Chapter Nineteen: An Invitation from a Dear Friend

As dusk approached, An Jian returned home from school. Taking advantage of the remaining daylight, he hurried to finish the calligraphy assignments his teacher had given him. It was nearly dark when Madam Luo finally came through the door, carrying a small bowl of white rice and a strip of pork belly no wider than a finger and twice as long—a token of gratitude from the family she had helped. In the days to come, Madam Luo would continue lending her assistance until the elder’s funeral rites were complete.

Two days later, under the gentle brightness of spring, An Yi set the chicks out in the courtyard to bask in the sun. Liu Xiaoyi had climbed onto the garden wall again. “Xier, I’ll be starting school tomorrow,” he announced.

An Yi was taken aback, not understanding why Liu Xiaoyi felt the need to tell her this; it had nothing to do with her. Yet, seeing his eagerness, she couldn’t just ignore him. With a calm, gentle smile, she replied, “That’s a good thing. Congratulations.”

“Once I can read, I’ll be able to understand books, and then I’ll know even more ways to catch birds.”

An Yi was at a loss for words. So, he wanted to study just to learn new tricks for catching birds—for play, not for self-improvement. If his mother knew, she would surely withhold the tuition and give him a stern lesson.

“Xier, when I learn to read, will you lend me that book with the bird-catching methods?”

An Yi felt a headache coming on. She had only mentioned the book to make things easier, never expecting it to cause trouble. One lie always leads to another. She was about to say the book was lost when she suddenly remembered seeing a hunting manual in the chest the other day. To settle the matter once and for all, she might as well give it to him; it was only gathering dust, and her two brothers didn’t seem interested in hunting anyway. “Alright.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t borrow your book for nothing. Once I’ve learned those methods and caught something, I’ll be sure to share it with you,” Liu Xiaoyi promised solemnly.

An Yi smiled, not taking his words to heart.

But Liu Xiaoyi considered this a pledge. In the days that followed, he remained true to his word.

The next day, Liu Xiaoyi’s mother took him to the private school. In ancient times, beginning one’s studies at nine was not considered late; some children didn’t start until they were thirteen or fourteen. School began in the first month of the year and closed in August, so as not to interfere with the autumn harvest for farming families.

Days slipped by. Relentless spring rains painted the fields and hillsides green. One day, the wind died down, the rain ceased, and sunlight poured over the world. Taking advantage of the weather, Madam Luo carried the wooden planks from the bed in the adjacent room outside to air them in the sun, along with the straw from the bench in the corner. An Yi followed behind, picking up anything her mother dropped.

During the coldest months, to save on firewood and charcoal, her brothers slept in the inner room. When the weather warmed, they would move back next door. The straw had been piled up for over two months and needed to be sun-dried before it could be used for bedding again.

When the straw was dry, Madam Luo carried a bucket of water into the room to clean. An Yi followed to help but was quickly shooed out. “Out you go. There’s too much dust in here. Go watch the chicks outside.”

With no choice, An Yi sat outside on a bench, soaking up the sun. Big Ya stopped by to invite her up the mountain to gather mushrooms and dig wild herbs. “Xier, I’ll fetch Nini and the others first. Let’s meet at the village entrance in a bit.”

“Alright.” An Yi had always wanted a chance to go up the mountain, and now her wish had come true. She hurried inside to find Madam Luo. “Mother, I want to go up the mountain with Big Ya to collect mushrooms and wild herbs.”

“Wait for your second brother to come home; he can take you,” Madam Luo replied, unwilling to let An Yi go with the other girls. An Yi’s last fall into the pond had frightened her half to death—she couldn’t bear another scare.

“But when Second Brother comes back from school, he still has writing to do. He won’t have time to take me,” An Yi pouted. “Mother, there’ll be lots of us together—it’ll be fine. Please let me go!”

“I’ll have your aunt take you another day.”

“Aunt has to tend the ducks and digs for worms by the pond every day. She doesn’t have time to take me up the mountain for mushrooms.” An Yi clung to Madam Luo’s sleeve, trying to recall how, in her previous life, she’d wheedle her mother as a child to get what she wanted. “Mother, I want to eat mushrooms. Second Brother likes them too. Let me go, I’ll only fill a small basket and come right back. Please, Mother, let me go. I want to go now.”

“My goodness, I thought you’d grown up and become sensible, but it’s only been a few days and you’re back to your old tricks,” Madam Luo said with a helpless smile.

An Yi was startled. So the original child also acted spoiled like this? Wonderful. If the girl could use this trick to get her way, so could she. She redoubled her efforts, “Mother, please let me go, please, please, please…”

“All right, all right, you little nag. You can go,” Madam Luo relented, rubbing her temples. “This girl of mine, always chanting away—whose temper did you inherit? You’ve given your mother a headache.”

With a smile, An Yi went to the kitchen, grabbed a small bamboo basket, and dashed outside.

“Xier!” Madam Luo called after her.

An Yi stopped and turned. “Mother, what is it?”

“You forgot your straw sandals. You can’t wear cotton shoes up the mountain—they’ll get soaked if you step into the mud.” Madam Luo fetched a pair of straw sandals from the wall outside the kitchen.

An Yi grinned sheepishly and sat on a small wooden stool while Madam Luo helped her tie the sandals over her cotton shoes.

As she tied the cords, Madam Luo reminded her, “If the others go deeper into the woods, don’t follow. Come straight home, understand?”

“I know, I won’t follow them in,” An Yi replied quickly. She didn’t want her mother to worry, and she hadn’t planned to go deep into the woods anyway. She wasn’t about to let too many people know she was searching for medicinal herbs.

“Use the little hoe to loosen the soil—don’t use your hands or you’ll get hurt.” Madam Luo took a small hoe from the wall and placed it in An Yi’s basket.

“Okay,” An Yi replied as she set off. When she reached the village entrance, a girl was already waiting.

The girl was peering toward the village. When she spotted An Yi, she waved. “Xier!”

“Xinliu,” An Yi greeted her with a friendly smile. Xinliu’s family name was Zhu—she was Aunt Liu’s daughter, the very woman who’d saved An Yi, and the one who’d asked last time whether Zhou Dageng had come to stir up trouble at their house.

“I thought your mother wouldn’t let you come out,” Xinliu said with a laugh.

An Yi was puzzled. “Why?”

“Aren’t you learning embroidery? I heard that girls who study embroidery can’t do farm work—otherwise their hands get rough, and rough hands will snag the satin,” Xinliu explained, setting her basket down. “Look at my hands—even the best cloth would get ruined by them.”

An Yi glanced at Xinliu’s hands, rough and calloused, the fingers thick and knobby. It was hard to believe they belonged to a nine-year-old.

During the New Year festivities, An Yi had heard the village women gossiping and learned something of Xinliu’s family situation. Her father was a gambler who had lost all the family’s meager inheritance, leaving only an old house. Xinliu was the eldest of five siblings. Her mother, unlike Madam Luo, had no family on either side to rely on and possessed no skills to earn a living—their life was even harder than the An family’s. This past New Year, if Madam Luo hadn’t given Aunt Liu sixty copper coins, half a pound of pork, and two strips of preserved fish to thank her for saving An Yi, Xinliu’s family might have had nothing but wild greens and coarse bran for their New Year’s Eve meal, without even a trace of meat.