Chapter 38: As mountains bear trees, and trees bear their branches (II)

They’d only walked half the way when suddenly there was a great downpour of rain, coming down in sheets, and the two were stopped halfway along the journey. Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu hid under a lush elm tree, clothes similarly soaked, wrapped frigid and wet around their bodies. Song Shijiu gazed at the water streaming in gurgles on the ground, and stretched her head out to gaze at the heavens. “Just now it was a bright and sunny day; how strange.”

The top of her head warmed; she pulled her neck back, and saw Li Shiyi expressionlessly covering her head with her own hat. Song Shijiu reached her hands up to hold the hat, stroking it as if her palms were holding a watermelon.

Both people were equally embarrassed; then they heard the sound of a whistle, alternating in length, approaching from the distance, as if looking for some sort of animal cub; it was an incredibly plain tarpaulin umbrella, under which was a woman approaching her forties, with one eye and sloping shoulders; her appearance wasn’t striking, but her nose was quite prominent, centred and tall, the tip rising slightly, slightly wet from the rain. On seeing the two, Li and Song, she stilled slightly, and let the hand which had been grasping at her skirts go, and stretched out her five fingers to smooth the creases, taking advantage of her motions to look the two over attentively; only then did she smile and ask, “You two young ladies were stopped halfway along the road by the rain?”

Li Shiyi didn’t reply; Song Shijiu nodded.

That woman’s tone of voice brought with it a degree of familiarity and cordiality, and her smile was also quite amiable; seeing Song Shijiu react, she approached, and took up the motion of looking at the weather, faintly inclining the umbrella towards Song Shijiu. “This rain is too heavy; if you’re still under this tree, it’s very likely to pour through it; my home isn’t far, a li to the east; it would be better to go with me and avoid the rain and wring out your clothes.”

In the downpour, her speech was disjointed, but the consideration in in her words wasn’t; Song Shijiu blinked a couple times, and raised her head to look at Li Shiyi; Li Shiyi’s eyelashes had also been moistened water, and she gazed at her with that sort of expression enveloped in moisture, as if debating whether or not she could endure this wind and rain.

Song Shijiu let out a timely sneeze.

Li Shiyi drew back her gaze, and patted Song Shijiu’s shoulder to indicate to her to go hide beneath the umbrella; then she smiled at the woman. “Many thanks.”

The umbrella wasn’t large, only barely able to accommodate two people; Li Shiyi followed at the side, head somewhat bowed, the greater portion of her body exposed to the rain; Song Shijiu wanted to drag her in, and also wanted to take off the hat and give it to her, but the back of her head was slightly pressed against, soundlessly yet softly restricting her motions. Song Shijiu cast a secret glance at her; as was her habit, she had her neck extended, and in the rain, her jaw dripped water; not paying the dirtiness any mind, she wiped at it, her eyes slightly narrowed and stinging slightly, her nose fluttering lightly. For some reason, Song Shijiu’s constantly sunflower-like heart suddenly felt as if it had been stabbed, and it was a needle which had been soaked in vinegar for three days and three nights, both aching and painful, making her unable to speak. She didn’t know how often in the past Li Shiyi had walked through the rain uncaringly like this, speckles of mud splashing on her trouser legs, her cloth shoes treading into puddles, or what sort of tribulations she’d gone through which would make her maintain an excessively old fashioned appearance, yet still have more careful sincerity than any other person.

Thinking about this, she felt incredibly sad, and stealthily reached a hand out, grabbing Li Shiyi’s pinkie; Li Shiyi instinctively drew it back, but Song Shijiu tightened her grip a bit, tightly grasping her ice-cold finger, refusing to give up no matter what. She felt the rigid tautness in her palm gradually loosen, hanging without any sort of anger, as if exasperated, yet also seeming to be indulgent.

After less than a li, they saw the courtyard of the woman’s farming home; the courtyard wasn’t very level, and the rainwater had largely accumulated at the foot of the wall; the woman gave the umbrella to Song Shijiu, and, with quick steps, went to go fish out the couple of low stools which were in the accumulated water, and pulled out a winnowing basket from in the water as well, trotting to place it under the eaves; only then did she pull out the key to open the door, and invited Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu to come inside.

The inside of the house was small but clean, and a number of miscellaneous farming implements were piled up, as well as a loom with a half-woven bolt of cloth; the woman briefly tidied up a bit, making some space to invite the two to sit down, and then went further into the home to look for clean handkerchiefs with which they could dry off; without stopping to rest, she boiled a pot of hot water, and only then did she enter the room to change, coming out neat and clean.

“You can just wring out the water on the ground,” she said smilingly, rubbing at the separated strands of her hair.

Li Shiyi also asked for a cask, and had Song Shijiu stand at a side, reaching out a hand to wring out the hem of her skirt for her; then she indicated that she wring her own clothes dry in the same manner. As she wrung them out, Song Shijiu asked the woman, “How should I address A Sao?”^[1]

The woman lit a coal pan, the surroundings heated by the baking fire, and then herself sat down across from it, and placed her hands over it, saying with a smile, “Just call me Yan Niang.”

“Yan Niang.” Song Shijiu smiled charmingly, hair and eyes moist, incredibly attractive.

Seeing this appearance of hers, Yan Niang naturally liked her, and she went into the kitchen to ladle out hot water; not quite a cupful, it was held in a wide, porcelain bowl, and she gave it to drink. Song Shijiu took it, suddenly warm, and it caused her to draw her neck back and tremble.

Yan Niang also gave a bowl to Li Shiyi, whose eyes were only paying attention to Song Shijiu, and asked her, “How old are you, guniang?”

How old? Song Shijiu couldn’t say it properly herself, and was just mulling it over when she heard Li Shiyi say, “Nineteen.”

This attractive even when saying bullshit; Song Shijiu raised her chin to look at her. Yan Niang smiled and nodded, and asked her, “What’s her name and surname, then?”

“Shijiu,” Li Shiyi said again.

Song Shijiu hadn’t yet closed her opened mouth, and saw Yan Niang was slightly startled, immediately returning to a smile, continuing to ask, “Is she married?”

Li Shiyi raised her eyes, the space between her brows indistinctly furrowing. Her gaze on Yan Niang was blank, and only after a bit she apologetically retreated, drawing her body back, and said, “I’ve offended you; Shijiu-guniang, don’t get angry. It was only that in the past I acted as the go-between for prospective marriages, and seeing a young lady of age, I habitually asked a few questions.” She was a bit embarrassed, but her face didn’t have any awkwardness, and only then Li Shiyi understood where the intimacy on her face came from—she was in the business of gossip, and her speech would always carry prettiness.

The strength of the rain outside grew more and more severe, and even the trees half the width of a human were bent in the middle; the bananas had been knocked to the ground, and the ravaged leaves were powerless to resist the impressive strength of the raindrops. Yan Niang gazed out the window, as if unable to remain still with worry; thinking of the guests in the house, she sighed, and washed and exchanged a wooden basin from the kitchen, carrying it to the table to clean vegetables as she talked to the two of Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu.

Song Shijiu, in the past, had only seen a matchmaker in books, and had always assumed they wore headbands with marks and had red cheeks, fanning as they invited gossip, very entertaining in conversation and clever; unexpectedly, although Yan Niang was friendly, she didn’t speak much; this position of hers especially, sitting and picking out the edible part of vegetables, unexpectedly expressed a degree of quiet contentment. So, she propped up her chin with her palm, and asked her, “There’s only one cup in this house of yours, and the bowls aren’t a complete set either; are you usually alone?”

Yan Niang replied, “No.”

“Aren’t you afraid, being alone?” Song Shijiu asked.

“Afraid of what?” Yan Niang smiled widely. “In the past, I met all sorts of people; nowadays, having come to this mountain, it’s in fact tranquil.”

Song Shijiu nodded in agreement, but Li Shiyi cleared her throat and said, “Are you here alone because you’re unmarried?”

Yan Niang’s senses and mind were keen, and was able to understand her meaning without all of the words being said; she replied with a smile, “How could an unmarried woman act as a matchmaker? I was originally promised to a family, but I’d not even married when my husband died, and so I earned a reputation as a widow in vain.” She arranged the vegetables she’d picked, setting them to rights one by one, and added, “It’s reasonable to say that this inauspicious widowhood of mine means that usually people don’t much dare to trust me, while also being the foundation which bestowed me with this job; by destiny, I made the north city rice worker Zhao-daxiaojie’s marriage, and this gradually gave me a bit of a reputation.”

The contents of the speech made Li Shiyi’s suspicions subside, but didn’t overly reveal her talent; her speech remained like that of daily life, coming and going without much meaning in idle gossip.

Song Shijiu’s face was both red and inquisitive towards this talk of marriage and matchmaking, and, seeing the dark sky, no good for walking in any direction, thought she may as well become a student; she asked about betrothal gifts, the rites, sending a party to escort the bride to the groom’s house, accepting gifts, asking for the name and horoscope, making the decision, the period of invitation, and the auspicious times for marriage; seeing that she was both adorable and quick-witted, and also not having spoken with another for a long time, Yan Niang answered thoroughly and patiently.

The water in the bowls gradually gave off steam, and the dust settled on the surface; Li Shiyi set the bowl down, and heard Song Shijiu ask, “Having done this so often, have all of them worked out? Are there types that don’t?”

“How could there not be?” Yan Niang put the vegetables into the basin, and grabbed a couple of jujubes that had been drying in the sun, arranging the folded handkerchief onto the table, and invited Song Shijiu to eat them.

Song Shijiu chose one, and blew off the dust on it, closing her mouth halfway, and asked her, “What reason, then?” She had some fears that she herself couldn’t be married to Li Shiyi; it would be best to avoid all the taboos of ordinary people.

“There’s all sorts of reasons,” Yan Niang said, not idle, and twirled an embroidery needle, and wiped it on her hair, her expression caught in memories. “There’s just one type that’s incredibly rare.”

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Translator's notes:

[1]: 阿嫂, an address for an older woman.