After fleeing the famine, my older sister and I married the brother next door.

The copper bell jingled again, and Yang Wenhu's figure disappeared outside the door. Sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtain, falling on the ground like a narrow golden ribbon. Zhang Qiuming stood behind the counter, a rag in her hand, staring at the curtain for a moment, lost in thought. Zhang Yuming peeked out from the stove and said, "Li An's affair is quite a spectacle in our village." Shi Tou sat down again, opened his book, glanced at it, and closed it again, saying, "He brought it on himself." Zhang Yuming came out from behind the stove and sat down opposite him, saying, "Brother, don't say that. Although Li An was wrong, it doesn't mean he'll be ruined forever." Shi Tou glanced at her, didn't reply, and slowly sipped his tea.

Zhang Yuming said nothing more and got up to check the fire at the stove. The black sesame paste in the pot was almost done, its aroma and sweetness filling every corner of the shop. A woman carrying an empty bowl walked to the counter and said she would like another bowl of red bean paste. Zhang Yuming responded and turned to get it.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting long shadows of the copper bells on the wooden floor. Yang Wenhu walked slowly down the alley, carrying the earthenware pot, glancing down at his contents every now and then. The sweet fermented rice was wrapped in a cloth, still warm through it. He imagined Qingqing's eyes crinkling with delight when she saw the bowl of rice, and a smile crept onto his lips.

Upon arriving at the backyard of the cloth shop, Qingqing was sitting on a bamboo chair under the eaves, basking in the sun. She held an unfinished knot in her hand, the red string tangled and knotted haphazardly between her fingers. Seeing Yang Wenhu push open the door, she put down her work, her eyes lighting up. "How did it go? Did you find out anything?" she asked. Yang Wenhu placed the earthenware pot on the stone table beside her, and while untying his cloth, he said, "I found out." He relayed Shitou's words to her, then lifted the lid of the pot. The aroma of sweet rice wine mixed with the scent of osmanthus wafted out. Qingqing leaned in, took a deep breath, and smiled even before taking a sip.

After Yang Wenhu finished speaking, he sat down on the stool beside her, watching her sip the fermented rice wine. Warm yellow sunlight bathed the entire courtyard, and several bolts of newly dyed cloth hung under the eaves, their vibrant colors swaying gently in the breeze. In the distance, the chirping of birds and the laughter of children chasing each other at the alley entrance blended with the sound of Qingqing's porcelain spoon tapping against the earthenware pot. Life was simple and peaceful, but nothing was more reassuring than this. Yang Wenhu watched for a while, then reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair, ruffled by the wind, behind her ear. He said, "If you want to ask about anything in the future, I'll ask for you. Don't overthink it yourself; just stay home and take good care of yourself." Qingqing put down her spoon, glanced up at him, and smiled, saying, "I understand." She lowered her head and took another sip of the fermented rice wine; it was sweet, warming her from her throat to her stomach, exactly like the sweet soup her mother used to make back home.

----

When Su Xiaoyin pushed open the gate to the Yang family's courtyard, Qingqing was sitting on a bamboo chair under the eaves, basking in the sun. She held an unfinished tiger-head shoe in her hand, the needle and thread resting on her knees, but she was asleep, her head tilted to one side. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the locust tree, casting dappled shadows on her face. Her belly was quite noticeable, round and bulging against her thin cotton shirt, rising and falling with her breath. The pomegranate tree in the corner of the courtyard was laden with green fruit, swaying gently in the breeze, as if it too were dozing.

Su Xiaoyin gently put down the basket, not waking her, and first looked around. The courtyard was clean and tidy, and several small clothes were hanging under the eaves, neatly folded and stacked in bamboo baskets, which Madam Yang had made in advance. In the willow basket next to it were several half-sewn urine rings, the stitches thick and sturdy—Madam Yang had a strong hand, and her sewing was not as delicate as Su Xiaoyin's, but it was strong. Su Xiaoyin felt more at ease and turned around to take out the items from the basket one by one—two old hens, their feet tied with straw rope, flapped their wings a couple of times and then fell silent; a basket of eggs, lined with grain husks, none of them broken; and a packet of dried mushrooms and a packet of dried wood ear fungus, wrapped tightly in oil paper. Hearing a noise in her sleep, Qingqing groggily opened her eyes and saw Su Xiaoyin. She was stunned for a moment, then quickly stood up, holding onto the armrest of the bamboo chair. Her voice was still soft and sweet from just waking up: "Mother, why did you come here? And with so many things."

Su Xiaoyin placed the egg basket on the stone table, straightened up, and examined Qingqing's complexion. Qingqing had gained a lot of weight; her cheeks were round, and her complexion was rosy—she looked well-nourished. But when she turned around, her round belly was fully exposed to the sunlight—its fullness was visible even through the fabric, like a small watermelon. Su Xiaoyin's heart skipped a beat. She went over, gently took Qingqing's arm, looked her up and down again, and reached out to gently touch her belly through her clothes, then touched her waist. Her waist hadn't gained much weight; only her belly was alarmingly large, bulging like a whole watermelon, almost twice the size of a normal five-month pregnant belly.

"Qingqing, I remember you're over five months pregnant, right? How much have you been eating lately?" Su Xiaoyin withdrew her hand, her brows slightly furrowed. "This is huge. When I was pregnant with you and Shitou, I wasn't this big even at five months."

Qingqing looked down at her stomach, patted it, and said with a mix of confusion and nonchalance, "Is it that big? I feel fine. I'm always hungry if I don't eat, and my mother-in-law makes me different things every day. Chicken soup noodles in the morning, pork ribs stewed with radish for lunch, fish soup for dinner, and snacks in between. I feel anxious if I don't eat." She turned around and added, "Mom, look how much weight I've gained! I don't even recognize myself anymore. The flesh on my thighs is all bunched up."

Su Xiaoyin felt increasingly uneasy as she listened, and her smile faded slightly. She took Qingqing's hand, her voice lower but her tone firm: "Is something wrong here? I'll take you to see a doctor. There might be something wrong with your belly. Even a normal twin pregnancy doesn't have a belly this big at this stage. I'm not trying to scare you, but it's good to be safe."

Upon hearing this, Qingqing's relaxed expression vanished instantly. She had initially thought it was because she ate too much that she had grown this way, but Su Xiaoyin's expression made her start to panic. She quickly nodded and said she would go and call her mother-in-law right away. As she spoke, she walked out, her steps much faster than usual. Su Xiaoyin called out from behind, "Slow down, don't run!" Qingqing had already pushed open the gate of the old house.