Chapter Sixteen: Brother Chun, Brother Chun, You’re Truly Remarkable!

At that moment, a deep, thundering drumbeat rolled out, announcing the commencement of the grain-washing ceremony. The young men quickly dispersed and took their places with flags in hand. The village band, summoned for the occasion, struck up their lively tunes, calling all the members of the Su clan into the courtyard of the distillery.

By the third quarter of the hour of the Rabbit, everyone had arrived. Su Youpeng led two elders up onto a makeshift wooden platform. The white-haired elder leaning on his cane was Su Daxiang, the patriarch of the Su clan, whom Su Lu addressed as Great-Grandfather. Beside him, with graying hair and a round face, stood the chief master of the distillery, Su Daji, whom Su Lu called Seventh-Grandfather.

Su Lu’s own grandfather was nowhere to be seen—a fact understood by all, yet unspoken. After all, the old man had sacrificed his official rank for the sake of the family…

Behind the two elders stood four young men, each wearing a scholar’s cap and dressed in black-edged white robes with round collars. They were the Su family’s sons studying at Taiping Academy. Among them, the one with a face like polished jade, elegant as a young pine, and exuding a commanding presence, was Su Lu’s eldest brother, Su Man.

No wonder their aunt boasted about him all day—anyone would be proud to have such a son.

Once the elders were in place, Su Youpeng raised his voice and proclaimed, “The sixteenth year of Hongzhi, the first rite of the Double Ninth grain-washing: Sacrifice to Heaven and Ancestors!”

“To Heaven and Ancestors!” echoed the flag-bearers in unison.

Then Chun, along with his three classmates, each holding a fan in one hand and a reed pipe in the other, began to perform the ‘Zhai Dance’ to the village band’s accompaniment.

Whether due to lack of skill or the dance’s inherent monotony, Su Lu found their repeated gestures—crossing hands, bowing, raising feet, letting arms hang—rather stiff and devoid of grace. Yet, as only scholars could perform it, the dance seemed sacred nonetheless.

The four began to sing:

“At this auspicious hour of Double Ninth, we offer devout sacrifices to Heaven and Earth, honor our ancestors, and pray for a bountiful, mellow brew.
Bless our descendants, let this brewing go smoothly, let the ancestral enterprise thrive, and may fortune shelter our sons and grandsons.”

“Draw water for the offering!” Su Youpeng then called out, joined by the flag-men.

Several strong men hoisted massive camphor buckets and went to the distillery’s well, cranking up water. The well had been thoroughly cleaned in advance, and the water drawn was crystal clear. But it was not the famous Lang Spring well, and though this water was sweet and fresh, the liquor brewed from it never quite matched the Lang Spring’s perfection. Still, this was all they had for now.

Once the buckets were filled, the men carried them to the stage and poured the water, one after another, into six large iron cauldrons. When all were full, Su Youpeng called out again, “Present the offerings!”

Amid the crackle of firecrackers, Su Lu saw his second brother and three other strong clan members hefting a door plank bearing a freshly slaughtered fat pig, wobbling as they mounted the platform.

The patriarch and distillery master lit incense and offered prayers, leading all in kneeling to Heaven and the ancestors, beseeching blessings for smooth proceedings and a fine brew.

When the sacrifices were complete, Su Youpeng announced, “Light the fire and boil the water!”

Chun and the others sang once more:

“The scarlet serpent exhales, the black pearl sinks in the deep,
The land bears the soul, the marsh contains virtue.”

The men of the Su clan set fire to the wood stacked beneath the cauldrons, and fierce flames soon had the water boiling.

“Moisten the grain!” ordered chief master Su Daji. The workers carried in the year’s new sorghum, pouring it onto the flagstone courtyard in a rustling cascade. Master brewers followed, using wooden rakes to heap the grain.

Once the piles were formed, the water in the cauldrons began to boil. The master brewers used large wooden ladles to scoop the boiling water, pouring it over the mounds of sorghum, while workers quickly stirred and turned the grain with wooden shovels to ensure even absorption. The masters also poured in some of last year’s mother mash from wooden buckets.

The moistened grain would be left to rest for five hours, to be steamed in the evening, then spread out to cool, piled, and finally placed in the fermenting pit—a process that could never be accomplished in a single day.

Thus, with the moistening of the grain, the grain-washing ceremony ended for the year. Not only did the clan members return home, but the distillery workers also went back to their families for food and rest, planning to return at dusk to steam the grain.

~~~

As Su Lu waited for Su Tai outside, he saw his uncle fully armed and standing at the distillery gate with several men.

“Uncle, what’s all this?” Su Lu asked, puzzled by his uncle’s battle-ready stance.

“Just holding down the fort,” his uncle replied, adjusting his helmet with the hilt of his knife. “The Cheng family is holding their own grain-washing ceremony today. Every year, the two families try to outdo each other, and it’s easy for tempers to flare.”

“Oh,” Su Lu nodded, still confused. “But I haven’t seen the Cheng family making a show of it today.”

“Exactly,” his uncle agreed, equally puzzled. “In past years they parade through the streets and set off fireworks. Why are they so quiet this year?”

“Isn’t that better? We’re all neighbors—what’s the point of squabbling every day?” Chun, dressed in a white robe, strode out of the distillery, with Xia following behind, carrying a slab of meat like a bodyguard.

“Hey, you mustn’t say such things, son. If the elders hear, they’ll be angry.” His uncle quickly pressed a finger to his lips.

“Yes, father.” Chun gave a cold laugh but said no more.

“Go on home now, your mother’s been waiting for you for days.” His uncle’s tone softened. “I’ll take off this gear at the station and be home for the festival soon.”

“Yes, father.” Chun watched his father leave before heading home, chin held high. Xia hurried after him, pulling Qiu along as well.

Well, now the young master had gained another pageboy…

It was Chun’s first time home in two months, so Su Lu had barely interacted with him before. Seeing Chun’s frosty demeanor and distant composure, Su Lu decided not to risk being rebuffed.

Su Tai was even more taciturn, never speaking unless spoken to. The three brothers walked half the street without a word between them. Su Lu felt a bit awkward, thinking that if his eldest brother felt awkward, he’d speak up; if not, then Su Lu’s own attempt to start a conversation would only make things worse.

So he forced himself to stay silent. They walked all the way home without a single word exchanged—a silence so thick it was almost painful.

Fortunately, little Jinbao came running down the stairs, shouting, “Brother’s home!”

For the first time, Chun’s icy expression melted into a faint smile as he reached out to pick her up.

But Jinbao slipped right under his arms and landed expertly in Su Lu’s embrace.

Su Man kept his smile, raising his hands midair and stretching to dispel the awkwardness.

Their aunt emerged, scolding, “You wicked girl, didn’t you see your big brother’s home?”

“It’s all right, mother,” Su Man replied calmly. “Jinbao forgets; every time I come home, she forgets me. She’ll remember soon.”

He paid his respects to his mother, then, as if by magic, produced a string of candied hawthorn and waved it before Jinbao.

“Candy! Big brother!” Jinbao immediately recognized him. After all, there were no candied hawthorns sold in Erlang Town—only in Taiping, where the academy was.

As Jinbao reached for the treat, Su Man scooped her up, glancing at Su Lu with a hint of reproach. “You haven’t greeted me yet, either.”

“Big brother,” Su Lu quickly said with a smile, “you looked so stern I didn’t dare speak.”

“Wherever you go, the rule is always to greet your elders first. If you don’t, how can I?” Su Man said no more, carrying Jinbao upstairs.

Su Lu stared after him, stunned by this simple logic.

Su Tai patted him gently on the shoulder and whispered, “Big brother’s always been earnest and proud. Don’t take it to heart.”

“Of course not. Now I know for next time.” Su Lu smiled, and the two went up together.

~~~

It was still the Double Ninth Festival, so chrysanthemums adorned the courtyard, and everyone wore dogwood in their hair.

For once, their aunt had prepared a sumptuous meal. The red-braised river fish simmered with a mouthwatering aroma; wild scallion scrambled eggs glistened golden; the mushroom and tofu soup was light and fresh, and the stewed lotus root with water bamboo was crisp and tender.

Today, the pork belly Chun brought home had been transformed into a bowl of gleaming Dongpo pork, and finally, a plate of honey-roasted mountain chestnuts was served for dessert… Though the Su family had declined, their aunt’s culinary skills were as brilliant as ever.

Even if every dish was Chun’s childhood favorite, she’d never admit she made them because her son was home.

“It’s a festival, of course the meal should be hearty,” she insisted, though as soon as the meal began, she couldn’t help but serve Chun: “Try this, Chun.” “Taste that, son.”

With the mountain of food piling up before him, Su Man was embarrassed—he wasn’t a child anymore…

But he said nothing, only discreetly pushed his bowl toward Jinbao, knowing his little sister would happily devour anything left.

The old man was in high spirits, for once staying through the whole meal, sitting cross-legged at the head of the table, sipping wine and questioning his eldest grandson about everything.

Su Man was patient, answering even his hard-of-hearing grandmother with care, perfectly embodying the filial piety expected of a scholar.

Only after everyone had set down their chopsticks did Su Man end his “filial session” and ask, “Is everyone full?”

“I can still eat!” Jinbao insisted.

“You’ll burst,” their aunt said, whisking her off for a walk before she could eat herself sick.

At that moment, Su Man poured a cup of wine for his grandfather, lifted it, and said solemnly, “Grandfather, I have something important to report.”

“Good news or bad?” the old man asked warily, not taking the cup. “If it’s bad news, I don’t want to hear it—these old bones can’t take it.”

Su Man was silent for a moment. “Good news.”

“Go on, then,” the old man said, taking the cup, though he suspected it wouldn’t be so simple.

“Grandfather, congratulations—you’re going to be a grandfather again!” Su Man declared earth-shatteringly.

“What? My eldest, your wife’s expecting again?” the old man exclaimed. “Impressive! Though still not as impressive as I was!”

Pfft—his uncle blushed scarlet and spat his wine onto the floor. “Don’t worry, old man! No such thing! And even if there were, Chun would never be the one to tell you!”

“Then who is it?” the old man wondered.

“Uncle,” Su Man revealed at last.

Now the whole family burst out, staring at the youngest uncle in shock.

He gaped, stammering, “Even news like that’s reached the academy?”

Which was as good as admitting it…

Smack! Smack! Smack! Uncle, Su Youcai, and their aunt all slapped their thighs. “So that’s it!”

“It’s the Cheng family’s daughter?” Su Youcai asked, turning to the youngest brother.

“Yes…” the uncle stammered, looking like a mouse cornered by a cat, desperate to disappear.

“No wonder they beat you! If you ask me, you got off easy!” the uncle roared. “With so many women in the world, why go after a Cheng girl?”

“Fate can’t be stopped…” the uncle mumbled, but never dared utter those two fateful words aloud.

“Can’t be stopped? I’ll show you what can’t be stopped!” the old man thundered, his voice fierce as ever. “Get down on the floor, now!”

ps. My favorite character, Chun, finally appears. Please support Chun with your votes!