Chapter Fifty-Seven: Old Friends and Former Acquaintances

Miss Li Fifth glanced over and said, “An Yi, your name is rather nice. I’ll remember you.”

An Yi was taken aback. Wasn’t this young lady a little too petty? Holding a grudge over something so trivial?

An Kang frowned slightly. “Mr. Li, if there’s nothing else, my brother and I will take our leave.”

“If Young Master An doesn’t mind, why not stay for lunch at the village head’s house?” Mr. Li invited politely.

Unable to refuse, An Kang smiled, “It would be impolite to decline.”

“An Yi, stay and eat with us,” Miss Li Fifth added.

“I need to go home and cook,” An Yi disliked social obligations and declined outright.

“Your elder brother is a scholar; why do you still cook for yourself? Have your family’s cook prepare the meal,” Miss Li Fifth asked in confusion.

“We haven’t hired a cook. I enjoy eating what I make myself,” An Yi couldn’t be bothered to explain, so she casually made up an excuse.

Miss Li Fifth eyed the plain clothing An Yi wore, a hint of disdain curling her lips. A sparrow will always be a sparrow, never fit for the grand stage. She lifted her chin, looking down her nose. “Then go home.”

An Yi ignored her arrogance, took the contract from Doctor Lu, and left the village head’s house.

All the village contracts were renewed. After lunch, Mr. Li and his daughter returned to the city by carriage.

An Kang, wary of Miss Li Fifth causing trouble, watched as half a month passed without her reappearance, gradually putting the matter out of mind.

On the first day of the third month, it was Cheng Zhili’s fourteenth birthday. The day before, he sent someone to fetch the An siblings into town.

“I’m not going. I need to help Master plant medicinal herbs,” An Yi said directly.

An Kang was surprised. “You really won’t go?”

An Yi nodded with certainty.

“When I return, I’ll bring you some tasty food,” An Kang smiled.

An Yi pursed her lips. “I’m not Second Brother, always thinking about food. I don’t want snacks—bring me some books about cultivation instead.”

An Kang affectionately patted her head. “Alright, I’ll definitely bring some back for you.”

After lunch, the An brothers rode the Cheng family carriage into the city. An Yi and Wei Yang went to the Hundred Herbs Garden. As they walked, Wei Yang suddenly scooped up An Yi, flashed behind a large tree, and hid.

Even as composed and strong-minded as An Yi was, if Wei Yang hadn’t covered her mouth in time, she would have screamed. Just as she wondered if Wei Yang was about to reveal some beastly nature and prepared to struggle, he whispered in her ear, “Someone’s coming.”

An Yi frowned in confusion. Someone was coming? Who? And why did they need to hide?

After a while, Wei Yang released her and set her down. “Did I frighten you?”

An Yi steadied herself and whispered, “Who was it?”

“They,” Wei Yang’s brows furrowed, a cold light flashing in his eyes.

“They’re…?” An Yi immediately understood. “You’re leaving?”

“They’re here for me. I have to go back with them.” Wei Yang’s expression was heavy; he liked his current life.

“You…” An Yi hesitated. “Who are you, really?”

“I thought you wouldn’t ask.” Wei Yang’s lips curved in a faint smile.

An Yi looked at him. “You don’t have to answer.”

“You’re a healer, saving lives. I am…” Wei Yang paused, his face darkening. “I am a killer, a hired assassin.”

“One kills within ten paces, leaves no trace a thousand miles. Done, brushes off the dust, hides name and self,” four lines of poetry sprang to An Yi’s mind and she recited them.

“That speaks of knights, not killers.”

An Yi raised an eyebrow. “To me, they’re the same. Knights are unpaid killers; killers are knights paid for their service.”

Wei Yang shook his head with a smile. He discovered An Yi sometimes uttered paradoxical truths that couldn’t be refuted.

“Come on, uncle. Master is waiting for you to fetch water and plant herbs,” An Yi laughed.

The two worked in the Hundred Herbs Garden for two hours. Upon returning home, Mistress Luo had already prepared the meal. Seeing them enter, she called, “Wash up quickly; dinner’s ready.”

“Sister, I’ll be heading into the city tomorrow on some business,” Wei Yang said casually, sitting at the table.

“Manzi’s cart is going to the city tomorrow, just take it,” Mistress Luo didn’t ask what business he had. She took half a string of coins from the money box and handed it to him.

Wei Yang didn’t accept it, smiling, “No need, Sister. I have money.”

“Where did you get money? Take it, don’t be so formal with your sister.”

“Sister, I really have money. Xier counted the wages for me.”

Mistress Luo looked at An Yi and laughed, “Oh, you counted wages for your uncle?”

“He worked, so he should be paid. I won’t shortchange my own family,” An Yi smiled.

The next day, after teaching Li Guyu martial arts, Wei Yang rode an ox cart into the city.

By dusk, Wei Yang returned.

After dinner, Wei Yang smiled, “Sister, please ask Uncle to find someone to pick an auspicious day for travel. I need to return to the escort service.”

“You’re going back to the escort service. When will you return?” Mistress Luo wasn’t surprised; once Wei Yang’s injuries healed, she knew this day would come.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can.” Wei Yang couldn’t tell her the truth, so he lied.

Mistress Luo turned aside, wiped her eyes, then looked back at Wei Yang, forcing a smile. “Be careful on the road. Speak properly with the head escort and quit the job. Go early, come back early.”

“Don’t worry, Sister, I will.” Wei Yang lowered his head, not daring to meet Mistress Luo’s hopeful gaze. If he could quit, he would, but once in this line, it’s a path of no return.

Wei Yang’s intent to return to the escort service aroused no suspicion; Uncle Luo and others arranged to pick a date. Both the fifth and sixth days of the third month were suitable for travel, but the fifth was the Qingming Festival, and Wei Yang needed to visit the mountain for memorial rites.

In previous years, Qingming brought drizzling rain; this year, however, the weather was bright and sunny, and crowds went up the mountain for memorials.

“Father, Mother, tomorrow my brother will travel far. If your spirits are watching, please bless him with smooth and safe journey, and all good fortune,” Mistress Luo murmured as she burned paper money soaked in rooster’s blood.

Wei Yang stood behind her, gazing straight into the woods ahead. Others were oblivious, but he knew that those people were hiding in the grove. These months of warm, peaceful life were stolen from fate.

After burning the paper money, setting off firecrackers, and tidying up the offerings, the family descended the mountain. On the road, they met Zhu Fucai’s family. Aunt Liu turned away, refusing to look at the An family, while Cong Liu glared fiercely at An Yi.

Fresh willow marked a new grave; according to custom, a new burial shouldn’t join the community rite and should be swept days earlier. But Aunt Liu, for convenience, waited until memorial rites for her parents-in-law to also sweep for her deceased daughter, whom she never truly cared for.

But that was the Zhu family’s matter, nothing to do with the An family.

After descending the mountain, the family went to Uncle Luo Fugui’s house.

Uncle Luo Fugui brought out his treasured wine again. “Chanzi, come, accompany your uncle and two cousins, let’s drink a few cups.”

Aunt Yang snatched the bottle, “Chanzi has a journey tomorrow. If he gets drunk, how will that do? Save the wine for his return, for a welcome home meal.”

Uncle Luo Fugui didn’t get his wine, but pulled Wei Yang aside, “Chanzi, you must come back soon.”

Wei Yang smiled, “Alright.”

That evening, Mistress Luo cooked a table full of dishes and had An Jian summon the Li siblings.

“Shuanzhi, Guyu, while I’m away, practice your martial arts diligently. No slacking. When I return, I’ll test you. If you haven’t improved, you’ll be punished by holding horse stance under the sun for half an hour,” Wei Yang instructed sternly.

“I’ll definitely practice well,” both replied in unison.

Next morning, Luo Chunli harnessed the ox cart to send Wei Yang into town.

“Uncle, Aunt, Sister, you all head back. I’m leaving now,” Wei Yang hoisted his bag and climbed onto the cart. The wheels rolled forward, farther and farther away. Looking back, he could no longer see the family standing at the village entrance to see him off, but he knew someone there awaited his return, though that hope was destined to be disappointed.

The An family sent Wei Yang off and returned home. Mistress Luo sat blankly for a while in the courtyard chair, then entered to tidy his bed, finding a roll of something under the quilt.

Opening the cloth bundle stunned the whole family: inside was a stack of banknotes, each worth one hundred taels. An Jian counted them, gasping, “Mother, there are one hundred.”

Ten thousand taels—a fortune no matter where you put it.

“He left so much money for us, for what purpose? Is he not coming back?” Mistress Luo began to cry.

“Mother, you really let your imagination run wild. Uncle left the money for you to buy land and build a house during this time. He’s a Luo, and if he stayed long-term in the An family, people would gossip,” An Yi lied to comfort her.

“Buying land and building a house doesn’t need so much money,” Mistress Luo doubted.

“Mother, buying prime farmland and building a large tiled house—this much money isn’t even enough,” An Kang chimed in.

“If he wanted to buy land and build a house, why not give the money directly to me? Why hide it under the quilt?” Mistress Luo questioned the siblings’ explanation.

“I suppose Uncle worried you wouldn’t accept it, so he hid it under the quilt,” An Kang speculated.

Mistress Luo looked at her children, then bundled up all the banknotes. “That’s all your guess. Who knows what your uncle really meant? We can’t use this money. Zhuzhi, tomorrow you come with me to town and deposit it in the bank.”

The An siblings had no objection.

All ten thousand taels were deposited in the bank, and the An family continued their modest, somewhat impoverished life.

On the twenty-first day of the third month, the sixth of the twenty-four solar terms—Grain Rain—marked Li Guyu’s twelfth birthday. Mistress Luo boiled two eggs and had An Jian deliver them. Her younger brother wasn’t here, but as his sister, she had to care for his apprentice.

Late spring brought sparse rain, and the weather was clear. An Kang accompanied Doctor Lu to play chess in the grass pavilion outside the Hundred Herbs Garden, while An Jian practiced martial arts in the clearing, every move vigorous and powerful, displaying some prowess of a martial master. An Yi sat in another small pavilion by a clay stove, boiling water to prepare a tin of fine tea Doctor Lu had procured.

“Big Brother, Songyan and Zhili are coming,” An Jian was first to spot the two approaching.

An Kang put down his chess piece. “Doctor Lu, I have friends visiting. I’ll go greet them.”

Doctor Lu chuckled, “Invite them in for some good tea.”

An Kang welcomed Han Songyan and Cheng Zhili into the pavilion, introducing them to Doctor Lu.

Doctor Lu squinted at Han Songyan, “Han Xiangfei is your relative?”

“Doctor Lu, you know my grandfather?” Han Songyan asked.

“How’s Old Han’s health? Still fond of gnawing chicken feet?” Doctor Lu inquired.

Han Songyan, hearing the mention of his grandfather’s habit, confirmed an old acquaintance and smiled, “Grandfather is healthy and eats five chicken feet every day.”

“His teeth are still strong. Mine aren’t—I lost one on the left last year, can’t bite anything. By the way, which son is your father?”

“My father is Han Lianzhi.”

“Time waits for no one. Little Lianzhi’s son is already this grown; I can’t deny age anymore. Back in the day, Han and I…”

“Master, the tea is ready,” An Yi cut Doctor Lu short before his reminiscences could drag on.

“Han lad, you’re in luck, there’s good tea today,” Doctor Lu led them over.

Han Songyan gazed at An Yi, dressed in pale green, tender as a spring shoot, his eyes lighting up. After months, she had grown taller, her features blossoming, now radiantly beautiful.

Once seated, An Yi served tea.

Doctor Lu drank and asked, “Han lad, what are the eight extraordinary meridians?”

Han Songyan was about to drink, but upon hearing the question, set his cup down and answered respectfully, “The eight extraordinary meridians are: Yin Linking, Yang Linking, Yin Heel, Yang Heel, Chong, Ren, Governing, and Belt.”

“Medicines enter the meridians; five flavors enter which five organs?”

“Sour enters the liver, bitter the heart, pungent the lungs, sweet the spleen, salty the kidneys.”

Han Songyan barely had two sips before Doctor Lu quizzed him extensively on medical theory. The questions began simply but grew increasingly complex, including rare and difficult cases.

Han Songyan, born into a family of medicine, might not heal a critical patient alone, but textbook knowledge was second nature, augmented with his own understanding.

Doctor Lu nodded approvingly. “Not bad, Old Han taught well. Come, let’s see my herb garden.”

The Han family also had a herb garden, and Han Songyan often accompanied his grandfather in tending it. The Hundred Herbs Garden grew common medicinal plants—nothing extraordinary.

“Han lad, what is this herb? When do you harvest it? How do you prepare it?” Doctor Lu continued to test him.

Han Songyan identified it carefully. “This is Scrophularia, also called Yuan Shen or Black Ginseng. Harvest when stems and leaves wither in winter, slice it, use raw.”

As they strolled, Doctor Lu questioned him continuously. Han Songyan recognized all common medicinal herbs, never stumped. Doctor Lu grinned broadly, delighted to find a kindred spirit in his twilight years, looking upon him as a prized disciple. Though An Yi was talented, being a girl, Doctor Lu still regretted not finding a fitting successor.

After their circuit, it was noon and time to return home for lunch. Doctor Lu smiled, “Han lad, come often when you have time.”

With Doctor Lu’s invitation, Han Songyan now had legitimate reason to visit Jingtang Village, sometimes even staying a night or two at the Lu or An homes, often debating prescriptions and medicines with Doctor Lu.

When a dispute couldn’t be settled, Doctor Lu would have An Yi decide. If she sided with him, he would beam; if she supported Han Songyan, he’d scowl, “Hey, whose apprentice are you? You’re always siding with outsiders, but I’m your master! If you don’t help me, you help this kid—he’ll be the death of me, you rebellious girl!”

An Yi could only shake her head helplessly; his robust voice hardly suggested he’d be “angered to death.”

Han Songyan’s lips curled in a slight smile.

On the sixth day of the fourth month, summer began and the weather grew hot. The Hundred Herbs Garden was far from water, so every day An Kang and An Jian had to carry four loads to irrigate it.

One morning, An Jian went to the mountain as usual to practice martial arts with Li Guyu. Feeling confident, he attempted to kick a tree, but instead of knocking it over, he injured his own foot.

Li Guyu had to carry him home before heading back to catch snakes.

Mistress Luo, seeing An Jian’s swollen ankle, was both distressed and angry. “You haven’t mastered the skill, yet you show off—now you suffer and know pain?”

“Mother, it hurts so much,” An Jian held back tears.

“Serves you right!” Mistress Luo glared and called outside, “Xier, is the medicine ready? Bring it in for your brother—he’s in pain.”

“Coming,” An Yi carried in the ointment.

With his foot injured, An Jian couldn’t carry water. An Kang had to haul eight loads alone. An Yi felt bad for him. “Big Brother, perhaps ask Dequan and the others to help?”

“I’ll do it,” Han Songyan volunteered.

“You?” An Yi looked at him skeptically. “Can you manage?”

“I’ve never carried water, but I can try,” Han Songyan smiled.

Han Songyan could manage the weight, though his posture was awkward, hands stretched on the carrying pole, resembling a hawk.

An Yi smiled faintly upon seeing it—this wealthy young master wasn’t so pampered after all.

After carrying four loads, they went to the pavilion, where An Yi had tea ready. An Kang and Han Songyan, parched, drank three cups each.

Doctor Lu sighed, “One cup for savoring, two to quench thirst, three is donkey drinking. You’re wasting my good tea, what a pity.”

An Kang and Han Songyan were embarrassed to take a fourth cup.

“Master, carry four loads of water yourself, then leisurely savor tea,” An Yi commented softly.

“You girl, you girl, always siding with him. I’m your master, you’re always a rebellious apprentice, you’ll be the death of me,” Doctor Lu grumbled.

“Master, the medical books say nagging is a kind of illness. Let me take your pulse,” An Yi said calmly.

Doctor Lu turned his back, muttering, “Girls grow up and leave, girls grow up and leave.”

“Master, what nonsense are you spouting now?” An Yi was displeased. The phrase implied a daughter would marry out, but An Kang was her brother, and Doctor Lu’s words clearly pointed to Han Songyan, with whom she had no connection.

“I said nothing, nothing at all. You misheard,” Doctor Lu denied.

An Yi could do nothing about the old man’s stubbornness. She took out the wild fruits Li Guyu had brought two evenings before and placed them on the table, lifting her gaze to meet Han Songyan’s smiling eyes. She reflexively lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze.

An Kang glanced at Han Songyan, then at An Yi, sighing inwardly in regret. Han Songyan was both talented and virtuous; marrying his sister to him would be ideal. Yet their ages were too far apart, and the Han family’s status was much too high—simply not a suitable match.