Outside, the snow piled up beyond the ankles, while inside, a warm kang stove was burning. Bahu was ordered to lie in bed and sweat. He had been lying there for two days. The fever had subsided, but there was still a wheezing sound in his chest, and he couldn’t stop coughing. The Yali honey brought back was barely consumed by him. Three meals a day were used to stew sugar pear water for him.
“Mi Niang—” the man called with a hoarse voice. He had been sleeping day and night, and his bones ached from lying down. “How are our cattle and sheep? Did any of them freeze to death?”
” Chaolu is taking care of them; you don’t need to worry,” Mi Niang replied, sitting in the kitchen, simmering herbal medicine. The bubbling sound in the clay pot gradually weakened. She padded a cloth to skim off the bitter soup, walked to the bed, and said, “It’s not too hot now; drink it quickly.”
“Hiss!” It was too bitter. Bahu grimaced after swallowing it in one gulp. “Actually, I think doing some work would help me recover faster.”
Mi Niang ignored him, took the bowl, and went out again.
“The snow on the roof hasn’t been cleared, right?” Bahu, having nothing better to say, wrapped himself in a thick wolf fur cloak, pulled on his shoes, and walked to the door. He opened the door, felt the biting wind, closed it again, and peeked outside through the gap. Being confined indoors was more uncomfortable for him than dragging himself in the snow. Yesterday, when Uncle Muren came to talk to him, Mìniáng drove him away. The problem was, that she didn’t let anyone talk to him, and when he tried to talk to her, she ignored him.
“Mi Niang, say a few words to me.” Hearing footsteps approaching, the man pressed against the door crack to look outside.
“Shut up, someone is coming.” Mi Niangng put on a felt raincoat and, stepping on the snow, crossed the small courtyard to open the door.
“Magistrate Hu, it’s you? Please come in quickly.” Mi Niang recognized the visitor, opened the door, and shouted inside, “Bahu, Magistrate Hu is here.”
“I heard he almost got stranded in the snow and didn’t come back. I came to check.” Magistrate Hu entered, saw the scattered wood in the courtyard, and inwardly marveled at how stubborn and foolish people could be. The man almost didn’t make it back, and the chopped trees were still lying around unattended.
“Who said I’m in bad shape? I’m perfectly fine,” Bahu finally stepped outside the threshold. He took a few deep breaths of cold air, and his mind became much clearer. “Sir, did you come to see me for this? I’m not in a serious condition, just a bit of cold sickness.”
“Well, you’re lucky. Four people still haven’t returned today. I don’t know if they froze to death in the mountains, becoming tiger food, or got lost and froze to death on the grasslands,” Magistrate Hu had no intention of entering a warm room. The two stood under the eaves, and he inquired about the situation in the mountains and whether Bahu had seen anyone on the way.
“Magistrate Hu, please come inside and have a seat. I heard from Bahu that you like drinking plain tea. I’ve brewed a pot. Have some warm tea and chat,” Mi Niang suggested, holding a small clay teapot. Without teacups, she brought out two coarse pottery bowls.
Magistrate Hu sniffed the scent of the tea wafting through the air and followed inside. “You can brew tea too?”
“I come from a tea-growing region. We have tea trees in the mountains in front of our house, and people in our hometown know how to brew tea from a young age,” Mi Niang explained as she poured two bowls of tea. Seeing Bahu about to pick up his cup, she slapped his hand away with a loud smack. The resounding slap brought a moment of silence to the room. Mi Niang realized Magistrate Hu was still there and awkwardly explained, “Bahu just took medicine; he shouldn’t drink tea.”
Magistrate Hu focused on sipping his tea, acting as if he hadn’t heard or seen anything.
Bahu’s face felt a bit warm as he rubbed his hands and asked, “How are the others who returned? I developed a fever the same night I came back, and the servant I brought with me is also sick.”
“Same as you, all suffering from frostbite,” Magistrate Hu shook his head. This year’s first snowfall was unusually heavy, leading to such incidents. The families of the four men who hadn’t returned came to the yamen, urging officials to go out and search. However, the snow had covered their tracks, making it impossible to find them.
After finishing the tea, Magistrate Hu set down his bowl and said, “I just came by to take a look. If you’re fine, I’ll be on my way.”
“I’ll see you off.”
As they walked out of the gate, Magistrate Hu turned around and pointed at the scattered wood in the courtyard, advising, “Bahu, now that you have a family and a home, with people caring about you, don’t act recklessly like you used to. You need to consider and choose. You’ve been fortunate this time coming back; unlike those four men who had bad luck. If they die, their families won’t even find their bodies.”
“Yeah, I understand,” Bahu glanced at Mi Niang and happened to catch her disdainful eye-roll. After seeing off Magistrate Hu, he embraced Mi Niang and said, “I truly realize my mistakes this time and have learned my lesson.” If it weren’t for Mi Niang intervening with the long pole, no one would have thought of ringing the bell. Whether he could have found his way back was really uncertain.
“You realized your mistakes, and you’re still standing outside?” Mi Niang cast a cold glance at him, expressing disdain. “Your hoarse voice is bothering my ears. Stop talking.” With the bitter soup and pear water, his throat continued to get hoarser each day.
Bahu immediately shut his mouth, meekly returned inside, and dutifully closed the open door securely. He stood by the door for a while, hearing Mi Niang’s footsteps fade away. There seemed to be voices outside, but Bahu thought it was just the servants talking to Mi Niang and didn’t pay much attention. He walked around the wall uninterestingly, noticing that Mi Niang’s shoes still needed some work. His spirits lifted as he pulled out a needle and thread from the sewing basket, mimicking Mì Niang, sitting on the lo Kang, and sewing with a crisp sound.
When Mi Niang entered, she saw this scene and couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t seen many men using a needle and thread. Her father and grandfather always had her or her mother pick out thorns if they got stuck in their flesh. Not only was Bahu not averse to cooking and doing housework, but he also often washed his own clothes. If his shoes were torn or clothes were worn, by the time she noticed, he had already stitched them up.
“I’ll stew fish for you at noon. Is there anything else you want to eat?”
Bahu blinked. Just in this short time, did his mood suddenly improve?
“I like whatever you cook.” He remained cautious, not daring to suggest anything randomly.
“No, where would we get fish?” Bahu suddenly realized, “Who came just now?”
“Gaowa, the man from the woman we gave the fertility medicine to. His wife’s pregnancy is stable now. Yesterday, he went fishing with a net and brought us a bucket of fish.”
“Oh.” Bahu’s hands paused for a moment. After thinking for a while, he lowered his head again to continue sewing the shoe sole. Since he moved here, this was the first time a local had brought something to his home.
With the fish in hand, Mi Niang chopped off the fish heads, pan-fried them in oil, and simmered a pot of creamy fish soup. She went to find Uncle Muren, who was cleaning the sheep pens, and asked him to bring back two pieces of tofu. For lunch, they had fish head tofu soup and pan-fried fish with scallion oil.
“You folks from the Central Plains really know how to cook. This fish soup is exceptionally fresh,” Uncle Muren praised as he ladled another bowl of fish soup. In previous years, he rarely ate fish due to the difficult-to-remove bones and strong fishy taste.
“Master, when will you be fully recovered? When you are, take Mi Niang with you to break the ice and catch some fish. In this weather, the fish freeze as soon as they’re out of the water. Storing them until next spring won’t spoil them. Catch a few more, and we can stew more fish. Lamb meat is too heavy,” Uncle Muren suggested. In his youth, he didn’t sleep on a warm kang. During winter, he looked forward to having a bowl of lamb soup to warm his body. Now, although he could sleep on a warm kang, the lamb meat made him uncomfortable at night. He thought he was not fortunate enough to enjoy such luxury.
“I’ll be better soon, I’ll be better soon,” Bahu was also eager. Once he recovered, the first thing he wanted to do was to remove the wooden stakes from the front courtyard, preventing them from being an eyesore. He was also prepared to face Mi Niang’s displeasure.
After another two days, Bahu finally stopped coughing, and he was allowed to go outside. He led a team at night to peel the bark off birch trees. The bark soaked in a large water tank in the kitchen, while the tree trunks were moved to the backyard’s meat-drying room.
“What are you soaking the tree bark for?” Mi Niang asked, initially thinking it was for firewood.
Bahu wiped his feet, poured out the foot-washing water, climbed onto the bed, and said, “The juice soaked from birch bark can be used to tan hides. Cowhide and sheepskin, after removing the grease, will become hard, but using this can make them soft.” The longer the birch bark soaks, the better the effect of the juice. However, if the temperature rises, the birch bark will deteriorate, and if the water smells bad, it means it’s gone bad. Winter is the most suitable season for soaking birch bark.
“Next spring, take some people to cut down the birch trees we need for the winter,” Mi Niang rested on Bahu’s chest, listening to the lively heartbeat. She whispered, “I couldn’t sleep at night worrying about you when you were away. Even when I managed to sleep, I had nightmares. I was afraid of losing you.”
“When spring comes, the trees will regain their green color, and the bark won’t be as good as in winter,” Bahu patted Mi Niang’s back, comforting her. “It’s not always like this every year. Last year, when I came back from the mountains, I… oh, oh…” He felt a pinch in his chest, and his attempt at cunning words vanished instantly.
“Next year, I’ll bring more people. We’ll mark the way with poles all the way. What do you think of this plan?” Mi Niang clenched her teeth, wishing she could take a bite out of him. If only he had said this earlier, instead of talking about last year. Last year, he had no wife; next year, he would be a father.
Perhaps still angry, Mi Niang bit the man’s chin, tasting a hint of blood before releasing her grip. “Remember, you’re not alone now. You have a family, a wife, and soon a child. If you recklessly endanger yourself again, Bahu, I’m telling you, I don’t want you anymore.”
Bahu wiped his chin, blood staining his fingertips. He took a sharp breath. Mi Niang was truly ruthless.
“If you don’t want me, who else would you want? Just keep it in mind, and I’ll live until all my teeth fall out and my hair turns white.” The man turned over, pinning Mi Niang beneath him, kissing her mouth that still retained the scent of blood. His words were infuriating.
One with pent-up anger, the other with pent-up desire, the two engaged in a struggle that seemed like a fight, and the blanket on the warm kang was thrown to the ground. The man’s back received a couple of scratches, painful yet satisfying. He clenched his teeth, and the breath he exhaled was fiery, roasting every inch of Mi Niang’s body.
