Chapter 1 

Early winter, just before dawn.  

The sky was pitch black, and the streets were silent and empty. At this hour, most households were still deep in sweet slumber.  

But some were already up and busy making a living.  

A candle flickered, casting a dim, warm glow through the slightly worn wooden door panels. Inside a small shop by the street, a woman in a blue-green dress worked up a sweat as she vigorously kneaded a large lump of dough on the counter.  

The soft dough gradually became elastic under her repetitive motions—rounding, stretching, and finally being pinched into small fist-sized portions, neatly arranged on the counter.  

Just then, the back door creaked softly, and a slender boy, no more than eleven or twelve years old, shuffled in, rubbing his eyes and yawning.  

The woman saw him but didn’t pause her work, saying hurriedly, “Xing’er, why are you up again? I’ve told you so many times—you study hard all day, you should sleep a little longer in the morning.”  

The boy, Zhan Jianxing, merely smiled and walked straight to the counter. Picking up a portion of dough, he flattened it with practiced ease, deftly stuffing it with vegetable filling as he replied cheerfully, “Mother, I’m not tired. It’s quiet now, so it’s easier for me to recite my lessons. I’m silently reviewing them in my head—just keep working and don’t disturb me.”  

The woman was both anxious and touched that her son cared for her so much, always finding excuses to wake early and help. She wanted to say more but feared interrupting his studies, so she sighed helplessly with a smile and bent back to kneading the remaining dough.  

The shop was alive with small sounds—the faint creaking of the counter, the bubbling of water nearing a boil in the large pot on the stove. One by one, stuffed and plain buns took shape under Zhan Jianxing’s hands, filling the room with the warmth and fullness of a bustling household.  

When the woman finally finished her task, she stepped over to take over shaping the buns. Her movements were even more skilled. Zhan Jianxing yielded his spot and went to the stove, lifting the lid to check the water. Seeing it was already bubbling, he set the lid aside and fetched several bamboo steamers, arranging the prepared buns inside before carrying them to the pot.  

The woman, watching closely, quickly called out, “Xing’er, put that down—let me do it. The water’s boiling, you might scald yourself.”  

Zhan Jianxing, still young and not very strong, didn’t argue. He let his mother take the heavy steamers and set them over the pot to steam.  

By the time the first batch of buns was ready, the sky outside had finally lightened to a hazy gray.  

Zhan Jianxing walked to the door, slid back the bolt, and began removing the old wooden panels one by one, carrying them outside to lean against the wall.  

His age straddled the line between child and adolescent, and his slight frame lacked the sturdiness typical of boys his age. His blue cotton robe hung a little loosely on him, and the task of removing the heavy door panels wasn’t easy. But with no grown man in the household—just a widowed mother and her young son—he had learned early to shoulder responsibility.  

A thin mist drifted along the long street, and the winter air was crisp and cold. Stepping outside, Zhan Jianxing shivered, hugging his arms, but the chill also sharpened his mind.  

Stretching his arms by the roadside, he noticed a young man in his twenties across the street, also removing door panels from an oil shop. The man grinned at him and called, “Xing’er, up early helping your mother again?”  

Zhan Jianxing’s expression was much more reserved with outsiders—he rarely smiled, but he was still polite. He nodded and replied, “Good morning, Brother Chen.”

He jogged back to the shop and continued moving out tables and stools.

“That educated young man is truly different—no trace of mischief, so steady and diligent,” remarked the young wife from the oil shop as she stepped out, tossing out wash water while praising.

“And yet you weren’t happy when our father wanted to send your second brother to school.”

“Pah, is your brother even cut out for it?” The young wife turned her head unceremoniously and rolled her eyes. “Your little brother was born the same year as that Xing-ge, and he’s probably still lazing in bed right now? With that kind of laziness, how dare he even think of going to school? Better not waste the money!”

Amid the bickering of the young couple, three or four more shops began clattering as they took down their shutters. Pedestrians gradually appeared in the thin mist at the street’s end, and the entire lane awoke from its deep slumber.

The Zhan family’s steamed bun shop also opened for business. At this early hour, most of their customers were familiar faces from the neighborhood. Zhan Jianxing and his mother, Xu Shi, weren’t originally locals—only Father Zhan had been. But two years ago, Father Zhan fell ill and passed away. To let him return to his roots, Xu Shi brought Zhan Jianxing on the long journey to Datong County, carrying the coffin. After burying Father Zhan, they observed mourning while running this small shop, toiling from dawn to dusk. The neighbors, seeing the mother and son’s hardships and finding the Zhan family’s buns affordable and hearty, often patronized them. Though life was tough without a pillar of support, Xu Shi and Zhan Jianxing managed to scrape by.

As the sun rose, the first batch of fifty or sixty buns sold smoothly. Even Little Chen Shopkeeper from across the street came to buy four. The buns in the steamer dwindled one by one, replaced by the jingling sound of copper coins. Xu Shi, pleased, turned and saw Zhan Jianxing sitting on a small stool by the shop entrance, cheeks puffed as he earnestly munched on a large bun. Her heart swelled with affection. “Xing’er, eat slowly. It’s still early—no need to rush to school,” she urged tenderly.

Zhan Jianxing mumbled an acknowledgment and kept eating.

“Sister Xu.”

Hearing the call, Xu Shi turned, expecting a customer, but instead saw a woman in her early thirties with a russet headscarf, holding a motionless child who seemed to be asleep.

“Oh, Sister Zhang! Please, sit. Have you eaten?” Xu Shi bustled about, fetching a stool and pouring a bowl of hot tea.

Zhan Jianxing also stood to greet her. “Auntie Zhang.”

“Xing-ge is so well-mannered. He seems taller than the last time I saw him.”

Xu Shi smiled. “A bit taller. This child refuses to put on weight, but he grows as fast as anyone.”

“Growing tall is good. Boys are like that—first height, then weight. The other way around wouldn’t be ideal,” Zhang Shi agreed, though her expression seemed distracted. Noticing she had something to say, Zhan Jianxing offered, “Auntie, you talk with Mother. I’ll hold Miao Miao for a while.”

Children from ordinary families weren’t coddled. With adults busy making ends meet, older kids like Zhan Jianxing often helped care for younger siblings. Zhang Shi, her arms sore from holding the child so long, gratefully handed Miao Miao over with a smile.

A little girl around two years old was sleeping soundly, but as she was handed over, Xu Shi noticed the child’s face was unusually flushed. Startled, she asked, “What’s wrong with Miao Miao? Is she sick?”

Zhang Shi sighed. “Yes. Yesterday her older brother took her out to play, and she fell. Though she wasn’t hurt, she tumbled into a ditch and got soaked in cold water. She started running a fever as soon as she got home. We asked the Village Herbalist for some herbs, but they didn’t help. I was afraid the fever would harm her, so I didn’t dare delay. Late at night, I begged someone to hitch a cart and rushed to the city. But this little one sure knows how to make trouble—just as we found a doctor in the city, she got better. The doctor said no medicine was needed, just to keep her warm and let her sleep it off. All that fuss for nothing.”

Xu Shi comforted her. “Better to have made a fuss for nothing than for the child to be in real danger.”

Zhang Shi nodded. “That’s true.”

As she spoke, she glanced back at Zhan Jianxing, who had retreated into the shop and was sitting steadily with Miao Miao in his arms. Reassured, she turned back and leaned closer. “Sister Xu, since I’m in the city, I thought I’d pass along some news. The Zhan family is up to no good again.”

Xu Shi paled. “What more do they want? We’ve left the village and are making our own living in the city, not costing them a single coin. Isn’t that enough for them?”

“Apparently not,” Zhang Shi said indignantly. “Aside from my late brother-in-law, not a single one of those Zhans is any good. I recently overheard people talking—the eldest and third branches of the Zhan family are scheming. They’re counting the days until your mourning period ends so they can marry you off again.”

Xu Shi turned even paler. “I’ve made it clear I won’t remarry. I just want to raise Xing’er. They—they go too far!”

“What I heard was even worse. Not only do they want to force you to remarry, but they also plan to take Xing’er back. They claim that since my brother-in-law was away for so many years, it was his uncles who managed the family’s fields. Now that Xing’er is older and can work, they say he should return to help.”

Xu Shi could still hold back her anger at the mention of remarriage, but when she heard those wolfish relatives had set their sights on Zhan Jianxing, she trembled with rage. “They managed the fields, but they also kept all the harvest. We haven’t eaten a single grain of theirs. Now they want to treat my Xing’er like a beast of burden? Never! If they push me too far, I’ll go beat the drum at the county office!”

Zhang Shi said, “Sister Xu, I’m telling you so you can be prepared. My advice? With the New Year approaching, find an excuse not to go back. Even though your mourning period won’t end for another four or five months, who knows what those shameless people might do? They could detain you and sell you off to some old bachelor. You’re better off staying in the county seat. At least with the county and prefecture officials here, they’d think twice before pulling such a disgraceful stunt.”

Xu Shi took a moment to steady herself, then nodded quickly. “You’re right, Sister Zhang. I can’t thank you enough. If you hadn’t warned me, Xing’er and I would’ve suffered terribly at their hands.”

Zhang Shi waved it off. “It’s just a few words—nothing worth thanking me for. Even if you weren’t such a good person, for the sake of my late sister, I wouldn’t let them have their way.”

After all, she had come to the city to seek medical treatment for her child. With matters to attend to, she prepared to leave once her message was delivered. Xu Shi hurriedly wrapped four large steamed buns in oiled paper and tied them into a small bundle with a piece of cloth. Zhang Shi declined politely but ultimately accepted, carrying the child in her arms and the buns on her arm as she left.

Zhan Jianxing walked over to Xu Shi, his expression indifferent but with a cold anger simmering beneath his gaze.

Though he had kept some distance from Zhang Shi, he had heard most of what she said.

Zhang Shi’s choice of terms—”elder sister” and “elder brother-in-law”—sounded a bit odd. This was because, back when Father Zhan was still at home, he had first married an original wife, Da Zhang Shi, Zhang Shi’s elder sister. Da Zhang Shi had passed away early, and after Father Zhan left home for the south, he remarried Xu Shi while running a small business there.

Da Zhang Shi had no children and, during her lifetime, had been disliked by her mother-in-law and bullied by her sisters-in-law, suffering greatly in the Zhan family. Father Zhan carried guilt in his heart for her. Even after leaving his hometown, he never forgot to burn incense and paper money for her during festivals. Before his death, he instructed Zhan Jianxing to offer sacrifices to Da Zhang Shi alongside him in the future. Following her late husband’s wishes, Xu Shi took Zhan Jianxing to the Zhang family after arriving in Datong to inform them of this, assuring them that their daughter would not go hungry in the afterlife.

When the Zhang family saw them and learned that Father Zhan had remarried and had a child elsewhere, they initially harbored resentment. But upon hearing his final wishes, they softened, feeling that Father Zhan had at least shown some conscience. They wept and treated Xu Shi and Zhan Jianxing kindly, even inviting them to stay for a meal. Over the next two years, they maintained contact, and whenever the Zhan family came up with some new scheme, the Zhangs would come to warn Xu Shi.

“Mother, there’s no need to be angry with them. We’re in the city now—we don’t have to go back,” Zhan Jianxing said stiffly.

The Zhan clan lived in Changshengbao Village, Duzhuang Township, under Datong County’s jurisdiction. When Father Zhan was buried, Xu Shi and her son had stayed there for a while. But due to conflicts with the eldest and third branches of the Zhan family, they soon found it unbearable and moved to the city. Yet, it seemed the family still wouldn’t give up—now they were pressing in again.

Xu Shi forced a smile. “You’re right, Xing’er.”

Still, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy. A widowed mother with a frail son had it too hard in this world. Fortunately, Xing’er was the way he was. If he were—

“Run! Run now!”

“Close the doors! Hurry, shut them!”

“—The Prince of Dai is coming!”

A chaotic clamor erupted from one end of the street, instantly throwing the entire road into turmoil. Pedestrians fled, and shopkeepers rushed to bar their doors. Xu Shi, being an outsider who hadn’t lived here long, didn’t understand the meaning of the shouts. Panicked and bewildered, she kept asking, “What’s happening? What’s happening? Have the Tatars broken into the city?”

Datong was indeed a border town, but it was also a heavily fortified one. The court had stationed many troops here—surely the enemy couldn’t have breached the walls?

Across the street, Little Chen’s Wife, seeing Xu Shi’s confusion, shouted while helping Little Chen Shopkeeper slam the door planks into place, “Sister Xu, it’s worse than the Tatars! Close your door now—I’ll explain later!”

“Oh! Oh!”

Xu Shi complied. Zhan Jianxing, who had been preparing to leave for school, paused to help gather their belongings and move them inside the shop.