Chapter 45: The amorous are angered by the heartless (VI)

Li Shiyi was turned towards her, explaining. Eight characters; Song Shijiu was only able to process them after a full twenty seconds. She herself didn’t have any playthings; the only one beloved she had was Li Shiyi; Li Shiyi was her stuffed toy, fledgling bird; bamboo toy horse, green plums;^[1] she was the memories of each unsteady footstep, and her entire, world-spanning dream of holding and kissing. She had almost thought that she was soon about to lose her. In the world, there wasn’t any feeling that emerged more splendidly than from losing and regaining something once again, even moreso when it was Li Shiyi.

Li Shiyi hadn’t gotten angry, or resentful, only placated her with a tone of gentle, spring breeze and timely snow. She hadn’t gone on a blind date, and didn’t want to produce children for someone else, and, more than taht, she cared about her. Therefore, she earnestly and with great patience repeated that she hadn’t known.

In her eyes, Song Shijiu lowered her head, biting the corner of her mouth, painted with fragrant rouge; her heart had been pushed a great deal, and couldn’t stand this sort of gentle tenderness; it made her mood, over and over, go a bit out of control. She nodded minutely, her nostrils flaring a couple times, and suddenly, with red eyes, raised her head to gaze at Li Shiyi. “Why is it that I feel like crying a bit?” The ache in her nasal passage arose suddenly, and made her unable to make sense of the matter.

Li Shiyi gazed at her moist eyelashes, and the beautiful curve of her lips; the patterns of veins on her lips were very faint, like the congealed liquid of a flower, having been confined into clear lines on her lips, only allowing this bit of eroticism to be unbridled and close; it was only the fear that it would overstep the bounds of propriety by a cun, and would cause the bees and butterflies to want to, without any regard, press a kiss to them.

In fact, what was beyond propriety was the rouge that had been spread to the edge of Song Shijiu’s lips. Li Shiyi’s fingers, within her sleeves, moved; originally, she’d wanted, as usual, to reach out and wipe it away for her, but when she’d been about to pull her hand out, she suddenly became hesitant, and only lowered her eyes and gazed at her, and raised her hand to tap the edge of her own mouth softly. It was a clear, implicit reminder.

Song Shijiu startled, immediately and hurriedly raising a hand, and without any orderliness, wiped at the edge of her own lip. Li Shiyi’s hand lowered, turning over to press against the wall, her ring finger customarily tapping, playing out and settling the escaping heartrate within her chest.

Song Shijiu, high heels not too suitable, stood with some difficulty, and took her heel out, lazily drawing it back, the tip of her toes hooking the shoe, and then with a movement, jumped. Her fine calves were bare and jadelike; her relaxed instep and the goblet-like heel were like a suitable spring breeze and rain, promoting the opening and maturation of flower buds. For a moment, Li Shiyi felt that the Song Shijiu before her was a senior. She pressed her lips together, the matchbox in her hand turning in a circle, and when she touched the coarse saltpeter, she stopped.

Song Shijiu, having put her mood back in order, on reflection, felt guilty for her own impudence, and, thinking that the two of them had come in for a long while, was afraid of it being impolite, and considered it, saying, “That person…is still outside, then.”

“Don’t pay attention to him.” Li Shiyi raised her head, the back of her skull gently pressing against the wall. Her voice was both low and deep and gentle, and when she spoke, her graceful neck was raised by beautiful tendons. Song Shijiu was most affected by this willful appearance of thinking it below her dignity, as if Li Shiyi, towards others, had an attitude of it not being worth it; as the Jing and Wei rivers were separated clearly, it was entirely different from the circle drawn with herself and her.

Song Shijiu pressed her lips together with joy; Li Shiyi swept a gaze over her, and also raised her lips. The vendor’s stand that Tu Laoyao had set up, he could put away himself.

“Then we…” Song Shijiu lowered her voice, as if guessing at some secret.

Li Shiyi stood up, and opened the door. “We’ll go out the back door.”

Song Shijiu put her shoes back on, and followed out after her; thinking of Tu Laoyao and A Yin waiting at the main entrance, she determined to not tell Li Shiyi. Playing tricks on a young lady, then waiting a shichen or two was deserved.

The two walked back together; from the shade of one Chinese parasol tree to the next, the walked extremely slowly, but also peacefully; not including the midway, when Song Shijiu was aroused to gluttony by an ice cream treat, and Li Shiyi bought one for her, the rest of the time, they barely spoke a word. But Song Shijiu arranged her curled hair, and gazed at Li Shiyi and her own leather shoes, and felt that it was exceedingly like an accidental date.

Only having wandered for the better half a shichen did the two return to the residence; the main gate to the residence was open, and the rickshaw that had been hired was stopped at the entrance; Song Shiji’s bits of guilt were, in a split second, wiped clean; so, Tu Laoyao and A Yin hadn’t, in fact, waited for her. She lifted her leg and entered the residence, and greeted Chen Ma, and went directly towards the east courtyard.

In the east courtyard, Tu Laoyao and A Yin were playing mahjong, calling out three times and shouting four, in a frenzy; they didn’t hear the movement of the two people entering in the slightest. Only once they’d arrived at the front did A Yin, at the right, raise her head, and take in Li Shiyi’s cool expression, eyes widening, and raised her hand to use the back to cover her lips. Tu Laoyao, whose back was towards those who had arrived, crouching on a stone stool, prompted her: “This is you acting as a woman getting married—you’ll be singing praises until you die!”

“I’m afraid that it won’t be dying that praises will be sung about.” A Yin, hand still raised, pressed her hand against her lips, her gaze falling to the tiles, smiling with a deep implication.

Just when her words ended, a loud and clear phrase came from behind: “Tu Laoyao!”

The fine hairs on Tu Laoyao’s back ran quicker than a rabbit, rising in ranks as if troops being gathered. He stretched out his neck, turning his head, and saw Li Shiyi, standing with a blank expression, and Song Shijiu, whose face held unkind fury. The ground beneath his feet turned slippery, and he almost fell off the stool to kneel, with great effort remaining calm, and with a smile of flattery, asked her, “You were successful?”

Song Shijiu crossed the distance in a few steps, snorting, and pointed at him. “Don’t you move!”

Not daring to move, Tu Laoyao was even more erect than a rooster.

Contrary to expectations, though, Song Shijiu was joyful; her hand, behind her, turned half a circle, and, staring at his taut jaw, her fingers gently revolved. Forty, fifty, sixty…with a smile, she circled around Tu Laoyao, seeing his aging, toothless appearance, the aura of wickedness originating from her fingers, submerged within her mood a wide smile within her eyes.

A Yin was dumbstruck; covering her lips, she glanced at Li Shiyi, but saw that she was standing at a short distance away, gazing at Song Shijiu playing a practical joke, an indistinct indulgence seeping lazily from within her clear eyes.

Tu Laoyao was flustered and agitated, and he raised his own hands, looking at them again and again, and as he looked, his eyes went weak, and he couldn’t squat anymore, and fell backwards with a few hissing sounds, his sleeveless top pressing against the top of the stone table. “You, you you…” The doddering, weak voice was accompanied by a cough, deficient of vitality; Tu Laoyao couldn’t even stretch his fingers out.

Song Shijiu turned her head, smiling at Li Shiyi, and was just about to stop, when she heard a muffled sound from the doorstep, a terrified shriek stopped up in the throat, only a moaning sound scattering from within. Song Shijiu hurriedly looked over, and saw Tu-saozi’s deathly pale face, staring at familiar figure within the courtyard, extremely aged, holding her belly as she fell against the side of the doorframe.

The entire group was aroused; in a few steps, they came to the front; Song Shijiu broke through the disaster, hurriedly drawing back her power, and ran across to embrace Tu-saozi.

Tu-saozi’s eyes were about to pop out, and she gazed at Tu Laoyao with bloodshot eyes, bean-sized beads of sweat rolling down her face, dripping down her neck like water; she couldn’t speak, only rigidly grasping at Tu Laoyao’s hand, veins showing across her entire face in a sinister manner. She stammered for a while, trembling lips unable to speak, her throat stuffed with cotton, and only with great effort was able to breathe, her belly as if having been run over and crushed by someone’s ox cart, hurting so much that she couldn’t pay attention to anything else, her legs askew as she moaned in grief.

Song Shijiu was incredibly remorseful; the pearls of her tears fell and shattered, and her hands shook severely, almost limp on the ground. Li Shiyi, remaining calm and collected, shifted her body, and let her lean against her own shoulder, just raising her voice to order Chen Ma to call a doctor, when she saw A Yin gazing between Tu-saozi’s legs, hurriedly saying, “Her water’s breaking, call for a midwife!”

The night god spilled terrifying black ink; mournful cries rose to the roof, shaking the dust and ash on the roof tiles; hot water mixed with blood, basin after basin entering, the experienced midwife encouraging the tempo energetically within; A Yin stood guard at the doorway, checking the scissors and towels were properly arranged and offered up; Tu Laoyao was within the room, grasping Tu-saozi’s hand, face swollen and red from her exertion. After no less than two shichen of labor, little Tu Laoyao still hadn’t been born; Tu-saozi didn’t have any more energy, and her moansgradually grew quieter, but the sound of her gasping and breathing became louder, separated and dimmed by the screen, as if rumbling thunder beating against the ears.

Song Shijiu sat with her head lowered, disheartened, supporting herself on the armrests of the high chair, her worried face deathly pale; Li Shiyi sat at her side, and traded out the cooled tea, and filled a new cup for her.

The sound of A Yin’s pacing stopped, and she grasped her hands, maintaining a forward leaning posture, and the depths of the residence courtyard, in a split second, sank into deathly still tranquility; Li Shiyi raised her wrist, and drank a mouthful of tea.

Song Shijiu loosened the right hand which had been gripping the armrest; the noise surged violently, and A Yin’s skirts moved, and she moved forward two urgent steps, brows knitting, locking a bit deeper together. Li Shiyi set down the teacup, tiredly rubbing her temples, her other hand opening the cover of her pocket watch. It was clear that only two shichen had passed, but she felt as if she had endured an entire night; it was only because Song Shijiu, at her side, was excessively anxious, her hands pinching, that time paused for a moment, and then let go, and then returned to its normal state once again. The person at her side was completely unaware, and yet Li Shiyi wassent affected by the control, and, still animated, accompanied Song Shijiu’s experience of the suffering twofold. She let out a soundless sigh.

The heavens turned to the pale light of the dawn sky; the rising sun followed along with the infant’s wails; the midwife wiped sweat away, and came from within the announce the good news, saying that a healthy child had been born. The entire group let out a breath, numb faces taking on smiles. Tu Laoyao rolled his eyes, dizzy and paralysed; the web between his thumb and forefinger had been pinched blue and purple; Tu-saozi had gone through a right of torment, but when she saw little Tu Laoyao, the light had once more ignited in her expression, and she cradled the infant, pitiful and loving, very unwilling to let go.

Li Shiyi passed a towel over, and A Yin received it, wiping away Tu-saozi’s sweat; Song Shijiu stretched her head out to look at the infant, carefully and cautiously reaching out a hand to brush the infant’s chin.

“Have you thought of a name?” A Yin asked.

“Tu, Tu Sishun,” Tu Laoyao struggled, shaking his leg, all his effort seeming to go like gossamer threads to speak the phrase.

Song Shijiu was startled, her heart warming halfway. Tu Laoyao hadn’t blamed her in the slightest; the shame from just now eased a bit, warmth rising in the left side of her chest.

Li Shiyi said, “Let’s go out; let Tu-saozi rest a bit.”

Song Shijiu nodded; the three closed the door and left. A Yin let out a yawn, supporting her waist and bid goodnight first; Song Shijiu took off the high heels that had been chafing the entire day, carrying them in her hand and following Li Shiyi back to the rooms. Her muscles were aching, as if she’d fought a battle for half the night, and there was a faint bruising beneath her eyes; her voice was a bit hoarse, and she suddenly asked, “In my childhood, was I also like that?”

“Like what?” Li Shiyi replied.

“Bright red, wrinkled, with thin and sparse hair, eyes swollen like peaches, pasty and muddled together.” Not very nice to look at; she swallowed this half a phrase back.

Li Shiyi pondered a moment, and shook her head. “No. Fair and delicate, plump, hair jet black and glossy, with large, wide eyes, which turned back and forth.” Incredibly pretty. The words fit together perfectly, like gears closing up Song Shijiu’s worries. Song Shijiu smiled, lowering her head and shifting her steps, and folded her own shadow together with hers into one place.

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Translator's notes:

[1]: 青梅竹马 (qingmei zhuma), green plums and bamboo horse, used to refer to childhood sweethearts.