Chapter Forty-Nine: The Little Vixen

Luo took the wild eggs, invited Li Guyu to stay for dinner, and told An Yi to fetch a handful of chives from the backyard. She fried all the eggs, then cut up most of the smoked fish Zhang Lian had brought two days ago, mixing it with fermented soybeans to steam together. The romance in this story updates faster than a rocket—do you dare to doubt it?

After the meal, Li Guyu didn’t leave immediately. An Jian pulled him aside. “Guyu, do you want to learn to read? I can teach you, would you like that?”

An Yi tilted her head, biting her lip with a smile. An Jian had already taught her to read, and felt no sense of achievement anymore. Jealous that she had taught Xinliu, he wanted someone new to indulge his desire to play the teacher; Li Guyu was the perfect candidate.

Li Guyu looked at An Jian in surprise. “You want to teach me to read?”

“Don’t you want to?” An Jian felt crushed.

“I do.” Li Guyu very much wanted to learn, but Li Dazhi and Madam Jiang wouldn’t send him to school.

Seeing his agreement, An Jian raised his brows joyfully, glanced sidelong at An Yi, and said, “Guyu, I’ll teach you to write your name first. If a person can’t even write their own name, that’s just too pitiful.”

Li Guyu nodded.

After teaching him to write his name, An Jian said, “Guyu, you must come here every day. Learning to read must not be neglected. Remember: ‘Excellence comes from diligence, while idleness breeds neglect; accomplishment stems from reflection, destruction from carelessness.’”

Li Guyu stared blankly at him.

An Jian himself only half-understood the saying and had no intention of explaining. He patted Li Guyu’s shoulder. “Just remember to come every day. Don’t be afraid of hard work.”

“I’m not afraid.” Li Guyu was thrilled at the chance to learn, feeling nothing of hardship.

Though young, Li Guyu was grateful and didn’t want to come empty-handed. The next day, he arrived with several wild pears picked from the mountain.

An Yi’s eyes lit up at the sight. Liu Xiaoyi would occasionally bring wild game, and with Zhang Lian’s fish, plus occasional pork or duck from the Zhangs and Luos, An Yi had little need for meat but craved fruit dearly.

“Li Guyu, where did you pick these wild pears? Could you take me to pick some?” An Yi asked.

“No,” came the reply.

An Yi was surprised by his blunt refusal. She pouted. “Why not?”

“There are biting insects.”

“I’m not afraid of snakes.”

“Not snakes—other insects.”

“What other insects?” An Yi pressed.

Li Guyu was stumped for a moment before replying, “Black bugs, green bugs, caterpillars, beetles—many I can’t name. If they bite you, you get big swellings that hurt and itch—it’s miserable.”

Hearing this, An Yi realized it was impossible to persuade him to take her up the mountain and gave up, changing the subject. “Are there any other wild fruits up there besides these pears?”

Li Guyu nodded vigorously.

“Could you bring some more for me?”

“Yes.” A smile appeared on Li Guyu’s face, happy to be able to help.

“Thank you.”

Li Guyu waved his hands, “No need to thank me.”

On the fourteenth of July, An Kang returned from town. This day was the Ghost Festival, the middle of the seventh month, a time to honor ancestors.

That afternoon, An Kang wrote the names of their ancestors and the names of their descendants on white paper for the ritual.

After nightfall, every household drew circles in white ash by the roadside, placed paper money wrapped in white paper inside, and dutiful sons and grandsons squatted outside the circles, burning the paper money sheet by sheet.

When all was reduced to ash, Luo led the three children to pay respects before each pile, reciting, “Grandfather, Father, Mother, may your spirits watch over us, grant Qinghe a safe return, bless the children with good health.”

An Yi had once been a nonbeliever, but after her soul crossed into another world, she wondered if gods might truly exist. She followed Luo in performing the ritual reverently.

When they finished burning the offerings and returned home, An Yi asked An Kang, “Big Brother, the exams are next month—are you nervous?”

“Not at all. These past two weeks, I’ve benefited greatly from Songyan’s explanations of the classics. I’m confident I’ll pass,” An Kang replied solemnly.

“Who’s Songyan? Is he knowledgeable?” An Yi inquired.

“Uh, Songyan is Zhili’s cousin, the fourth young master of Jihuai Hall.” An Kang smiled sheepishly. “He’s learned and upright—a man of great virtue.”

An Yi grinned mischievously. “Big Brother, you’re so suspicious.”

“Yes, I am,” An Kang admitted, then changed tone, “But I’m doing this for your own good.”

“I know, I know you’re a loving brother,” An Yi responded sweetly.

Luo entered, carrying a bundle from next door, and handed An Kang a pouch. “Zhuzi, take care on the road. Here’s three taels of silver for expenses.”

“Mother, there’s no need. I’m travelling with Zhili, we won’t need money.” An Kang tried to return the pouch.

“Zhuzi, your grandfather always said: befriend for friendship, not for profit; even brothers should keep accounts clear. Don’t take advantage of others.” Luo placed the pouch firmly in his hand. “We may be poor, but we must have integrity.”

An Kang nodded firmly. “I understand, Mother.”

He stayed one night, and before dawn the next day, Luo Chunli drove him to town by ox cart.

That morning, An Kang took the Cheng family’s carriage with Cheng Zhili and two other classmates, heading to Changsha for the provincial exam held on the ninth of August.

His departure hardly changed daily life in the An household, though Luo and the siblings worried quietly.

Li Guyu, busy learning to read from An Jian and gathering wild fruit for An Yi, visited the An home daily. After so many visits, Madam Jiang found out, overheard some idle gossip, and stormed out, heading to the An house to cause trouble.

Before reaching the house, she saw An Yi walking ahead and shouted loudly, “An Xier, you little fox, stop right there!”

An Yi swore she’d never imagined being called a fox spirit. Turning to see it was Madam Jiang, she was even more perplexed—she’d never even interacted with this woman.

“You little fox, little tramp, little wretch! So young and already flirting with men—just imagine what you’ll be like grown!” Madam Jiang shouted as she strode closer.

An Yi frowned slightly. Flirting with men? Who, exactly? Li Guyu? A ten-year-old child—could that even count as a man? And when had she ever flirted with him?

Madam Jiang’s voice was loud enough to bring out every neighbor nearby. With nothing better to do, they opened their doors, eager to watch the commotion.