Qin Wen was brought back home from the academy by Qin Zhan.
The two brothers walked through the courtyard gate one after the other. Qin Wen wore a pale, washed-out blue cloth gown and carried an old book chest. Tall and thin with refined facial features, he looked completely different from the rugged and fierce Qin Zhan.
He took after Zhang Guilan; his features were more delicate, and his skin was fairer, making him look like someone destined for scholarship at first glance.
“Mother!” Qin Wen called out the moment he stepped inside, his voice still carrying the crisp clarity of youth.
Zhang Guilan turned away from the stove, her face breaking into a wide smile at the sight of her second son. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried over and gave him a hearty smack on the shoulder.
“Look who finally knows how to come home! You’ve spent a few days reading at the academy and you’ve lost a whole circle of weight! Did you skip meals again?”
Qin Wen smiled and ducked away. “Mother, I’ve been eating properly. The food at the academy is good; it’s just your old self thinking I’ve lost weight.”
“Good my foot!” Zhang Guilan didn’t spare him any sharp words, but her hands had already scooped up a bowl of steaming meatball soup and shoved it into his hands. “Drink it up quickly and warm your stomach. It’s freezing out, and you’re dressed so thin—are you trying to freeze to death just to show your mother?”
Qin Wen took the bowl, took a sip, and his eyes lit up. “Mother’s fried meatballs are still the best.”
“Save the flattery,” Zhang Guilan gave him a sideways glance, though the corners of her mouth were turned way up. “Come over here and meet your sister-in-law.”
Qin Wen had already noticed the unfamiliar woman sitting by the stove. He had left in such a hurry that day he hadn’t had a chance to greet her properly. Putting the bowl down, he straightened his robes, walked over with proper deportment, and bowed formally.
“Hello, Sister-in-law. I am Qin Wen.”
Liu Yu’er sat on her stool, looking up at the youth bowing to her, feeling completely at a loss. She didn’t know how to respond, so she just nodded hurriedly, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum: “H-hello.”
Qin Wen froze for a second, glanced at her, and quickly pulled his gaze back, turning to Zhang Guilan with words hanging on his lips.
Knowing what he wanted to ask, Zhang Guilan patted his shoulder. “Your sister-in-law is shy; don’t scare her. Go on, put your book chest away and help your older brother chop firewood.”
Qin Wen uttered an “oh,” stole one more glance at Liu Yu’er, and turned to head inside.
Once he had put his book chest away and found Qin Zhan in the courtyard, he lowered his voice. “Brother, is Sister-in-law… she…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but his meaning was crystal clear.
The axe in Qin Zhan’s hands paused for a moment before he brought it down again. With a sharp crack, the piece of firewood split cleanly in two.
“She hit her head when she was little, and her brain was injured,” Qin Zhan said in a flat tone, as if stating something entirely ordinary. “It can be cured.”
Qin Wen fell silent for a moment before asking again, “Then did you marry her because you pitied her?”
Qin Zhan’s axe stopped completely.
He straightened his back and looked at his younger brother. His eyes, weathered by the wind and frost of the mountains, were exceptionally calm at that moment, yet intensely serious.
“No,” he said. “When she begged me to buy her, I looked at her. After that single look, I never considered anyone else.”
Qin Wen was stunned.
He had never heard his older brother speak in such a tone—with the kind of absolute honesty that felt like laying one’s heart bare for others to see.
He asked no more questions.
By evening, Qin Xiulan and Zhou Dahuang arrived as well.
Zhou Dahuang was driving a donkey cart loaded to the brim with New Year goods: half a side of pork, two fish, a basket of radishes and cabbages, several catties of brown sugar, a bolt of cyan cotton cloth, and a jar of mellow yellow wine fetched from town.
“Mother!” Qin Xiulan called out before she even crossed the threshold. “I brought you New Year goods! Dazhuang, carry the things inside!”
Zhou Dahuang grinned good-naturedly, hauling the items in trip after trip, sweating profusely, while continuously muttering, “Not heavy at all, what’s a little bit of stuff like this?”
When Zhang Guilan came out and took a look, her eyes widened into circles. “Did you move half a butcher shop into town? Zhou Dahuang, are you out of your mind living your life?”
Zhou Dahuang scratched his head. “Mother, it’s the New Year, gotta eat well.”
“Eating well doesn’t mean wasting money like this!” Zhang Guilan scolded verbally, though her hands nimbly took the meat and sorted it into categories. “Xiulan, can’t you manage your man? Spending money like water—are you two going to drink northwest wind after the New Year?”
Qin Xiulan grinned and linked her arm through Zhang Guilan’s. “Mother, Dazhuang cares about you, just accept it. Besides, we have an extra person in the family this year, shouldn’t we stock up a bit more?”
As she spoke, her gaze fell upon Liu Yu’er, who was helping move things in the courtyard.
Liu Yu’er was wearing a brand-new cotton-padded jacket, clumsily holding a head of cabbage and carefully making her way toward the kitchen. Her steps were agonizingly slow, as if she were afraid of squashing an ant.
Qin Xiulan walked over, took the cabbage from her hands, and said with a smile, “Sister-in-law, leave these heavy chores to the men. You go rest.”
When Liu Yu’er looked up and saw Qin Xiulan, she recognized her as the sister who had put food in her bowl yesterday, so she obediently nodded, standing aside while nervously twisting the corner of her shirt.
Seeing her timid expression, Qin Xiulan’s heart melted into a puddle. She pulled Liu Yu’er’s hand into the main room and fished a pair of small silver earrings out of her bundle, thrusting them into her palms.
“For you, to wear for the New Year.”
Liu Yu’er looked down at the tiny pair of silver earrings in her palm, decorated with delicate silver-threaded tassels that sparkled under the light. She had never seen anything so pretty in her life. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly, like a baby bird discovering something wondrous.
“Th-thank you,” she said softly, a slight tremble in her voice.
Qin Xiulan smiled. “What’s there to thank me for? You’re my sister-in-law, which means we’re family.”
On New Year’s Eve, two oil lamps were lit in the main room of the Qin household, casting a bright, warm glow across the entire space.
The Kang table was laden with dishes: braised pork, stewed pig’s trotters, steamed fish, fried meatballs, stir-fried cabbage in vinegar, dried vegetable and tofu soup, and a plate of plump, neat-looking dumplings hand-wrapped by Zhang Guilan.
Qin’s father sat on the Kang with a small cup of yellow rice wine before him, a rare smile on his face. In poor health, he usually abstained from alcohol, but on New Year’s Eve, he always took a small sip to mark the occasion.
Sitting beside him, Zhang Guilan picked food for him while nagging, “Eat less greasy food—your stomach isn’t up for it. Eat more fish; fish is easy to digest.”
Qin’s father nodded with a smile, though his chopsticks quietly drifted toward the braised pork.
Quick as lightning, Zhang Guilan smacked his hand away with her chopsticks. “I told you no!”
Qin’s father self-consciously pulled his hand back, looking like a child caught doing something wrong.
Qin Xiaoman sat at the very edge of the table, his chopsticks moving at lightning speed as he targeted only the meat, his cheeks puffed out like a little frog. Qin Wen sat beside him, occasionally putting food in his bowl and murmuring, “Slow down, nobody’s going to steal it from you.”
Qin Xiulan sat next to Zhou Dazhuang, who grinned good-naturedly and kept piling food onto her plate until it looked like a small mountain.
“Eat your own food!” Qin Xiulan shot him a glare.
“You eat first, you eat first,” Zhou Dazhuang chuckled foolishly.
Qin Zhan sat beside Liu Yu’er.
He didn’t put any food on Liu Yu’er’s plate; knowing she was still afraid of him, he figured being overly attentive would only make her more nervous. Instead, he simply nudged the plate of braised pork closer to her side and continued eating on his own, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
Liu Yu’er looked down at the plate that had been pushed toward her. After a moment of hesitation, she reached out with her chopsticks, picked up the smallest piece, and popped it quickly into her mouth.
The pork was stewed until tender and soft, melting on the tongue as the savory, fragrant flavor burst across her taste buds.
Her eyes lit up.
Then she picked up another piece—this one a bit larger.
Then another.
She ate with intense focus, taking tiny bites and chewing each one thoroughly for a long time, as if carefully savoring this rare delicacy. As she ate, she suddenly froze, her chopsticks hovering in mid-air as she stared intently at the meat remaining on the plate.
“What’s wrong?” Qin Zhan asked.
Liu Yu’er raised her head, looked at him, and asked in a tiny voice, “Can… can my younger brother get to eat meat too?”
The dining table fell quiet for a fleeting second.
Qin Zhan’s chopsticks paused.
Zhang Guilan put down her chopsticks, reached out, and gently stroked Liu Yu’er’s head. “He can. Tomorrow, when you go back to see him, you can bring him lots and lots of meat, alright?”
Liu Yu’er nodded and lowered her head to resume eating. But as she chewed, tears began to fall, landing in her bowl and mixing with the rice.
She didn’t make a sound, just quietly eating until every single grain of rice was gone.
Qin Zhan sat beside her in silence for a long time. Then he reached out and, gently and clumsily, patted her on the back.