Li Shiyi and the others had come early; the venue hadn’t gotten lively yet, and only a few people in couples or trios were at tables drinking wine; on a round stage half as high as a person, a female singer with a supple waist was crooning a song, in a scarlet qipao with black, curly hair, her arms wrapped in long gloves, and even her operatic gestures at the microphone were incredibly charming and delicate. The manager brought them to a reserved sofa, fan-shaped and leather-brown, and they crowded around a short, four-sided table; Tu Loayao, head bowed, eyes focused on his nose and his nose focused on his heart, hadn’t even the mind to take a look at the female singer; he was quite dedicated to standing by Wu Qian’s side, hands folded over his abdomen, belly drawn in and chest held straight, looking remarkably like a muscular, well-built bodyguard. Li Shiyi was the first to sit, her shoulders half relaxed and her legs crossed, one over the other, tilted upwards in a loose posture; A L...

Tu Sishun’s arrival threw the day into chaos; his and Song Shijiu’s infancies were starkly different—he followed after his father’s troublemaking spirit, sleeping during the broad daylight and lively during the night, and the sound of his cries for milk were loud enough to make it across two streets; Tu Laoyao suffered indescribable misery, and thought of solutions; in the daytime, he endured, looking at him without knowing what to do, in order for the nights to be a bit more peaceful. As soon as Tu Sishun began to create a commotion, Tu Saozi wouldn’t be able to attend to anything else; moreover, Tu Laoyao swore three times a day that in the summer heat, her head had swollen, and a glance left the eyes to ail; Tu Saozi was a bit sceptical, but not saying anything still counted as accepting it. Song Shijiu had her wishes fulfilled in putting a longevity lock on Tu Sishun; A Yin wasn’t much interested in the raising of an infant, but was incredibly concerned with Tu Saozi’s belly, which...

Li Shiyi was explaining it to her. Eight characters; Song Shijiu was only able to process them after a full twenty seconds. She hadn’t had any playthings since childhood; the only beloved she had was Li Shiyi; Li Shiyi was her stuffed toy, her fledgling bird; her bamboo toy horse, her green plums; [1] she was the memories of each unsteady footstep, and her entire, world-spanning dream of embracing 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; she’d only placated her with a tone like the gentle spring breeze and melting snow. She hadn’t gone on a blind date, and didn’t want to produce children for someone else, and, more than that, she cared about her. Therefore, she earnestly and with great patience repeated that she hadn’t known. In her gaze, Song Shijiu lowered...

After a few days, it was a bright day with clear weather; Tu Laoyao was cooking noodles, and was massaging Tu Saozi’s swollen calves, forehead covered in sweat; A Yin came in, bringing in a bowl of fresh lychees, and, thinking that Tu Saozi shouldn’t be eating cold or raw foods, placed it aside, and said, “They were just in ice water; let them dry and then eat them.” Tu Saozi, legs bared, felt quite embarrassed, and smiled bashfully. “Thank you for your trouble, A Yin-guniang.” A Yin leaned over to look at her, and clicked her tongue regretfully. “Look at your legs, they’re swollen as radishes; when a finger presses, it leaves a depression.” Tu Saozi stroked her belly, and smiled with a sigh. “Women’s lives are just like this, enduring hardships.” She paused, and then added, “This time, it’s more or less experiencing misfortune; in the future, when A Yin-guniang becomes pregnant, I can tend to you somewhat.” A Yin hurriedly waved her hand, straightening up and stretching out her slende...

Song Shijiu, having received a suggestion, practised the skills with incredible diligence; but she was entirely without a foundation, and without method, only relying on holding her breath with rapt attention; it really caused one embarrassment; having practised for a few days, there wasn’t even any progress. So, she went to plead with A Yin, saying that before she’d given the incantation “as lovely as a flower”, which had been very useful; and, she thought about others’ magic; most of the time, they also needed incantations to be recited to work, and she asked A Yin to use her mind, and gift her another one. A Yin cracked a melon seed, and spat the shell into the handkerchief, carelessly getting a small amount on the corner of her mouth; she raised her hand to grab it, considering carefully. It had to be fierce and succinct, as well as useful. “Then…” She wrapped the melon seed in the handkerchief, and said, “Go drop dead.” Tu Laoyao snorted, laughing with more liveliness than a pig. ...

The pattering sound of the rain was like the quiet music of instruments in harmony; plump hands dredged up from within the vapour, holding the wrung out towel loosely between fingers, stretching forward into the bedding to wipe Song Shijiu’s back clean from top to bottom. Her back was both glossy and tender, having alluring dips and valleys, shoulder blades protruding slightly, but not too much, as if a dove restraining its wings. A Yin gazed at the red mark, smaller than a grain of rice, on the back of her neck; the bright moonlight smudged it a bit larger, and her absent-minded gaze turned it into the size of a fingernail. It stilled on the skin of the occupied young lady, as if an intruder entirely lacking decorum, and traced over the outline Li Shiyi’s words had drawn, like an uneducated seductress. The beautiful state of the young lady; the envy and shame in her heart had both long been peeled away, and so she could calmly and meaninglessly use Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu to make jok...

As the night fell, the stars twinkled like fireflies; the Li family courtyard had sunk into a deep sleep, only Song Shijiu’s room lit bright, the traces of a quiet, cold, elegant shadow on the screen window, which had attracted a layer of comfortable warmth in the yellow light. When Song Shijiu had returned from the mountain god temple, she’d immediately been struck with a fever, eyes blinking dazedly as she’d spoken nonsense; Tu Laoyao had volunteered to go look for A Luo; when A Luo heard about it, she said it was just snake venom from having just switched noses, and the fever would be gone in a night. Said like this, Li Shiyi couldn’t relax, and fed Song Shijiu half a bowl of plain rice porridge, sitting by the bedside and making sure that she slept peacefully. Song Shijiu’s vitality had improved a bit, but her cheeks still remained crimson, and her lips were also bright red, as if they’d been stained by juice from blossoms; her eyes were parted narrowly, as if having been assaulted...