Chapter Forty-Two: The Dragon Boat Festival

A few days later, on the fourth day of the fifth lunar month, the village women were busy soaking glutinous rice and washing bamboo leaves, preparing to make rice dumplings for the Dragon Boat Festival. Having earned four taels of silver from selling medicinal herbs, Madam Luo was generous this year and made sixty-nine dumplings—far more than the usual ten she made in previous years just for the occasion. She even filled them with peanuts, red beans, and lotus paste, making An Jian’s mouth water with anticipation.

By dusk, An Kang returned from town, bringing An Yi a copy of “Qiao’s Materia Medica.” An Yi beamed with delight. “Thank you, Brother.”

“No need to thank me,” An Kang replied, playfully flicking her small nose with his finger.

An Yi touched her nose and pouted, “Brother, if you keep doing that, you’ll flatten my nose and I won’t be pretty anymore.”

“Is that so? Let me see,” An Kang peered closely at her nose. “Oh dear, it does look a bit flat now.”

“Zhuzi, you’ll make your sister cry if you keep teasing her, and then I’ll have to scold you,” Madam Luo laughed, pulling An Yi into an embrace. “My good girl’s nose is high and lovely. Your brother’s the one with the flat nose.”

“Did you hear that, brother? You’re the one with the flat nose, you’re the ugly one!” An Yi leaned into her mother’s arms, laughing coyly.

“I heard, I’m the ugly one and you’re the beauty,” An Kang scrunched up his nose and leaned close, laughing heartily.

“Oh my, you look even sillier like that,” Madam Luo joined in the laughter.

Laughter and joy filled the house.

After dinner, Madam Luo put the prepared dumplings into the pot to boil, first on high, then on low heat. The gluttonous An Jian refused to go to bed, staring longingly at the pot, unwilling to leave its side.

Before dawn the next day, An Kang went up the mountain with Luo Dequan and his brothers to gather mugwort.

When An Kang returned, Madam Luo hung the mugwort and calamus he had collected over the front door and woke An Jian and An Yi. She gave each of the brothers a sachet embroidered with a tiger, and for An Yi, a sachet adorned with a small magpie.

After eating the rice dumplings for breakfast, Madam Luo sent them out to deliver dumplings: first, six each to the three Luo Fugui brothers. An Kang was sent to Hetang Village to deliver dumplings to the Zhang family and the Liu family—thirty in total for five households.

Madam Luo wrapped four dumplings in a clean cloth and handed them to An Jian. “Take these quietly to Guyu.”

An Jian swallowed hard, eyeing the few dumplings left in the pot. “Mother, can we stop giving them away? Leave the rest for me.”

“All right, you can have the rest. Now hurry and deliver these,” Madam Luo shooed him out the door, then took another six dumplings from the pot and placed them in a bowl for An Yi. “Take these to the Xinliu family.”

Though An Yi was reluctant, she had to obey Madam Luo and left with the bowl. As soon as she entered the Xinliu household, Cong Liu and Zhu Qiao rushed over and, without hesitation, each grabbed a dumpling from the bowl.

Xinliu set down the buckets of water she was carrying on her shoulder and walked over. “Xier, you’re here.”

“My mother asked me to bring over some dumplings,” An Yi replied, forcing a smile.

Xinliu took the bowl. “Wait here, I’ll empty it for you.”

An Yi nodded.

Xinliu went to the kitchen and soon returned the empty bowl. “Xier, why didn’t you go to town to watch the dragon boat races?”

“It’s boring. I didn’t feel like going,” An Yi replied as she took the bowl. “I’m heading back now.”

“Xier, I’ll come play with you this afternoon,” Xinliu called after her.

An Yi ignored her, giving a disdainful snort. On the way home, she ran into Luo Cuimei, greeted her, and passed by. When she returned home, she noticed there were a few more dumplings in the pot.

“Xier, come try the salted egg dumplings from your third granduncle’s family,” Madam Luo said, feeding her a bite. “Is it good?”

“It’s delicious! I want more,” An Yi said, especially fond of savory dumplings.

Madam Luo handed her the bowl with the remaining dumplings. “Go sit on the bench outside and eat.”

After finishing the dumplings, An Yi leafed through “Qiao’s Materia Medica.” The book was compiled by a woman named Qiao Wei from the previous dynasty. Frail since childhood, she had learned medicine from her grandfather. As a woman of a noble family, it was inconvenient for her to see patients, so she specialized in herbal studies. Over several decades, she collected, researched, and compiled this volume.

At that moment, An Jian returned, having failed to deliver the dumplings. An Yi was puzzled. “Second Brother, didn’t you find Li Guyu?”

“That wretched Madam Jiang! She’s infuriating,” An Jian fumed.

Madam Luo poked her head out of the kitchen. “What happened?”

“Yuan’er’s so pitiful. Madam Jiang blamed her for ruining some clothes and whipped her with a rattan cane until she was rolling on the ground, and forbade her from crying—she said for every cry, she’d get ten more lashes.”

An Yi frowned. “Where was Li Guyu? Didn’t he stop her? Did he just watch his sister get beaten?”

“Li Guyu wasn’t home; he’d gone up the mountain with his father to catch snakes.”

Though Madam Luo pitied the siblings, it was, after all, someone else’s family matter. She sighed, “Shuanzi, take the dumplings over again later. Yuan’er surely hasn’t had anything to eat.”

“I know, I’ll go later,” An Jian replied.

In the afternoon, Xinliu came to play with An Yi, lingering at the An house for over half an hour, but left disappointed when An Jian didn’t return.

An Kang came home just before dusk, reeking of wine. Madam Luo assumed his uncles in the Zhang family had kept him for the festival and didn’t ask further.

After the Dragon Boat Festival, the heat of summer arrived. For over ten days, not a drop of rain fell, and the sun scorched the fields until the earth cracked. Everyone hurried to irrigate their fields, as the rice was in dire need of water; if the crop withered, the year would be ruined.

By the end of the month, the weather grew even more oppressive, with signs of a serious drought. Water levels in nearby ponds dropped steadily, and the river began to dry up. The villagers were anxious, but Xinliu’s father, Zhu Fucai, remained indifferent, frequenting the gambling dens in town as usual. Madam Liu and Xinliu worked tirelessly to irrigate their fields, with no time to dig for herbs or go to town.

An Yi, with a touch of mischief, thought to herself that perhaps a drought wasn’t so bad after all.

When they went to town, Madam Luo first dropped off finished embroidery at the Red Embroidery Workshop and picked up new orders, then went to the Jihuai Hall. Upon entering, An Yi noticed that Uncle Chen was absent; instead, behind the counter stood a handsome youth of about fifteen or sixteen, dressed in a white long robe embroidered with auspicious patterns. She stepped forward and politely asked, “Is Uncle Chen here today?”

“Uncle Chen had matters at home and didn’t come. And you must be…” The young man looked her up and down. “Are you Miss An?”

Hearing herself addressed as Miss An, An Yi hesitated a moment. “Yes.”

“Did you bring the golden-haired earwort Uncle Chen asked you to collect?” the young man asked with a smile.

“I did.” An Yi called, “Mother!”

Madam Luo hurried over and placed two large bundles of herbs on the counter.

The young man untied the hemp rope around the cloth bags, took a few stems out, and inspected them carefully. Seeing that the bundles were quite substantial, he said, “Dongqing, bring out the big scale.”

A young servant responded from the back room, carrying a large scale. “Fourth Young Master, let me weigh them.”

Fourth Young Master!

An Yi’s heart sank, but she watched him calmly, revealing nothing.