The children were busy in the sheep pen every day. When the first lamb was born, it was discovered by them. It was a mother sheep that had been pregnant for years, giving birth to three lively lambs, which was a good start.
After the lambs’ fetal hair dried, both the mother sheep and the lambs needed to be transferred to the newly built sheep pen. Qiqige and Jiya wanted to carry the lambs over, but Bahu refused, “You two are stumbling around in the snow. Be careful not to drop the lambs, and watch out for the mother sheep butting you.”
He carried one lamb in each hand, while Ajima carried another. As the lambs walked, the mother sheep bleated and followed them.
Qiqige and Jiya pouted and stomped their feet in place, kicking at the snow. They turned to pick up their chubby little brother, sulking, “If they won’t let us carry their lambs, then we’ll carry his little son.”
Looking as if she intended to threaten someone.
Mi Niang lowered her gaze, asking, “Really want to carry him?”
Qiqige nodded vigorously.
“Fine.” Mi Niang placed Habul in her arms. “Hold him tight. If you drop him, I’ll spank you.” It wasn’t as warm in the sheep pen as in the house, and Habul was bundled up round and chubby, with his arms and legs tucked inside thick robes, unable to lift them.
Once in Qiqige’s arms, she couldn’t quite wrap them around him, and soon she couldn’t hold him anymore, urgently calling out, “Brother, come help me, Chubby is too heavy.”
Chubby, who was being complained about for being too heavy, was being carried horizontally and giggled foolishly. Hearing footsteps approaching, he turned to look. The more he moved, the harder it was for Qiqige and Jiya to hold him, and they had switched from standing to squatting.
“Don’t drop your little brother on the ground and dirty his clothes.” Bahu, seeing someone about to come and pick him up, glanced at Mi Niang, who waved her hand and slowed her pace. “What’s this about?”
“If you won’t let her carry the lambs, she wants your little son.” Mi Niang crossed her arms, watching Ajima also coming to lift the child. She didn’t intervene, walking to the side to discuss tomorrow’s offering to the Aobao with Bahu: “You take Qiqige and Jiya over, and I’ll stay home with Habul.” She didn’t want to go, walking on the thick snow was tiring and freezing.
“That won’t do.” Other things could be negotiated, but there was no room for negotiation on this matter in Bahu’s eyes. “We must go to offer prayers. The Eternal Heaven will bless us with good health and safety, and bless the children with long and worry-free lives.”
Noticing that Habul’s padded jacket was about to be torn off, he quickly strode over to retrieve it, giving each of the two children a gentle tap on the head. “If it were a little lamb being tossed around like this by you two, the sharp horns of the mother sheep would poke you and make you bleed in no time.”
Qiqige and Jiya pursed their lips sheepishly, giggled twice, then turned and ran to tend to the fire, without mentioning wanting to see the little lambs anymore.
Bahu let out a soft snort, then bent down to see the shiny black eyes of the littlest one staring at him, feeling a sense of joy. He lifted him up, as it seemed that children all enjoyed being lifted high. Qiqige and Jiya were the same when they were little, and even now…
“Dad, I want to too.” Qiqige rushed over and hugged his leg.
“Of course, of course.” Bahu felt a headache coming on. The three siblings were three years apart, and they still loved to vie for attention. He handed the littlest one to Mi Niang, then lifted Qiqige above his head, and finally Jiya. They were all delighted, and he raised an eyebrow at Mi Niang. “Mother of these children, do you want a turn too?”
“Haha…” Mi Niang glanced over, noticing a few male servants approaching. They had smiles on their faces as they waved their hands and walked inside. Heshir bowed apologetically, “Sorry for the interruption, sorry for the interruption. I just need to say a few words. Younger brother-in-law, are you going to my house for the White Festival this year? Your second sister mentioned it to you, right? Are you going with me today, or after the offering to the Aobao?”
“After the offering to the Aobao.” Jiya interjected, pulling Ajima and saying, “We’ll go together tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll go tomorrow,” Ajima agreed.
This year, Bahu prepared a lot for the offering to the Aobao: the milk from the first mother sheep that gave birth, a pouch of milk wine, a lump of butter, four fat sheep, a leg of beef, and a jar of honey, which he considered the best-tasting chive flower honey.
“What? Are you asking for the blessings of the Eternal Heavens for my bees to work hard and make honey?” Mi Niang carried the jar of honey as she followed along. She couldn’t wholeheartedly believe in the Shamanic attire, and perhaps for this reason, she wasn’t enthusiastic about the Aobao offering either.
Bahu glanced at her askance, handing the pouch of milk wine to Jiya, the butter to Qiqige, and the sheep milk to Ajima, while he carried the beef leg and herded the four sheep, with Habul strapped to his chest.
“Let’s go,” he called out.
This year, their family was not the last to leave for the offering to the Aobao. Behind them were all Han people, with much less spirit and carrying fewer items compared to the Mongolian herdsmen in the front.
Mi Niang walked alongside Pandi, carrying a backpack filled with steamed rice, steamed buns, a fish, and a leg of mutton. Few others brought live sheep for the offering.
As they supported each other through the snow, Pandi asked, “This year, Mu Xiang is bringing her children to my house for the New Year’s Eve dinner, and Ying Niang is also coming. Do you want to come over too?”
“I’ll stay back since I’m trailing behind.” On New Year’s Eve, Mi Niang preferred to have the family of five sit together, chatting and laughing.
Pandi nodded understandingly, “I figured as much.”
The queue ahead stopped, and the two fell silent. Mi Niang walked up to Bahu’s side, noticing his indifferent glance. She flashed him a smile and briefly held his hand as she pretended to adjust Habul’s clothes.
“Your hand is really warm,” she whispered.
“I have the blessings of the Eternal Heavens,” the man replied cryptically.
Mi Niang rubbed her hands together, still feeling no warmth. Stubbornly, she placed her cold hand into the man’s palm. “Warm it up for me,” she pleaded.
Bahu stared at her, seeing her resemblance to Qiqige at this moment— evasive and unapologetic, just trying to gloss over things with a smile.
“You…” He sighed, the warm breath dissipating quickly into the icy landscape. Holding her cold hand, he tucked it under his sheepskin coat to warm it up. After warming one hand, they switched positions to warm the other.
“Will you join me and the children in offering our respects later?” he asked.
Mi Niang twiddled her fingers, her gaze drifting over the crowd to the tall mound of snow. The snow around it was stained red with the blood of sheep and cattle, melting as the warm blood dripped down.
“Alright,” she nodded. Bahu didn’t like eating vegetables or porridge, but because she did, he would willingly stir-fry vegetables and cook porridge. She didn’t believe in these superstitions, but for Bahu’s sake, she could put on an act and make him happy.
They sprinkled honey and fermented mare’s milk in front of the Aobao. When Bahu came back after slaughtering the sheep, she and the children followed him around the Aobao three times. As they returned, he looked relaxed and at ease.
Back home, he tapped her forehead lightly, “The Eternal Heavens will bless you.”
“I believe in you.”
Yes, she didn’t believe in the Eternal Heavens, but she believed in Bahu. He would protect her.
—
Qiqige and Jiya came out of the bath and headed straight to the kitchen. Upon entering, they asked, “Mom, is the sugar ready?”
“It’s almost done,” Mi Niang stirred the syrup in the pot and glanced up, “Why is your hair all messy? And where’s your dad?”
“Here I am.” Bahu grabbed a horn comb and followed her, “You’re in such a hurry, as if afraid someone will eat it all up. Come on, let’s do your hair quickly.”
He was particularly skilled at braiding now. Qiqige and Jiya’s hair had grown to shoulder length, thick and dense. He braided high pigtails for both children and then twisted them together with red hairbands. Qiqige had a red agate pendant hanging on her full forehead, looking neat, spirited, and dazzling.
“Sister looks so pretty,” Jiya praised skillfully, but her eyes were fixed on the increasingly thick syrup.
This was the malt sugar promised to the children last year. Mi Niang lifted the shovel and estimated it was almost done, then brought over the copper basin to wipe off the moisture.
“Bring me the sheepskin gloves I cleaned.”
“I’ll get them.” Jiya dashed out like a streak of smoke.
Mi Niang extended her hand, gesturing for Jiya to put them on her, and heard Bahu chuckling. She shot him a glance, “What’s so funny? Haven’t seen your son being attentive before?”
“You also know it’s him being attentive,” the man laughed heartily, washing his hands and coming over, “Where do you need my help? Let me be attentive too.”
The brownish-yellow syrup poured into the basin, she handed him a pair of chopsticks, “Stir it yourself.”
She carried the copper basin and walked around the yard. The cold air quickly took away the warmth of the syrup. The surface of the brownish-yellow syrup turned whitish, and Mi Niang pressed it with her hand. It had become elastic. She carried the basin back inside and grabbed the syrup to pull and stretch it.
Qiqige and Jiya stirred the remaining syrup in the pot with chopsticks. Mi Niang poured the peeled pine nuts into the syrup and continued to pull and stretch it.
Bahu scooped water with a ladle and poured it into the sugar pot on the stove, preparing to take the sugar water to feed Big Spot and Little Spot later. He heard Mi Niang breathing heavily and walked over to grab her hand. “Give me the gloves. I’ll do the pulling. You watch from the side.”
The malt sugar had changed color to grayish-white, resembling dough made from gray flour.
With his strength, the tough sugar mass in his hand became pliable like dough. The pine nuts were mixed into the malt sugar. Mi Niang instructed him to stretch the mass and sprinkle cooked glutinous rice flour on a cutting board to prevent sticking. “Okay, roll it in the glutinous rice flour, then cut it.”
The first two pieces cut off were put into Mi Niang and Bahu’s mouths. Soft and sticky, they stuck to their teeth. Chewing, the pine nuts mixed with the sugar, spreading a sweet fragrance.
Cut into finger-sized pieces, they filled a jar. Bahu left a few pieces outside for the children. The jar was locked in a box. If it wasn’t locked, it would be gone in two days.
Qiqige and Jiya ran around, their eyes fixed on the keys Bahu put in his pouch.
“If you dare to take the keys without permission, I’ll spank you,” Bahu warned the two children. “If you want to eat, just ask me nicely. If you dare to have any wicked thoughts, you two won’t go visiting relatives this year. You’ll stay at home to feed the cattle and sheep and melt snow for water.”
Qiqige gave him a glance, then turned and left. Who does she look down upon? She hurriedly went to complain to her mother, “Mom, Dad said my brother and I are thieves.”
Mi Niang poured the syrup from the pot into a bucket, responding indifferently, “Did he really say that?”
“He said we wanted to steal the keys and steal sugar to eat,” Qiqige’s words were sharp.
At this moment, Bahu also came in. He didn’t say anything, picked up the bucket, and was about to leave, asking Jiya if she wanted to go feed the camels with sugar water.
“I want to go,” Qiqige skipped after him, completely forgetting her complaint.
“Silly girl.”
…
Today is the White Festival, people have a reunion dinner, and the cattle and sheep eat corn seedlings and chopped radishes. In the evening, there’s rice mixed with bean dregs.
“Come, let’s raise our glasses and make a toast, another year has passed.” Bahu held the hand of the little third, and the four bowls clinked together, emitting a crisp sound. “By this time next year, there will be one more bowl clinking together.”
Mi Niang washed the chicken leg bone that Jiya had nibbled clean of oil in hot water and stuffed it into the mouth of the little one who liked it, “Today is a festival, you should also gnaw on a chicken leg.”
“Hahaha, little chubby gnawing on chicken bones, while we eat meat, he eats bones,” Qiqige loudly mocked as she saw the youngest son holding the chicken bone and drooling.
Habul heard the nickname “a little chubby” and foolishly raised his head, grinning, revealing four small millet teeth.
“Ah.” Qiqige regretted seeing him laugh again, slid off the stool, and kissed him, calling out affectionately to her younger brother, “When you can eat, big sister will save all the chicken legs for you.”
Bahu smiled at Mi Niang. Although the youngest son was foolish and gentle, he didn’t have a sweet tongue. However, he wouldn’t be bullied by his siblings either. One personality balances out another.
