Chapter Fifty-Nine: Yuan'er’s Death

An Yi noticed that An Kang seemed confident and full of ideas, and her curiosity grew. After Luo Shi went inside to do embroidery, she pulled An Kang aside and asked, “Big Brother, what’s your plan?”

An Kang just smiled and said nothing.

“Big Brother, tell me!” An Yi tugged at his sleeve, pouting.

“If he can’t control her and lets her keep making trouble, I’ll set up a separate ancestral shrine,” An Kang replied.

“Is that even possible?” An Yi asked in surprise.

“It’s possible, but it would hurt our reputation, and Mother wouldn’t agree,” An Kang replied, his smile tinged with bitterness.

“So you’re just trying to scare him,” An Yi said, slightly disappointed. She had no fondness for An You Nian’s family; if they could sever ties, all the better.

“If it’s enough to scare him into keeping his wife in check, that’s all I need,” An Kang said, his eyes darkening as he gazed at the sky. “When I succeed in the imperial exams, I’ll bring you all to the capital. Then, we’ll finally be rid of them.”

“You’ll definitely succeed, Big Brother,” An Yi said, full of confidence in him.

The next day, An Kang went to Shangtang Village.

Three days later, An Zhi Yuan and his wife came over with two bundles in hand, spinning tales about Zhu Shi being ill, her mind muddled, and that’s why she’d acted out of turn. They asked Luo Shi not to hold it against her.

Luo Shi knew the ties with An You Nian’s family couldn’t be completely severed, and she didn’t want to make things ugly. She replied with polite words, saying she hadn’t taken the matter to heart and that Zhu Shi should rest and recover.

With that, the matter was dropped, and the families continued to interact as usual.

The piercing crow of a rooster rang out, waking the slumbering villagers. Luo Shi got up quietly, tucked the covers around An Yi, dressed, and went into the kitchen to boil water and prepare breakfast.

“Mother,” An Kang had already risen and entered the kitchen.

“Zhuzi, you’re up. You have to go into town to see your teacher today, right?” Luo Shi said as she stuffed kindling into the stove.

An Kang fetched water to wash. “Mother, is there anything you want me to bring back?”

Luo Shi checked the salt jar. “We’re almost out of salt. Buy some when you come back. Get a few more pounds of white rice too; Fourth Young Master may be coming in a few days, and he can’t stand eating bean dregs.”

“Got it,” An Kang said, and after washing up, he carried his buckets to the well to fetch several loads of water.

Once breakfast was ready, Luo Shi woke the two younger children.

After breakfast, An Kang went to the village entrance to catch a ride into town. An Yi, holding her zither, headed for the Herb Garden. It had rained heavily the night before, saving An Kang the effort of fetching water today.

There were no houses near the Herb Garden, so An Yi could practice her instrument without disturbing anyone. She strolled around the garden, inspected the herbs, then sat in the grassy pavilion and began to play.

Physician Lu lounged in a chair, eyes half-closed, rolling two walnuts in his right hand. His left hand tapped the armrest in time with the music.

The early summer breeze drifted by, carrying a faint herbal scent. Master and apprentice sat in this picturesque garden, content and at ease, lost in the melodious notes.

“Physician Lu… Physician Lu!” An urgent voice shattered the tranquility.

Physician Lu opened his eyes and stood up. A man ran over, panting.

An Yi stopped playing and stood as well.

“Physician Lu, Li Da Zhi’s eldest daughter jumped into the big pond. They just fished her out, but she doesn’t seem to be breathing. Please, come quickly—see if she can still be saved!”

Li Da Zhi’s eldest daughter—wasn’t that Li Guyu’s sister, Li Yuan’er?

Master and apprentice hurried to the pond.

The Big Pond was the largest and deepest in Jingtang Village. Someone had once tested its depth with a three-meter pole and couldn’t touch the bottom. Li Yuan’er had chosen this pond with the clear intent to end her life.

A crowd had gathered by the water. Seeing Physician Lu and his apprentice approach, someone shouted, “Make way, Physician Lu is here!”

An Yi followed Physician Lu through the crowd. Li Yuan’er lay flat on the ground, her face pale, body soaked, her exposed arms covered in wounds and bruises—a testament to the life she’d endured at home.

Physician Lu checked for breath, frowned, then took her wrist to feel for a pulse. There was none. He sighed and shook his head.

An Yi stepped forward and loosened Li Yuan’er’s collar.

“Xi’er, what are you doing?” Physician Lu asked in alarm.

“Master, let us do all we can and leave the rest to fate. I want to try and save her,” An Yi said, unable to bear seeing Li Yuan’er die like this.

“Very well, go ahead,” Physician Lu agreed.

An Yi began modern first aid—artificial respiration.

She tried again and again, until she was sweating, but Li Yuan’er still showed no sign of life.

“Xi’er, stop. It’s no use. She’s gone,” Physician Lu said sadly.

“Yes, Xi’er, let it go. Yuan’er’s life was too hard. She can’t be saved,” the onlookers said. Though they found An Yi’s method odd, they saw her intent and only thought her kindhearted.

An Yi withdrew her hand from Li Yuan’er’s abdomen.

At that moment, Jiang Shi rushed over.

Li Da Zhi was away in the city selling snakes. Li Guyu had gone into the mountains early to catch snakes and didn’t yet know his sister was dead.

“Yuan’er, my daughter! If you go like this, you’ll break my heart, you’ll kill me—my daughter, wake up! My dear girl!” Jiang Shi wailed, throwing herself over her daughter’s corpse.

Everyone in the village knew Jiang Shi had never cared for Li Yuan’er and her brother. Seeing her wailing like a grieving mother, they scoffed—who was she trying to fool now that the girl was dead?

“She has the nerve to cry! If not for those few dozen taels of silver, if she hadn’t sold Yuan’er to that old man who’d buried three wives, would Yuan’er have been driven to this?” someone whispered.

An Yi frowned slightly. Li Yuan’er was too weak. Chun Zhi had the courage to refuse being a concubine and even eloped with Zhou Fulin. Couldn’t Yuan’er think of any other way but death?

Li Yuan’er hadn’t even reached her coming-of-age ceremony—a life cut short, so no mourning hall was set up.

The next day, after all the torment from her stepmother, Li Yuan’er was buried on the grave hill, finally at peace. She’d never have to endure Jiang Shi’s cruelty or the endless chores again; she could finally rest.

Li Da Zhi and Jiang Shi left the hill, but Li Guyu stayed, keeping vigil at the grave.

Learning that Li Guyu hadn’t come down, An Yi went up to find him. She frowned and said, “Yuan’er is gone. No matter how long you stay here, she won’t come back.”

Li Guyu didn’t move or respond, like a clay figure.

“She was driven to death. If you want justice for her, you must do more than sit here.”

“Justice?” Li Guyu stiffly stood up. “Yes, I should ask that woman why she killed my sister.”

“Ask?” An Yi scoffed. “Is questioning her justice?”

Li Guyu turned to look at her.

“Do you know what justice means?” An Yi asked.

He thought for a moment. “My sister is dead. She can’t die in vain. That woman killed her—she should pay with her life. That would be justice.”

An Yi smiled. “Exactly, that would be justice.”

“I’ll go kill her, avenge my sister,” Li Guyu said, turning to run down the hill.

An Yi caught his arm. “And if you kill her, will you survive?”

“I don’t want to live,” Li Guyu shouted.

“So, her life in exchange for both you and your sister’s? In that case, even in death, she wins,” An Yi said coldly.

Li Guyu’s face changed. “Then how can I get justice for my sister?”

An Yi let go and looked at his thin, young face, hesitating. He was only twelve, not mature enough to plan and execute a clever revenge without being discovered.

She changed her mind and stepped back. “Li Guyu, find a way to rise above others. Only then can you truly avenge your sister.”

“Rise above others?”

“Yes. Only by rising above others will you have the power to seek justice for Yuan’er.”

“I understand, Xi’er. I will succeed. I will get justice for my sister,” Li Guyu said resolutely.

An Yi smiled gently. “Let’s go down—the rain’s coming.”

The words “rise above others” branded themselves into Li Guyu’s mind. He spent three days pondering how to achieve it. On the seventh night after Li Yuan’er’s death, he burned paper for her, then left Jingtang Village, his whereabouts unknown.

When his disappearance was discovered, Li Da Zhi immediately asked the villagers to help search—not out of fatherly love, but because Li Guyu had taken all the money Jiang Shi had hidden at home. No one knew the exact amount, but it must have been considerable, for Jiang Shi fell ill from rage.

Li Guyu left no word for his father, but slipped a note into the An household: “I’m going to find my teacher.”

An Yi stared in shock at the note. The world was vast—where would he even find Wei Yang? Even if by luck he did, what would he do? Become an assassin? Perfect his martial arts, return to kill Jiang Shi? If that were the goal, she might as well have told him to use a venomous snake—it would be quicker.

Luo Shi frowned deeply. “That child is too reckless. It’s so far from here to Zhili. If something happens on the road, what will we do?”

An Yi felt even heavier at those words. If she hadn’t spoken to him, he wouldn’t have left. Now he was gone, and after a whole day of searching, there was no trace—he must have gone far. All they could do was hope fate would be kind, and that he would return one day having made something of himself.

Li Da Zhi searched for three days, scouring nearly a hundred miles, but found nothing and had to give up. Jiang Shi whispered more complaints in his ear, and his hatred for Li Guyu only grew. He cursed him as an ungrateful wretch, a thief, and, together with Jiang Shi, wished for his early death.

Their ugly behavior made An Yi certain that Li Guyu’s departure was the right choice.

On the twenty-second of April, during the Grain Full solar term, rain finally fell. As the saying goes, “No rain at Grain Full, no water at Grain in Ear.” The crops in the fields needed water, and this rain came just in time.

The rapeseed harvest was in, and the village’s shared pounding shed was busy from dawn to dusk. The An family, with no land or rapeseed, bought over ten pounds of fragrant oil from neighbors.

“Mother, let’s have fried yellow tofu and pork,” An Jian said, mouth watering at the smell.

Now, with An Kang’s monthly stipend, income from selling herbs, and Luo Shi’s needlework, plus no more school fees for the boys, their finances were much easier. Luo Shi no longer scrimped on food for her three children. Hearing An Jian’s request, she bought two pounds of pork, a pair of pig kidneys, and a dozen tofu pockets on her way home.

Halfway back, they ran into Qiao’er, Da Ya, and Ni Ni. Qiao’er held a colorful butterfly kite and, seeing An Yi, called out happily, “Xi’er, we were just looking for you to fly kites with us!”

An Yi was about to decline, but Luo Shi smiled, “Go ahead, just remember to come back for dinner and don’t go near the pond.”

Since Luo Shi agreed, An Yi had to go with the other three to the drying yard to fly kites.

Luo Shi took her two sons home to fry yellow tofu and pork and make tofu balls. They made three or four dozen, sending some to Luo Fugui’s family.

Just as the brothers left, Han Songyan, who had been back in the city for half a month, returned with Cheng Zhilin—the academy was on break. As soon as they entered, Cheng Zhilin sniffed the air and asked, “Auntie, what are you cooking?”

“It’s just country food, nothing special. The yellow tofu and pork are just out of the pan—try some while they’re hot,” Luo Shi said with a smile.

Cheng Zhilin didn’t stand on ceremony, eating three in a row.

Han Songyan only took one, tasted it, and pulled out his purse. “Auntie An, here’s the payment for the herbs from last time—one tael and six coins in all.”

“You always trouble yourself, Fourth Young Master,” Luo Shi said, setting the bowl aside and accepting the money with a smile.

Not seeing the An siblings, Han Songyan assumed they were at the Herb Garden. “Auntie An, we’ll head over to the Herb Garden and come back later.”

“All right, but come back for lunch,” Luo Shi called after them as they left, then turned back to the kitchen to fry more tofu balls and steam the fish Zhang Lian had brought that morning.

Physician Lu sat in the pavilion, passing the time playing chess against himself. When the two arrived, he beamed.

“Physician Lu, here’s some fresh pre-rain tea from this year,” Han Songyan said, placing a package on the table, his eyes darting around—he was surprised not to see the An siblings. Where were they?

Physician Lu opened the packet, sniffed the tea, and rolled a few leaves between his fingers. “Excellent tea! Let’s boil water and try some. Xi’er, Xi’er!”

No one answered.

Physician Lu slapped his head. “Forgot the girl isn’t here today.”

“I’ll boil the water,” Han Songyan said with a smile.

Physician Lu directed him to the stove and firewood. With no chess partner, he roped in the hopelessly inept Cheng Zhilin.

“If you place your stone there, you’ll lose the entire group,” Physician Lu advised as they played.

“Then I’ll put it somewhere else,” Cheng Zhilin said, moving to retrieve the piece.

“No, once you place it, you can’t take it back,” Physician Lu said, pressing his hand down.

“Then I’ll lose that whole group,” Cheng Zhilin complained.

“Whose fault is that? You made the wrong move,” Physician Lu retorted.

Cheng Zhilin blinked his small eyes. “If you won’t let me take it back, why tell me?”

“Silly boy, I’m teaching you how to play. Understand?” Physician Lu said, glaring.

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Cheng Zhilin replied good-naturedly. “Your move.”

Cheng Zhilin was so bad at chess that he lost quickly.

With the water not yet boiled, Physician Lu, though unimpressed with his opponent, suggested, “Come, let’s play another round.”

Cheng Zhilin, unfazed, agreed and lost again.

Han Songyan had finished brewing the tea and brought it over. After a couple of cups, it was nearly noon, and Physician Lu invited them to lunch.

“Auntie An has already prepared lunch for us,” Han Songyan replied cheerfully.

Back at the An house, An Kang and An Jian had returned, but An Yi was still missing. Han Songyan, being well-mannered, didn’t ask. Cheng Zhilin, less constrained by etiquette, asked directly, “Where’s little sister An? Isn’t she coming for lunch?”

“Xi’er went to fly kites at the drying yard with some friends. She probably lost track of time. I’ve set aside her food, you go ahead and eat,” Luo Shi said with a smile.

Just as she finished, An Yi returned, carrying a half-dead wild duck. “Mother!”

“Oh, Liu Xiaoyi caught another wild duck!” Luo Shi said, taking it from her. “Go wash up and eat.”

An Yi washed her hands and went inside to see Han Songyan and Cheng Zhilin. She smiled at them and sat down to eat.

After lunch, An Yi strolled in the courtyard, then prepared to nap. Suddenly, Zhang Shi hurried over. “Xi’er, there’s a patient—old master wants you right away.”

Han Songyan, being a medical student and hearing there was a patient, and that Physician Lu had called specifically for An Yi, knew the case must be special. Naturally, he followed. Cheng Zhilin, ever curious, came along as well.

An Kang and An Jian also went.

At the Lu household, Physician Lu was still taking the patient’s pulse. The patient had been there for some time; since he was still examining, it must be a difficult case.

Han Songyan and An Yi both looked at the man lying in bed, about sixty years old, face pale and sallow, spiritless.

“Han, Xi’er, come take the patient’s pulse,” Physician Lu said, yielding his seat.

Han Songyan placed three fingers on the patient’s left wrist.

An Yi moved to the other side and took the right wrist.

“The left pulse is deep and thin, only discernible with pressure, nothing when lifted,” Han Songyan said.

An Yi glanced at him. “The right pulse is taut and fine, like a thread.”

“Stick out your tongue and let them see,” Physician Lu instructed.

The patient complied, but as they leaned in, he started coughing violently and spat out thick phlegm.

His son stepped forward to pat his back. Once the coughing eased, they examined his tongue again—rough in texture, coated with a thick white film.

“Judging by the symptoms, this is an unresolved exterior syndrome transmitting to the lesser yang, with fever, chills, chest oppression, and shortness of breath. The pulse is taut—should we use White Tiger Decoction?” Physician Lu asked.

“Physician Lu, my father saw a doctor in the city, and they prescribed White Tiger Decoction. He’s taken three doses to no effect—the illness has worsened,” the patient’s son interjected anxiously.

Physician Lu smiled. “Your father’s illness is serious and has been delayed several days. To cure him, the prescription must be exact. My apprentice here may be young, but her skills are no less than any city doctor’s. I’d like to hear her opinion before writing a prescription.”