“This is a water jar. What’s inside is… water.” He Yi pointed at the clay jar he had filled with water to barricade the door and explained it to Xue Ci.
“Water. Give me water,” Xue Ci repeated fluently.
Ever since He Yi taught Xue Ci the phrase “give me,” Xue Ci had become very good at applying it to other vocabulary. Examples included the following.
“Give me door.”
“Give me tiger.”
“Give me put on clothes.”
He had even learned to connect verbs and nouns, and He Yi had to give him an appreciative look. Though He Yi suspected Xue Ci was mostly just taking whatever new words he learned and randomly combining them with “give me,” without actually sorting out what the resulting phrases meant.
He Yi spent the entire afternoon teaching Xue Ci the local dialect. It had not come to this because he was desperately bored. The main reason was that if they did not find something to do, the atmosphere of being alone together became painfully awkward.
Everything from everyday greetings to whatever happened to be in sight could become material for speaking practice. After nearly two hours of studying, He Yi himself had also become much more comfortable with the local dialect. His pronunciation was still not entirely accurate, but he reacted much faster when forming words and sentences, and spoke more smoothly.
Xue Ci’s progress was even more astonishing. After all that time, he could already express simple things. If he encountered something he did not know how to say, he had even learned to tug on He Yi’s sleeve and make him teach it again. Afterward, Xue Ci could usually produce something understandable.
The only flaw was that “give me” had become his solution to everything. No matter what he wanted to say, he started with those words, as though they were his catchphrase.
He Yi had taught him to add “please” at the beginning of a sentence, but whether Xue Ci genuinely did not understand or simply did not care, he left out the polite word every single time.
For instance, Xue Ci was currently pointing at the clay pot resting on the straw. “Give me congee.”
“You’re hungry?” He Yi asked.
“Hungry.”
“…” Fine.
If anyone else heard Xue Ci’s command-style way of speaking, it would be difficult not to want to hit him. He Yi glanced at Xue Ci’s face, then decided that with looks that unfairly good, most people probably would not be able to bring themselves to do it.
What was he even worrying about on someone else’s behalf? He Yi nearly amused himself with his own pointless train of thought. He shifted his impolite gaze away and went to bring the clay pot over to Xue Ci.
When he lifted the lid, the pot was full of congee. If they were careful with it, there was enough for both of them.
He Yi ladled a bowl for Xue Ci, then held the clay pot himself and slowly ate with a spoon.
He had barely taken two bites when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xue Ci tip his head back and gulp the entire bowl down in one go.
If He Yi’s hands had not been occupied, he would have applauded.
After finishing, Xue Ci stared fixedly at He Yi. How could He Yi fail to understand what he wanted? Obviously, he wanted more. But there was only so much congee left, and He Yi could not conjure more out of thin air, so he shook his head.
At that, Xue Ci wiped his mouth carelessly with his sleeve, fell backward, and sprawled across the straw mat, idly picking at the straw along its edge.
His build and appearance clearly made him look seventeen or eighteen, yet the way he spoke and behaved was still childlike. Fortunately, he learned language quickly and his physical reflexes were absurdly good. Otherwise, He Yi might have wondered whether he had hit his head at some point.
Only after a while did He Yi leisurely finish his congee. He gave the bowl a quick rinse and set it aside.
The light inside the hut grew dimmer. Hidden beneath the shadows of the walls, the two could no longer see each other clearly.
He Yi had no intention of continuing the language lesson at night. Xue Ci, meanwhile, was fiddling with the rice straw, apparently trying to twist it into a ball. For a time, neither of them spoke, and the atmosphere settled into quiet.
Before long, night fell. With no oil lamp or candles, the hut quickly became pitch-black. Only pale moonlight spilled through the window, pouring in the faintest trace of illumination.
Afraid someone would strain his eyes, He Yi reminded him, “Xue Ci, if you can’t see, stop messing with it. You’ll ruin your eyes.”
“Can see,” Xue Ci said.
“See what?”
“Ball.”
He Yi figured Xue Ci meant that he could see, and apparently the thing he had been making this whole time was a ball.
Since Xue Ci said he could see, He Yi did not try to persuade him further.
He found himself wondering how ancient people usually spent their evenings. There was no electricity and no internet, so what did they do for entertainment? The night stretched long. He wanted to hum a song, but there was someone else here. He wanted to jerk off, and that was even more impossible.
Time passed slowly, but with his mind wandering through one irrelevant thought after another, He Yi gradually drifted off without noticing.
At some unknown point in his sleep, He Yi dreamed that he was performing the street stunt where stone slabs were broken over someone’s chest. His assistant had stacked a full ten massive slabs on top of him. The crushing weight felt astonishingly real. He could barely move, his organs seemed close to being squeezed to their limit, and even the tiny blood vessels in his face felt ready to burst.
The dream was far too realistic. He Yi had no desire to continue it and struggled himself awake.
The moment he opened his eyes, everything was black and he could see nothing, yet the heavy pressure on his body was still there. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, He Yi could finally make things out, and then he saw the culprit nearly suffocating him: Xue Ci, sprawled on top of him.
How had he managed to sleep his way onto He Yi’s bed…? No wonder the dream had felt so real. The winter quilt alone weighed three or four kilos, enough to restrict his movements in his sleep and make even rolling over difficult. Now he also had a living person weighing fifty-odd kilos on top of him. A nightmare was hardly surprising.
Xue Ci had no idea He Yi was awake. Using the winter quilt over He Yi as a pillow, he slept on his stomach with an utterly peaceful expression.
Looking at Xue Ci’s innocent face so close to his own, He Yi fell silent. He wavered for a moment between waking him and leaving him alone, then ultimately chose the former. He pulled one hand free from beneath the quilt, shook Xue Ci, and told him to get off He Yi and move to the side.
Xue Ci raised a hand and rubbed his eyes. Though only half-awake, he obediently moved over and lay beside He Yi instead.
“Why aren’t you using the quilt? Can’t you sleep on the straw? Then go get that quilt and sleep up here at the side.” As He Yi spoke, he cleared half the bed for him.
Mumbling sleepily, Xue Ci went to retrieve the thin quilt from the straw mat, then climbed onto the earthen bed and lay down hugging it.
“…” He did not even understand that a quilt was supposed to go over him. Resigned, He Yi tugged it out of Xue Ci’s arms and felt his way in the dark to cover him. Then he strained to lift his own winter quilt, turned onto his side with his back toward Xue Ci, and tried to fall asleep again.
His night was full of dreams. When He Yi woke, he could no longer remember what he had dreamed about, only that his waist and back ached as if a dozen people had beaten him. He hurriedly sat up, lifted his shirt, and checked for wounds or bruises. Otherwise, why did the pain feel so real? After looking for a while and finding nothing, he finally relaxed. It was probably because Xue Ci had pressed on him for too long during the first half of the night. He stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders.
Xue Ci, sleeping beside him, woke soon afterward. His eyes gradually cleared as he sat upright, and the thin quilt slipped from his body.
“Morning.” He Yi greeted him, then got out of bed first.
With his back to Xue Ci, He Yi could not resist asking, “Last night, how did you end up on top of me… on top of my quilt?”
He Yi had considered that Xue Ci’s reason might be bizarre. The things Xue Ci did were often impossible to understand. But he had not expected an explanation even more ridiculous than a night raid.
Xue Ci’s voice came from behind him. “On quilt. High.”
He Yi turned back and hesitantly asked, “You mean you climbed up there to sleep because being on top of the quilt felt high?”
“Mm!” Xue Ci even nodded emphatically in confirmation.
Are you a cat?! He Yi’s head filled with question marks and confusion.
…
There was not much to pack in the hunter’s hut, but the winter quilt alone was bulky enough. Hunter Xu had used the handcart to take A’ma’s body home and had not brought it back, so He Yi no longer had a cart to use. The rest of the mugwort, clay jar, large bowl, sackcloth, fire striker, and other odds and ends were already packed. Only the quilt remained a problem.
After worrying about it for a while, He Yi decided to first go to the cattle shed and bring back the remaining brown rice and wooden basin. Then he could decide what went into the carrying basket and what he would carry separately. Once the basket was full, he rolled up the winter quilt and tied it with rice straw, laid it over the top of the basket, and secured it there with more straw.
With considerable effort, He Yi hoisted the basket onto his back while also picking up the wooden basin containing the clay jar and sickle. He adjusted his posture and looked around, but still saw no sign of a certain someone.
In fact, Xue Ci had vanished as soon as He Yi began packing his belongings. He Yi was already used to it, though it was a little unfortunate that he could not say goodbye. His eyes lowered slightly, concealing the regret in them. Then he tugged at the basket straps and started down the mountain.
Come to think of it, ever since transmigrating into this dynasty, he had remained on Yaluo Mountain. This was the first time he was leaving it. He had been through a great deal during these days on the mountain. He wondered what might be waiting for him down in Chongzi Village.
He Yi had no leisure to rest. Burdened by his load, he trudged steadily downhill. Because of that, he never noticed the olive-green figure quietly following him several dozen meters behind.
…
In a certain courtyard, a towering kapok tree stood beside the main gate, its top too high to see. Many large red blossoms had fallen beneath it, and two women were gathering them with bamboo trays.
A few meters away stood a small round table. On one side sat two women dressed in wide-sleeved skirt-and-jacket robes. They watched the workers gathering kapok blossoms by the wall while cracking melon seeds and chatting.
“Are the preparations for moving almost finished?”
“The two women you introduced are passable. They work hard enough, but they’re not very quick-witted. Unless you tell them, they won’t think to do any other chores.”
“…Then I won’t recommend them next time.” As if eight copper coins a day is enough to make them do every random chore you can think of, Zhang Mudan complained silently.
Zeng Qianqian heard the displeasure in Zhang Mudan’s tone and said, “Dear sister, I know you went to the trouble of introducing them. I wasn’t criticizing you.” After coaxing her for a couple of sentences and seeing Zhang Mudan’s expression improve, she continued, “We’re mostly packed. We won’t be leaving quite yet, though. We have to wait for that boy to come back and settle the division of the household first.”
“Qianqian, you’re really going to bring up splitting the household this time?”
“Of course. What, are we supposed to let him move into town with us? In his dreams.” Zeng Qianqian cracked her melon seeds with noticeably more force as she spoke, making her dislike for the person in question perfectly obvious.
Zhang Mudan did not answer, but she knew that once this topic came up, there would be an endless stream of nasty things to hear. Delighted, she waited for Zeng Qianqian to continue.
“His own A’ma died, and as her grandson he didn’t lift a finger. My husband and I were the ones arranging everything, running ourselves ragged for days! And they call him filial. Hah! He didn’t contribute a single copper coin. If I don’t peel a layer of skin off him when he comes back, then my surname isn’t Zeng!”
Even Zhang Mudan, who had been her friend for years, found that a little difficult to stomach. He wanted to come back and see the old woman off, didn’t he? Wasn’t it because he got sick and you people drove him up the mountain, so he couldn’t come down…? Zhang Mudan gained a new appreciation for Zeng Qianqian’s ability to turn black into white. Her lips twitched, but she still held herself back from interrupting.
Zeng Qianqian did not notice and continued indignantly denouncing the absent person.
Just then, a faint knock came from the front gate. The two workers nearest the entrance froze, hesitating over whether they should go open it.
Zhang Mudan noticed as well and patted Zeng Qianqian’s shoulder, indicating that someone seemed to have come calling.
Seeing the two workers standing there like blocks of wood without moving, Zeng Qianqian hurriedly slapped the table. Smack! The sound startled both women. They snapped out of it and went to pull open the gate.
Outside stood a tall man with a bamboo basket and quilt strapped to his back and several odds and ends held in his arms. He was tall and straight-backed, and handsome as well. Though the hired women found him vaguely familiar, they could not immediately connect the man before them with the He family’s second boy, who had always walked hunched over with his head lowered.
That man was, of course, He Yi, freshly returned from the mountain.
He Yi studied the two women in front of him. The woman standing on the left had a build most similar to what he remembered of Eldest Aunt, slightly plump. He could not tell whether her face matched, because the original owner had rarely looked Eldest Aunt directly in the face and the memory was vague. Still, there were only two of them. It should be her.
So He Yi called to her, “Eldest Aunt, I’m back.”
“Huh?” Auntie Mo, the woman on the left, immediately froze in disbelief.