Chapter 90

Chapter 90: Little Puppy
Third Master Tang took Tang Da Fu, Li Tao Hua, and the rest home first, then turned the ox cart around to fetch the other villagers.

By the time he clattered back to the pickup spot, a knot of people had been waiting in the road, arms folded, faces sour.

Lately, Third Master Tang seemed to exist solely to drive Tang Da Fu’s family around, and that stung. The grumbling started the moment they saw him.

He didn’t bother defending himself. He’d been late—so he let them complain until they were done.

Madam Wang pinched her nose as if she’d been assaulted. “This cart stinks. Third Uncle, can’t you take us home first? After you hauled Li Tao Hua’s whole household, the smell just won’t leave.”

The lines at the corners of Third Master Tang’s eyes tightened. “I haul your chickens and ducks every day. I’ve hauled a whole cart of manure and never once heard you say it stank. They put their things in buckets and covered them. How could that stink? Fine. If you can’t stand it, I’ll return your money. Walk.”

Madam Wang’s mouth fell open, then snapped shut with a click. “Third Uncle, that’s not fair. I said one sentence and you jump like a cat with its tail stepped on. I wasn’t blaming you. You’re defending them so hard—what did that family give you?”

“Enough.” Madam Zhang hurried in, palms out. “We’re neighbors. Don’t start a fight over something so small. It’s late, and we still have lunch to make. Let’s go.”

Third Master Tang’s voice stayed cold. “I’m not the one in a hurry. If you’ve got more to say, say it now. If you don’t want to ride, get off. At my age, I don’t have to drive anyone’s cart.”

The crowd’s tone changed at once.

“Third Master, don’t say that. If you stop driving, we’ll have to go to the next village for a cart.”

“Exactly. Our village can’t do without you. You can’t quit on us.”

Someone elbowed Madam Wang. “Ming Kui’s Mother just blurts things out. Don’t take it to heart. Ming Kui’s Mother—say something.”

Madam Wang’s cheeks flushed. Before Third Master Tang arrived, plenty of mouths had been running. Now she stood alone as the villain while everyone else pretended they’d been saints.

She swallowed hard and forced the words out. “Sorry, Third Uncle. It’s my fault. I was in a rush and my mouth ran wild. Don’t hold it against me.”

Third Master Tang’s expression eased by a hair. He climbed onto the cart, flicked the reins, and snapped, “Sit tight. We’re leaving.”

—

Back at the Tang courtyard, Qin Hui Yin crouched in the packed earth, eyes fixed on the two tiny puppies wobbling in the dust.

Beside her, Tang Yi Xiao reached out and stroked one pup’s downy fur, wonder written all over his face. “Second Sister, didn’t we say we were buying a fierce guard dog? What can something this small do?”

Qin Hui Yin nodded toward the big dog pacing nearby, tail whipping like a metronome. “We use him now. We use them later.”

They’d gone to the dog dealer intending to buy one big dog—something that could watch the yard and make thieves think twice. But the dealer had pointed at the pair of pups and said their mother had just died, that they might not make it. When they learned the big dog Qin Hui Yin had chosen was the pups’ littermate—an older brother who kept glancing back at them—the decision had been made. Qin Hui Yin haggled the price down and brought all three home together.

Tang Lu Wu came out carrying a bamboo bucket, breath puffing in the cool air. “Third Sister Tang’s ewe just had a lamb. She should have milk. Mother told me to go buy a bowl to feed the puppies.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tang Yi Xiao said, already rising.

“No need. I’ll go myself!” Tang Lu Wu hugged the bucket to her chest and dashed out.

The puppies were the kind of soft, helpless thing that made people want to protect them. But they were so small that every shallow breath looked like a question: Would they live?

Qin Hui Yin and Tang Yi Xiao hovered until Tang Lu Wu returned, the bucket now sloshing white.

All three of them squatted close again, watching the pups’ noses and mouths as if their lives depended on it.

“Why aren’t they drinking?” Tang Yi Xiao blurted.

“They’re too little,” Tang Lu Wu whispered, as if speaking louder might frighten them. “Do they… not know how?”

Qin Hui Yin smacked her own forehead. The sound made the other two jump. “They can’t drink on their own yet. We have to feed them.”

She fetched a small wooden spoon, then rattled off instructions like a seasoned nurse.

“Slow. Don’t pour too much at once. If they choke, that’s trouble. And it’s their first feeding—ewe’s milk is rich, so dilute it. Give them a little, watch, and only add more if they’re fine.”

Tang Yi Xiao and Tang Lu Wu listened, wide-eyed, as if she were teaching them how to keep a person alive. They hadn’t expected raising puppies to be this complicated.

Even so, neither of them complained. Their faces were full of a quiet pity, the same look they’d worn when they talked about their own mother—lost too early, leaving them to figure out the world on their own.

Li Tao Hua watched from the doorway, arms folded, her expression softened despite herself. She couldn’t love these children the way she loved Qin Hui Yin, but she could still be a stepmother who cared.

The big dog—black-coated and broad-chested, clearly a hunter—trotted circles around the pups, pausing to sniff them, then glancing up at the children as if weighing them. The dealer had said hunting dogs were smart, that they didn’t bark without reason. A noisy dog scared prey. This one would strike when asked and otherwise behave like any house dog.

Oddly, the puppies were mottled while the big dog was solid black, making it hard to believe they’d come from the same mother. But he stayed close all the same, hovering like a shield.

When Tang Da Fu returned, he stopped in the yard and looked at the three children still crouched as if guarding a treasure. His smile turned helpless. “We’ve got to prep for tomorrow. Let them breathe a little.”

Li Tao Hua shot him a look. “It’s rare to see them act this childish. Especially Yin Yin—she’s always worrying about everything inside and outside the house. Only today did I remember she’s still a child.”

“Yin Girl is even a few months younger than Lu Wu,” Tang Da Fu said, half teasing.

Li Tao Hua’s eyes narrowed. “So you know that, do you? And who’s making her worry the most now?”

Tang Da Fu cleared his throat. “Yin Yin’s always been capable.” He softened. “Wife, I’ll do today’s work. I won’t let her carry it all.”

It took Qin Hui Yin and Tang Lu Wu a long time to coax both puppies into drinking. When they finally finished, they lined a corner with straw and old cloth and made a small bed. There wasn’t time to do better—not with tomorrow’s business to prepare—so they promised each other they’d fix it properly after they came back.

“Mother,” Qin Hui Yin called as she stepped into the kitchen.

Li Tao Hua looked up from the bowl in her hands. “Uncle Tang and I are almost done. You kids go play.”

Qin Hui Yin’s gaze swept the room. Skewers lay stacked neatly, meat threaded tight, vegetables and other ingredients lined on bamboo sticks in tidy rows. Tang Da Fu sat to one side, hands moving without pause, fast and surprisingly clean.

Li Tao Hua was seasoning the minced meat for the meat-stuffed flatbreads. The dough had already been kneaded and covered. Pan-frying took skill, and for now only Qin Hui Yin and Tang Lu Wu had the touch—Li Tao Hua didn’t try to force her way in.

They’d swapped out the chilled jelly noodles for stir-fried noodles, and Qin Hui Yin had already prepared the pea starch. The braised meats were still the same few kinds, but the flavor had been adjusted again, using the expensive spices Qin Hui Yin had bought last time. The scent alone made the mouth water.

Standing there, Qin Hui Yin felt something twist softly in her chest.

Without her even noticing, the Tang household had become a machine. If she were gone tomorrow, the stall would still open. The work would still get done—for a while, at least.

She wasn’t sure whether that thought comforted her or frightened her.