When He Yi arrived at Auntie Liu’s house, he ran into Xue Ci at the entrance. He had no idea where Xue Ci had disappeared to earlier, so he asked, “Xue Ci, what are you doing here? Are you looking for Auntie Liu too?”
Xue Ci pointed at him and said nothing else.
“Looking for me? What happened?” He Yi felt that something about him seemed unusual. He was far too quiet, and there was hardly any smile in his eyes.
Xue Ci shook his head and only stepped a little closer to He Yi.
“Don’t want to say? Then come in with me to see Auntie Liu.” He Yi could have reached up and patted Xue Ci on the head, but instead he merely smoothed back a stray lock of hair and tucked it behind Xue Ci’s shoulder.
Xue Ci turned his head to look at him, and starlight seemed to gather in his eyes again.
Seeing the brightness return to his gaze while his lips remained pressed shut, He Yi coaxed, “Say something.”
Instead, Xue Ci called his name. “He Yi.”
He Yi said slowly, “If something happens, you can tell me. Don’t keep it bottled up until it eats at you.”
Xue Ci still shook his head. He only said, “I can handle it.”
He Yi had no intention of pressing him for every detail. He smiled and led Xue Ci through the Zheng family’s gate.
Auntie Liu was busy in the kitchen, so He Yi asked whether there was anything he could help with.
Auntie Liu noticed that Xue Ci was there too but did not feel awkward. She had already seen the two of them together during rice transplanting. Compared with the ugly rumors going around, the pair were plainly much more open and aboveboard.
“Everything’s almost done already. You should’ve told me earlier you were coming over. I would’ve seen if I could make two more dishes. Otherwise there won’t be enough to eat.”
“No, no, we already have food going at home. We won’t eat here today. Auntie, I came to ask if you know how to season a new wok. I bought a new iron one.” As soon as He Yi entered the kitchen, he saw Auntie Liu standing at the stove, turning an iron wok as she stir-fried spring chives.
“Oh? Where’s the wok? You didn’t bring it? Bring it over and Auntie will season it for you.”
“No need, no need. Just tell me how. I’ll try it myself when I get back. I’ll remember it better if I do it once myself.”
“As long as you’re not refusing just because you’re afraid of troubling me.” Auntie Liu laughed heartily. “Honestly, I can’t do anything with you. You really know how to talk.”
“It isn’t difficult. First wash the wok with water that’s neither hot nor cold, and scrub it clean. Then fill the new wok with plenty of water and boil it for the time it takes one incense stick to burn. After that, wipe it with plant-ash water and scrub it once more,” Auntie Liu said, demonstrating with her hands.
After thinking for a moment, Auntie Liu added, “Right, do you have oil at home? Pour some into the wok over low heat and coat every part of the inside. Last, you need to wipe it with lard, spread a layer over the surface, and leave it overnight.”
It sounded like quite a few steps and rather complicated, but He Yi committed them to memory.
By the sound of it, he still would not be able to use the wok to stir-fry anything today…
Seeing the troubled look on his face, Auntie Liu asked what was wrong.
He Yi had not wanted to trouble her any further, but the concern and motherly warmth in her expression moved him a little, so he explained, “I promised Brother Tang I’d stir-fry a dish for him today. I didn’t expect seasoning the wok to take this long. Looks like I won’t be able to use the new wok today after all.”
“Hey, is that all? Bring the vegetables over and Auntie will stir-fry them for you!” Auntie Liu had thought something serious was wrong and had nearly started worrying. When she discovered it was only this little matter, she immediately took it upon herself.
So He Yi really did go back for the wild vegetables he had dug up, along with the eggs and the jar of oil. He also traded Auntie Liu two bowls of sesame oil for a piece of lard.
Now he even had the lard he needed to coat the wok.
He did not let Auntie Liu do the cooking for him, though. Under her guidance, he personally made one dish of mixed wild greens with egg and another of stir-fried greens. When it was time to leave, He Yi and Xue Ci each carried a bowl of food back toward the Tang residence.
Fortunately, when He Yi had returned earlier to fetch the vegetables, he had already put the rice on to steam. He called Madman Tang, who was resting inside, and the three of them began their evening meal.
The “mixed wild greens with egg” was really just chopped chuanxiong shoots and wild jiaotou mixed into beaten egg with a little water and salt. Oil went into the wok first, then the egg-and-vegetable mixture. He Yi left it untouched at first, as Auntie Liu had instructed, letting it fry for a dozen or so breaths before flipping it over, breaking it apart with the spatula, stir-frying briefly, and taking it out of the wok.
The eggs came out golden and fragrant, tender inside and crisp outside, with some edges lightly browned and paper-thin, giving them an especially good texture. Bits of fresh green leaves were mixed throughout. Their strong aroma cut through some of the richness, making the dish genuinely fresh and pleasant to eat.
For the stir-fried greens, he blanched chopped wild jiaotou and whole chuanxiong shoots, then quickly stir-fried them with oil and salt. It was extremely simple. Now that he had seasonings, every dish had real flavor. Compared with the almost painfully bland food they had eaten before, this was vastly better.
He Yi chewed with his usual restrained manners and glanced at Xue Ci and Madman Tang. Neither hesitated when reaching for the food, and from time to time they even nodded in approval. Neither spoke while eating; they simply kept their heads down and ate. He Yi could not stop the corner of his mouth from curving upward. He was quite satisfied with how things had turned out this time. Apparently, he did have some talent for cooking after all.
After the evening meal, He Yi had originally planned to wash the bowls, but Xue Ci was still following him around like a little tail, curious about everything. He Yi handed the washing over to him. There were only five bowls anyway, and he had already prepared the plant-ash water. Xue Ci played with the loofah sponge as he scrubbed away. The bowls ended up reasonably clean, though he nearly soaked himself from head to toe in the process.
He Yi reached out in time to block some of the splashing and told him to be more careful, which kept his clothes dry. “What are you going to do if you get soaked? You don’t have another set of clothes to change into. The cloth shop still wasn’t open yesterday. I’ll check again in a few days, and if it’s open, I’ll buy a couple bolts of cloth.”
Xue Ci did not know what a cloth shop was, but he nevertheless echoed, “All right.”
The days were growing steadily longer now. After the bowls were washed, He Yi saw that it was still light out and decided to write down all the steps for seasoning the wok, as well as make notes about the medicinal herbs and wild vegetables he had gathered that day.
He went into the brighter main hall, took out an inkstick and inkstone, and began grinding ink.
When he was young, he had taken calligraphy lessons for a while, but they had always used prepared bottled ink. He had never needed to grind his own. Fortunately, an old friend of his had loved tinkering with traditional things like these, and He Yi had watched him grind ink several times, so he at least knew the basics.
There were quite a few rules to grinding ink. It was better to use too little water than too much, one had to control the pressure so as not to damage the inkstone, and for fine, smooth ink the inkstick had to be kept upright and moved in even circles. It should not be tilted or ground repeatedly against only one spot, and so on…
Precisely controlling both pressure and angle took a surprising amount of effort. He Yi’s hand soon began to ache. Xue Ci had half his body sprawled across the table as he watched intently, his almond-shaped eyes wide and round. He even copied He Yi’s circular motions with his hand. When He Yi still did not let him try, he finally said, “Let me!”
He Yi handed him the inkstick and let him do as he pleased.
Xue Ci was Xue Ci. His ability to learn really was extraordinary. He hardly seemed to exert himself at all, and his hand did not tremble in the slightest. Steady and controlled, he moved the inkstick as easily as though it were a ballpoint pen and quickly produced ink that was fine and richly concentrated.
“Impressive. All right, now we can write.” He Yi praised him, then picked up the brush and prepared to write down Auntie Liu’s instructions for seasoning the wok.
Suddenly, he heard someone ask, “You can write?”
He Yi looked up and saw that Madman Tang had somehow come to stand behind him. He had no idea how long the man had been watching them.
He Yi paused, then said, “Of course. I can write quite a lot of characters. I bought a storybook so I could copy from it and practice my handwriting.”
Madman Tang looked deeply suspicious and asked He Yi to write a few characters for him.
He Yi picked up the brush and began writing simplified characters.
“You learned these… Why do they all look like they’re missing arms and legs?” Seeing that He Yi’s skill was nothing impressive, Madman Tang relaxed his suspicions slightly.
He Yi knew the man was testing him. After all, it would be rather alarming for an ordinary peasant to somehow teach himself to write without a teacher. So He Yi deliberately acted confident and open about it while secretly holding back what he really knew.
Still, Madman Tang was rather impressed by his self-discipline and determination to study. He lent He Yi a materia medica book that he had read for many years and, in a somewhat unaccustomed tone of encouragement, told him to study properly. Even simply copying the characters would be worthwhile, and if there was anything he did not understand, he could ask him.
The book had clearly been handled countless times. Almost every page corner was worn, though the volume as a whole was still fairly clean.
He Yi was genuinely surprised, and the astonishment showed plainly on his face. Then he thanked him. “Thank you, Brother Tang. A book this precious… are you really willing to lend it to me?”
“I copied out two copies by hand years ago, and I can recite it from memory. Why shouldn’t I give it to you?” Madman Tang waved a hand. He was clearly uncomfortable with such a sentimental atmosphere, and after leaving He Yi with a terse “Keep at it,” he returned to the East Courtyard.
With Madman Tang gone and Xue Ci unable to read, He Yi quickly wrote down everything he wanted to record, then set the sheet of paper aside to dry.
After that, he opened the storybook and began selecting traditional characters to copy.
Xue Ci had originally been leaning over the table from the opposite side. When he realized it was inconvenient to read the characters upside down, he moved to He Yi’s left. But as he watched, he kept crowding closer against He Yi, probably because he wanted to see more clearly.
The bench they were sitting on was not especially stable to begin with. With it rocking like this, how was He Yi supposed to write? Slightly exasperated, he said, “Why don’t you just sit up here, then? You’re about to squeeze me right off the bench.”
He meant it as a complaint, but Xue Ci did not understand the sarcasm at all. He actually grabbed He Yi’s left arm and wriggled into his lap. He Yi was so startled that the brush dropped from his hand, and he hurriedly grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself.
The top of Xue Ci’s head bumped He Yi’s chin, while his soft backside pressed against He Yi’s thigh through the thin layers of their clothes.
“…Xue Ci, sit back down.” He Yi gritted his teeth and suppressed his instinctive reaction. He guided Xue Ci’s legs back onto the bench, kept a hand at his back until he was properly seated, and made sure he would not fall.
Xue Ci had no idea what the problem was. He glanced sideways at He Yi and sat back down somewhat irritably, though when he stretched out his leg, he deliberately bumped the back of He Yi’s knee.
In the corner of his vision, Xue Ci’s skin was still smooth and pale enough to catch the eye. He Yi devoted himself to ignoring every distraction and forcing his thoughts back into the calm focus of calligraphy practice.
After He Yi finished practicing one page, he saw that Xue Ci had finally behaved himself and stopped disturbing him, so he let Xue Ci hold the brush and practice horizontal strokes, vertical strokes, left-falling strokes, and right-falling strokes. He Yi’s own calligraphy was not particularly good, but he still used every bit of patience he had to guide Xue Ci through forming a character slowly. At least the result was legible.
Xue Ci’s hands looked bony, but they were soft to the touch. He Yi lowered his eyes and pushed down the thoughts threatening to cross the line. After correcting Xue Ci’s grip on the brush, he withdrew his hand and secretly rubbed his fingertips together beneath the table.
*
The next day, following the steps he had written down, He Yi scrubbed and seasoned the new iron wok. All that remained was to let it sit for half a day.
He remembered that today was the day the Zheng family planned to repair their wall, so he deliberately changed into an old coarse-hemp work jacket and headed over to their house.