In hard times, people dreaded snow — cold and hunger together were the most difficult words in this fickle world to endure.

But as life gradually improved, snowy days took on an elegant charm instead — wine, poetry, and family and friends gathered together in lively company. No matter how heavily it snowed, it became a thoroughly delightful thing.

In the modest houses, the windows were pasted with double layers of paper so the wind couldn’t get in, and there were heated brick walls burning with plenty of charcoal. The beams of the lower rooms hung with enough smoked meat and cured goods, and grain vats taller than a person, pressed down with bluestone slabs, filled the cellars, along with dried fruit and pickled vegetables… enough to last until next summer. So it was that every household on the old street of Quanhou lived in comfortable, easy prosperity.

Whenever weather like this came around, A’Nai loved to curl up on the heated brick bed, calling over her old companions from the past to gather together, eat something warm, and chat on and on about the hardships of former days.

For them, this winter passed quickly, filled with liveliness and joy day after day.

Of all four seasons in the year, this was the only time A’Nai wasn’t stingy — as long as it was snowing and everyone came to keep her company, she became a bodhisattva scattering wealth freely.

Qiqian’er loved this time of year best too. As long as A’Nai’s old sworn sisters were around, she was free and easy — no need to watch the children, who were sent off early to be carried over there, staying a whole day at a time, leaving her free to lounge about however she pleased.

Unfortunately, once a piece of flesh falls from one’s own body into this world, the first few years are simply inseparable. The mother might wish for rest, but that little piece of flesh wouldn’t allow it.

The moment he opened his eyes, he had to search all around, and if his mother wasn’t within sight, he’d fall into a look of utter despair, as if the sky had collapsed and everyone in the world had died.

It wasn’t just An’er either — Gennu’er was just as bad in this respect. A father could be easily given up, but not being able to find his mother was truly terrifying.

What could be done? Just keep enduring the exhaustion, then.

Compared to her past life where she’d had to handle everything herself, now there were more than twenty people helping to look after the children — but it was still exhausting at heart.

A plump little finger pointed decisively toward the old family estate, commanding his mother: “Wine (go)!”

Qiqian’er feigned shock, somewhat deliberately: “Ah, drinking wine already? What if you get drunk?”

That chubby little hand grew quite angry, reaching back to press a deep dent into his mother’s cheek, twisting it round and round: “Wine!!”

Quite formidable indeed.

Like his father, he was extremely clever — in his past life a coward, but in this one a war god; as far as the eye could see, there wasn’t a single person he couldn’t defeat.

Gennu’er, learning from his younger brother, had grown just as domineering, going wherever he pleased — and now he too wanted “wine.”

And so Qiqian’er found herself ordered by her two little ancestors to head toward the old family estate.

Things were always wonderful over at Old Grandmother’s — whatever you wanted to eat, you got, and no matter how you carried on, no one dared to stop you.

The moment the main hall door opened, cold wind swept in carrying flying snow. Several maids opened umbrellas, others called out to people, and the short stretch of path was swept over and over, laid with straw mats — everyone afraid the young masters of the house might slip and get hurt.

Cared for and escorted, mother and sons arrived at the gate of the old estate. The moment they entered the courtyard, uproarious laughter came bursting out from within, plainly showing everyone inside was in good spirits.

Qiqian’er couldn’t help but laugh too.

An’er, in one of his silly moods, had picked up some laughing bean from who-knows-where, and simply poked his round, chubby face out of his bright red cloak, laughing up at the sky himself.

Mother and son laughed their way into the house like this, and once inside, Qiqian’er asked: “What were you all talking about? I could hear you laughing from the mouth of the alley.”

She looked up toward the heated brick bed. The old lady was wearing a black jacket today; in her past life her hair had never gone fully white even by the day she died, but now not a single black strand remained among the frost.

She had grown plump, and whatever sharpness she’d once had seemed to belong to someone else now — what remained was only a willful old lady, kind-hearted and no longer meddling in others’ affairs.

Seeing Qiqian’er come in, the old lady laughed and lodged a complaint: “I was just saying it’s cold today, and I could do with some meat broth. Well then, every last one of them, black-hearted the lot, waving old Physician Cheng’s case notes from last year to scare me — can’t eat this, can’t eat that, can’t eat the other — is a person even allowed to keep living?”

The old lady was elderly and fond of rich food, which had earned her the ailment of pampered old ladies — constipation and poor urinary flow, needing to get up more than ten times a night, dribbling on and off.

This had truly been a great ordeal for her.

The elderly attendant beside her immediately reported: “Fourth Madam, the old lady got up more than ten times last night.”

The old lady flew into a rage: “That’s because I couldn’t sleep!”

The room instantly erupted into laughter.

In the room were Madam Yang, Madam Guo, Madam Wan, Madam Lu, and Madam Huang, all past their forties, most of them grandmothers by now. The ailment the old lady had — most of them had it too.

How had it come about? From the old days of fearing they’d fall behind the army, holding their urine for so long, especially in winter — the moment they saw snow, they’d sleep only in short snatches through the night, and the instant they woke, they’d rush to find a chamber pot to empty themselves, as if they were still fleeing on carts, still running for their lives.

The mind may forget its former hardships, but the body has already carved those old sufferings into itself, and there’s no curing it now.

Gennu’er, sweet-tongued as ever, spotted his great-grandmother and immediately reached out, patting her and calling: “~Nai!”

“Oh my, oh my, who is this now — this is Nai’s little Gennu, isn’t it.”

The old lady didn’t care whose child this was — as long as Qiqian’er said he was hers, then he belonged to the Chen family.

She was desperate to fill this household up, just as in the old days, when as long as there was steam rising by the cooking pot, a dozen or so heads big and small would come crowding around to watch.

Those were the days when life truly felt lively.

Where could it compare to now — Xique and Lanting had to study with their tutor day after day, and the three generations above had their own households and affairs to attend to, so visits came only in fits and starts.

As for the grandsons — the eldest grandson’s night-watch post was troublesome, the third grandson’s post was the most exhausting, requiring him to make rounds everywhere, and as for the second grandson, he came home and went straight to sleep, and when he did come to pay respects it was always the same three questions.

Did A’Nai sleep well?

Did A’Nai eat well?

Was A’Nai’s body comfortable?

The old lady was sharp enough to see in many people’s eyes that her presence was slowly becoming a burden, a nuisance.

The moment she caught a chill and coughed, all four grandsons’ wives would drop everything and hover around her for the whole day.

A’Nai feared most of all being a burden to others, and so once winter came, she hardly dared move at all.

She couldn’t bear to trouble her grandchildren.

Lately, the old lady no longer said things like “bodhisattva” — instead, whenever she saw people, she’d say, “I’m just a wretched old nuisance, better off dying sooner and getting it over with.”

Every time she said this, a crowd would rush to comfort her, begging her to live to a hundred years, and only then would her heart feel a little more at ease.

As if she had to prove something day after day, she’d disparage herself dozens of times.

Qiqian’er roughly stripped the cloak and padded jacket off her son and tossed An’er onto the heated bed as if dumping off a burden.

The moment An’er landed on the bed, the whole room fell into instant peace.

Everyone watched as the chubby little boy scrambled his way over to his great-grandmother’s side in a few quick moves, and despite the old lady’s reluctance and repeated struggling, he finally found the string of keys she never let out of her sight, even sleeping with them.

No one in this world could manage it — not even if the Emperor himself came — only this little fellow could. His great-grandmother’s whole reason for living seemed to be for his sake.

The old lady looked to Qiqian’er as if pleading for rescue. Qiqian’er, holding back laughter, turned and took the tools Eryue had brought over, then slipped off her shoes, climbed onto the bed, and began trimming the old lady’s ingrown toenails.

The old lady herself didn’t quite understand it — in her former life she’d worked in the courtyard right up until the day before she died, but now, going in and out, her feet barely touched the ground, and yet her toenails still grew into the flesh, making every step agonizing.

The old lady was particular about who she let close to her — if a maidservant held her foot to trim it, she felt too shy and unwilling; but if it was Qiqian’er, that was fine, mainly because then she didn’t dare complain about the pain.

Enough light came through the window paper to fill the room, and outside the cold wind howled, but inside even a lined jacket felt too warm, everyone watching as the Chen family’s young grandson, sweating from effort, threw open every single cabinet built into his great-grandmother’s heated bed.

Every single one — opened one after another.

Only he could open those cabinets — even Chen Dasheng himself couldn’t manage it.

Having opened the cabinets wasn’t enough for him — he dove in headfirst with complete devotion, dragging out his A’Nai’s secretly hoarded scraps of cloth, bundles of clothes, and all sorts of large and small boxes… handing them out to whoever he saw.

An’er rummaged about while Gennu’er lay outside catching the discarded odds and ends. Whenever he spotted something brightly colored, Gennu’er draped it over himself without the least bit of shyness.

A’Nai’s feet still ached from the trimming, her lips trembling, when she finally saw her great-grandson push a large ingot of silver toward Madam Lu, and the old lady finally erupted.

“Oh, my ancestors! However did our family end up with such a spendthrift little scoundrel — no amount of family wealth would be enough for you to squander. Are you a fool, boy?”

Her great-grandson, ever eager to please, immediately turned his head enthusiastically and barked: “Woof~ woof…!”

Having barked, he tilted his head to one side, waiting for praise.

The whole room instantly burst into uproarious laughter.

Gennu, not to be outdone, joined in and performed a cat’s meow as well.

Everyone laughed even harder.

The old lady laughed too, and helplessly, could only gesture generously toward the cabinet with a sigh: “Go on, go on, take it all — it was all saved up for you anyway, it’ll be yours sooner or later, distribute it however you like. Damn it, you’re nothing at all like your father!”

This wasn’t the first time she’d said such things — after she died, they could just wrap her in a straw mat and dig a hole to bury her, that would do just fine, but her belongings absolutely had to go to An’er.

As for this particular partiality of hers, only Fourth Master minded it at all. As for everyone else — even Dingxiang, who managed the household herself, had far more in her own hands than a housebound old lady like this.

So it was — the more one had, the more generous one could afford to be; it was only those with little who quibbled over such things.

Holding the silver ingot, Madam Lu was deeply moved too — really it was just that she was the plumpest, the biggest target, and An’er always spotted her first, but she chose to regard being given to first as a kind of fated bond.

She then brought out a bundle she’d prepared long in advance, opening it in front of everyone to reveal a neat little set of children’s clothes inside.

Her embroidery was only average, but her sewing skill was the best among all the daughters-in-law in this group — not flattery, she simply loved making clothes for An’er, and had made quite a variety of styles too.

Qiqian’er put away the scissors, applied ointment to the old lady’s feet, wrapped them in cloth, and only then turned with a smile to give thanks: “Auntie, your own Dajiao gave you a grandson too — why do you always fuss over this one instead?”

Madam Lu laughed without the least concern: “Oh please, they’re right here in the same village — my daughter-in-law’s mother practically lived at our house. Since they don’t want me interfering, why should I bother with her nonsense! I make clothes for our little young master because I want our little young master to have eyes only for me.”

Qiqian’er said politely: “Look at you, still calling him ‘little young master’ — don’t go jinxing his fortune with that… How’s your family been lately?”

Madam Lu laughed: “Doing well! Thanks to their third brother’s blessing, they’re all quite well-behaved now, not daring to act up in the slightest.”

Madam Lu was a widow who, with Chen Dasheng’s help, had gotten a house on Quanhou Back Street, and back when land was cheap, had also acquired over two hundred mu of land in the outer city.

A couple of years back, her two children had fallen in with bad company at school, and inevitably picked up some of their habits outside — liking to show off and ordering servants about, getting into mischief along with them.

Madam Lu had wept over it several times at home, and when there was truly nothing else to be done, she came and wept at the Chen household.

What else could she do — she had no other family, her husband was dead, and while the Chen family didn’t have to care, in her own heart the Chen family was her only support.

The Chen family’s eldest and second sons paid this matter no mind at all; Chen Dasheng was too busy to attend to it, but it was the third son, Chen Dayong, who happened to love meddling in others’ business.

Several widowed aunties in the alley had it hard enough as it was, and even with some of their faults, given how they’d once traveled tens of thousands of li together with A’Nai, supporting one another, it was only right to look out for them. Young people squandering a bit here and there could be tolerated, but cockfighting, dog-racing, and competing with others day after day — that could not be tolerated.

Chen Dayong’s method of disciplining children was simple: he took his own personal guards and swept through every tavern, brothel, and gambling den in Qingfeng City to haul the boys out.

He was a proper soldier who’d led troops and earned military merit — disciplining a few unruly boys posed no difficulty at all. His method was simple: beat them soundly with his bare hands, and if that wasn’t enough, string them up and take a whip to them.

In those days, just shouting “Third Master Chen is here!” at the mouth of Quanhou Street would make the young masters of Liubu Alley’s legs go weak with fear — everyone was afraid of him.

After this round of discipline, those beyond saving stayed beyond saving no matter who intervened, but those who could be saved — like the siblings Dajiao and Erjiao — gradually turned themselves around.

Only once they’d improved somewhat would Chen Dasheng, out of regard for old ties, quietly arrange some work for them.

After all, the family had few relatives, so whatever help could be given, was given.

Of course, the household that had sent him that particular invitation card could forget about any such help.

Madam Lu had come to terms with things these days — her sons had each started their own families and could now support a household on their own. She’d made up her mind to simply stay by the old lady’s side, keeping her sworn sisters company, and whenever the day came that she passed, she’d let them handle things however they saw fit.

Gennu crawled past with a neckful of bright silk ribbons — he loved anything shiny.

An’er, quick with his hands, nearly strangled his brother trying to snatch a few strips of the silk away, and presented them to Madam Lu instead.

Everyone laughed again.

Receiving the silk strips, Madam Lu was overwhelmed with gratitude: “Oh my, he already knows Little Auntie made him a jacket — my, isn’t my boy just so clever!”

She kissed An’er twice on the cheek, and An’er, with great sincerity, immediately started rubbing at his face with his hand, looking thoroughly disgusted.

The whole room burst into laughter once more.

The kitchen had prepared an extra meal, and the nannies and maids came to carry the young masters off to the west room to eat.

These children’s mischief was always selective — in front of their mothers they’d be picky about food, but if arranged to eat away from them, competing with each other, they could actually be coaxed into swallowing a fair amount.

Once the two little troublemakers had been carried off, several maids stepped in together and had everything tidied up in no time.

The old lady acted indifferent, but under her breath she was still directing things: “That’s not from this cabinet… that one’s from the small box…”

When it came to her private stash, she wasn’t the least bit muddled.

Life kept getting better and better — these few cabinets nowadays were fairly respectable; there was certainly no chance of finding stale, moldy flatbread in there anymore.

Once the keys were returned, the old lady let out a breath, and to keep everyone from laughing at her, she put on an air of idle curiosity and asked Madam Lu: “Sister, have Dajiao and Erjiao set up shops at the street corner now?”

Madam Lu’s two children went by the childhood names Dajiao and Erjiao.

These two boys had been average students, and had truly gotten into mischief before, but Chen Dayong had pulled them back into line. Now they still studied, but had also started looking for ways to support the household — even minor unranked posts at the yamen were available under that name, and the pay that came with such a title wasn’t bad at all.

Take their fifth uncle in the alley, Xie Liuhao, for instance — he oversaw a branch of Jiu Si Tang in Qingfeng City, and if some martial-world figure got into trouble and was locked up, and someone with connections wanted to visit them in prison, Dajiao and his brother could run errands for a fee and pick up a few strings of cash along the way.

The elders allowed them this money as a matter of face — as long as they didn’t overstep the rules, even other officials of Liubu Alley, out of regard for the shared ties of Quanhou Street, would extend them the same courtesy.

Widows tended to raise two kinds of children — one that could never leave its mother’s side, and one that, if sensible, learned to fend for itself early on.

Hearing the old lady’s question, Madam Lu answered with a laugh: “It was Dajiao who bought it. Erjiao’s too free with his hands — how could he ever save any money? Whatever he earns, he spends just as fast on food and drink. Humph, and now he’s kicking himself, seeing his brother set up a shop — his wife’s been giving him no end of grief about it these past few days.”

Qiqian’er loved hearing this sort of thing, so she took up her sewing basket, working on an inner garment for her father while listening with a smile.

A warm stove in the depths of winter snow, a full stomach, and idle chatter to listen to — this was the finest pleasure in the world. After all, in her past life, Dajiao had worked as a gatekeeper for some lord’s household on Quanhou Street, one contract away from being a bond servant himself, while his brother had fared even worse, managing hard labor at the docks and doing the labor himself.

As for Aunt Lu — in that other life, there was no way she could have grown so plump; she’d survived on needlework, sewing and sewing until her eyes went blind.

Now, things had truly turned out well.

Just as everyone was chatting happily, Madam Lu’s own attendant, sent by her daughter-in-law, arrived to deliver salted goods — cured meat strips as a pre-New-Year gift.

Following last year’s standard, Madam Lu’s family had sent the old lady’s household twenty catties, with even Chen Siniu receiving a share, and the remaining eight households each getting ten catties.

Since Madam Lu’s son earned his living running odd errands through connections, her family’s New Year cured meat strips had to be made in large batches — a full five large vats’ worth — and every household with any standing on Quanhou Street received a share.

What Madam Lu had bought was all fine cuts of meat, and the moment the maidservant carried it in, the whole room filled with the fragrance of meat.

Seeing how well the meat strips were made, Qiqian’er said with a smile: “Auntie really does think of others — our family made little cured meat this year, and last time Dasheng came home he was grumbling about wanting some to go with his wine.”

It wasn’t really about scarcity — it was about who had sent it. If it had come from strangers with no bond of friendship, even a hundred catties wouldn’t necessarily have been eaten.

Hearing that Qiqian’er treasured it, Madam Lu was thoroughly pleased: “Oh my, that’s nothing at all — I’ll have your brother-in-law send over a few dozen more catties. Our family’s not short on this anymore these days, it’s not like before.”

No sooner had she finished than loud-voiced Madam Yang chimed in with much the same: “Isn’t that the truth. In the old days one bone could stretch a whole month’s worth of soup, and now no one even wants it anymore. Those ungrateful wretches in my house won’t even touch a big chunk of meat if it has a bit of white fat on it, saying it’s disgusting, too greasy — can you imagine such talk? I didn’t make any cured goods this year either, but my few plots of scraggly farmland brought in some good glutinous rice, so I sent some over to Fourth Madam — has Fourth Madam tried it yet?”

Listening to them all chattering away like this, Qiqian’er suddenly realized how easily one could grow foolish living a comfortable life.

She still hadn’t prepared her own family’s New Year gifts this year.

And so she set aside her needlework and hurried straight home, personally went down to the cellar, picked out a dozen or so portions, and following the old family customs, sent a share each to the Emperor, to her adoptive family, and to the natal families of the various grandmothers of Qinwei Alley.

Within three to five days, the Emperor received, in the rear hall, the very first family New Year gift of his entire life.

Even being Emperor had its worries — come every holiday, he too had to bestow favors upon meritorious officials.

Though the officials also offered him gifts of respect, receiving salted duck, cured meat strips, cooked grain-based foods, and cooking oil pressed from one’s own household press — this was a first.

And so the Emperor squatted right there on the ground, rummaging through the goods together with a few senior officials who happened to be present.

Lord Wen of the Ministry of Revenue picked up a strip of meat with deep nostalgia and sighed: “How many years has it been since I’ve seen such a neat, proper family New Year gift like this. When I was young, this was all I looked forward to the whole year — waiting for my mother’s family to send their cured goods. You have no idea, back then I loved my maternal grandmother’s cured goods best — thirty percent red, seven layers white…”

The Emperor thought to himself — so they’d genuinely treated this household as real family, had they?

Curious, he asked: “How did Lord Wen’s family return the gift back then?”

Minister Wen thought for a moment, then shook his head with some sorrow: “It’s been so long — I was just a boy, all I remember is there was a pig’s heart involved…”

Just as ruler and minister were chatting so pleasantly, an official arrived bearing this year’s list of provincial officials ranked fourth grade and above, covering promotions, transfers, and reassignments.

Outside, snowflakes flew; inside the main hall it was warm enough.

As it happened, right when Chen Dasheng’s wife had sent over the New Year cured goods, Zhang Minwang, ever perceptive, had a grill brought and set up just outside the hall, selecting evenly red-and-white slices of the cured meat, cutting them thin and grilling them to serve to the Emperor.

The senior officials working overtime in the hall weren’t exactly people who cared much for this kind of food, but seeing His Majesty eating with such relish, they too put on expressions of great enjoyment and ate quite a bit themselves.

The Emperor, oddly enough, found himself growing rather proud, warmly urging everyone to eat more — after all, they were working overtime too, so he brought out the very best to treat them with.

Hearing His Majesty say this, the senior officials were all delighted too.

As far as they were concerned, this wasn’t the Chen family’s New Year gift at all — it was the gift of a princely household.

The Emperor ate about three small taels’ worth before finally accepting a cloth to clean his hands, picked up his brush, and opened the roster to review it — this was the time of year officials cared about most, whether they’d be promoted a rank, or transferred from some impoverished posting to a prosperous prefecture, all depending on whether His Majesty’s vermilion brush approved.

A good posting often had four or five candidates competing for it, and the Emperor’s decisions weren’t made without reference — an official’s record and reputation, the Ministry of Personnel’s performance reviews… intelligence sent in by the scouts from every region, and so on.

Being emperor was, in some ways, not so difficult after all — intelligence from every corner was already prepared and ready, so the Emperor simply worked his way through decisively based on the facts at hand. One might think, from deep within the palace halls, he’d know little of the outside world, but even for an ordinary fourth-rank border official, His Majesty had a clear picture and thorough understanding.

Of the eighty catties of cured goods Qiqian’er had sent, the Emperor and his senior officials had eaten more than twenty catties in a single evening.

By the time night fell, the last matter of business before the New Year was finally finished.

The Emperor closed the roster, let out a slow breath, and summoned the two officials from the Ministry of Personnel.

The two took the roster to review it once more, and during this, the two senior officials exchanged several meaningful glances, their expressions rather odd.

The reason was simple — last year the Tan family faction had still been shown favor, but this year, given a choice, His Majesty had actually used officials from the previous dynasty rather than anyone with ties to the Tan family.

Could it be that the Tan faction had truly fallen out of favor?

The senior officials were all shrewd men — no one reaching such a position lacked a web of connections. If His Majesty chose not to use the Tan faction, then naturally he’d use his own trusted circle instead.

After all, this was only the selection of ordinary officials — for the next tier up, His Majesty still had favors of his own to bestow.

At the start of the second night watch, the hall’s business was finally done for the day. As it happened, it was Chen Dasheng’s unit on night watch duty that night, and worried about the officials slipping on the icy roads, His Majesty thoughtfully ordered Chen Dasheng to take some men and hold umbrellas for the senior officials as he saw them out.

Along the way, Chen Dasheng even mentioned the cured goods to Minister Wen, promising to send over several dozen catties of the meat strips he so loved, to satisfy his cravings.

Whatever His Majesty favored was naturally considered the finest in the world, and so the other senior officials, joining in the fun, likewise wheedled several dozen catties each out of the She family.

And it was from this very day that the well-to-do households of Yandu, whenever discussing food, took to saying that the She family’s meat strips were the finest of this age — ordinary people simply weren’t fortunate enough to taste them.

In truth, it was nothing more than ordinary cured meat strips — at most, when Qiqian’er cured it at home, she had her people select the finest ingredients, and made sure the large vats were scrubbed extra clean.

But beneath the surface of this cured meat, neither the Emperor nor his senior officials realized that Chen Dasheng had spent two full years gradually sidelining the mid-level officials of the Tan faction.

What he’d done was remarkably simple: in the monthly reports on officials from every region, he neither accused nor praised — he simply left those names out entirely. And so, naturally, when His Majesty selected officials, he chose from among the names whose backgrounds he actually knew.

As another year drew to a close, officials from every region sent people to the capital early, bearing all manner of New Year gifts to show their regard.

Yet among that endless stream of carts, very few indeed made their way to Qinwei Alley.

And why would they? What did the selection of officials have to do with a bunch of rough soldiers, after all?