“We should pay someone a visit.”
Chen Zui’s words made Chen Laosan pause for a moment. Then understanding dawned on him.
He had spent half his life being a coward in the village. It wasn’t that he had never understood the ways of people and society—he had simply been so poor that even his self-respect had been worn away.
Now his pockets held money, and his daughter was far sharper than he had ever imagined. It was time for him to learn to stand up straight and face the world.
Chen Laosan found an old bamboo basket and lined the bottom with dry straw. He carefully placed more than a dozen still-warm lard-crackling cakes inside and covered them with a clean piece of blue homespun cloth.
The two pairs of knee warmers that Second Sister had made were tucked carefully into one corner of the basket.
“Come on, Little Six,” he said.
Wearing her newly made patchwork cotton jacket—the one deliberately covered with patches on the outside—Chen Zui slipped her small hand into her father’s rough, calloused one.
The wind cut across their faces like knives.
Father and daughter trudged through the cold, one step deep and one step shallow in the frozen ground, toward the eastern end of the village.
Village Head Chen Fuhai’s home was one of the few brick-and-tile houses in the village. Its tall courtyard walls gave off an air of authority.
Before they even reached the gate, they heard chickens being fed inside.
“Cluck, cluck, cluck! Eat! All you know how to do is eat! Just like those poor wretches—once there’s no food left, all you do is squawk!”
It was the voice of Liu Shi, the village head’s wife.
Though she seemed to be scolding chickens, there was obvious frustration in her voice over the hard times and poor harvest.
Chen Laosan stopped in front of the gate.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
The timidity that had been carved into his bones resurfaced. He lifted his hand to knock, only to let it hover awkwardly in the air before glancing back at his daughter.
Chen Zui squeezed his palm.
Her eyes were unwavering.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Steeling himself, Chen Laosan finally rapped on the wooden gate.
“Who is it? In weather like this?”
Liu Shi’s impatient voice came from inside, followed by the sound of a bolt being drawn.
The wooden gate creaked open.
Liu Shi poked half her body through the gap, still holding a winnowing basket smeared with chicken droppings.
The moment she saw Chen Laosan standing outside, the man who had recently been cast out of the family with nothing, her already sour expression darkened further.
“Oh, it’s Third Son.”
She didn’t open the gate fully. Instead, she positioned herself in the doorway, subtly blocking the entrance while giving the father and daughter a wary look.
“Fuhai is taking a nap. There’s no surplus grain in the house either. The harvest was poor this year. If you’re here to borrow rice…”
That was human nature.
Before Chen Laosan could even speak, she had already built a wall in her mind.
To her, the Third Branch was now a bottomless pit. Anyone who got involved would only invite trouble.
Chen Laosan’s face reddened.
“Auntie, no… I’m not here to borrow grain…”
“Hello, Grandma Liu.”
Chen Zui poked her little head out from behind her father.
Her tiny face was rosy from the cold wind, and her eyes curved into crescents as she smiled sweetly.
She wasn’t empty-handed.
Lifting the battered basket slightly, she pulled back one corner of the blue cloth.
Whoosh—
A rich, domineering aroma of oil and meat drifted through the crack in the gate like a hook, straight into Liu Shi’s nose.
Her scolding stopped instantly.
She sniffed.
Then her gaze dropped involuntarily into the basket.
Golden-brown crispy crusts.
Visible bits of cracklings.
Steam still rising from the cakes.
These days, who could afford to use that much oil?
“This…”
Without realizing it, Liu Shi shifted aside and opened the doorway wider.
She swallowed.
“What’s this?”
“Auntie,” Chen Laosan said quickly, seizing the opportunity. “When the family split up recently, Uncle Fuhai was the one who upheld fairness for us. We don’t have anything valuable, but my eldest daughter made some lard-crackling cakes. We thought we’d bring some for you and Uncle to try. They’ll warm you up.”
Liu Shi accepted the basket.
It felt surprisingly heavy.
The warmth seeped through the handle into her hands, melting away half the wall she had built in her heart.
They weren’t here to borrow food?
They were bringing gifts?
“Oh dear, look at me!”
The gloom vanished from her face, replaced by an embarrassed but enthusiastic smile.
“Quick, come inside! It’s freezing out here. Don’t let the child catch a chill!”
Inside the main room, Village Head Chen Fuhai was sitting cross-legged on the kang, smoking his pipe.
He looked surprised to see Chen Laosan.
“Uncle Fuhai.”
Chen Laosan greeted him respectfully and pulled out the two pairs of knee warmers.
“Second Girl made these from fabric scraps. They’re stuffed with fresh cotton. I heard your knees ache whenever the weather turns damp, so these should help keep out the cold.”
Chen Fuhai set down his pipe and accepted them.
The knee warmers were exquisitely made.
The stitching was dense and even, and they had even been shaped to follow the natural curve of the knee.
He slipped them on.
The thick warmth wrapped around his joints immediately, bringing noticeable relief to his old aches.
“You’ve put thought into this, Laosan. You really have.”
Patting his knee, Chen Fuhai looked at him differently.
He had always thought Chen Laosan was like a gourd with its mouth sawed shut—silent and useless.
Who would have guessed that after splitting from the family, the man would become so considerate?
The gifts weren’t expensive, but they were thoughtful.
And those lard-crackling cakes…
One glance was enough to tell they had spared no expense.
“Uncle.”
Chen Zui stood obediently beside the kang with her hands folded neatly before her.
Her voice was bright and clear.
“My father said that although we’ve split off and now live in a broken house on barren land, our family has healthy hands and feet. Even if we have to dig wild vegetables or sell our labor, we’ll never become a burden to you or the village.”
The speech was beautifully delivered.
It established their position—they wouldn’t become freeloaders.
At the same time, it subtly highlighted their hardships.
And it gave the village head a compliment.
Chen Fuhai felt extremely pleased.
As a village leader, what he feared most were shameless households that constantly caused trouble.
The Third Branch not only avoided being a burden but even remembered favors and repaid kindness.
He picked up a lard-crackling cake and took a bite.
Crunch.
The pastry shattered into flakes.
The rich fragrance filled his mouth.
“Good! That’s the spirit!”
He devoured the cake in a few bites and wiped the grease from his mouth.
A glimmer of approval flashed through his shrewd old eyes.
Looking at the nervous Chen Laosan, he tapped his pipe against the edge of the kang and spoke gravely.
“Laosan, now that you’ve split from the family, focus on living your life well. From now on, as long as you conduct yourselves honestly and uprightly, if anyone dares pick on you because you have no son, or because you’re a household of women and an orphaned child…”
He snorted and cast a meaningful glance in the direction of the old family residence.
“I’m still the village head. I’m not just here for decoration.”
That was a promise.
A clear one.
It was also a sword placed into the Third Branch’s hands.
From now on, whether it was the old family or any village hooligans, anyone thinking of causing trouble for them would first have to consider Chen Fuhai’s authority.
“Thank you, Uncle! Thank you!”
Chen Laosan rubbed his hands excitedly.
His eyes had already reddened.
When they left, Liu Shi personally escorted them all the way to the gate.
She even stuffed a handful of roasted melon seeds into Chen Zui’s pocket.
“Come visit again sometime!”
Her smile stretched from ear to ear.
As they walked home, the wind was still bitterly cold.
But Chen Laosan felt warm inside.
“Little Six, did Grandpa Fuhai really agree to look after us?”
Even now, he found it hard to believe.
“He did.”
Cracking open a melon seed, Chen Zui spat out the shell and smiled slyly.
“He’s eaten our food, so he’ll speak kindly of us. He’s accepted our knee warmers, so his legs are warm because of us. Our family has officially put down roots in this village.”
Chen Laosan let out a long breath.
Looking toward the endless mountains in the distance, the road ahead suddenly seemed much broader.
“Father, our roots are down now,” Chen Zui said, tossing another seed shell aside and dusting off her hands. “But the weather’s getting colder every day. We only have enough firewood for a few more days. Those knee warmers used up all of Second Sister’s fabric scraps.”
“We need to go into the mountains.”
“The mountains?”
Chen Laosan blinked.
“That’s right. Deep into the mountains.”
Chen Zui pointed toward the dark forested slopes and narrowed her eyes.
“Picking up fallen branches won’t be enough. We need hardwood that burns slowly. And besides…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
There was plenty of meat stored in her mysterious space, but it needed a legitimate source.
And if Second Sister’s clothing business was going to succeed, fabric scraps alone wouldn’t be enough.
They needed good fur for collars.
That was how garments could fetch real money.
“Fine! I’ll do whatever you say! We’ll go tomorrow!”
Chen Laosan now trusted his daughter completely.
Neither father nor daughter realized, however, that in the depths of the winter mountains, it wasn’t only humans who were hungry.
There were also beasts with fangs.