Seeing the youth look a little more grounded gave He Yi an unexpected sense of familiarity, a feeling that the two of them were somewhat alike. It was not because they now wore similar clothes. Rather, He Yi saw something of himself in the youth: the youth used clothing as a shell, while He Yi used his own body as one. Both were entering the world through disguise.
He Yi had barely finished reflecting on this when the youth suddenly untied his sash. He seemed particularly fascinated by the tie at his waist and kept fiddling with it until the loosely fastened knot came undone.
Then he realized he had forgotten how to tie it again and looked up at He Yi, confusion written plainly in his eyes.
He Yi had no choice but to demonstrate once more. The youth was quick-eyed and quick-handed. Just as before, He Yi did not even need to slow down. The youth copied him perfectly and tied a neat double-loop knot.
But He Yi had not even had time to feel pleased before the youth started playing with the sash again. In the blink of an eye he had undone the knot once more and was happily fiddling with the strip of cloth.
“…” He Yi nearly opened his mouth to stop him, only to realize he did not even know the youth’s surname or given name.
Come to think of it, He Yi had never introduced himself either. So he said, “Right, I haven’t introduced myself yet. My surname is He, and my given name is Yi. What should I call you?”
“He… Yi.” The youth obviously understood him perfectly. Then he gave his own name. “Xue Ci.”
That sounded like an answer to the question rather than a refusal. He Yi tried, “Then I’ll call you… Xue Ci?”
The youth stopped playing with the sash and nodded.
“Can you write it?” He Yi mimed holding a brush.
The youth tilted his head slightly, looking puzzled.
He Yi had assumed the youth merely could not write, but after asking further, he realized the youth had no concept of writing at all. That went somewhat beyond anything he had imagined.
After the initial surprise, however, He Yi decided it was reasonable enough. Even in modern times, many people in the developing countries he had visited had never received an education. This was ancient times. Only a handful of people in Chongzi Village were literate, and even fewer could afford brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones. The youth’s reaction therefore did not seem impossible.
In truth, He Yi was completely mistaken. Most villagers might be illiterate, but they had at least seen other people write. Writing appeared when the village head collected land tax, when contracts were signed and thumbprinted, and when New Year couplets were posted. They would not be utterly unfamiliar with the concept.
Afterward, He Yi returned his attention to the youth’s name. For his own convenience, he did not worry about whether the two syllables corresponded to Chinese characters, or which ones. Treating the sounds as a transliteration, he first mentally assigned the common characters meaning “snow” and “porcelain.” But after thinking about it, he decided the character for porcelain was rarely used in names and felt awkward, so he replaced it with another character pronounced ci.
Elio’s Notes: He Yi is choosing Chinese characters to match the sounds Xue Ci. He first uses the character for “porcelain” for ci, then swaps it for a homophone that feels more suitable for a personal name. The pronunciation stays the same.
“…Xue Ci,” He Yi murmured, so quietly it was almost inaudible.
Yet Xue Ci, standing several meters away, heard him and called back, “He Yi!”
He Yi looked slightly startled. Before he could respond, Xue Ci suddenly crouched on a slope some distance away and stared intently downhill. Before long, uneven, heavy footsteps sounded from below, and He Yi naturally turned toward the source.
Two figures approached from a distance. One was a well-fed middle-aged man carrying a bamboo basket in his left hand and constantly wiping sweat from his forehead with a cloth in his right, panting twice for every step he took.
The second was a younger man with a handsome beard, fanning himself as he walked and carrying a wooden box over his right shoulder. He lagged several paces behind the middle-aged man, but his steps were light. He noticed He Yi first, hooked one finger under the little round spectacles perched on his nose, and pulled them down slightly while giving He Yi a brazen once-over.
He Yi recognized them. The older, heavier man was the village head responsible for several nearby villages. The other was a local celebrity. The original owner did not remember his real name, but everyone in the village called him Madman Tang.
At the arrival of strangers, He Yi instinctively glanced toward where Xue Ci had been, only to find the youth gone. He had no idea where Xue Ci had slipped off to in those few moments.
The village head reached the cattle shed still panting. Only then did he notice He Yi and immediately sucked in a sharp breath, pulling the cloth around his neck back over his face.
Madman Tang, following behind, also pulled his face cloth up over his mouth and nose as he approached.
He Yi bowed to the village head. “Village Head, forgive me for not welcoming you.”
Then he nodded toward Madman Tang. “Mister… Tang.”
Madman Tang looked at He Yi as though He Yi were the madman. It had been a very long time since anyone addressed him respectfully. He made no attempt to hide the horror on his face and even exaggerated it for He Yi’s benefit, trying to stare him into feeling guilty.
The village head still had not caught his breath, so he waved a hand, sat directly on the empty stool, and set the bamboo basket beside his feet.
Seeing Madman Tang react so strongly, He Yi knew he had probably addressed him incorrectly, but he had no idea how to recover, so he simply stopped thinking about it. Worried about A’ma’s funeral, he asked directly, “Village Head, may I ask about A’ma… my A’ma’s burial… uh, how were the funeral arrangements handled?”
He had opened his mouth without first choosing his words, and with his clumsy accent, even that short sentence came out halting and broken. By the time he finished, he had nearly broken into a sweat.
Neither the village head nor Madman Tang found it especially strange. In their memories, He Yi had never been good at speaking. He was always timid around people and could spend half a day without squeezing out a fart. If not for A’ma’s affairs, he probably would not even have dared greet them first.
After a while, the village head finally recovered his breath and said, “The funeral procession was yesterday, and she’s been laid to rest. Ai, Chongzi Village doesn’t have an ancestral hall, and we haven’t set aside a clan cemetery either, so she was buried on the hill by the village entrance. The banquet was held yesterday too. Everything was handled properly, so you don’t need to worry. We all know you’re filial. Poor thing!”
The village head shot Madman Tang a look and continued, “Your A’ma would surely want to see you safe and sound. That’s why your uncle here brought a physician up for you. You’ve seen Physician Tang before, yes? His medical skills are excellent. Let him take a look at you.”
Receiving the village head’s signal, Madman Tang raised an eyebrow, picked up his wooden box, and walked toward He Yi.
Excellent medical skills? He Yi had never heard that this man knew medicine. The reason everyone called him Madman Tang was that he was known around the village as a lazy gambler who drank during the day, often muttered strange things to himself, and had a terrible reputation. He Yi had simply never heard that he could practice medicine.
Madman Tang could sense the doubt in He Yi’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes but said nothing. There was neither table nor proper chair here, so he told He Yi to put his hand on top of the wooden box, crouched down, and took his pulse. Afterward, he asked He Yi to open his mouth and inspected his tongue and the underside of it.
The traditional four-part examination of observation, listening and smelling, questioning, and pulse-taking actually appeared quite convincing. He Yi set aside his prejudice and cooperated, removing his upper garment when asked.
While the examination continued on one side, the village head twisted the cloth in his hands until it became thoroughly wrinkled, his heart in complete turmoil. Yesterday, his wife’s brother had reminded him that too many people had died from the epidemic in town. Once the outbreak passed, the authorities would certainly send people down to investigate, and the surrounding villages would not escape scrutiny. Preventing the epidemic from spreading was naturally a great achievement, but with so many deaths, someone would still have to answer for them. Any irregularity lower down could become ammunition, and with one careless move, a local official might be pushed forward as a scapegoat. Court regulations required outbreaks to be reported upward as quickly as possible and infected people to be treated and isolated. When the He family reported that He Yi had contracted the epidemic, they had already taken it upon themselves to isolate him in the mountains. The village head had thought that convenient and immediately turned to other matters. So many days had passed, and only now had he finally brought a physician. It was very much a case of repairing the pen after the sheep had already escaped. Still, there was no other choice. Late or not, he had to come, and while he was here he could also remind He Yi of certain things so there would be room to maneuver later.
The village head had not wanted to bring Madman Tang either, but there were no physicians left in the village. Old Physician Zhang had gone into town with his apprentice to help the day after the town was sealed and had not returned. The village head did know, however, that when Madman Tang first came to Chongzi Village, he had spent two years treating people for free under the name of a physician before being allowed to register his household there. That was why he had brought him. No matter how good or bad Madman Tang’s medical skills were, and regardless of whether he could diagnose anything, all the village head needed was the “fact” that “He Yi had been examined by a physician and was then ordered into isolation.” The order in which those things happened hardly mattered.
Madman Tang noticed the strip of cloth wrapped around He Yi’s left arm and asked curiously, “What happened to your arm?”
“I accidentally caught it on the door earlier and lost some blood. I’ve applied mugwort for two days, and it’s nearly healed now,” He Yi answered slowly.
Madman Tang nodded in understanding and continued carefully inspecting the red rashes on He Yi’s body, most of which had already faded.
A moment later, Madman Tang told He Yi to put his clothes back on, picked up his wooden box, and hurried over to the village head. Lowering his voice, he said, “He Yi… doesn’t have the epidemic.”
The village head’s eyes went wide, and he nearly yelped. “What did you say?!”
Expressionless, Madman Tang repeated, “He Yi isn’t infected. He has ringworm.”
“…” The village head was immediately struck speechless.
Madman Tang explained slowly, “The people infected in town all develop red lesions, often banded, usually concentrated around the waist, hands, feet, and armpits. Their tongue coating turns black, ulcers appear in the mouth, fever comes and goes repeatedly, and they often have difficulty breathing. Of those symptoms, He Yi has only the red rash.”
He counted on his fingers and continued, “And the rash on his body has faded this much in seven days. He’s already well on the way to recovery. I can guarantee this is ringworm, not the epidemic spreading through town.”
The village head had not expected much from Madman Tang’s medical skills, but after listening to such a coherent analysis, belief gradually appeared on his face.
Suddenly remembering something, the village head grabbed him and whispered urgently, “Wait. You didn’t tell him, did you? We can’t tell He Yi, at least not ourselves. If he finds out he never had the epidemic and never needed to be isolated up here, he’ll definitely hate us too!”
When all was said and done, it was He Yi’s eldest uncle’s family who had acted inhumanely, and the village head had not been deeply involved. Still, He Yi not being infected was a good thing… No one in the village had the epidemic, so whether the earlier arrangements had followed procedure no longer mattered much. At the thought, the village head’s cheeks flushed red with relief. He hurriedly pretended the weather was hot and fanned his face with one hand.
When the two suddenly began whispering off to the side, He Yi could not help growing uneasy. Could his illness have become serious? Or was there some other problem they found difficult to say aloud?
The village head hurried Madman Tang into lying to He Yi that his illness was almost completely better and he would be able to return home after another two days. Madman Tang repeated the story as instructed. He Yi looked almost unable to believe it. How many days had it been? He had waited so long for this.
In addition, Madman Tang selected one packet of medicine from the wooden box he carried, wrapped it in oiled paper, and handed it to He Yi. He instructed him to add one bowl of water, simmer it for about an hour, then decoct the same herbs once more and divide the medicine over two days.
He Yi nodded. “I’ll remember.”
Was this when he was supposed to pay? But he did not have a single coin on him. He Yi stood there, unable to decide how to bring it up. The village head saw his discomfort and spoke first. “This little bit of medicine isn’t worth much. Don’t worry about the money. The village head will cover it for you. You just focus on getting better, all right?”
He Yi hurriedly said, “That won’t do. Once I go home…”
The village head abruptly set down the bamboo basket and forcibly cut him off. “This is all mugwort. Burn it in the hut to clear away the sickness. There’s also a bowl of tofu pudding. You couldn’t attend the funeral procession or eat at the banquet. I wasn’t able to get you any of the funeral tofu meal, so I brought this instead. My wife even added brown-sugar syrup specially so it wouldn’t taste bland.”
Elio’s Notes: A “tofu meal” here refers to food served as part of funeral hospitality. The village head is explaining that He Yi missed both the funeral and its communal meal.
The brown-sugar tofu pudding had originally been brought so the village head could impress his goodwill upon He Yi and make He Yi remember the favor. Unexpectedly, it was no longer necessary. But the bowl was buried beneath the mugwort in the basket, and he could hardly sneak it back out and carry it home, so he had no choice but to give it to He Yi as planned.
He Yi did indeed accept the kindness and silently remembered it. He thanked both the village head and Madman Tang. Seeing that they were preparing to leave, he remained at a distance and saw them off.
Unexpectedly, just before departing, Madman Tang doubled back, leaned close, and quietly said something beside He Yi’s ear before following the village head away.
He Yi’s expression remained wooden, but a storm surged through his mind.
He had no idea how long he stood there. Madman Tang’s words still echoed beside his ear: “You don’t have the epidemic. It’s just ordinary ringworm. That medicine is for exactly this condition. Drink it without worry.”
He Yi did not know precisely what ringworm was, but the first half of the statement alone was enough to throw his thoughts into chaos.
He didn’t have the epidemic! That meant he had never needed to come up the mountain for isolation, and A’ma had never needed to climb the mountain to care for him. A’ma… could have been fine…
Even the original owner’s death might have been avoidable. If they had first brought a physician to examine him and treated the actual illness, the original He Yi would have had a much better chance of surviving. If that had happened, A’ma would not have needed to spend the night on the mountain. She would not have been caught in that night’s violent rain and would not have come down with a chill…
Right. Why had no one called a physician to examine him first? Or reported the situation to the village head before doing anything? The entire course of events would have been different. Could Eldest Uncle’s family truly have never considered any of those options? Had they really been so desperate to drive He Yi and A’ma up the mountain immediately?
He Yi had assumed medicine in this era might simply be incapable of distinguishing the epidemic from other illnesses, and that assumption had caused him to overlook many things. If Madman Tang could be trusted, then this had unquestionably been a man-made disaster. Eldest Uncle’s family had seen the brakes fail and stepped harder on the accelerator. They were the ones who had cut away the original He Yi and A’ma’s last chance at survival.
He had taken over this body, and with it came the original owner’s causes and consequences. He had no right to forgive anyone on another person’s behalf, nor any right to judge whether the original owner’s feelings were correct or not. There was only one thing he could do: make certain people pay the price they deserved.