Chapter 27: When will an old friend be met? (II)

The rooster crowed at dawn; in the winter morning, the gurgle was hoarse, as if wailing; each call was more mournful than the last; A Yin had packed up quite a bit ago, and was sitting at the furnace, playing mahjong with Tu Laoyao. Song Shijiu, before, had always been diligent, but today, she dallied, and no one saw a trace of her presence; Li Shiyi, at the table, braced her temple and had tea, the corners of her eyes sweeping in the direction of the securely closed door, then sweeping again, and then, without making a sound, drew her gaze back, her fing finger idly pressing against the space between her brows.

A Yin, seeing this expression of hers, held back laughter and cut a gaze at her, then at the faintly discernible bruising, and tossed her tiles at Li Shiyi’s side, saying with a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, “Who could have imagined.”

“En?” Li Shiyi tossed the syllable at her.

A Yin let out a sorrowful sigh, and said, “Who could have imagined, you’d indeed fall for it.”

With no more than a few obscene phrases, she’d said a thousand things to intimate partners, each time plucking out the inner heart and puncturing the lungs; knowing from early on that Li Shiyi liked hearing them, she’d had to flip through vernacular folk stories to learn a few phrases by heart to relieve her boredom for her.

Li Shiyi cast her an oblique look, the graceful lines of her shoulders and neck lengthening, not having caught the meaning of the words.

Just as the words were spoken, the door was pushed open, the sound of the wooden frame opening accompanied by the sound of a small cough, like the sound of an inhalation, caught and stopped up in the throat, sounding unbearably pitiful. Li Shiyi raised her head, and saw an uncomfortable, powder-pale face, as if it had spent a while bouncing around in a facial compact, pale enough to make one’s heart alarmed, and even the lips were bloodless, only the distinct red and purple veins on the drooping eyelids pulsing, as if weary, exhausted sparks. Li Shiyi’s heart jumped with worry, but before she could open her mouth, she heard Tu Laoyao ask Song Shijiu, “What happened to you?”

“Last night when I washed my hair, it didn’t dry fully, and I got a headache, and couldn’t get much rest the entire night.” Song Shijiu let out another couple of sighs, her reply hoarse and catching. She made an effort to give Li Shiyi a spirited smile, then weighed the bundle in her hand, and said, “Let’s go?”

Li Shiyi wanted to say something but hesitated, and then stood up, also lifting up the luggage; Song Shijiu came over, putting herself to service with loose hair and reaching for the parcel, and said, “I’ll take it for you.”

The solicitous manner and the pale, sickly appearance created a distinct contrast, causing Li Shiyi to become fixed on the spot; A Yin hurriedly drew a breath, shaking her head and leaning close to Tu Laoyao, the corners of her mouth turning down as she said quietly, “How great.”

Tu Laoyao moved his lips. “What do you mean?”

A Yin gave him her analysis. “Last night was a straight punch, and today, the advance is made with a retreat; this sickly appearance, what sort of responsible person could speak cruelly?” Not to mention that it was the harsh-faced, soft-hearted Li Shiyi. Incredibly melancholic, she supported her cheek; her Li Shiyi, she was afraid, might not be able to be convinced into bed anymore.

Tu Laoyao said, doubtfully, “She, that infant, how could she understand all this of yours? And where did she learn it?”

A Yin thought for a moment, and then said, “It must be an innate skill.”

Tu Laoyao was just clicking his tongue in astonishment, when Li Shiyi, over there, naturally fixed her gaze on Song Shijiu, and grasped her own bags tightly in her hand; frustration flashed within Song Shijiu’s eyes, but Li Shiyi extended a hand towards her, opening and closing her lips as she said softly, “Give me the bundle.”

Song Shijiu pressed her lips together, her sickness-misty eyes brightening as if wound with fire, and, readily following the order, handed over the bundle to her, and, seeing that Li Shiyi was about to leave, lowered her head and stamped her feet, her heels hitting the flagstones repeatedly. Li Shiyi suspiciously turned to look at her, and, hearing Song Shijiu drawing weak breaths, said with a hoarse, low voice, “It seems you have a bit of a fever; your ankles don’t have any strength.”

Tu Laoyao hurried forward to carry her, but A Yin dragged at the lower hem of his jacket, her expression casting a meaningful look at him to make him pick up on the clandestine atmosphere.

Li Shiyi’s middle finger tapped gently against the cotton cloth of the bundle; Song Shijiu watched for a bit, then reached out her hand, her soft fingers^[1] crossing the distance, and only barely catching one of the corners of the bundle, saying, “You leading me, would that do?” As she spoke, her fingertips tugged on the end of the cloth twice, as if a tiny request.

Alright alright alright, the innermost bits of Tu Laoyao’s heart were all trembling, the little figurines and chicks in his chest nodding as if pecking at rice.

Li Shiyi only lowered her eyes calmly, letting her pull at it as they exited.

The winter day’s sunlight was the most deceptive thing, plating the two figures, tall and short, of Li and Song, with a layer of golden light; the warm halo leaped between Song Shijiu’s eyelashes, curling upwards, even striking her brows and eyes with golden, tender softness; she lazily stretched her bones, her heartbeat aligning with her steps, and her own steps aligned with Li Shiyi’s. Tu Laoyao and A Yin idly followed behind, hearing the much more spiritually recovered young lady throw out a clear and sweet questions. “I’ve never seen the summer; is the summertime sun the same as the winter’s?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Let’s go back; will little Tu Laoyao have come into the world yet?”

“It’s still early.”

“Do you like babies? Do you want to raise one?”

“I don’t.”

“Then that’s perfectly good, I don’t want to either.”

“...”

“What madness has she caught?” Tu Laoyao eyed the young deer that had become a yellow oriole,^[2] the endless words of an entire life tossed back and forth like a cart’s wheels.

Song Shijiu did not have the spare time to care about the boorish thoughts of those behind her, only clenching her little fist at the seam on the side of her pants. Make an effort, she told herself.

Only after another lesser half a month, the four returned to Sijiucheng; the frame of Tu Laoyao’s body shook and trembled, as if with a wandering ghost’s constantly thrashing spine, all the way until he entered Li Shiyi’s courtyard house, and only then his Shar Pei-like, wrinkled face relaxed, as if an arrow returning to the heart of home. Entering through the gate, the old sweeping lady hurried to insist on taking him to see Tu-saozi; but he expressed an inexplicable unreasonableness, only standing firmly in place, then wiped at his grease-shiny hair, and asked Li Shiyi, “How is it, do I look dignified or not?”

A Yin let out a cold scoff, and said, “‘Dignity’ isn’t an an ancestor of yours; don’t seek to profit from familial ties.”

Li Shiyi didn’t particularly feel like speaking, and sized up the courtyard house, the black roof and white walls not uncontaminated by dust, put in order and made bright and spacious and cleanly by Tu-saozi, rays of sunlight floating through the courtyard frames; at the side of the courtyard a winter-flowering plum shifted, blossoming with trembling flowers, and the senior maidservant Mrs. Chen held back a nimble smile, the feeling of soap for washing and starching laundry within the smile; the entirety of it was perfectly intimate, like an exceedingly warm, harmonious family. Mrs Chen called out a greeting, and they saw Tu-saozi supporting her lower back and coming from the east court, having gained a great bump, and contrasting with the ample aura of pregnancy, her face had become extremely joyful, her belly protruding a bit, making her movements a bit laborious; she was wearing an everyday dark red coat, and her hands were moist with the water that hadn’t yet been wiped dry, and seeing Li Shiyi, she looked a bit embarrassed, not knowing what she should call out, and only said in a not too loud voice a single greeting call: “Guniang.”

Tu Laoyao, seeing her, was incredibly ill at ease, his toes pressed to his soft cloth shoes, and he reached out in the space between himself and Li Shiyi and made a couple circles, and then said in a loud voice, “What are you being courteous for, it’s your own brother.”

Brother? A Yin and Song Shijiu looked at him at once, and even Li Shiyi raised her brow.

Tu Laoyao carefully removed a word, and uncertainly corrected with, “Sister?”

This sound of “sister” made his gums a bit sore, and his kneecaps even became a bit embarrassed. The corners of Li Shiyi’s mouth rose, and Tu-saozi also became cheerful, and, having succeeded by an unexpected stroke of luck and becoming a bit awkward, she said to Li Shiyi with a few laughing words, “Have you eaten yet? I just rolled out noodles and boiled some paste, and if you don’t think less of it, I was making zhajianmian.”

Song Shijiu nodded her head as if pounding garlic; Li Shiyi, glancing at her, gathered up the bundle that had been leading her, and followed Tu-saozi into the east court.

The east court was both like the front courtyard, and also unlike it; it wasn’t in the least bit as great a residence as a great family’s, but on the contrary, it was like a peasant’s courtyard that had been put in the wrong place. The inside had a bamboo framework, with differently-coloured clothes hung up on it to dry, and under the clotheswere a few crooked, askew buckets, bottle gourd ladles swaying about within. In the flowerbed on the other side had been planted vegetables, and above it was a trellis for grapes, which several vines had wound around, not having yet borne fruit, so it wasn’t clear yet what they were. In the middle was a table, seeming to be the one that had been moved from the old residence. Seeing Li Shiyi’s measuring glance, Tu-saozi anxiously cast a glance at Tu Laoyao, unable to relax; usually, during the day, she liked to do farm work, but in the end it was someone else’s residence, and unfortunately Li Shiyi’s appearance was one that made her emotions hard to tell, making her nervous enough as to be unable to let out a single word.

“Will you eat outside?” Tu-saozi asked, unconsciously rubbing the table with her cuff.

“That’s fine as well,” Li Shiyi replied.

Tu Laoyao comfortingly patted Tu-saozi’s back, and went with her to carry the zhajiangmian out. The externally slippery, internally pliable but strong noodles were wrapped with salty, aromatic, rich black bean paste, accompanied by thin slices of fresh, tasty radish and cucumber, both light and filling; Tu Laoyao’s fingers moved rapidly, stuffing in mouthful after mouthful, filled enough as to have no room to speak. Tu-saozi saw Li Shiyi didn’t much like to speak, but still ate with relish, and her heart relaxed, and she even found time to ask them about their experiences.

Song Shijiu may have rushed to answer, but her body still hadn’t recovered fully, and after eating half a small bowl, she discontentedly pillowed her head on her arms on the table, and speaking and halting intermittently, listened to the casual conversation.

She’d just closed her eyes and been about to relax when she heard Tu-saozi say, “I almost forgot.”

“What is it?” Li Shiyi drew her gaze back from Song Shijiu’s face.

Tu-saozi put together another bowl for Tu Laoyao, and said, “Not long after you all left, there was a young lady who came by, and didn’t answer when asked what she was doing; she came once every few days, and would only ask if you’d come back or not.”

This “you” she aimed at Li Shiyi, and Li Shiyi briefly muttered to herself, then asked her, “Do you know what her surname and name were?”

“I asked.” Tu-saozi placed the bowl in front of Tu Laoyao, and said, “She said her surname was Yan, and she was known as Futi.”

The name was very strange; Li Shiyi’s suspicion was as a thicket, and she unconsciously repeated it.

Yan Futi.^[3]

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Translator's notes:

[1]: The raws are 凝脂 (ning zhi), literally “congealed fat”, but that doesn’t sound very complimentary in English, so I’ve opted for the descriptor of “soft” to hopefully preserve a more positive connotation.

[2]: Associated with joy and song, and also high-class prostitutes.

[3]: The Sinicised pronunciation of the Sanskrit Jambudīpa, used to refer to the Indian cultural sphere in ancient Indian sources.