Chapter 19.1: Getting Off the Kang Wasn’t Easy

The group had lingered in town too long, the oxcart back to the village had already departed, leaving them no choice but to walk.

Fortunately, their baskets weren’t heavy.

“Sister Su, I promise I’ll learn embroidery properly,” He Ningwen declared earnestly.

She had earned her first money through embroidery that day and had been bubbling with excitement all the way home, eager to pick up her needle again.

Su Yi’an, who shared meals and lodging with her every day, had never noticed He Ningwen embroidering that handkerchief. Seeing her enthusiasm now, she realized the girl must have stitched it in secret, too shy to show anyone in case she made mistakes.

“Do whatever makes you happy,” Su Yi’an said gently. “If it stops being enjoyable, don’t force yourself.”

She didn’t want He Ningwen to take up embroidery just to repay the family’s debts. Only genuine passion would lead to mastery. Chasing money alone would only lead to misery.

He Ningwen nodded firmly. “Don’t worry, Sister Su. I really do love embroidery.”

She used to be impatient, but now she could sit quietly for hours on the kang, stitching with care.

Aunt Yun, overhearing their conversation, chimed in with a smile. “We can embroider together when there’s time. There’s more to it than you’d think—the more you learn, the better you’ll get.”

Su Yi’an’s smile faded instantly, and she waved her hands in protest.

She was happy to go foraging for food—but painstaking embroidery stitch by stitch? Absolutely not.

Shortly after they entered the village, Aunt Yun and her husband split off to run other errands.

Thankfully, it was midday, and most villagers were indoors.

Su Yi’an and He Ningwen strolled home at a relaxed pace.

Before they even reached the courtyard, the aroma of cooked food wafted toward them.

“What did Mother make today? It smells amazing!” He Ningwen unlatched the bamboo gate with practiced ease.

She hadn’t eaten much earlier, and the long walk had left her ravenous.

He Xingchen, perched on a stool, heard the gate creak and ran over.

“Little Aunt, you’re finally back!” His freshly washed cheeks were still pink.

“Why are your cheeks so red? Did someone hit you?” He Ningwen asked, concerned.

He Xingchen didn’t want to admit he’d been crying earlier. “No way! I’ve been practicing calligraphy in the courtyard all day.”

Worried they wouldn’t believe him, he tugged Su Yi’an’s sleeve and led her inside.

Mother He emerged from the kitchen, beaming. “You must be tired. Wash up and rest. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Su Yi’an was taken aback. Mother He hadn’t looked this cheerful even when He Yunhuai regained consciousness. Had something wonderful happened? Silver from the sky? A forgiven debt?

Before she could dwell on it, He Ningwen dragged He Xingchen aside. “What’s with Grandma?” she whispered.

“Grandma? She’s fine,” he replied, puzzled.

“Then why is she suddenly making such a feast? We barely have any food,” she insisted.

They had recently discovered a rat’s nest in the unused rice bin, forcing them to clean out the kitchen. Now, only a bit of rice and flour remained—no meat at all.

Then He Xingchen remembered. “Oh! It’s Second Uncle! He can get out of bed now!”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” He Ningwen huffed and stormed into the house.

He Xingchen scratched his head awkwardly and turned to Su Yi’an. “Aunt, do you want to see him?”

Su Yi’an nodded. She couldn’t refuse—besides, this wasn’t her first time meeting He Yunhuai. And if he could walk now, it would help with setting up their stall in town.

Inside, He Yunhuai lay pale on the kang. If not for his older brother’s shout, he wouldn’t have fallen. Their mother had even gone to fetch Dr. Wang.

“You’re always so stubborn, trying to do everything yourself,” He Songyuan teased. “Now look at you—stuck lying here with me for a few more days.” Despite his words, he was secretly relieved his younger brother was recovering.

He Yunhuai stared at his legs under the quilt, disappointment welling in his chest. Even standing was difficult. When would he ever walk normally again?

But he couldn’t voice such thoughts—they would only upset his brother.

“Second Brother, I heard you got out of bed!” He Ningwen burst in. “Why are you lying down again?”

He Yunhuai flushed crimson. He couldn’t admit he’d fallen again, or that even standing remained a struggle.

“No need to rush,” Su Yi’an said as she entered. He Xingchen had already told her everything.

He Ningwen sat beside him. “That’s right. You just got better. Rest properly—there’s no hurry.”

Besides, now that she could earn money, even if he couldn’t work, she could help support the family.

Seeing them engaged in conversation, Su Yi’an quietly slipped out.

She still had copper coins she hadn’t given to Wan Xu. In the flurry of returning, she had forgotten.

Wan Xu was now over seven months pregnant. Her belly had grown, and her old clothes strained at the seams. Mother He had insisted she rest, taking over household chores in preparation for the baby’s arrival.

“Why so many?” Wan Xu asked in surprise as Su Yi’an handed her the pouch of coins.

“One hundred and forty wen. The shopkeeper bought all five pouches,” Su Yi’an replied with a smile.

Wan Xu counted out twenty wen and returned the pouch. “That’s enough for me. You bought all the thread. I just stitched.”

Su Yi’an couldn’t convince her otherwise and accepted the coins back.

“I bought more embroidery thread today,” she added. “I figured we were running low. This should be enough.”

She shook the pouch, letting the coins clink.

Wan Xu took the thread, delighted. She had been planning to make a tiger-head hat and shoes for her unborn child, and she’d need plenty of thread for that.

Outside, Mother He had just finished cooking. She called out, and the two younger children dashed into the kitchen ahead of them.

Today’s meal was noodles in bone broth, rich and savory.

“Mother, where did you get the bones?” Su Yi’an asked, remembering their pantry was empty.

Mother He ladled broth into bowls. “I met the Yang family’s eldest son on my way to Dr. Wang’s. When he heard Second Son was awake, he brought them over.”

At first, she had refused. But he insisted, saying that if she didn’t accept, it would seem she hadn’t forgiven him for failing to protect He Yunhuai.

She had felt awkward. No one had explained why He Yunhuai was beaten. The Yang son wouldn’t let them ask at the time, and now that her son was better, everyone had gone silent.

Since they were all keeping it quiet, she pretended not to know.

She only accepted the bones after He Yunhuai nodded.

Su Yi’an understood there was more to the beating, but she didn’t push.

“So that’s how it is,” she murmured. Though curious, she respected He Yunhuai’s silence.

Each family member received a warm bowl of noodles. The meal chased away the chill lingering in their bones.

He Ningwen ate two small bowls and thought happily: Today, I saved ten coins!

She had noticed a plain noodle bowl in town cost five wen. This one, with bone broth, had to be worth more.

After the meal, Wan Xu invited Mother He into the room and handed her the twenty wen she had earned.

The family was still short on money—every coin counted.

Mother He’s eyes welled up. Wan Xu panicked. “Mother?”

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m fine. I just feel terrible putting you through this.”

If she hadn’t lost their savings after trusting the wrong people, they wouldn’t be struggling now.

“I still have some left,” she said, pushing the coins back. “You keep what you earn. Second Son is getting better. Dalang might get out of bed soon too. Save your money.”

Wan Xu felt warmth flood her heart and tucked the coins away.

That’s right, she thought. Hope is what keeps us going.

The next day, Su Yi’an began processing the pork she had bought.

This time, she was making sausages again, dividing them into more links for sale.

But two pounds of pork didn’t stretch far. Even with smaller links, it didn’t look like enough.

Su Yi’an felt uneasy. Was this business idea really viable?

The pork alone had cost seventy wen. Add firewood, seasonings, and casings—it totaled around eighty wen.

If she made eight links, each needed to sell for at least ten wen just to break even.

That seemed doable—but making sausages was time-consuming and tiring. If her profit was just a few dozen wen, was it worth it?

This needed more thought.

Ten days flew by. December arrived, and the cold deepened.

As He Yunhuai recovered, the rest of the He family stayed busy.

Mother He gathered firewood daily. After stocking enough for their own use, she sold the extra—a bundle now fetched more than ten wen.

He Ningwen stayed by Wan Xu’s side, embroidering pouches in her spare time. Her skills improved rapidly.

As for He Yunhuai, he couldn’t bear lying in bed for more than two days. Every day, he insisted on pulling himself up against the edge of the bed to practice walking. Perhaps due to his youth and robust constitution, he soon managed to walk without support, though slowly and stiffly. Still, the fact that he could walk on his own was a blessing.