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

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Yang Wenhu got up. Qingqing and the children were still asleep. Three people lay side-by-side on the kang (heated brick bed)—Qingqing on the inside, the two children in the middle, their tiny swaddled bodies huddled together like two kittens just released from their nest. He stood by the kang for a while, bent down to tuck Qingqing in, and then touched the children's faces before tiptoeing out of the room. Madam Yang was already busy in the kitchen; chicken soup was simmering in a pot, and several small dishes were laid out on the stove. Seeing Yang Wenhu come out, she told him to be careful on his way home, to talk nicely to his in-laws, and not to rush back.

Yang Wenhu drove the mule cart out of town and traveled for more than an hour until he arrived at Nanshan Village. The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and dew clung to the crops on both sides of the dirt road. He parked the mule cart in front of the Chen family's courtyard, pushed open the gate, and found that there were already people inside. Su Xiaoyin was squatting by the well washing vegetables, Su Xiaoqing was chopping firewood by the kitchen door, Chen's mother was sitting on the porch sewing shoe soles, and Chen's father was pacing in the courtyard, holding a worn-out kettle. Hearing the gate open, the group looked up and saw Yang Wenhu standing at the door, his clothes wrinkled, dark circles under his eyes, and his hair a tangled mess.

"Wenhu? Why are you here so early?" Su Xiaoyin was the first to react, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

Yang Wenhu stood at the door, forcing a smile: "Grandpa, Grandma, Dad, Mom, Uncle, Aunt, Qingqing gave birth. She gave birth last night, but it was too late to tell you the good news."

The courtyard fell silent for a moment. Su Xiaoqing dropped the firewood in her hand, Chen's mother pricked her finger with the needle, Chen's father's hand holding the kettle froze in mid-air, and the half-finished shoe sole in Chen's mother's hand slipped down to her knees.

Su Xiaoyin walked quickly to Yang Wenhu, grabbed his arm, and asked anxiously, "How is Qingqing? Is she alright? Why is it so many days early? I thought I would have to wait."

Yang Wenhu's smile faded, and he lowered his head like a child who had made a mistake: "Yesterday, after Qingqing woke up, she wanted to get out of bed to drink water, but she tripped and fell. Neither my mother nor I were in the room at the time; we didn't take good care of Qingqing." His voice grew lower and lower, and his head drooped further and further, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down several times.

Chen Dashan walked over from the kitchen doorway, patted Yang Wenhu on the shoulder, and said in a low but firm voice, "As long as the adults and children are safe, that's all that matters. It's better that no one is hurt. The fall is already done, don't keep taking the blame on yourself."

Yang Wenhu nodded, swallowing his anger. He said Qingqing and the baby were both fine, but the doctor wouldn't let Qingqing breastfeed. His father had found a ewe beforehand, and the baby was currently drinking goat milk. The doctor said the delivery had been too dangerous and suggested a longer postpartum period to allow her to recover better. He discussed it with his mother and planned to have Qingqing rest for three months, staying indoors, avoiding drafts, and not letting her worry about anything.

Mother Chen picked up the shoe sole again, but couldn't thread the needle. Her voice trembled slightly. She steadied herself and said, "Fortunately, the Yang family had taken precautions early and found a midwife and a doctor in advance. Otherwise, it would have been too late by the time the Chen family found out."

Su Xiaoqing turned and went into the backyard. A moment later, she came out carrying two old hens, their legs tied and wings flapping. She handed the chickens to Yang Wenhu, saying she would take them back to make soup for Qingqing, as she was weak and needed to nourish herself. Yang Wenhu took the chickens and thanked her. He added a few more words, explaining that his father had been managing the cloth shop alone these days, while he and his mother mainly took care of Qingqing and the baby. He said he would bring Qingqing back to visit everyone after her postpartum period. Then he hurried away. Chen Dashan saw her to the gate, watching the mule cart drive away before turning back.

Mother Chen sat on the veranda, picking up the shoe sole again and sewing a few stitches, her hands trembling slightly. Su Xiaoyin stood in the courtyard, gazing towards the gate for a long while before turning back. She told Su Xiaoqing that she had been feeling uneasy all day, unable to concentrate on anything, and it turned out Qingqing had given birth. Su Xiaoqing came over and took her sister's arm, saying, "Qingqing is lucky, don't worry, everything will be alright. Now she has two sons to rely on, and she's established herself in the Yang family. Don't just think about her, you need to take care of yourself too."

Chen's mother looked up and called out, "Prepare some things for Qingqing, and then go buy some half-grown hens. We don't have many chickens left after the eggs and what we need for Qingqing and Qinghuan. Go and exchange some with other families in the village. We should all take good care of ourselves; good health is essential for long-term well-being."

Su Xiaoyin agreed, saying that she and Xiaoqing would go to other people's homes in the village to exchange some more. Qinghuan, Qiuming, and Yuming really needed to replenish their bodies. Childbirth is like a life-or-death ordeal for women. If they are healthy, they won't suffer from any health problems. She had also given birth to twins, and it was because she ate well and was well-nourished during her postpartum period that she didn't have any health issues.

Zhang Qiuming and Zhang Yuming stood at the kitchen doorway, exchanging a glance. After a moment's hesitation, Zhang Qiuming walked over to Zhao Qinghuan and spoke in a low voice, "Qinghuan, we wanted to ask you how much money is appropriate to give Qingqing as a wedding gift? What other gifts should we give? Shitou and Aji aren't here, so we're unsure. We're worried that giving too little would be inappropriate, while giving too much would be excessive." Zhang Yuming also came closer, clutching a bunch of chives in her hand, the leaves almost crumpled up without her noticing.

Zhao Qinghuan was kneading dough by the stove when she heard this. She wiped her hands, thought for a moment, and said in a low but clear voice, "Afu and I have discussed it. Giving money directly isn't appropriate; it's too formal. We're planning to go to a jewelry store to have a longevity lock made for the child, along with a pair of silver bracelets or a silver necklace—things the child can use. We'll also prepare some nourishing food for Qingqing—dried scallops, white fungus, etc.—all from the dried goods store in the county town."

Zhang Qiuming nodded, and Zhang Yuming breathed a sigh of relief. Both of them said it was better not to give money directly; they planned to buy some food later, and make some clothes and silver ornaments for the child. Zhao Qinghuan said they would go to the county town together tomorrow to get things done. Zhang Yuming wiped her hands on her apron and said it was settled then; the sooner they finished preparing, the sooner they could feel at ease. Zhao Qinghuan kneaded the dough a few more times, the dough somersaulting twice in her palm, before placing it on the cutting board.

Xiao Yin and Su Xiaoqing went out with baskets to exchange for hens at other villagers' homes. Mother Chen was still sewing shoe soles under the eaves, the needle and thread piercing through the thick fabric, stitch by stitch, slowly and deliberately. Father Chen stood for a while, leaning on his cane, then sat down. He lit his pipe, the flame flickering briefly before dimming, the smoke dissipating in the wind; he barely took a few puffs.

Yang Wenhu's mule cart had already driven far away, leaving two tracks on the dirt road. Qingqing was still being raised by the Yang family; she would be able to walk around in the fields soon. The Chen family's hen was clucking in its coop, and the voices of Su Xiaoyin and Su Xiaoqing came from the village road, growing closer and closer.