When Bahu arrived home, the front door was wide open. Uncle Muren was busy cooking, while Ajima was playing with Qiqige and Jiya in the side room. As soon as he entered, Qiqige and Jiya abandoned their wool balls and rushed towards him. He patted each of them and then lifted the two chubby bundles from the Kang.
“Where’s your Auntie?” Whenever he came home, she would usually make some noise.
“She’s in the backyard,” Ajima replied.
The two kids were crawling on the warm Kang with little clothing on. Bahu didn’t dare to take them outside, and when he placed them on the Kang, Qiqige began to cry softly. Unable to free his hands for a moment, he had to sit by the Kang and ask Ajima, “What is your Auntie doing in the backyard?”
“I don’t know, should I go check?”
“Forget it, she might be cutting beef.” He waited until the novelty of Qiqige and Jiya seeing him wore off, then took advantage of the distraction caused by the barks of the big and small spotted dogs to slip away through the door crack.
“Mi Niang? Are you in the meat-drying room?”
“No, I’m here.” Mi Niang’s hands were now deftly busy. She covered the basket with a cloth and, seeing Bahu come in, she volunteered, “Wheat and rice can sprout even when buried in the soil. I’m trying to see if sprinkling some water on the corn and keeping it in a warm place can make it sprout. Sheep can’t digest corn because it’s too hard and dry. If it sprouts, it should be much easier to digest.”
“But if it’s crushed inside, wouldn’t it all be dry? Can it still sprout?” Bahu lifted the cloth covering the basket. Half of the corn in the basket had been mixed with water by Mi Niang, and there was no soil. How could it possibly sprout?
“I’m trying.”
“Up to you. Let’s go, time to cook.”
In the following days, Bahu was busy taking care of the ewes giving birth and the newly born lambs. The ewe that had swollen from eating corn had gone two days without eating before being fed again. Although her life was saved, she had become much thinner, and her milk had dwindled. Bahu had to smear the newborn lambs with the urine of a ewe that had only given birth to one lamb, tricking the mother into believing that they were her own offspring so she would feed them.
Mi Niang took care of the children and, whenever it was time to cook, she went to the backyard to sprinkle warm water over the corn. After five days of this, the outer layer of the corn began to soften and crack, emitting a sweet aroma. Mi Niang spread a cowhide on the Kang and poured all the corn onto it, spreading it out. After a few more days, the corn sprouted teeth and no longer had the hardness it did before.
“Bahu, pick out a small-sized ram and let it eat the sprouted corn.” Mi Niang carried a ladle of corn and ran to the sheep pen.
After the ewe gave birth, the ram was separated from the ewe and lambs. He beckoned to Mi Niang and she followed him, but she didn’t go inside. She just handed him the corn and stood outside watching the sheep eat.
“Tie a rope around the ram’s horns. Come check on it tonight. If it doesn’t eat, slaughter it.” Sheep farmers in the area were very particular. If a sheep got sick and stopped eating, it was better to slaughter it before it died on its own.
“If the ram eats the sprouted corn without any issues, we’ll buy more next year.” The corn seller wasn’t lying about one thing: the dried corn, as hard as it was, could last in the house for two or three years without spoiling or getting moldy. And perhaps because it was too hard, even mice didn’t like stealing it.
The young ram that ate the sprouted corn was lively by evening, but it ate less grass than the other sheep. However, its spirits were good, attributed to the fact that sprouted corn was more filling than dry grass.
Bahu found time to visit the Huxian Cheng’s house again and explained once more, “If you don’t intend to feed the corn you bought to your cattle and sheep, sell it to me. If it weren’t for me saying…”
“Stop, what nonsense are you talking about? You said it was a gesture of goodwill last year, and I didn’t complain,” the Huxian Cheng scowled at him. “I won’t sell it. Do you think I don’t know about storing it at home just in case?”
Bahu felt relieved. He took a sip of bitter tea and asked, “Do you think the price of corn will rise or fall next year?”
“If someone’s sheep swell up and die from eating the corn and it causes a commotion…” The Huxian Cheng’s words abruptly stopped. He slammed the table, knocking off the cup lid, which fell to the ground and chipped. “I remember you said last year that the corn was sold by the government at the lowest price?”
Bahu nodded and picked up the cup lid, placing it back on the table.
The Huxian Cheng was so excited that his beard bristled. He said “good” three times in a row and told Bahu not to mention this matter again once he left the room. “If I get promoted because of this, Bahu, feel free to come to me if your family faces any difficulties.” Bahu was his benefactor, as he had befriended Bahu’s father, and his rise from being a teacher to the Huxian Cheng of Lingshan was due to his father’s connections. Now, if there was an opportunity, he would submit a proposal about feeding the corn that sprouted and was more resistant to hunger to the livestock, and there would surely be some reward, big or small.
Bahu understood his meaning and clasped his hands. “Then, I wish Master’s wishes come true.”
“Thanks to your influence,” the Huxian Cheng beamed and then asked for more details.
“Why don’t you come to my place and take a look?” Bahu suggested, mainly because Mi Niang was the one handling it, and he only knew the general idea.
“No, I’ll have someone bring over a basket later. I’ll try my hand at it myself,” the Huxian Cheng replied.
Bahu took the opportunity to bid farewell. He and the Huxian Cheng had exhausted their topics of conversation, and staying any longer would only lead to an awkward silence.
“Is there any connection between your family and a man named Zhong Qi, who works as an accountant in my household?” the Huxian Cheng suddenly asked.
“There’s some connection. Mi Niang used to have a good relationship with his wife before they came to Mobei. They lived in the same yurt and shared meals. Why do you mention him? Did he talk about me to you?” Bahu sat back down in his chair.
He had been mentioned before. Zhong Qi was sharp-eyed, knowing how to network. If Bahu didn’t know his temperament, he might have thought Bahu had a close male friend.
“He caught the attention of the county lord. Although he still lives in my household, he no longer works for Wen Yin. Now he manages the relief house, and any issues there are directly reported to the county lord, bypassing me.” The Huxian Cheng tapped the chipped cup lid. This tea set was a set, so once one piece was broken, the rest would not be used. Just like him. After the incident of the stolen offerings during the Aobao Ceremony, he left a useless impression in front of the county lord, and since then, he has been marginalized. There were many things in the government that he couldn’t get involved in.
But some people had taken advantage of the situation to climb up.
“Would you take this opportunity to transfer?” Bahu asked.
Transfer? If possible, he would like to take up the position of Huxian Cheng of Lingshan. With the distance between him and the emperor, and without connections or a wealthy family background, he would definitely enjoy being a local tyrant in this remote corner of Lingshan.
“I’m not sure. Regardless of whether I’m transferred or not, there are people in the government whom you can rely on. You won’t suffer any losses in the future.” However, Zhong Qi was a cunning and talkative character, and it would be inevitable to grease his palms to get things done.
Bahu went back and told Mi Niang about the news he had heard. Mi Niang didn’t pay much attention to it. “I’ve been doing fine without any connections in the government. It’s been almost two years since I married you, and I haven’t seen you asking the Huxian Cheng for any favors. We’ve been grazing our livestock honestly, and we haven’t offended anyone. Besides, the Huxian Cheng is being transferred for a promotion, not because of any wrongdoing. With him overseeing things from above, we won’t easily get into trouble.” There was no need to suck up to Zhong Qi. Besides, he only managed the relief house and didn’t even have an official uniform.
“We just need to avoid making enemies with him,” Mi Niang said.
Bahu chuckled at her words, saying that the Huxian Cheng would surely be pleased to hear them as if his promotion and transfer were already set in stone.
“Whether he’s pleased or not has nothing to do with me,” Mi Niang said, glancing at the sun in the sky. It was only February, and there were sunny days every few days. She had so many vegetables growing that she couldn’t keep up with them. There was only her who liked to eat vegetables in the house. Bahu and Ajima always preferred meat and fish over vegetables.
“I estimate that things will start blooming by March. We’ll be heading to Lingshan earlier this year compared to last year.”
“That’s normal. Last year was exceptionally cold. The year you came to the desert, we started moving in April, just before the cows gave birth to their calves, and we reached Lingshan,” Bahu said, bringing a piece of a dried birch tree from the backyard and preparing to make a beehive for Mi Niang.
“How many beehives are we adding this year?”
“At least ten. By the time we reach Lingshan, I’ll need to split each hive into four more. The grasslands are perfect for beekeeping, with abundant flowers. However, we can only harvest honey once a year, so if we want more, we need to expand the number of hives.”
During the peak season of sheep milking, Bahu hired eight milkers from the relief house to help. With them taking care of milking, Chaobao and Xi Jil could focus on making butter. From February to March, the busiest and most tiring time of the year, Bahu found himself busy at home making beehives and wooden beds for his two children.
As the children grew older, the wooden crib that could fit another baby before the Lunar New Year was starting to feel crowded.
“This year we’re making wooden beds, and next year we’ll have to make more,” Mi Niang joked while sitting beside him, lending a hand.
“Why do we have to make more beds next year? They’ll be two years old by then, able to walk and run. Do you expect us to carry them to herd sheep?” Bahu retorted.
“As the children grow older, they need their own beds. Are we supposed to sleep on wooden beds while Qiqige and Jiya sleep on the felt mats?” Mi Niang countered. When they slept in felt bundles, they had wooden beds. These beds were collapsible and easy to transport when moving.
Thinking it over, Bahu felt a bit discouraged. He dropped the wood he was holding. He was tired of making them and decided it might be better to buy them. He wasn’t a skilled carpenter and felt he couldn’t match up to his two children.
“Beef for sale! Sister-in-law, do you want to buy some beef?” Hearing the vendor outside, Mi Niang shouted back and grabbed a silver coin before rushing out. “I’ll buy ten pounds of beef,” she called out. Just as she stepped out, she noticed a man with a white beard standing not far from her house, holding a horse. As she approached, he asked, “Is this Bahu’s house?”
The man bore some resemblance to Bahu, especially in the eyes. They seemed almost identical.
“Bahu, you have a visitor,” Mi Niang said, leading the man inside. “Who are you?”
“I’m his younger uncle. You must be Mi Niang. I’ve heard my mother-in-law mention you often,” Sandan replied, eyeing Bahu’s house. Compared to their clan residence, it looked rather humble.
Mi Niang controlled her eyes from peeking below him. Seeing Bahu come out, she turned to go buy beef. “Uncle, please sit inside. I’ll go buy some beef. We’ll have lunch at home.”
“You go ahead with your business. No need to entertain me,” Sandan replied gently, smiling.
When Mi Niang returned with the beef, she saw Bahu and his uncle standing in the snowy yard, both looking somewhat unhappy. She had prepared dough in the morning, intending to steam buns. However, with guests now, steaming buns alone seemed too simple. She took out two fish to thaw and prepared a beef stew. With some pork loin left, she sliced it into strips, marinated it with ginger slices, scallion segments, and peppercorns, then mixed butter into the dough and rolled it into thin sheets. She then pan-fried them on an iron plate until cooked, turning the beef loin into sauce strips. During the meal, they were wrapped with vegetables in the dough.
This was the only way Bahu accepted eating more vegetarian dishes.
During the meal, Sandan praised Mi Niang’s cooking skills incessantly. “It’s a pity you and Bahu don’t live in Lingshan Otherwise, Uncle would have been blessed.”
“If Uncle has time, he can come over. When you come, I’ll cook for you,” she replied. She had no interest in moving to Lingshan; that would only invite trouble.
Sandan choked for a moment, glanced at her twice, and lost his appetite. After dinner, he wanted to talk to Bahu again. Seeing him sulking and unresponsive, Sandan hugged the children, left two gold necklaces, and departed.
“What did you and your uncle talk about outside before dinner? You had such a stern face throughout the meal,” Mi Niang asked.
Bahu furrowed his brow, his tone impatient. “He said there’s a debate in the clan about the next clan leader. He wants me to go back and take over, claiming he’ll support me. Nonsense! Where was he when I was kicked out of the house? I ignored him. I don’t care about their business.”
“No, is it because your father is sick? How come he’s suddenly considering the next clan leader? And why is this discussion happening so openly?” Mi Niang didn’t understand.
Yeah, that’s right. His father is only in his early forties, but still healthy. The people in the clan shouldn’t be discussing the next clan leader at this time. Bahu’s grandfather only appointed someone when he was over sixty, and only after he passed away did the leadership change hands.
