Caiwei Prepares Her Dowry, Affection Eases Her Brother's Worries

The dying rays of the sun stained the bluestone path of Southern District's alleyways a warm amber.

Ye Qingxuan turned the corner and spotted his half-broken courtyard gate from afar. The door leaned against the wall like an old man with missing teeth, sighing silently in the twilight.

He paused mid-step, then quickened his pace.

Before he could draw close, the inner door creaked open, and a small figure peeked out—Ye Caiwei.

She held a coarse porcelain bowl in her hands. The moment she saw Ye Qingxuan, her big eyes lit up, and she trotted over to meet him.

"Brother, you're back."

She handed him the bowl, filled with well water that had been left to cool.

Ye Qingxuan took it and downed it in one gulp. The cool water slid down his throat, washing away the day's fatigue and the dust of the streets.

He passed the empty bowl back to his sister and reached out to pat her head. The little girl's hair was a bit yellow, but it was cleanly washed.

"Is dinner ready?"

"Mm! Just waiting for you to eat, brother." Ye Caiwei took the bowl and followed behind him like a little tail.

They entered the house. In the kitchen, a small clay stove warmed a pot, steam rising from the gap beneath the lid.

Ye Qingxuan lifted the lid. Inside was last night's leftover beef stewed with radish, already reheated once. He poked around with his chopsticks—the beef was nearly gone, leaving only a few radish chunks soaked in broth.

He turned to look at his sister.

Ye Caiwei was on tiptoe, struggling to put the coarse bowl back on the high shelf. When she caught his gaze, she smiled at him.

"Nannan, what did you eat today?"

"I ate," Ye Caiwei said, hopping down from the shelf and clapping her hands. "Lots of radish, and egg custard."

Ye Qingxuan said nothing. He walked to the rice jar and lifted the lid. Inside, the small bowl holding the eggs was still full. Ten eggs, not one missing.

He turned back to face his sister.

Ye Caiwei's smile vanished. She lowered her head, twisting her little hands together, picking at the hem of her clothes.

"Brother... I... I had brown rice for lunch. I'm really full." Her voice grew small.

"What about the beef?"

"The beef... the beef is for you, brother. You need to train, to replenish your blood and qi." She looked up, her eyes already glistening. "Butcher Wang's beef is so expensive. We can't just eat it all at once."

Ye Qingxuan stared at her, his throat tightening. He wanted to say something, but not a single word came out.

Silently, he took the pot off the stove, filled two bowls of brown rice, and set them on the small table.

"Sit. Eat."

Ye Caiwei obediently sat down at the table but didn't dare touch her chopsticks.

Ye Qingxuan picked up the few remaining pieces of beef from the pot and piled them all into his sister's bowl, forming a little mountain.

"Eat." His tone wasn't harsh, but it carried an unyielding force.

Ye Caiwei looked at the meat in her bowl, her lips trembling. Finally, the tears fell, drop by drop, hitting the tabletop.

"Brother, we're out of money." Her voice choked with sobs. "The copper coins in the rice jar—we spent some today on rice and vegetables. And... and the debt to Fierce Tiger Hall... fourteen taels of silver... what do we do?"

These past few days, she had put on a brave face, managing the household, but this worry had been crushing a nine-year-old child.

Ye Qingxuan reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

"Nannan, you can't skimp on meals. Your body is the foundation. If you starve yourself, how will you help your brother later?"

He pressed the chopsticks into her hand. "Eat your fill, then you'll have the strength to figure things out. Don't worry about the fourteen taels. I wasn't joking yesterday—I really do have a way."

Ye Caiwei looked at him, half-doubtful, half-hopeful. Finally, she picked up her chopsticks and began eating in small bites.

Ye Qingxuan himself picked up his bowl and shoveled rice into his mouth, washing it down with the broth.

He knew in his heart that every word of his sister's worry was true. He was a temporary constable without a formal rank, earning five hundred coppers a month—barely enough to support himself, let alone fuel the bottomless pit of his martial arts cultivation.

His chest felt stuffed with a wad of cotton, heavy and suffocating.

In this turbid world, poverty was the original sin.

The meal passed in silence. Ye Caiwei, perhaps truly hungry, cleaned every bit of meat and rice from her bowl.

After clearing the dishes, Ye Caiwei reached under her pillow and pulled out a clumsily sewn cloth pouch. She cradled it like a treasure and brought it to Ye Qingxuan.

"Brother, look."

The pouch was small, made from leftover scraps of fabric. On it, a pair of mandarin ducks had been embroidered in red thread, though the craftsmanship was so poor they looked more like two chicks.

Ye Qingxuan took it and opened it. Inside were a few copper coins and a small piece of silver—altogether, probably less than a hundred coppers.

"What's this?"

"I saved it." Ye Caiwei beamed with a hint of pride. "I calculated it. For you to get married, brother, there's the bride price, the banquet, new clothes—everything costs money. I asked Aunt Zhang next door, and she said that in Southern District, marrying a decent girl costs at least twenty taels of silver."

Twenty taels...

Ye Qingxuan clutched the little pouch, his hands trembling slightly.

He looked at his sister's earnest little face and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Brother is already nineteen," Ye Caiwei said, counting on her fingers with serious deliberation. "By next year, you'll be twenty—the age of capping. Brother Li from South Street married a wife at twenty, and his child is almost old enough to run. We need to prepare early."

Ye Qingxuan couldn't hold back any longer and burst out laughing. He pulled his sister into his arms and ruffled her little head.

"You little girl, small as you are, your worries sure run far. Your brother's marriage isn't something you need to fret over."

"How can you say that!" Ye Caiwei struggled in his embrace, speaking urgently. "Brother's lifelong matter is Nannan's top priority!"

Ye Qingxuan hugged her, laughing even harder. The gloom that had weighed on his heart these past few days seemed to scatter quite a bit under his sister's lofty ambitions.

He stuffed the cloth pouch back into his sister's hands.

"Keep it safe. This is what Nannan saved for her brother—not a single coin can be missing. But from now on, you don't need to save this money anymore."

He stood up, walked into the yard, and brought back the thick wooden pole he used to prop the door shut during the day.

"Brother, what are you doing?" Ye Caiwei followed him curiously.

"Fixing this door."

Ye Qingxuan drew the short blade from his waist and, by the dim light of the oil lamp, began to whittle the wooden pole. He was making a sturdy bolt for the broken door panel.

Where the blade passed, wood shavings flew.

His movements weren't fast, but they were steady. The short knife seemed to come alive in his hand, every ounce of force applied just right.

After two nights of arduous training, his control over his own body was far beyond what it had been.

Ye Caiwei pulled up a small stool, sat to the side, propped her chin on her hands, and watched quietly.

Under the lamplight, brother and sister—one focused on carving wood, the other keeping silent vigil.

Outside the yard, the clamorous night of the Southern District raged on.

Inside the yard, there was a steadiness never felt before.

Ye Qingxuan's knife stopped. A wooden bolt, even in thickness and just the right length, had taken its rough shape.

He looked up at his sister, who was already nodding off beside him.

Yes, day by day, life was becoming more worth looking forward to.