The north wind howled, rattling the windows, and moonlight filtered in, falling upon two figures nestled close together at the head of the bed.

Yan Qing’s body was held rigidly straight — she dared not move, yet could not help but steal a glance sideways, only to find a pair of eyes gazing at her with deep tenderness.

She thought of how the two of them were already betrothed, and in just a few months they would be wed. Had this been the modern era, things would have long since been settled between them.

Yet in this age, the constraints placed upon women remained deeply entrenched, particularly in prestigious households where they were valued above all else. For a woman to lose her chastity was considered an unbearable disgrace.

With the influx of foreign culture, the society of Xin Guo had grown increasingly open-minded, yet it had not reached the point of complete permissiveness.

If word got out that she and Shi Ting had shared a room in her uncle’s home, she could not imagine how many people would mock her — and when she went to her husband’s household, she would have to keep her head low.

“What are you looking at?” Yan Qing asked in a low voice.

She knew full well he had stayed behind deliberately, yet she had willingly walked into his trap — so that now the two of them lay fully clothed on the bed, listening together to the fury of the wind outside.

“Thinking of you,” said Shi Ting. He turned over, and his long arm reached out to pull her into his embrace, his palm settling over her waist, pressing her firmly against his chest.

As he spoke, his warm breath brushed across her forehead, carrying with it his rich, magnetic voice.

“Yan Qing, isn’t it strange — you’re right here beside me, and yet I still miss you.”

Yan Qing wanted to say that she felt exactly the same.

She buried her face deeper into his chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat as clearly as possible. She loved this feeling — whenever she nestled into his arms, there was that grounded, safe sense of being protected, that greedy, reluctant-to-leave feeling of dependence.

Even though she had lived more than twenty years in that other world, she had never experienced anything so profoundly moving. Even though there were people and things there she had been reluctant to leave behind, having met Shi Ting — if she could do it all over again, she would still make the same choice.

“I’m sleepy,” Yan Qing said, her voice as soft as a kitten’s.

“Then sleep.” Shi Ting gave her back a gentle pat. “Don’t worry — I won’t do anything.”

Yan Qing smiled. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have let you stay.”

Shi Ting held her a little tighter. “Sleep.”

“Shi Ting…”

“Hmm?” His voice trailed away, barely a sound.

Yan Qing seemed to feel a little embarrassed about asking, and after calling his name, said nothing more.

Shi Ting lowered his head to look at the person in his arms. All he could see was the crown of her dark hair — she was like a little rabbit, curled up obediently against his chest.

His gaze softened. “What did you want to ask?”

“Never mind, let’s not ask.” Yan Qing shook her head slightly.

“Should I guess?”

“Go ahead,” said Yan Qing, her interest piqued. She didn’t believe that a question with no warning signs whatsoever could be guessed by him — if he could, he would truly be some kind of extraordinary person.

Shi Ting thought carefully for a moment. “You’re wondering whether I’ll come to stay the night here again tomorrow.”

Yan Qing: “…”

Heaven as her witness — that thought had never once crossed her mind.

“Nonsense,” said Yan Qing, lifting her eyes — eyes like translucent glass, serene and clear.

“Then what did you want to ask? If you don’t say, I’ll keep guessing.”

Yan Qing pressed her lips together and smiled. If he kept guessing wildly, there was no telling what blushing, heart-pounding things he might come out with.

“It’s actually nothing much.” Yan Qing rested her hand on his chest. “Whether it’s the Commander or Father, they both have many wives. So in the future…”

“I only have you.” Shi Ting didn’t wait for her to finish — without a moment’s hesitation he interrupted her. “Yan Qing, believe it or not, in this lifetime I will marry only you. My children will call only you Mother.”

Yan Qing stared at him, momentarily stunned, all her thousands of words driven back to where they had come from by this one sentence of his.

She was a person of the modern world. Though she had never been in love, her values around romance did not support the institution of polygamy. She could not imagine the one she loved dividing his one and only love into many portions — that she would even have to compete for his affection against concubines and serving girls.

She knew that Shi Ting and she were currently inseparable, like glue. But what of later? His status was distinguished; he would surely not be confined to the position of Director for long. When he rose to great heights, would he too be surrounded by wives and concubines?

“I believe you.” Yan Qing’s eyes reddened, and she could not help but wrap her arms around his lean waist. “Shi Ting, you must remember the words you spoke today. If you break your promise, I will never forgive you.”

Shi Ting laughed. “And how would you not forgive me — would you lock me inside your silk canopy and make merry music every night, never letting me go?”

Yan Qing was amused despite her irritation at him. Knowing she could not out-argue him, she simply closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

With her eyes closed like that, drowsiness welled up as well. In the hazy state between sleep and waking, she felt him pressing kiss after kiss to her forehead, and floating in her ears like a murmur came the echo of his voice:

Today I make this vow, and shall never break it — with Yan Qing by my side, we shall grow old together through a hundred years.

When Yan Qing rose the next day, it seemed as though those words still lingered in her ears — yet when she reached to her side, she found only the empty expanse of the bedding.

From the courtyard came the creaking sound of the well pulley turning — the servants were drawing water to boil and prepare breakfast.

By the faint light, she glanced at the wall. It was four in the morning.

Today, the Wen household was to slaughter their New Year pigs. No wonder everyone in the house was up so early. The New Year pig slaughter was a significant event in the local customs of Tai Shan — well-to-do families would set out banquet tables inside the home and invite relatives and friends to drink and eat meat together.

Yan Qing touched the covers beside her, already gone cold, and found herself worrying about him having left wearing only a thin single layer — she could not help but feel a tenderness in her heart.

Outside, the sound of water being drawn continued. They were probably afraid of waking her — the servants moved with light, careful steps.

Yan Qing had lost any desire to sleep. She sat up and switched on the bedside lamp.

Seeing the light come on in the room, Jing Zhi and Xiang’er hurried over and knocked at the door.

The two of them together helped Yan Qing wash up and dress. Yesterday, Xiang’er had shared a room with Jing Zhi, and the two had found themselves kindred spirits, chatting into the small hours. From Jing Zhi’s mouth, Xiang’er had learned that this cousin-miss was truly sharp-minded and, more rarely still, gentle-tempered — a mistress worthy of loyal service.

“Miss, as soon as dawn breaks, it’ll be time to slaughter the New Year pigs,” Xiang’er said. “This year the Wen family will slaughter six pigs in all. The master had them raised out in the fields, and they grew up fat and sturdy.”

An ordinary family would slaughter one pig at most; only well-to-do households would slaughter several.

Besides being eaten during the New Year celebrations, the pork that could not be consumed right away would be made into cured or preserved meat for storage. Those with means would also send it to cold storage — though the freezing fees were expensive — but the benefit was being able to eat meat all four seasons of the year.

By five in the morning, the back courtyard of the Wen household had grown lively. Since pig slaughter was a bloody affair, it was carried out on unused or open ground at the back.

When Yan Qing arrived at the back courtyard, she could spot Shi Ting and Jin Shan from a distance.

“You’re up so early.” Shi Ting came over to meet her, taking the wheelchair handles from Jing Zhi’s hands. “Have you eaten?”

“I have. And you?” Yan Qing studied him carefully. Seeing that his color was normal and his voice clear and bright, she finally relaxed.

“Yes,” said Shi Ting quietly. “When I left, you were sleeping soundly, so I didn’t wake you.”

Yan Qing feared the people nearby might hear, and quickly poked him.

Shi Ting smiled and said no more.

Just then, more than a dozen burly men came carrying several fat pigs that had been trussed up tightly, leading them into the open ground at the back. The sounds from the pigs’ mouths were sharp and pitiful.

The crowd of onlookers buzzed with conversation — most of it praising the pigs for being fat and sturdy. In those days, raising a fat pig was the envy of all the neighbors.

The steward who presided over the pig slaughter first lit incense and burned paper offerings in tribute. After that, the butchers took their positions in front of the pigs. Everyone murmured a few words, and then the sharp knife plunged into the pig’s neck.

The pigs’ cries grew ever more pitiful and helpless. Blood gushed from their necks, and several men held large copper basins beneath to collect it.

Yan Qing had seen many corpses and brutal crime scenes, but this was her first time witnessing a pig slaughter in person. She watched as the pigs gradually lost the strength to cry out from loss of blood, until at last they breathed their last.

After the pigs died came the skinning, the dismembering, the sorting into piles — innards, fat, ribs, and so forth, each categorized separately. The butchers’ technique was highly professional: skinning, disassembly, cutting, and chopping all flowed together seamlessly.

Yan Qing could not help but exclaim, “If I ever lost my job, I could become a pig butcher. Director Shi, don’t forget to patronize my business.”

Shi Ting said, “With those slender arms and legs of yours, you’d probably not even be able to lift a pig’s head — I’m not sure whether you’d be slaughtering the pig or the pig would be kicking you.”

Yan Qing imagined the scene he described and found it funny as well. “This is my first time watching a pig slaughter. I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat the pork at noon.”

“Miss Yan can eat her meals calmly in the presence of corpses without changing expression. Surely she can manage one pig.”

Yan Qing shot him a reproachful look. “You certainly know a lot.”

The two of them laughed and chatted. By the time the pig had been more or less divided up and carried off to the back kitchen by a group of people, the preparations were well underway.

The noon banquet was especially lavish — not only large cuts of pork, but also the local seafood and aquatic produce for which Tai Shan was known.

At the meal, Yan Qing sat at a table with Wen Yan and Mo Yunhua, joined by a few female relatives.

The meat and seafood were delicious. Mo Yunhua, however, looked preoccupied — she picked up only a few bites of vegetables and kept glancing toward the men’s tables.

Yan Qing swept her gaze across the tables of male guests but did not spot one person: Mo Yunhua’s younger brother, Mo Xiangrong.

About a quarter of an hour passed before Yan Qing saw Mo Xiangrong hurry inside from outside. He came through a side door — one of the less conspicuous entrances — and with a room full of people, no one would have noticed.

After Mo Xiangrong entered, he picked an empty seat and sat down. Seeing the table laid with garlic-dressed white pork, braised pork ribs, boiled blood sausage, and prawns and abalone, his eyes lit up, and he rolled up his sleeves and began eating with great relish.

Seeing Mo Xiangrong take his seat, Mo Yunhua seemed to let out a breath she had been holding. Color returned to her face, and she hurriedly urged everyone to eat.

“Cousin-miss, please eat, please eat.” Mo Yunhua smiled warmly and placed a piece of pork into Yan Qing’s bowl.

Yan Qing glanced at her and smiled.