Without the burden of schooling, in the cold winter of December, Mi Niang finally had some leisure time. She put down her jacket with unfinished sleeves, stood up, and opened the window to look outside. While the house was warm, staying indoors for too long felt stuffy.
The snow in the courtyard had been cleared in the morning, but now there was another layer of white. Under the window of the kitchen was a pair of dog kennels built with bricks, with wooden planks for roofs covered with a layer of cowhide. Outside the dog kennels, there was a row of plum blossom footprints leading to the gate. As the troublemaker returned from outside, its only ear stood up tall. When it saw half a person showing through the window, its ear twitched back, looking obedient. Its sturdy tail wagged, dispersing the scattered snowflakes.
“What are your master and little master busy with? Once they’re out, they don’t come back,” Mi Niang leaned half of her body, touching the dog’s raised front paw that was scratching the window. It seemed to have rolled in the snow, as there were small ice crystals stuck in its thick fur.
“Wearing a coat of fur all year round, neither fearing cold nor heat and not needing to change clothes or shoes when going out, it’s really convenient,” she said, holding her hand outside for a while, feeling the coldness that made her finger joints ache.
Bahu vaguely heard the sound. He turned his head to listen carefully and asked the two children who were tending the fire, “Is your mother calling me?”
“I’ll go check,” Jiya ran outside. “Dad, it’s Mom calling you.”
Then she shouted towards the courtyard wall, “Mom, my dad heard you.”
Bahu brushed off the grass stuck to his body and walked briskly outside. The footprints he made in the morning were covered by the snow again. He walked swiftly, and before entering the house, he asked, “Is there something you need me for?”
“Can’t I call you if there’s nothing wrong?” Mi Niang was already dressed and standing under the eaves.
Bahu immediately understood that she wanted to go out for a walk and deliberately misunderstood her meaning. “So you missed me, that’s why you called. You’re really clingy,” he said, laughing as if it were true.
The two of them walked out on the thin layer of snow. They didn’t need to close the door even though they had dogs at home. Once they stepped outside, the snow was thicker. It reached up to their ankles. This was already cleared snow; in untouched areas, the snow was even deeper than their calves.
“Are we going to the sheep pen?”
“Yeah. What are Qiqige and Jiya busy with?” As soon as he asked, he saw the two children dragging a small bucket out to shovel snow. They shoveled half a bucket and then carried it back. The little girl’s ear piercings hadn’t healed yet, and she wore a sheepskin hat to cover her ears. She also liked to look pretty, so she wrapped a colorful cloth rope around her head.
“Are they melting snow? Are the little helpers doing well?”
“Very handy, and quite satisfactory. I wouldn’t mind having another ten of them,” replied Mi Niang sarcastically, thinking fancifully, “You shouldn’t have married a woman from the Central Plains. You should have married a pig from the Central Plains instead.”
Bahu tilted his head and chuckled, taking a sip of the cold wind. “Even if it’s a pig, I wouldn’t marry anyone else,” he said with a forced look. “Forget it, I’ve accepted it. Let’s just make do with fewer.”
Despite the sourness of her words, Mi Niang was both amused and annoyed. With a kick of her foot, she swept off the snow that covered half of his leg. “With these three, you should be burning incense and worshipping Buddha. Don’t be greedy.”
Entering the sheep pen, there was a stove set up by the door with an iron pot piled with snow on top. Qiqige and Jiya were sitting on small stools by the fire, sheepskin gloves resting on the bucket.
Qiqige ran over to hug Mi Niang’s leg and acted coquettishly, counting on her fingers how many pots of water she had boiled. “Mom, can I help?”
“Of course, you can. Your dad was just praising you and your brother as very useful little helpers,” Mi Niang said, noticing sweat on Qiqige’s nose. She took off her gloves and felt her back. “Are you feeling hot? Let me check if you’re sweating.”
“Mom, your hands are so cold,” Itsuki wriggled like a worm, afraid of both the cold and the tickling sensation. She giggled and dodged, “I’m not sweating, and I’m not hot.”
Bahu reached out to wipe the water off her nose. “It’s probably melted snow. It’s not easy to sweat in the middle of winter.”
Qiqige wiped her face with the back of her hand, disgusted that her dad hadn’t washed his hands.
“Takes it too seriously,” Bahu glanced at her, pointing out that he had been handling cow dung with his hands.
“Are you going to stay here and help Qiqige and Jiya with the fire or come with me to feed the cattle and sheep? You don’t need to carry anything, just stand aside and help me check the appetites of the cattle and sheep.”
Having already arranged everything for her, what choice was she given? Mi Niang straightened out Qiqige’s clothes and stood up. “Let’s go, I’ll keep you company.”
The appetite of the cattle and sheep was more or less observed by Ajima. He held a bundle of paper mushed together with dough, about the size of a palm, with charcoal in one hand.
“Auntie.” He greeted as he approached, “There’s fresh sheep dung on the ground, be careful not to slip.”
“Ah, you focus on your work. I have your uncle to take care of me.” Mi Niang patted his shoulder. The young man was capable and independent. “What do you want for lunch? Auntie will make it for you.” The age difference between them was only about eleven or twelve, at first, it felt awkward for her to be addressed as “Auntie” by him, but now she was used to it.
“Hotpot with mutton, spicy.”
She knew it. She heard that Uncle Muren and the others had been having hotpot every day these past few days. The green vegetables that they usually didn’t touch were now something they couldn’t do without.
“How about stewed chicken? Let’s change the flavor. Even though Qiqige and Jiya eat less, they still get overheated. They came in this morning complaining of a sore butt after pooping.”
“Oh, that’s fine too.” Ajima continued to observe the sheep grazing. Bahu poured out some sprouted corn into the trough for the cows. The male animals, such as bulls, stallions, and camels, were kept together, while the female animals were kept separately in another enclosure. He handed Mi Niang a long stick. “Keep an eye on them. If they start fighting over food, give them a whack with this stick.”
“Alright, leave it to me, you can trust me with this task,” Mi Niang said confidently.
Bahu glanced at her, being mischievous again.
“Dad, the water’s hot, come and scoop it,” Qiqige shouted loudly from the other side. Bahu threw down the shovel and quickly walked over, reminding them not to touch the pot as he went.
Uncle Muren and Uncle Jinku brought out a basket of sheep dung together. Seeing this, Uncle Muren shook his head. “Still the apple of his father’s eye. I offered to fetch water and scoop it, but these siblings insisted that Bahu do it himself.” The snow water boiled by hand was considered precious, and outsiders touching it was seen as taking advantage, so they guarded it closely.
Mi Niang laughed at this, then glanced outside. Bahu was still scooping water with a spoon while talking to the two children. The siblings were smiling, putting on gloves, and carrying a small bucket as they dashed outside. They collided with Bala, who had just come back from the snowy field, and then Bala followed behind the young master.
“What did you say to them? I see Qiqige and Jiya looking like they’re eager to run back into the snow and fetch another three hundred buckets of snow.”
Bahu suppressed a smile as he poured a bucket of hot water into the sink, the steam softening his features. “I told them that with their help, I was saved from a lot of trouble. Just by lifting them up, making them feel useful, I don’t have to work myself to death without them.”
“With Qiqige and Jiya in your hands, you can mold and shape them however you like.”
…
As noon approached, the snow stopped for a while. Mi Niang went back inside to chop the chicken. The day after catching the fish, Bahu slaughtered all the roosters at home, plucked their feathers, and hung them together with the beef to dry. The blood from the chicken meat was drained, and then it was stir-fried before snow water was added to stew it. This method produced chicken oil with fewer impurities, fragrant but not greasy.
Hearing heavy footsteps outside the door, Mi Niang was about to go out and see what was happening when the kitchen door was pushed open. Bahu walked in, carrying a bucket of lukewarm sheep meat in one hand.
“Why did you slaughter a sheep?” She made space for him to come in.
“Ajima said this sheep hasn’t been eating grass properly for two days, so I slaughtered it while it’s still energetic,” he placed the bucket on the side of the table, “Just leave it there, don’t touch it. I’ll take care of it when I get back.” The two kids were busy tending to the fire and boiling water, so he had to keep an eye on them.
As he left, Uncle Muren returned to prepare the meal. When he entered the room to get the lamb, he sniffed, “No chili peppers in the soup today.”
“No, Qiqige and Jiya are overheated,” Mi Niang said as the old man picked up a front leg, asking him if he was planning to roast or stew it.
“Chop the meat and make meatballs, stew the leg bone, boil the soup with vegetables and meatballs. Do you want to eat that? I’ll chop some for you later,” he offered.
“That works, then bring it to me later.” The fragrance of rice came from the pot in the back, so Mi Niang adjusted the fire and focused on stewing the chicken in the front pot.
…
“Mom, we’re back, it smells so good, I’m hungry,” the voice called out, but nobody entered. Mi Niang walked out with a shovel, and the three men were still outside the gate, looking at something. Bahu was carrying one in the front and one in the back, slightly bending forward.
The meatballs were still frying in the pot, so she didn’t speak and went back to check. She only asked when they came in, “What are you looking at outside the gate?”
“Oh, Big Spot and Little Spot are fighting in the snow,” Bahu rolled up the sleeves for Qiqige and Jiya, scooping water for them to wash their hands.
“Who won?”
After dinner, Bahu washed the dishes, cleaned up the bucket of lamb, rinsed off the blood, climbed the ladder, and placed it on the roof to freeze. In the past, when there were only Alse wolves, Bala, and Da Huang, he used to bury the meat in the snow pile in the yard, and they wouldn’t steal it. Now with more dogs, it’s not feasible, as some are not so well-behaved.
After resting for a while after dinner, Qiqige and Jiya were again urging their dad to go to the sheep pen, and Mi Niang followed along. The two kids continued to boil snow into water for the cattle, horses, and camels, while Tiger took the frozen sheepskin from the snow-covered ground, scraped off the wool, and chopped the meat. Mi Niang sat by the fireplace, burning wood. Each member of the family was busy with their own tasks.
By late morning, the chores in the sheep pen were mostly done. After lunch, the servants went back to their own homes. They would come back in the evening to move the grass and change the water in the troughs.
Days passed like this, with snowfall so heavy that the direction was barely visible. The cattle, horses, and camels were kept in the pen during heavy snow, and once it stopped, they were let out. The cattle and horses trampled the snow, while the sheep followed behind, searching for dry stems and leaves in the slush, swallowing them along with the melted snow.
“Dad, is there… a hawk in the sky?” Jiya squinted at the sky where golden light was sprinkled. A lone hawk flapped its wings as it flew by, with a… mouse? It seemed like the tail of a mouse was hanging from its beak.
Qiqige lay on the warm back of a cow, her ears tightly covered, so she couldn’t quite hear what Jiya was saying, causing her to almost shout, disturbing the cattle’s peace.
“I want to fly too! Hawk, come down and take me away!” After saying that, she burst into laughter.
“Idiot,” Jiya couldn’t help but curse, and when he saw his dad glaring at him, he gave a defiant look that resembled Mi Niang’s face, pursing his lips and turning his face away. Once his dad turned his head, he made faces behind his back.
Mi Niang saw this and chuckled, gesturing to Bahu.
“I know,” Bahu laughed and scolded, “Most kids don’t rebel against their old man until they’re around ten. My son rebelled early; he’s always trying to provoke me.”
“Shouldn’t you give him a good beating?” Mi Niang watched the scene unfold.
“No need. He can’t do anything to his old man. If he has any complaints, he’ll just have to swallow them.” Bahu understood his son well. Jiya was a bit mischievous and liked to play tricks. He was used to teasing Qiqige, but he couldn’t beat her. He couldn’t outtalk her either, being the eldest brother. Despite his stern face, he couldn’t stop her antics, so he occasionally retaliated with some mischief.
The children were resilient to the cold, but sitting on the back of the cow for a while in the snowy field probably got cold, so they shouted to come down and run around.
When Mi Niang saw Bahu not moving, he was about to offer to carry them down, but then two half-grown yellow-haired cows bent their forelegs and knelt on the ground, lowering their heads. Qiqige and Jiya twisted their bodies and slid down from the necks of the cows, landing on the ground. As they dismounted, the cows rose, and Qiqige and Jiya poured out a handful of roasted soybeans from their pockets. The cows rolled their tongues and crunched loudly, attracting the attention of the other cows.
“Boss, did you train them?”
Bahu shook his head. “It wasn’t me.” These two cows were raised by Qiqige and Jiya, growing up together from childhood. At some point, the cows started kneeling down to let the two kids climb onto their backs.
“Remarkable,” Xi Jil marveled at the father-son bond. “When Qiqige and Jiya grow up, your family might become the largest livestock owner in the area.”
Bahu thought the same, but he remained modest. “Who knows what the future holds? Kids change their minds every day. Just a few days ago, they were clamoring to learn how to play the horsehead fiddle with me, but after just two days, they abandoned it and left the fiddle untouched at the end of the bed.” It was too noisy for him.
Indeed, it was too noisy for Bahu’s liking. Whenever the two of them touched the horsehead fiddle, all the dogs in the house scattered in a panic, and Big Spot and Little Spot would scratch at the door in frustration.
