The whole family received gifts, exactly the kind of things they cherished, and they were overjoyed.
Father Fan immediately opened a jar, catching a whiff of the wine’s aroma.
It was as if he were floating like an immortal, eager to pour a bowl and taste it.
The two girls got a box, and their eyes lit up.
“I’ve only seen a box like this once at Sister Xiangxiu’s place. She treasures it so much, and now we have one too!” Qiaor clutched the box tightly, feeling its exterior was fragrant.
She had only ever envied such a thing before, never daring to dream she’d own one.
Zhen’er also loved it and whispered to Kanghe, “Thank you, brother-in-law.”
Kanghe said, “The things in the box are just ordinary. Pick what you like to use, and when your brother-in-law earns more money, I’ll buy you better ones.”
“Brother-in-law, what you’ve bought now is already the best. No one’s brother or sister is as good as ours!” Qiaor, quick-witted, added, “When you and brother have kids, I’ll help take care of them to repay you!”
Her words made the whole room burst into laughter.
After chatting for a while, the two girls carried their box back to their room to try the perfumes and powders.
“You could’ve just bought something for your dad and the girls. Why get something for me? Don’t waste money; I have enough cloth,” Chen said, though she loved the new fabric, her hands gently stroking it.
What woman doesn’t love cloth?
“It’s almost spring. Make yourself a new outfit, Mother. It’ll be nice to wear to the temple fair when the weather warms up.”
Chen felt warmed by his words but couldn’t help worrying about Kanghe and Fan Jing.
Patting Kanghe’s hand, she said, “Young man, you two should save some money. Buy a pack animal later; it’ll save you some effort going up and down the mountain.”
Last time they couldn’t borrow money to buy an animal, and Chen still fretted over it.
Kanghe knew she was thinking of their well-being.
He said, “This time, thanks to the family’s help with the vermicelli, we made some money. Everyone should enjoy something nice. If we keep toiling without enjoying what we can, wouldn’t life be too bitter? But I’ll keep your words in mind, Mother. Next time we earn money, we’ll save for an animal.”
“Good, as long as you take it to heart.”
In early February, with clear weather and no rain, Kanghe and Fan Jing didn’t linger at home.
They packed their things and headed back to the mountains.
The spring chill lingered, but halfway up the slope, trees were sprouting tiny buds.
Wild rapeseed flowers, unafraid of the cold, bloomed vibrantly, patches of brilliant yellow stretching across the landscape.
Here and there, a few fruit trees with white blossoms dotted the old green forest.
The early spring paths were muddy and slick.
After a month or two without travelers, the mountain trails had grown over with grass.
Fan Jing went ahead, clearing the path to make it easier for going up and coming down later.
He stepped over a small ridge, glanced back, and extended a hand.
Kanghe quickly grabbed it, using Fan Jing’s strength to climb up.
Once he took Fan Jing’s hand, he refused to let go.
Fan Jing glanced at him, noticing he wouldn’t release it, but said nothing.
The two walked hand in hand, as if sneaking off for a private meeting, their palms sweaty but still clasped, all the way to the cabin.
Kanghe breathed in the crisp mountain air, strangely familiar.
He’d spent as much time in the mountain cabin as he had down below, almost feeling like this was his and Fan Jing’s true home.
“We’re finally back!”
They unlocked and entered the cabin, which smelled musty from disuse.
Firewood was plentiful in the mountains, so Kanghe quickly lit the stove.
After a thorough cleaning, he checked the bedding.
Though washed and stored dry before they left, it felt damp from sitting unused.
He set up a pole and hung the bedding near the stove to dry.
Fan Jing sipped hot soup and helped Kanghe turn the bedding, unusually staying inside instead of rushing out to roam the mountain.
After tidying the cabin enough to live in, they ate lunch and went out to check the mountain.
Before leaving last time, Fan Jing had dismantled their traps and cages to prevent animals from getting caught and dying of injury or starvation in their absence.
Now, back in the mountains, they had to reset the traps.
Over the winter, the pits for larger animals like goats, deer, or boars had filled with leaves and branches.
Fan Jing and Kanghe cleared the debris with rakes and reset sharp stakes at the bottom.
The deeper traps, used for bigger game, were even more troublesome to clean, filled with mud or branches Fan Jing had added.
They worked until late, then checked the beehives.
“There’s definitely something in there!” Kanghe said, hearing a buzzing from afar and hurrying over.
The first hive was active with bees.
He checked another, finding no bees at the entrance.
Carefully opening the top, he saw bees clustered on the combs.
Excited, he waved Fan Jing over.
Fan Jing looked, saw the dense swarm, and felt uneasy, turning his head away with a frown.
Kanghe, noticing his discomfort, counted four combs and sealed the hive.
“Don’t worry, they won’t sting unless provoked.”
Fan Jing said nothing.
He wasn’t afraid of snakes or beasts, but the sight of tiny, clustered insects—bees, caterpillars, or ants—made his scalp crawl.
“What about the other one?”
Kanghe checked the second hive.
“Even better! Five combs, and you can see honey in the cells!”
Curious despite his discomfort, Fan Jing peeked.
The bees had built combs with sticky honey, though not much yet, as it wasn’t peak blooming season.
Kanghe pulled him closer, pointing out the queen bee with her long abdomen and short wings, explaining her egg-laying and the roles of worker bees and drones.
Fan Jing, unfamiliar with beekeeping, asked, “When can we harvest honey?”
“When flowers bloom more, in about ten days during the nectar flow, we can take some. But right now, with fewer flowers, it’s slower.”
They moved to the cliffside, where one hive already had bees.
After half a winter, the colony was still strong, with eight combs and some capped honey ready to harvest.
Kanghe, cautious after a past sting, decided to wait until they were better prepared.
Another hive on the cliff was empty.
The beeswax inside had vanished, possibly eaten by ants.
Kanghe planned to take it back, reapply wax, and place it elsewhere to attract bees.
As night fell, they ate dry rations brought from home, enough for a few days.
After washing up, with no more work to do and the mountain cold, they went to bed early.
The bedding, warmed by the stove, was cozy.
Kanghe noticed Fan Jing lying with his back to him.
Squinting, he mischievously slid his hand under Fan Jing’s clothes.
Since their wedding night, he’d been eager for intimacy.
No matter how tired he was from the day’s work, lying next to Fan Jing always rekindled his energy.
Even when his wrists ached from grinding vermicelli, he’d find the strength for a round with Fan Jing.
At home, though, they had to be discreet to avoid being overheard or noticed when fetching water to clean up afterward.
So, in the twenty-some days since their wedding, they hadn’t been as frequent as Kanghe desired.
Now, in the mountains, with no one around for miles, he teased Fan Jing, who seemed awake but unresponsive.
Kanghe pressed his chest against Fan Jing’s back and whispered, “Don’t you want to?”
With no one to hear, even if they shook the bed apart, who would know?
At their age, full of vigor and curiosity, how could Fan Jing resist?
Fan Jing, already stirred by Kanghe’s touch, said, “If I didn’t want to, would your hand stay there?”
“It’s been five or six days. You really don’t want to?” Kanghe’s hand lingered on Fan Jing’s toned muscles.
“Here, we can do whatever we want without worrying.”
Fan Jing turned over, his loose shirt revealing his collarbone.
Their red wedding clothes had been left at home.
He nudged Kanghe’s calf with his foot.
“You didn’t hold back at home either.”
Kanghe met his gaze.
“How didn’t I? Sneaking water like a thief, and once Father caught me when he got up at night. He was too embarrassed to say anything, just told me to sleep earlier.”
Fan Jing hadn’t known, as Kanghe always brought water for him to wash.
At first, he washed himself, but Kanghe insisted on helping, and it became routine.
“The night’s long. Can you sleep without doing something?” Kanghe asked.
Fan Jing stayed silent.
Kanghe, wanting mutual enthusiasm, teased, “Good brother…”
His fingers traced circles under Fan Jing’s collar.
Itch tickled, Fan Jing said, “I’m on top.”
Kanghe hugged him eagerly.
“As you wish, but don’t give out on me later.”
Fan Jing thought he’d lasted every time before.
The next day, without roosters to wake them, they slept until the sun was high.
Hunger finally roused them.
Fan Jing, groggy from oversleeping, winced as he dressed, deciding being on top wasn’t worth the effort next time.
Kanghe, full of energy, ate breakfast and cleaned the empty beehive, making a new one to place in a field of wild rapeseed flowers.
The spring breeze swayed the golden blooms, a sight like rolling waves.
Though smaller than cultivated flowers, the wild ones were plentiful and perfect for bees.
Kanghe set the hives in a dry spot, camouflaging them with branches.
He’d learned in town that honey sold for 300 to 500 wen per jin, though most fetched around 300 to 400.
He hadn’t planned to sell but, seeing strong colonies, thought they could earn extra money.
Carefully, he harvested some honey, wearing a hat and gloves this time.
The capped combs yielded about three jin of pure honey after filtering, a slow and patient task.
When Fan Jing returned with a pheasant and six duck eggs, he smelled the honey.
Scooping some, he savored its rich, lingering sweetness, unlike sugar syrups.
Kanghe smiled.
“Don’t eat it straight; it’ll irritate your throat. I’ll mix it with water.”
Fan Jing suggested saving it to sell in town for a pack animal.
Kanghe agreed to save most but insisted on keeping some for themselves.
In town, Kanghe checked honey prices, finding they ranged from 360 to 500 wen per jin, though some shops offered as low as 280 wen.
He saw an old man cheated by a shop, tasting his honey excessively before lowballing him.
Back home, Kanghe brought two taro roots for Chen to sell.
He suggested she collect taro from others, buying at one wen per jin to ensure a steady supply, then sell tofu for profit.
Chen agreed, and Kanghe also proposed selling their honey through her town connections, avoiding haughty shopkeepers.
She was surprised but excited, carefully noting the honey prices he’d learned.
Kanghe promised to check in regularly, ensuring their plans moved forward.
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