the hoe. “Go put it in the shed.”
Ning Zhengyu, unaware of Ning Muyan’s displeasure, happily took the hoe, thinking the elder brother was being even closer, willing to call him to do chores. “Alright, Brother, let’s play chess later.”
Ning Muyan didn’t respond and went inside.
“Qing Mo, bring the chessboard over.”
“Yes.”
Bai Lan squatted nearby, eating a snow pear. “Are you playing chess here?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. The whole garden is the Young Master’s.”
After Ning Zhengyu arrived, the two brothers sat cross-legged at the low table by the window to play. Bai Lan, ever hospitable, served each a bowl of steaming pear and ginger soup to ward off the morning chill from collecting snow.
Before long, Sanling returned with steaming roasted chestnuts. Bai Lan’s excitement grew; he sat by the stove, shelling chestnuts into a bowl while occasionally glancing at the chessboard—a snowy morning’s simple pleasure.
The close attendants wisely did not disturb them.
“Today, whoever wins this game of chess gets the freshly shelled chestnuts as a prize.”
Ning Muyan looked at Bai Lan’s delicate hands shelling the nuts, silent but determined.
Ning Zhengyu gritted his teeth, scheming to trick his elder brother—those chestnuts had to end up in his mouth today.
Bai Lan didn’t follow the chess moves closely but noticed the two playing more vigorously than usual.
“Young Master, the Bian family sent an invitation.”
Bai Lan paused, holding a white chess piece, ignoring the message for a moment.
“What is it?”
“It’s for a gathering of the city’s literati and scholars.”
Ning Muyan remained expressionless, but inwardly he scoffed—such a public affair seemed more like a royal selection of brides.
“I’ll say I’m feeling under the weather and cannot attend. In the future, there’s no need to respond to the Bian family’s invitations.”
Qing Mo acknowledged and withdrew.
Ning Zhengyu tilted his head. “Brother doesn’t like the Bian family?”
“It’s your turn to move.”
“Oh, oh!”
Throughout, Bai Lan remained silent. Watching Ning Muyan handle the matter, he pressed his lips together and shelled a few more chestnuts, his spirits quietly lifted.