The sky was just turning pale, and Qin Zhan was already awake.
This was a habit formed from years of hunting; regardless of winter or summer, he rose with the dawn. But today was somewhat different—the very first thing he did upon opening his eyes was to tilt his head and look toward the other side of the kang.
Liu Yu’er was curled up inside the quilt, with only half her face exposed. In her sleep, her brow was relaxed, her little mouth parted slightly, and her breathing was light and even. Traces of last night’s tears still lingered on her face, with thin frost formed by dried microscopic teardrops lingering on her eyelashes.
Her hand reached out from beneath the quilt, clutching the malt candy from yesterday. Wrapped in the warmth of her hand all night, the candy had already melted.
He got up on tiptoe, threw on an outer garment, and walked over to the stove. The fire in the stove had been banked last night, and at this moment only dark red embers remained.
He added a handful of dry firewood, blew on it a few times, and the flames leaped up, gradually bringing warmth to the room.
Once the water was boiling, he dug a piece of cured pork out of the cupboard, sliced it very thin, and tossed a handful of dried vegetables into the pot to boil along with it.
The fat of the cured pork floated to the surface, mixing with the refreshing fragrance of the dried vegetables, and quickly filled the entire room.
Liu Yu’er was coaxed awake by the aroma.
She opened her eyes in a daze, not knowing where she was for a moment. This room was so unfamiliar; there was no damp, moldy smell like the cattle shed, nor the faint body heat of her younger brother curled up beside her. Instead, it was warm, dry, and carried the aroma of meat that made her stomach rumble.
Then she saw Qin Zhan.
He was squatting in front of the stove with his back to her, stirring the contents of the pot with a pair of huge wooden chopsticks. The firelight reflected onto his broad back, casting a warm glow over his grayish-brown leather vest.
The memories of last night rushed back like a tide.
Yu’er shrank back into the quilt in a panic, leaving only a pair of eyes exposed as she timidly stared at that tall back.
Qin Zhan seemed to sense her gaze and turned his head.
Their eyes met.
Yu’er immediately pulled her eyes back into the quilt too, curling her whole body into a ball.
Qin Zhan’s mouth moved slightly, but he said nothing, only standing up to dish out a bowl of porridge. To call it porridge was a stretch; it was so thick it was almost like solid rice, with cured pork and dried vegetables mixed throughout, glistening with oil and steaming with heat.
He walked over to the edge of the kang and placed the bowl on the rim.
“Eat.”
The quilt-ball didn’t move at all.
Qin Zhan waited for a moment, then spoke again, his voice softer than before: “Eat up, and I’ll take you down the mountain to meet my parents.”
The quilt-ball moved slightly.
After a long while, half a face poked out from the edge of the quilt, revealing two red, round, wide-open eyes that looked at him cautiously.
“M-meet… meet parents?” Her voice was thin and hoarse, carrying the sleep-addled confusion and timidity.
“Mmhmm.” Qin Zhan pushed the bowl a bit closer to her side. “Eat first.”
Yu’er slowly sat up. Her hair was as messy as a bird’s nest, and her face still bore red impressions from the bedding. She looked down and spotted the cured pork in the bowl, her eyes lighting up for a brief second before dimming again as she looked timidly at Qin Zhan.
“I… am I allowed to eat this?”
Watching those cautious eyes of hers, somewhere in Qin Zhan’s heart twitched again.
“I dished it out for you, so it’s yours,” he said. After a moment of thought, he added another sentence: “From now on, you eat first when it’s time for meals at home.”
Yu’er didn’t quite understand the weight of these words, but she felt that the man’s voice today didn’t seem as fierce as last night. She picked up the bowl and began to eat in small, dainty bites.
The cured pork was so fragrant. She couldn’t even remember when the last time she had eaten meat was.
As she ate, she suddenly reached out, looking regretfully at the palm of her hand—the candy was gone… Liu Yu’er pouted, wanting to cry!
“I… I wanted to save it for my little brother…”
Qin Zhan hurriedly fetched a packet of malt candy for her, and then used a warm towel to wipe her face and hands.
She stared at the malt candy for a long while, then carefully, piece by piece, counted them out, wrapped them up, and shoved them back into her tunic.
Watching this scene, Qin Zhan frowned slightly.
“Why aren’t you eating the candy?”
Yu’er raised her head and said earnestly, “For little brother.”
She paused for a moment, then added, a rare touch of childish pride in her tone: “Little brother has never eaten candy before.”
After Yu’er finished her meal, Qin Zhan had her change out of the gray cloth cotton-padded outfit and fished out a new cotton-padded jacket from the cupboard that his mother had made for him last year, which he hadn’t yet had time to wear—indigo-blue, with thick fabric and fine, dense stitching.
It was too big.
Once Yu’er put it on, she looked like she had been slipped inside a large cloth sack. The sleeves dangled down and swayed about, and the hem reached almost to her knees. She blankly looked down at herself in this comical state, then looked up at Qin Zhan, not knowing what to do.
Qin Zhan watched her for a moment, then suddenly reached out, rolling her overly long sleeves up several folds to reveal her slender, fair wrists.
He then found a cloth belt, tied it around her waist, and gathered the excess fabric in.
After tidying her up like this, though it was still loose, she at least didn’t look quite so bedraggled. The oversized cotton jacket instead made her look even more slender and petite, resembling a tiny seedling wrapped inside large leaves.
Qin Zhan stepped back two steps to look her over, seeming to think she was barely presentable now, and nodded.
“Let’s go.”
Liu Yu’er obediently followed behind him and stepped out the door.
The morning in the mountains was as cold as a knife cutting into one’s face. The moment she stepped outside, Yu’er choked on the frigid wind and shuddered, instinctively shrinking her neck in.
Qin Zhan walked in front with a large stride. After taking a few steps and realizing there were no footsteps behind him, he stopped and turned back to look at her.
She was standing at the doorway, shoulders hunched, looking blankly at the snow-white mountain forest all around, like a rabbit thrown into an unfamiliar wilderness.
Qin Zhan walked back, paused for a moment, and suddenly unfastened his own scarf, clumsily wrapping it around her neck. The scarf still carried his body heat, the coarse wool scratching her chin, but it was very warm.
“Keep up,” he said, turning around to resume walking, though his pace was much slower than before.
Yu’er touched the scarf around her neck and hurried along after him with small steps.
Walking from the mountains to the village where Qin Zhan’s parents lived took a little under an hour.
Along the way, Qin Zhan didn’t speak much, and Yu’er didn’t dare speak either, just following along in silence.
The mountain road was rugged, and ice had formed in some places. Her foot slipped, and she nearly fell, instinctively reaching out to grab the back of Qin Zhan’s coat.
Qin Zhan stopped.
Frightened, Yu’er let go immediately and lowered her head, thinking he was going to be angry.
Qin Zhan only glanced at her, then reached out and took her small, cold hand in his. His palm was broad and rough, completely enclosing her hand like a sturdy, warm stove.
“The road is slippery,” he explained briefly, before holding her hand and continuing forward.
Yu’er looked down at their intertwined hands. His fingers were locked with hers, with just enough pressure to be steady, making her feel as though no matter how slippery the road was, she wouldn’t fall anymore.
She didn’t pull away, nor did she speak; she just obediently followed his pace, step by step, stepping right into the footprints he had left behind.
By the time they reached the entrance of the village, the sun was already three poles high.