Wei Cheng held the long-life lock in front of Guan Guan. “Guan Guan is Brother’s good child. Brother hopes Guan Guan will grow up safe and sound. My father…” He paused, “…if Father were here, he’d be happy too, having Guan Guan grow up with me.”

He untied the red string to put the lock around Guan Guan’s neck, but Guan Guan dodged, waving his hand, “Wash it, it smells bad.”

“I forgot. Let me wash it first,” Wei Cheng said, feeling uncomfortable knowing Song Bao’er had worn it.

Guan Guan yawned, his eyes watery. “Brother, Guan Guan sleepy.”

“Sleep,” Wei Cheng whispered.

The child had walked all day and ridden a bumpy cart. He was tired.

Wei Cheng put the lock aside, covered Guan Guan with a quilt, and soon heard him snoring lightly.

Wei Cheng began to organize their purchases.

The firewood hid the backpack’s contents.

He neatly placed the cotton, coarse cloth, and cotton cloth for Guan Guan’s underclothes at the foot of the kang.

Making clothes in town was expensive, he’d ask Doumiao’s mother to make them. No one made better clothes than her.

He put the toothbrush and toothpaste on the windowsill. The peach blossom cream couldn’t be there because it would freeze, nor on the kang because it would melt. He couldn’t find a suitable place, so he’d need to buy a cabinet later.

He put the remaining buns on the stove and, going outside, hung the remaining candied hawthorn on a snow-covered branch.

It was almost dark. He needed to make dinner.

They had two small bowls of coarse flour from the Li family; a white radish; and a cabbage.

They had no salt or oil. The radish and cabbage could only be used for porridge or eaten raw.

Fortunately, they had buns…

Buns? Wei Cheng remembered the cabbage and meat buns. He opened a bun, putting the meat into a pot of warm water, adding some shredded cabbage leaves, covering it, and warming two more buns on the lid.

A cabbage and meat soup was made.

Guan Guan woke up to the aroma, rubbing his eyes and sitting up, seeing Brother offering him a piece of radish.

“Try it.”

Guan Guan’s face was flushed from sleep, his eyes still blurry. He bit into the radish, tasting a fresh scent, then a strange, unpleasant taste.

Guan Guan stuck out his tongue, looking at Wei Cheng in disbelief, “Brother, why did you poison Guan Guan?”

Wei Cheng quickly took away the radish, laughing, “Brother didn’t poison you. It’s radish, from Village Head Uncle. I wanted you to try it.”

He chewed it, finding it spicy, but swallowed it. “Spicy, spicy.”

He gave Guan Guan the warm soup.

Guan Guan drank some, the spicy feeling disappearing. He offered the soup to Wei Cheng.

They shared the spicy radish and finished the soup.

After eating a bun, Guan Guan looked at Wei Cheng, then at the radish on the stove, “Brother, the radish is bad, throw it away!”

Throwing it away was wasteful, but it was too spicy.

Wei Cheng smiled, “Food is hard-earned. When we buy seasonings, we’ll cook it until it’s not spicy.”

“When will we buy them?” Guan Guan hugged Wei Cheng’s leg, anxious, “Will it go into Guan Guan’s mouth again?”

“No, don’t worry.”

Wei Cheng patted his head, remembering something, “We earned a lot today, and spent a lot. Let’s count the money.”

The children sat by the fire, taking out their money.

“Four taels and nine hundred cash from the frogs, plus twenty from Uncle Langzhong…” Wei Cheng frowned, counting on his fingers.

Guan Guan held up his hands and feet, “And Guan Guan’s hands and feet.” He was about to take off his shoes.

Wei Cheng chuckled, “No need, Brother can count.”

“Four taels, nine hundred and twenty cash.”

Wei Cheng muttered, “Cart four cash, extra two; candied hawthorn five cash, buns twenty-two cash; coarse cloth one hundred and fifty cash, cotton cloth seventy cash; toothbrush and cream one hundred and fifty cash; coat rent six cash; cotton two hundred and forty cash…”

He counted the remaining money: two taels and two hundred and seventy-one cash.

They’d spent almost half.

They needed to pay Doumiao’s mother for clothes, buy oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, pots, pans, rice, beans, and sweet potatoes.

He also wanted to learn math, needing an abacus, and to give a gift to the herbalist…

They needed to go to the mountain again tomorrow. But he was afraid of wolves. He’d seen them before. Maybe they should gather firewood or catch rabbits instead.

Wei Cheng stopped thinking about money and said to Guan Guan, “Guan Guan, get your treasure.”

Guan Guan brought his clay pot.

He gave it to Wei Cheng.

Wei Cheng put the two taels of silver into the pot, but heard no sound.

He shook it, hearing the silver clinking.

“Don’t shake it,”

Guan Guan shook his head, serious and cute, “It says it’s a good pot, it won’t hide your money.”

Wei Cheng put the pot back, teasing the child, “Really? What else does it say?”

“It says it likes you.”

Guan Guan’s face was white and pretty in the firelight. “Because Brother smells of silver.”

Guan Guan woke up alone.

He rubbed his eyes and called, “Brother.”

No one answered. Guan Guan wasn’t worried. When the rooster crowed, Brother would get up.

Brother didn’t let him come this time, saying he’d gather firewood in the woods, and Guan Guan, in his borrowed coat, couldn’t run around.

He needed to return the coat today.

Guan Guan slept soundly.

He woke up and wanted to get down from the kang.

He slid down, but got stuck.

His legs dangled in the air.

Wei Cheng came in and saw this funny sight.

“Brother… help…” Guan Guan was about to cry.

Wei Cheng lifted him back onto the kang. “You’re brave, trying to get down yourself. Forgot how short your legs are?”

He moved away, as he was cold from outside.

“Woke up, want Brother,”

Guan Guan’s face flushed red. He touched his legs, sighing like an old man, “Useless, sigh.”

Wei Cheng laughed. Guan Guan’s innocent words were adorable.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be taller when you grow up.”

Wei Cheng patted his head, “Let’s brush our teeth and wash our faces, then eat breakfast. Brother needs to return the coat to Doumiao’s house.”

Hearing “brush teeth,” Guan Guan’s eyes lit up, “Okay!”

He remembered the boy at the herbalist’s house laughing at him.

But when Wei Cheng started brushing his teeth with a toothbrush and tea-scented toothpaste, Guan Guan refused after two strokes, “Brother, no more.”

“Only two strokes, good Guan Guan, a few more,” Wei Cheng said.

“But Guan Guan’s teeth hurt,” Guan Guan frowned, his eyes red.