Chapter 100: Yet with the xiansheng's closed jade coffin (XI)

The village of Hejia was halfway up the mountain, not easy to find; it was only with great difficulty, asking the tea merchants along the way, that they found the path. And it wasn't clear if it was a misconception, but the complexions of a few tea sellers, carrying shoulder poles, changed greatly when they heard the three characters of "Hejia village", wanting to speak but hesitating and hurriedly pointing out the route, then lowered their heads and added water to the pots, not breathing a word of the matter.

On the journey upwards, the skies began to gradually become painted with black, twilight settling heavily, like a crude clay bowl having been overturned. Atop the mountain, in the end, was cooler than the foot, and the snow along the path had yet to melt clean; the further up they walked, the more the snow became piled on, and the path was also covered in a layer of slippery ice, only with a feew fragmentary footprints and wheel ruts, as if almost no one had walked back and forth.

Tu Laoyao held up his Western style pants as he walked, the couple of layers of quilted cotton within showing, tucked into wool socks; although it wasn't very cold, walking in these leather shoes was incredibly strenuous, and they left a good deal of deep tracks. He thought of the days of the past, walking the streets and roving the alleys; the cotton shoes that, in the frigid days, had split open, yet still couldn't be thrown away, Tu Saozi patching and then patching again, such that not even the original material could be distinguished; it had only been some time, yet high-quality leather was no longer deeply clung to.

He glanced at Li Shiyi, to the side; the auspicious days had started precisely from here; he wasn't accustomed to keep mentioning his appreciation without doing anything. But he understood well that, if he and his wife were still living in the alleys in Beijing as before, in the chaos of war at all sides now, he didn't know whether or not they'd still be alive, to say nothing of living tranquilly and peacefully in a foreign concession. The ways of this world, even lives weren't precious; if nothing was luxurious, then peace was.

Tu Laoyao had originally not had a damn thing, yet he'd earned the most valuable gift under the heavens; he didn't know how he could repay it for it to be proper, and so he shamelessly followed after Li Shiyi.

Li Shiyi, seeing Tu Laoyao gazing at her with interest, was somewhat uneasy, her eyelids rising; she asked him, "What is it?"

Tu Laoyao blinked, letting out an "ah", his gaze crossing by Li Shiyi to cast behind her, and he blustered, "This mountaintop is incredibly bright; it's covered in snow all year, right?"

Li Shiyi cast a glance, saying, "en", and then gazed at him once more; seeing he was speaking without purpose, seemed to neither have the intent to want to chat, nor the mood to question.

Having wound another halfway around the mountain, only then did a few cows returning home appear on either side; at the fore was a small village, and in the snow at the side of the road was stuck an old log, coal vaguely marking a character of "He". The village was constructed in the Anhui style, black roof tiles and white walls, the height of the roofs irregular, built in the style of a painting, and from a distance, they looked a great deal like an ink landscape painting, smoke just rising from the kitchen chimneys, hazy between the tiles, a scene of reunion. Li Shiyi slowed her pace, unmelted ice shards still muddying her shoes, the tops of them somewhat damp, showing the dust and debris of a long and difficult trek; she thought a moment; her clothes didn't need to be attended to, and she only took off her hat, arranging her hair, and took off the mottled skin plaster, the back of her hand rubbing the faintly pink cheek; she straightened up her bag, and only then headed in.

Tu Laoyao watched her unhurried actions, an overlapping illusion rising; the first time he'd met Li Shiyi, she'd neatly and tidily packed up the implements of her trade; at the time, she'd climbed over the wall, taking a stove out, her movements both nimble and neat, yet her expression was lazy, as if, if you were only to speak not too loudly, she wouldn't even raise her eyelids.

Now, she once more got ready before him, her slow movements unexpectedly carrying an indecision like lotus threads; her eyes fluttered, as if she were considering.

"Actually, it's not that pressing," Tu Laoyao comforted her. "Perhaps, Shijiu left long before?"

Li Shiyi paused her steps and shot him a glance. Tu Laoyao's expression looked somewhat like he was committing suicide by biting off his tongue.

Biting the tip of his tongue, he looked all about, yet the doubts in his heart grew like thickets. "How come there's no human vitality in this village?"

All the doors about were closed, every shop closed down, not even a single dog in a courtyard, the leaves of the vegetables wilting and soft; occasionally, there would be a house that looked like it had just watered; the narrow streets were lacking passersby, yet the mouths of alleys each had braziers, also without watchers, merely burning on their own; Tu Laoyao looked closer, and saw they were burning a few pieces of clothing. He put his hands in his pockets, and said, "Ah, what a waste."

Yet Li Shiyi said, "A sick village." She suddenly understood why the expressions of the people along the way had been strange, and understood, also, why the path there had been covered in snow.

"How do you know?" Tu Laoyao was astonished.

Li Shiyi drew in a breath. "The scent of medicine, did you not smell it?"

Tu Laoyao sniffed like a dog, and raised his hand to pinch his nose, rubbing it. "It must be my rhinitis recurring."

He considered carefully; there were a few vague, not too clear sounds of coughing; Li Shiyi pulled out a strip of cloth from her bag and passed it to him. "Cover up your moth and nose." Once she finished speaking, she walked forward; as Tu Laoyayo bound the cloth, he wanted to remind Li Shiyi, but suddenly thought of something crucial, and let out a cheerful sound to himself; Shiyi-jie was a haloed Bodhisattva, and naturally didn't need to be afraid.

Li Shiyi didn't glance sideways; she walked in the direction following the medicinal scent's thickening, her steps somewhat hurried, pattering like a small drum being struck in her heart; she'd just turned a bendwhen the drumming sound stopped like cut electricity, and then there was the lingering buzz of an electrical current, droning as it grew beside her ear. She panted faintly as she gazed forward; she could hear a medicinal stove bubbling by the side of the road, the leaf fan swishing back and forth as it controlled the fire, the young boy crouching by the side reciting sentence after sentence, and a young girl closing a door with a creaking groan, bringing out a small, coal-fire basin from within, pouring it into the stove with a bent waist.

Furthermore, she could hear the rustle of the heavy snow pressing down on branches on the mountaintop in the distance, the occasional crackle that scuttled from the tongues of flame beneath the stove, the susurrus as the person fanning and decocting herbs as they smoothed their skirts, and even the uproar of her own heartbeat, like waves breaking against the reef.

Actually, there was an even more raucous sound, just like Tu Laoyao's shouting chatter by her ear that dogs would dislike, and Chun Ping's surprised greeting as she finished bringing over the coal basin; but her ear couldn't contain too great sounds, only able to contain her unhurried coming over, gazing at the medicine-decocting motions of Song Shijiu, pausing in her actions, and tilting her face to bring their gazes together.

The splendour of the phrase "finally" would only be known when you used it. For example, Li Shiyi finally found Song Shijiu.

With the cloth strip covering his face, only Tu Laoyao's narrowed, smiling eyes were visible, and he stretched out his arm, his index finger unable to stop pointing. "Shijiu!" He turned his head back to Li Shiyi once more,a nd cried out excitedly, "Shijiu, it's Shijiu!" He saw Li Shiyi looking at him rather serently, as if saying—don't I know that that's Shijiu?

But Tu Laoyao didn't withdraw his motions, and he saw the faint smile and bashfulness in that glance of Li Shiyi's; she wasn't much accustomed to great excitements of emotion, so Tu Laoyao would be emotionally excited for her. So, he hurried forward, his voice becoming even louder, fearing that, with his covered mouth, Song Shijiu couldn't hear clearly. "Ah, it truly is you. I did say that a few days ago I'd seen you; you were wearing this outfit too, with that girl by your side; you've really made great progress."

Song Shijiu stood up, setting aside the fan, and pressed her lips together in a smile, responding to Tu Laoyao, "How have I made progress?"

Tu Laoyao chuckled. "In the past, you were a little sister; now, you're like an older one." It wasn't little Shijiu; it was great Shijiu.

Song Shijiu didn't speak, only smiling; smiling until Tu Laoyao's eyes twinkled and shone; he felt that the older Shijiu was truly good-looking. He had the appearance of the pride of his own first daughter having grown up, though he didn't know where this pride had come from.

He turned his head once more to look at the approaching Li Shiyi; she hadn't even spoken, or even properly exchanged glances with Song Shijiu, only looking at the fan that Song Shijiu had set down; it was actually Chun Ping who came forward, bundled as tightly as Tu Laoyao was, and tugged at her sleeve, calling to her, "Shiyi-jiejie."

A period of time without having seen each other; it seemed as if Chun Ping had grown somewhat, not looking as guarded and introverted as she had at the start, such that she'd even spontaneously call out a greeting. Li Shiyi helt back a smile and replied, stroking the crown of her head. She suddenly felt unhappy; unhappy because of that bit that Chun Ping had grown, unhappy at that bit of liveliness of Chun Ping's. Song Shijiu hadn't changed, but Chun Ping had, appropriately confirming the "lack" that she'd thought of before.

Li Shiyi raised her head, and called out quietly, "Shijiu."

Song Shijiu paused, and nodded. "En." She only cast her a single glance, and then turned her head to look at that stove, as if it were utterly critical.

Chun Ping, leaning against Li Shiyi, took a few glances at this, then a few glances at that. Tu Laoyao, by Song Shijiu's side, was also like this, and he'd just cleared his throat to speak when he saw the young boy to the side come closer, tugging at Song Shijiu's hand, and asking her, "'With similar natures', what's after that?"

Song Shijiu startled, yet before she could draw her spirit back, she heard Li Shiyi continue in a clear voice, "Habits divide them." She continued it in a gentle voice, her gaze falling on Song Shijiu's profile like settling dust; so, what was critical wasn't the medicine stove; so, Song Shijiu truly wasn't unmoved towards her; so, just then, she'd found an excuse to seem expressionless, but had been embarrassed and at a complete loss by this common question about the Sanzijing.^[1]

The young boy's lips split in a smile. "You can recite the Sanzijing?"

Li Shiyi aptly withdrew her gaze, a bit of sweetness emerging from the acerbity in her heart; she looked at that boy, his head large and body small, sparse hair unable to cover his wide forehead, looking like a small bean. She asked, "What's your name?"

"Xiao Douding," he replied crisply.

Li Shiyi raised her brows in surprise.^[2]

She heard Song Shijiu's slight breath; out of the corner of her eye, Li Shiyi saw an overflowing flash of a shallow smile, the smiling expression coming not as much of a surprise, as if the first time she'd heard Xiao Douding's name, Song Shijiu had also raised her brows like this, sighing internally that he unexpectedly lived up to his name like this. Li Shiyi tilted her face to look at her; Song Shijiu was still minding the fire, no expression on her face.

Tu Laoyao's eyes flicked, and he said to Xiao Douding, "What's hard about the Sanzijing? Like Zhao, Qian, Sun, and Li,^[3] this Tu-shu of yours knows it as well; come here, Chun Ping, right? You come as well, let's compete, see who can recite the most." In a couple words, he brought the children inside, leaving the twilight of the setting sun to Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu.

Song Shijiu, seeing the door close, turned her head back, her hands smoothing the qipao over her thighs, and bent her waist, sitting on the stool, grasping the fan as she focused her attention on the fire. Li Shiyi pursed her lips, and sat down by her side as well, only speaking after counting silently to ten or so. "Are you cold?"

As soon as she'd spoken, she was somewhat regretful, because her tone's harshness wasn't as good as the tenderness she'd imagined, and because she'd spoken extraneously. She truly wasn't good at speaking superfluously. More than that, she didn't know whether if Shijiu were to reply "cold" or "not cold", how she was meant to continue.

As expected, Song Shijiu replied, "I'm not."

Li Shiyi hummed, and thought for a moment; she felt that Song Shijiu had paid her attention, and that also counted as a good thing. So, she fell silent for a while, then asked, "In this village, what's the situation?"

Song Shijiu added a couple pieces of coal, and lowered her voice. "The plague; the majority of those in the village are infected." When she'd come, it had been like this; a good number of families had died off entirely, and the village had known in its heart that knew that there wasn't much of a way to survive, and so they hadn't really gone down the mountain. Xiao Douding's parents were both gone, and now, he lived in his Sanshu's^[4] house nextdoor. His Sanshu had just gotten sick, and Song Shijiu was helping prepare medicine, and was also helping teach Xiao Douding how to read at the same time; his aunt was incredibly grateful, and so had given Douding's family's empty house to Song Shijiu to stay at, and would often go over to chat.

Li Shiyi hadn't yet replied when, at a distance, sure enough, his aunt appeared; seeing a stranger, she was somewhat startled, and, exchanging a couple pleasantries, carried the food basket inside. Song Shijiu, seeing the intensity of the fire had become stable, went inside to help the aunt cook; Li Shiyi followed afterwards, wanting to wash her hands and help, yet she was tactfully turned down by the aunt; as Li Shiyi was a newcommer, she shouldn't be forced to, and so she minded her sleeves and headed towards the hall.

She hadn't walked many steps when she heard Song Shijiu's small voice. "Don't wash this one."

The aunt replied, "Is it celery?"

Song Shijiu let out an "en", and didn't say any more. From inside, the gurgling sound of running water rose, along with the rhythm of the knife knocking against the chopping board. The corners of Li Shiyi's mouth rose, the curve of the arc even lighter than Song Shijiu's words, but it didn't stay for a short time, as if this smile was incredibly precious to her.

Li Shiyi didn't like eating celery; it seemed that even in a time of disagreement, Song Shijiu still continued to pay it attention.

-

< LAST | HOME | NEXT >

 

-

Translator's notes:

[1]: The 《三字经》, the Three Character Classic, from whose first verse's final two lines the previous quotes are from. I've editorialised a little to make them line up three characters to three English words, but the meaning is essentially the same.

[2]: 小豆丁, literally "Little Bean".

[3]: 赵钱孙李, the first four surnames of Hundred Family Surnames (百家姓), a classic of the Song dynasty counting the most common one hundred surnames. Along with the Sanzijing and the Qianziwen (Thousand Character Classic), it's a classic commonly taught to children.

[4]: 三叔, youngest third paternal uncle.