Qiqian’er hadn’t slept all night, yet come morning she still felt full of energy, not the least bit cold as she stepped out of the mill house, and not sleepy in the slightest.

The world was blanketed in silvery white. Standing in snow that reached above her calves, she tilted her head back to gauge the storm, and after a long moment muttered, “Hm—wind and snow across two lifetimes, layers of doors buried in white… tsk, so many rooms is such a hassle. Well! At least I’ve saved on winter coats now, another expense cut, how delightful…”

She was genuinely, thoroughly pleased—she felt as though, no matter how deep and cold the winter, she carried her own spring breeze wrapped around her, warm as a fox-fur cloak.

And now she had all this pent-up energy with nowhere to go, which turned out to be useful—this house had far too many rooms, more than she’d ever managed to clean properly before.

But not anymore! Now she had energy to spare. She grabbed a broom and rag and went from front courtyard to back, more than twenty rooms, every nook and corner, roof beams and stables, everywhere she could reach—she cleaned it three times over. She even polished the mules’ and donkeys’ hooves in the stable until they shone.

She moved so fast, so quick in her bursts of motion, that it was as if a shooting star had swept past. While cleaning the chicken coop, she startled several hens into laying eggs early, leaving them huddled together, trembling.

With every bit of exertion, whenever she felt even slightly drained, her energy simply cycled on its own, as she pleased—she’d release the spent energy back to the earth, then draw fresh energy up from the ground again.

By the end, she’d even scoured the bottom of the cooking pot with wood ash until it gleamed. With truly nothing left to do, she picked up a flat wooden rake and, following her whim, climbed up onto the roof.

Once on the roof, she spread her arms wide and sighed contentedly, “Auspicious snow drifts down yet doesn’t cling to my robes, a lovely lady ascends her jade terrace… with hair, a person becomes elegant. My reading’s shallow, but I can still string together a bit of verse. Not that it matters much—what matters is I have hair now, I’m a proper beauty, and now that I want to fly, I actually can.”

She felt like she could easily fly off carrying a pot brimming with water without breaking a sweat.

Some people are simply born believing that whatever they do makes sense—she felt it was fine, so it was fine. Whatever technique, whatever form, none of that mattered…

The thick snow on the roof came tumbling down under Qiqian’er’s sweeping, and with each thump, thump of snow hitting the ground, Master Cheng stumbled out of his house clutching his head.

He tilted his head back dazedly for a long moment, and once he spotted her, he simply froze.

This physician, who was forever praising Qiqian’er’s virtue and prudence, finally managed to stammer, “This—this is simply improper! How—how did you end up on the roof?! Too far, this is too far!”

And watching this reckless burst of excitement, listening to her spouting nonsensical verses—it was practically an insult to the sages’ teachings… Now, thinking back on his own martial sister, well, she wasn’t entirely without merit after all. At least she didn’t climb onto roofs. And her cooking skills weren’t bad either.

Remembering how his colleagues had admired and praised him yesterday, Master Cheng couldn’t help but break into a faint, sweet smile.

Just as he was chuckling to himself, he heard someone say near his ear, “Little A’Ning, what are you so happy about? Are you still not sober from the wine? Should Xiao Yu mix you up a hangover pill?”

At the east room’s window, the Junior Martial Aunt was watching him curiously.

Master Cheng hurried over to greet her. “Junior Martial Aunt, you’re up early.”

The Junior Martial Aunt said seriously, “Not early at all. Back home I used to rise at the fifth watch—it’s you lot who’ve grown lazy.”

“You’re quite right to correct me. Please—bear with things a little longer. Once things settle tomorrow, I’ll see to restocking the medicine hall properly, and we’ll get back to how things used to be.”

The Junior Martial Aunt smiled and shook her head at this, then passed a pouch out through the window.

Master Cheng took it and opened it to find a bag of thumb-sized luminous pearls.

What—what is this?

His expression instantly flooded with grief. After a long moment, his voice trembled as he asked, “This—isn’t this your pearl?”

This had been his grandmaster’s gift to his most beloved youngest daughter, her first-birthday keepsake.

The Junior Martial Aunt just smiled, unconcerned. “The Bai family’s pearl is already dead.” She looked at the unceasing snowfall and said, “There, Little A’Ning! From now on, just call me Sister Xue—Snow. Taking the surname Xue. That’ll make a clean break of it.”

Next door, the young woman was in especially high spirits today, calling out from the rooftop, “Cloud-like tresses, fragrant cheeks, rippling elegance… hey, my hair’s growing in!”

The Junior Martial Aunt crossed her arms and laughed.

Master Cheng’s hands trembled around the pouch as he looked at Sister Xue. “You—what do you mean by this?”

Sister Xue tilted her head up, eyes crinkling with amusement as she looked next door and smiled. “Well, we can’t very well live worse off than that young woman over there, can we? Take these, sell them off—that young woman said it herself, might as well get some land for the family to live off of. Our household will pick back up sooner or later. Go into the city tomorrow and hire a couple of capable hands. Xiao Yu and I really have made a mess of things, in the end—this life we’re living has dragged poor A’Ning down with us.”

Master Cheng slowly knelt in the snow, murmuring, “It’s all—it’s all because I’m so useless.”

Sister Xue didn’t wait for him to finish before cutting in. “Useless is good! Being useless is a good thing! If you weren’t so useless, we might not even have a safe place to settle down at all… Your grandmaster used to say, when a person hits a dead end, the first thing they need to do is see clearly how much they’re actually capable of—and if it’s not much, accept it. I accept it! Xiao Yu has to accept it too, and you, A’Ning—you have to accept it as well!”

“…Yes, I accepted it long ago!”

Qiqian’er finished clearing the snow off the roof and prepared a meal. Yesterday she’d sent both the food box and basket over to the old lady’s place, so today she could only carry over a bowl of porridge and tuck two eggs into her sleeve.

She’d barely stepped out the gate when she noticed two freshly snow-covered cart-tracks near her doorway. Frowning, she followed the tracks along the road all the way to the old courtyard gate at the crossroads, and sure enough, the tracks turned off toward the house next door.

They’ve left again? Where to this time?

Just as she pushed open the old courtyard gate, Xique’s laughter came drifting out from inside.

Qiqian’er paused, then walked in carrying the bowl, calling out, “Grandma, I’ve brought breakfast!”

The old lady’s voice called back from inside, “Come in! No—no outsiders here.”

Qiqian’er carried the bowl in, first adding a few logs to the stove to build up the fire, and only once it was burning well did she lift the curtain into the east room.

But once inside, she froze for a moment.

The whole room reeked of decay—overnight alone, the old lady seemed to have aged a decade or more. Not a single black hair remained on her head.

Qiqian’er had tended to her for so long, and the flesh that had finally filled out the old lady’s face had sunk back into its old, harsh lines. Crowned with silver hair she couldn’t even see herself, she leaned against the kang cabinet in utter despair.

Seeing Qiqian’er enter, she still forced herself to muster some spirit, greeting her younger relative with strained cheer: “You’re here. No need to fuss so early in the morning, just give me whatever’s easy.”

Xique, dressed in cloth clothes neatly patched, was rolling around on the kang.

Perhaps her mother had said a great many improper things, because the moment she saw Qiqian’er, she rolled over shouting, “Ah~ya! Ah! Here, here!”

Stumbling and tumbling, she rolled straight into the quilt covering the old lady’s legs, not even daring to poke her head out.

Qiqian’er glanced at the child with a mix of scolding and amusement, then looked up at the old lady. “Listen to her—doesn’t she sound just like a little wolf cub coming to get you?”

The old lady shot her a look. “Nonsense, talking such nonsense!”

Pulling over the mended low table, Qiqian’er set out the bowl and placed the two eggs on top. “Eat up while it’s still warm.”

The old lady glanced at them and complained, “Why two? You should’ve saved one for Choutou to eat when he gets back!”

Qiqian’er ignored that entirely, climbed onto the kang, opened the window to air out the smell, then went back out to boil water and briskly began tidying the room and sweeping the courtyard.

Every so often she’d look up and catch Xique through the half-open window, clutching an egg, eating while staring at her with wide eyes.

Qiqian’er pretended to look fierce, and the girl immediately put on a fake cry and ran to tattle to the old lady.

Tsk—already such a little schemer, and she’s not even grown yet. So good at putting on an act.

Should I sneak in a couple of swats while she’s still small?

By the time Qiqian’er had finished tidying up and come back inside, the old lady had finally gotten up, made her own bed, and even stacked yesterday’s food box and basket together by the kitchen entrance.

Qiqian’er went into the east room and found the old lady with one arm shielding the wobbling Xique, saying nothing, just staring blankly into space.

So Qiqian’er sat quietly, found the old lady’s sewing basket, and began making shoes while keeping her silent company.

A person’s life is full of ups and downs. Sooner or later you have to face things on your own—no one can really help you through it. In the end, you just have to endure and get through it yourself.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d kept her company before the old lady finally spoke, with a trace of anger: “Look at me, like this! I really did dote on you for nothing—you, you won’t even ask me about it?”

Qiqian’er, without looking up, laughed softly. “How should I ask? Out of your four sons, you’ve only got this one left. He’s the flesh of your own body—no matter that he’s a pile of stinking dog dung that everyone despises and everyone tramples on, you’re the only one who still protects him… that’s a thankless business no matter how you look at it. I’m not foolish enough to get into it…”

The old lady grew even angrier at this, slapping the low table. “What are you saying? What stinking dog dung? That’s—that’s your Fourth Uncle!”

Seeing her finally speak, Qiqian’er looked up and asked, “So why did this little girl end up over here?”

The old lady sighed helplessly. “…She got dropped off first thing this morning. Said he had to take some kind of letter of recommendation to Yanjing, to see someone up there. Said Madam Qiao was capable and could handle things, said he wasn’t going to work for the Ministry of War anymore. He showed me a letter, but I don’t understand any of it…”

Qiqian’er interrupted to ask, “A letter of recommendation?”

The old lady nodded. “Right, going to see an uncle! Aiyo—my ancestors! His whole Chen family line is practically extinct, a bunch of country folk scraping a living out of the dirt—where would he have an uncle in Yanjing? Shameless, I tell you! And ‘uncle,’ at that—why doesn’t he just go find himself a father while he’s at it!”

Another thing that’s different from before. Forget it… things are already this bad, no point worrying over other people’s business.

Still, Qiqian’er couldn’t help her curiosity. “So who exactly is Fourth Uncle’s sponsor?”

The old lady blanked for a moment, then asked, “What, what’d you say? Sponsor?”

“I mean—whoever’s doing Fourth Uncle this favor, the one who wrote him the letter!”

“Oh, that. Old Fourth said it was his old superior, telling him to go see his uncle in Yanjing.”

“Oh, and where is this uncle of his in Yanjing?”

“…Said he’s something in the Ministry of Works, some water bureau or other, I couldn’t follow it. Anyway, this old woman doesn’t believe him one bit. Some Imperial official, and he just calls the man uncle and gets a post handed to him? Lying to me again…”

The old lady rambled on, waiting for Qiqian’er to respond, but instead found Qiqian’er smiling, eyes crinkled, off to the side.

She herself was so upset, and here Qiqian’er was smiling? It irritated her, and her tone sharpened. “What are you laughing at?”

Qiqian’er blinked. “Nothing, just thinking—now that Fourth Uncle’s switched to a civil post, at least he won’t be risking his neck anymore. One less thing for you to worry about.”

The old lady, quite satisfied with that, immediately shot back, “He’d be better off dying out there!”

Qiqian’er looked at the old lady’s weathered, careworn face and, after a long pause, sighed softly. “You’d never really let that happen. Thirteen inches of infant, eighteen years of raising him… a mother lives to a hundred and still worries over her eighty-year-old child. However bad the flesh you raised turns out, you still can’t just throw it away, can you? He’s all you have left—try to let it go a little. Eat when you can, drink when you can…”

Qiqian’er didn’t hear the old lady answer back, and looking up, she saw the old lady’s face was already streaked with tears, sitting there in utter despair, her whole body trembling, lips bitten white.

Qiqian’er’s heart lurched—she realized some word of hers must have struck a nerve. She set aside the sewing basket to go help settle her breathing, but the old lady, summoning what strength she had left, scrubbed furiously at her own face and, unable to speak, simply shouted, “You—you! Get out! Get out of here!!”

Qiqian’er set down the basket to leave, but behind her the old lady called out, “Xi—Xique!!”

Qiqian’er turned, wrapped Xique in a blanket, and hurried out with her…

The moment she heard the door close behind her granddaughter-in-law, the old lady finally couldn’t hold back any longer. She collapsed onto the bed and wailed, crying and crying, choking on it, holding it in—simply unable to find relief.

She wanted to cry something out to release it, but didn’t know how. Then she remembered—back in her mother’s home, her own mother had believed in Daoist practices, and used to sit on the ridges between the fields, weeping over oxen.

Her mother’s family had been poor—there was no way they’d have owned an ox themselves. Strange as it was, whenever someone else’s ox died, her mother would go weep in that family’s fields.

A whole lifetime nearly gone, and the old lady, stubborn by nature, never cried—wouldn’t cry, refused to!

Now that she wanted to cry, she finally understood her mother. Her mother hadn’t really been crying for that ox—she’d just needed somewhere to release her grief. Without a good wailing cry now and then, life becomes unbearable.

And so, recalling the words she’d heard as a child, the old lady began to truly cry-sing: “Ah! Ah… let me, let me tell the world of my grievance, listen to my reasons… the most bitter creature in this world is the plow-ox… Heavenly Father! Through spring, summer, autumn, winter it toils without rest, four seasons of hardship never ceasing… my dear Heaven! The plow-yoke presses a thousand catties heavy, the bamboo whip lashes it ten thousand times…”

Hearing the old lady cry, Xique grew frightened and struggled her small head free of the blanket, her eyes brimming with tears too as she watched the room.

The old lady knew a great storm was coming and, not wanting to frighten the child, had told Qiqian’er to carry her out.

Qiqian’er stroked the girl’s head to comfort her. “Don’t be scared, don’t be scared… Grandma’s just taking her bitter medicine.”

The little girl pointed toward the room and cried, “Ma—mm mm mm!”

“Yes, Grandma’s crying. Made to cry by your no-good father and mother…”

Before she could finish, a pair of small hands clamped over Qiqian’er’s mouth—this was a child not yet three, who couldn’t even speak in full sentences, and yet she wouldn’t let Qiqian’er say a bad word about her father and mother. Somewhere inside, she understood everything.

Qiqian’er pressed her forehead against the girl’s and sighed. “So pure-hearted.”

Inside, the old lady kept singing: “…The mud thick, the water deep, dragging the plow it cannot rise, its belly empty of grass, tears flowing down, thirsty it drinks the ditch-water at the field’s edge, urged on with a shout, no time to linger, oh my Heavenly Father, hungry it snatches a mouthful of grain from the field, and the whole family curses the wretched ox, Heavenly Father, open your eyes, such bitterness, ah, ah…”

In her past life, this old lady had shed tears too, but never like this—never in this kind of wailing song.

Qiqian’er carried the little girl, pacing in slow circles, thinking to herself: right, of course—having me here to keep her company is exactly what lets her sing it all out like this, needing someone to feel for her, to comfort her.

Her heart ached for the old lady.

“…Marrying off a daughter, marrying a son, it’s cause for joy, but with no money to spare, we sell the plow-ox! Land taxes hard to pay in full, so poor we must borrow against this very ox—Heavenly Father, do me a kindness, see how old and feeble I’ve become, lead me out to the street to be sold as meat for the neighbors… eat my flesh, peel my hide, oh Heavenly Father…”

The words were genuinely moving. Qiqian’er found herself listening, drawn in, and just as she was taking it all in, her ears caught the sound of several carts arriving at the mouth of the lane.

Her hearing was sharp enough now that a few sounds told her at once—Chen Dasheng and the others were back.

At this hour?

Sure enough, before long, Chen Dasheng came calling “Grandma! Grandma? Grandma! Grandma? Grandma…” as he entered the courtyard.

Qiqian’er turned and shushed him, and Chen Dasheng froze, just now hearing his grandmother’s wailing from inside, muttering words along with it.

The young man was startled and moved to go in immediately, but Qiqian’er stopped him. “Don’t. Let Grandma get it out of her system, or she’ll come down with a real illness.”

Chen Dasheng had already exchanged a few words with Meng Wanquan at the mouth of the lane and knew his Fourth Uncle was back—so he didn’t think much of it, figured it was just the couple upsetting her again.

He knew Qian’er’s temper well enough—there was no way she’d be the one upsetting Grandma!

The foolish boy turned to head out anyway, but Qiqian’er stepped back to block him, and in the same motion shoved Xique into his arms. “Here, hold your little sister. Don’t go looking—the two of them left for Yanjing!”

Chen Dasheng had never held a baby before and immediately went rigid.

Strange to say, blood being blood, once in Chen Dasheng’s arms, the little girl let out a slow, settling breath.

Brother and sister stared at each other. Xique watched him for a moment, then slapped her palms against her brother’s face left and right. Her brother didn’t mind, let her have at it, until she suddenly stuck a finger straight up his nostril.

Chen Dasheng, startled, nearly dropped her, right as the old lady let out another great wail from inside: “…Old Heavenly Father, I fear death, hard to speak of it, tears flowing endlessly, may the knife cut clean through my throat, may they slice my flesh, spill my guts, cut my liver, break my bones—what enmity is this? I sinned in my past life and pay for it in this one, let them peel my hide to make a drum, beat it till it shakes heaven and earth and grieves the very ghosts and spirits… I’ve suffered enough in this life, don’t you dare come back as a—come back as whatever you like, wherever you like… I don’t want you for the rest of my life… oh Heavenly Father!”

See! Even at a moment like this, dying of grief herself, she still doesn’t want her own son to suffer retribution in his next life by coming back as an ox.

The old lady’s wailing had Chen Dasheng thoroughly terrified. He stammered, “Is—is there no justice left? Fourth Uncle, Fourth Uncle… you’re not even going to step in? They’re about to skin Grandma alive!”

Qiqian’er nearly laughed out loud, and lifted a foot as if to kick him, then thought better of it—afraid he’d go flying off somewhere she couldn’t find him—and just explained instead: “Don’t be silly. Grandma’s weeping for the ox…”

Chen Dasheng, hearing this, was even more baffled. “We don’t have an ox? When did we buy one? How’d it die?”

It took Qiqian’er a good while before she managed, “In this world, a mother’s not so different from an old ox, I suppose—toils her whole life, and when she dies, they still skin her and pick apart her bones. Grandma’s just been hurt too deeply.”

But in her past life, how had this old lady managed to endure it all?

Chen Dasheng thought it over and understood at once. His voice took on a pleading note. “Let’s—let’s bring Grandma to live with us, can’t we? Just don’t let her stay near them anymore.”

Qiqian’er shot him a look. “Do you need to say it? Why are you even back?”

“We got our stipend paid out this morning, and with the heavy snow coming, the Astronomical Bureau’s forecast wasn’t good—said it’d keep snowing for a long while, so we rushed back to check on things, help clean up a bit…”

Before Chen Dasheng could finish, Qiqian’er let out a loud shout of her own. “Aiya! Chen Dasheng, why are you back?! Grandma! Stop crying! Your Choutou grandson is home!!”

The wailing inside only grew louder.

Qiqian’er pulled a face and shouted again, “Then we’ll head back! Choutou says His Majesty paid out the stipends! You keep crying, we’ll just—”

The window shutters were suddenly flung open, and the old lady, face smeared with tears and snot, shouted out, “Don’t you dare! That’s my Choutou’s money… you, you outsider, you—the two of you get in here right now!”

That was quite the quick turnaround—Chen Dasheng just stood there, stunned.

Qiqian’er held back a laugh, pulled him along, and they went inside.

It was really no different than this, in the end—was she supposed to cry herself to death? Even dying, a beast remains a beast, he’d still never become a proper man. A man in his forties, and still hoping for him to turn over a new leaf?

Chen Dasheng shuffled in listlessly, and his grandmother pulled him close, and after only a few questions, out of pure concern for her, he blurted out everything—how much he’d received, how much money he’d brought home.

Though he’d only just joined the Imperial Bodyguard a few days ago, His Majesty thought highly of him and kept him in mind. With the heavy snow, remembering his family’s hard circumstances, the Emperor had quietly had someone advance him some grain and money to take home.

And so, Chen Dasheng had driven his own guard-post’s cart, loaded with pork, chicken, and duck saved from his monthly rations, along with polished rice and white flour, tofu and pickled vegetables, beeswax candles, and coal, and had come home in high spirits.

Who knew that the moment he walked through the door, he’d run straight into a storm—the poor honest boy had nearly been scared out of his wits.

Chen Dasheng listed off everything he’d brought, but the old lady, seeing his hands otherwise empty, started wailing all over again, going on about how bitter her life was, crying over her ancestors, crying over Choutou’s parents, saying how pitiful Chen Dasheng was, and so on—yet her eyes never once looked at her grandson, fixed instead squarely on Qiqian’er…

Qiqian’er, exasperated, could only roll her eyes at Chen Dasheng. “Quick, quick! Bring all your things in, lay it all out for Grandma! Aiyo, what a crooked little heart she’s got, and it’s followed you all the way to your own family’s home!”

Chen Dasheng dutifully obeyed, running in and out several times, until the east room was in complete disarray—half a sack of flour, a sack of polished rice, seven or eight live chickens and ducks, several sacks of black coal, and two racks of pork ribs…

The old lady’s eyes lit up with satisfaction, though her mouth kept up its crying hum. Qiqian’er wiped her face twice with a hot towel, but she still wouldn’t settle, just kept humming away.

Each new item drew one more hum of satisfaction, until finally, when Chen Dasheng laid out ten strings of gleaming Yong’an Circulating Treasure coins on the kang, the old lady drew a sharp breath and let out a wail: “My poor son, my poor Choutou’s mother, raising children your whole life and getting nothing for it…”

Even as she said this, her hands moved briskly enough, raking the strings of coins over to her side.

Qiqian’er thought to herself, I can fly through the air now, and I’m going to squabble with this old lady over a few coins?

But for Madam Qiao’s sake, she couldn’t help feeling a bit annoyed.

She cleared her throat. “With all this eating and drinking going on in this house, I’m done keeping the accounts from now on!”

The crying cut off instantly. Before long, a handful of copper coins came flying over—a dozen or so.

“Hmph! Even the mule and donkey feed’s mooched free off that other household, shameless as anything!”

Another handful of coins, still warm, came flying over.

“Ai, my body’s not doing well either, I should really take some medicine to build myself up, or my great-grandchild might not make it…”

A grudging three or five big coins came flying over, then, perhaps feeling she’d overdone it, another three or five followed.

Qiqian’er scooped the pile up casually and was about to say something more when the old lady beside her snapped fiercely, “What more do you want? Have I ever shorted you on food? On clothes?”

Qiqian’er counted off on her fingers. “That’s my dowry. Your grandson hasn’t come back yet…”

Before she could finish, an entire string of coins came flying over in a fury. “Take it! Oh Heavenly Father, the Chen family’s ancestral grave’s collapsed, collapsed! Here! Take it all! I can’t go on living…”

Hah… what’s there to worry about, when a few strings of coins are all it takes to placate this old lady.

Qiqian’er couldn’t hold back her laughter and turned to push the whole pile of coins right back at her, since the old lady clearly begrudged every coin of it.

“I was only teasing! Take it, take it, it’s yours! I don’t want it!”

Seeing the coins pushed back her way, the old lady’s heart finally settled completely. Yes—after all, she still had someone to lean on.

Still, she didn’t hand the coins back either. Instead she opened the kang cabinet, muttering sheepishly, “What would an old woman with one foot in the grave do with all this money anyway? I won’t shortchange either of you one coin—you’re both young, Grandma will keep it safe for you…”

Qiqian’er rolled her eyes and pulled Chen Dasheng along to go unload the animals, but the old lady called out behind her, “Qian’er, from now on, I think I’ll just live in this courtyard.”

Qiqian’er stopped in her tracks and turned to look at the old lady. “Didn’t we agree I’d take care of you in your old age?”

The old lady’s lips twitched into a bitter smile. “No need. My hands and feet still work fine! Before you came along, I managed on my own too—it’s only now I’ve gotten used to being spoiled.”

Qiqian’er walked back to the kang, took her hand, and asked, “Did they say something to you, over there?”

The old lady patted the back of her hand, helpless. “Say what? What could he possibly say? He wouldn’t dare! He’s in the wrong! He’s got no standing, no backbone to speak with. It’s—it’s just that I got to thinking, if I go on living with you, people will say the whole family’s ungrateful. If I go on living with him, I’ll be miserable myself, and it’ll be hard on you two as well.

“Might as well let this stay the old family home, and I’ll live here on my own! It suits me fine, actually… let them all say I’m greedy, say I’m domineering, say I’m harsh—fine, I’ll wear that reputation! I accept it! I’ll be an old wheel that answers to nobody, and I’ve taken a liking to this courtyard—I’m not going anywhere…”