Chapter Thirty-Four: Overhearing Idle Gossip on the Road

At dawn, a light drizzle fell and quickly ceased, yet Madam Luo still refused to let An Yi go up the mountain. Several girls, including Xinliu, waited at the village entrance for a long time, but when An Yi didn’t appear, they came looking for her. Upon learning the reason, they not only envied An Yi for having such a loving mother but also wondered why Madam Luo wasn’t their own mother.

An Yi didn’t go to dig for spring bamboo shoots, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be eating any. Luo Deyou, Luo Dezhong, and Luo Mingliang went up the mountain and dug up more than thirty jin of bamboo shoots, sending five jin over to her home.

Gazing at the pile of bamboo shoots, An Yi’s eyes glimmered. “Mother, about gathering medicinal herbs, if you have time, please go talk to Great Uncle and the others. If my cousins are willing, let’s go dig together.”

“Good child, my good child, truly you’ve grown up and become sensible.” Madam Luo stepped forward and embraced An Yi. She knew that gathering herbs could earn money and had considered telling Luo Fugui’s family, but worried An Yi would be upset, since it was An Yi who had found this way to make money.

An Yi buried her face in her mother’s arms. She had originally intended to earn a sum of money before telling Luo Fugui’s family about the herbs, but the care shown by the Luo family made her ashamed of her own selfishness.

That afternoon, Madam Luo paid a visit to the Luo family.

Luo Fugui and the others were delighted that An Yi had found a way to make money, but they declined Madam Luo’s suggestion. They couldn’t bring themselves to profit from the younger generation’s efforts.

When An Yi learned of this, she felt even more ashamed.

Brother and sister spent five days straight digging herbs. One morning, as Madam Luo felt An Yi’s hands and found them rough, she frowned. “This afternoon, let your brother go dig the herbs alone. You’re not allowed to go. Instead, teach him how to clean and sort the herbs.”

An Yi was young and unaccustomed to farm work. Running to the fields and hills every day with An Jian was exhausting, so she nodded obediently.

After breakfast, Madam Luo took a small wooden box from the large chest. Inside, she produced a lump of yellowish, waxy substance. She broke off a bit, placed it on a rough tile, set it atop the stove, and melted it, then rubbed the warm oil onto An Yi’s little hands.

An Yi wrinkled her nose at the strange smell. “Mother, what is this?”

“Mutton tallow.”

An Yi knew that lanolin was good for moisturizing the skin, but as far as she knew, it was refined from natural sheep’s wool, not sheep fat. To be precise, lanolin should be called wool grease.

Did people of this era have such advanced refining techniques? Even if they did, her family couldn’t afford to buy it. Judging by the look of it, that lump was real mutton fat, not lanolin.

An Yi frowned slightly. Mutton was a good tonic for winter, but could its fat really soften the skin? She had never studied this and couldn’t be sure, nor did she dare to voice any objection. She let Madam Luo generously apply the lamb-scented fat to her hands.

Madam Luo then took out two pieces of cotton cloth and wrapped An Yi’s hands entirely, tying them at the wrists with cloth strips—neither too tight nor too loose. “No moving around. It needs to stay wrapped for a quarter of an hour.”

Now unable to do anything, An Yi, touched by her mother’s loving care, sat obediently in the little bamboo chair in the courtyard, her hands bundled, eyes half-closed as she basked in the sunlight.

“Xier, are you home?” Nini called from outside the yard.

“I’m here. The door isn’t bolted. Come in,” An Yi replied.

Nini pushed open the loosely closed gate and entered, holding a simple kite in her hand. “Xier, what happened to your hands? Are you hurt?”

An Yi hesitated for a moment. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Is it serious? Can you come fly kites with me?” Nini asked.

Madam Luo, having heard the voices, stepped out from the inner room. “Nini, Xier needs to stay home and practice embroidery. Go play by yourself.”

“Oh.” Nini stuck out her tongue, backed up a step, and turned to run off quickly.

Madam Luo looked down at An Yi and was about to say something when An Yi preempted her with a smile. “Mother, I don’t want to go out and play.”

Seeing how obedient and sensible her daughter was, Madam Luo smiled with satisfaction and gently patted her head.

After a quarter of an hour, Madam Luo unwrapped the cotton cloth. Whether that lump of mutton fat contained other ingredients or not, after washing her hands with rice-soaked water, An Yi’s hands looked soft and pink.

Madam Luo bent down with a beaming smile, cupped An Yi’s hands, and kissed each hand’s back. “Now these are truly the hands of a little girl.”

An Yi curved her eyes and smiled faintly.

That afternoon, An Jian returned from school and went alone to the hillside with a bamboo basket to dig shepherd’s purse.

Madam Luo finished embroidering a pillow cover. As the sun sank westward, she had just entered the kitchen to light the stove when someone shouted from outside, “Zhuzi’s mother, come quickly! Your son Shuanzi is fighting with someone!”

Madam Luo dropped the firewood in her hands and rushed out the door.

Startled, An Yi hurried after her.

By the time they reached the scene, Luo Dongping and the others had just separated the four boys fighting. An Yi saw that An Jian had a large bump on his forehead and his clothes were torn. Luo Mingliang, standing beside him, also had a gaping tear in his clothes and a scratch on his face. The other two boys were strangers to An Yi; both were covered in mud, and one had a bloody nose. The sides were evenly matched, each suffering losses.

“Shuanzi, what happened? Why were you fighting?” Madam Luo asked sternly.

“Mother, they said my sister fell in the pond, got water in her brain, and became stupid. They also said she’s so dumb she’ll never marry, except to Big Dummy,” An Jian complained angrily.

“Dunzi, Chainzi, who taught you to say that?” Madam Luo’s expression darkened, her voice low.

Big Dummy was a young man in the village who lost his mind every spring. His elderly parents couldn’t control him, so when he had an episode, they’d tie him to the bed with hemp rope. The village women, when losing quarrels, would curse their rivals’ daughters to marry Big Dummy.

Dunzi and Chainzi exchanged glances, stammering, unable to answer.

“Zhou Dun, Zhou Chain, can you not own up to your words? What kind of men are you?” An Jian taunted.

An Yi almost laughed. At their age, calling them men was a stretch.

Prodded by An Jian, the younger Zhou Chain couldn’t hold back. “Fine, I’ll say it. My grandma said your sister’s so dumb she can’t even call people or answer questions—her brain’s full of water, and she’ll never marry, except to some madman like Big Dummy.”

No sooner had he finished than Zhou Chain’s grandmother, Old Madam Zhou, arrived.