“Sleepy?” He Yi glanced at Xue Ci, then turned to the Zheng brothers.
All three shook their heads.
“I didn’t realize we’d have to stay up until midnight,” He Yi said, scratching the end of his eyebrow.
Zheng Yuanfeng remembered something from childhood. “Apparently, when we were little, we were so sleepy we couldn’t stay awake. When Father and Mother stepped over the fire basin, we were asleep on a bench. Mother still teases us that we slept like piglets, impossible to wake even by smacking us.”
Zheng Yuanshi nodded slightly, smiling with his eyes.
Seeing that the time was right, He Yi stood, walked over to the fire basin, and carried it into the kitchen.
Xue Ci added firewood to the basin, symbolically bringing in wealth, since the words for firewood and wealth sounded alike.
Zheng Yuanfeng was puzzled. Wasn’t it usually the mistress of the house who added the firewood? He was about to ask when his older brother, apparently sensing his intention, jabbed him with an elbow. “Shut up,” Zheng Yuanshi whispered.
Zheng Yuanfeng frowned at him. How did his brother know what he was about to say? What was so forbidden about it? After thinking for a while, he lost the desire to ask and kept silent.
Late at night, with the main hall softly illuminated by lamps, He Yi and Xue Ci placed incense before the household shrine and bowed together three times.
He Yi turned to the Zheng brothers. “Thanks for staying up with us. You don’t need to keep us company now. Go get some sleep.”
He had offered to let the brothers spend the night there, but they insisted on going home. They promised to return when they heard firecrackers in the morning.
The oil lamp in the house had to stay alight until dawn. He Yi replenished it, then returned with Xue Ci to the bedroom.
Ever since He Yi and Xue Ci had become physically intimate, Xue Ci’s bouts of feverish heat no longer came on without warning. Nor did he lose awareness during intimacy as he once had.
He Yi held his darling close. “We’ll have to get up in two more shichen. How about we leave it for tonight?”
But Xue Ci’s mischievous hand had wandered off and kept kindling He Yi’s desire. If stopped, he would probably whimper, pout, curl up in a corner, and pretend to cry little pearls of tears.
He Yi was helpless against him. He knew it was all an act, but could not bear having Xue Ci withdraw from him. In the end he gave him what he wanted. Once they started, however, He Yi was not so easily persuaded to stop.
They continued until the early morning. They had barely rested when the sky began to lighten. Yawning, He Yi wandered to the vegetable garden to gather yao dew for Xue Ci to drink.
Xue Ci was even more exhausted and refused to open his eyes. He opened his mouth when asked, and He Yi could not resist kissing him for a while before feeding him the dew.
Seeing him so sleepy, He Yi could not bring himself to set off firecrackers first thing in the morning. It would disturb both Xue Ci and the neighbors.
The new-home fire-entry rite emphasized auspicious timing, but He Yi insisted on waiting until the meal was ready before lighting the firecrackers to welcome their guests.
This time he did not ask Auntie Liu for help or guidance. He relied on his younger sister’s notes and the experience he had gained.
A rough count suggested one table with ten diners, so six dishes and a soup would suffice. He had already planned what to cook.
For the soup, he chose xiao diao li tang, a gently simmered pear soup his father had often made. He had thought of it after the people from the oil mill gave him two pears. He had prepared yellow aged rock sugar and preserved sour plums, but could not obtain snow fungus.
Very few people here had even heard of snow fungus. Among He Yi’s acquaintances, only Tang Huai knew it. Tang said that even if he possessed any, he would not cook with it: the rare fungus was worth more than ten taels of silver per jin.
He Yi was shocked by its rarity and value and had to abandon the idea.
He had prepared the meat and vegetables in advance and asked Xue Ci to make ice for storing them separately. The ice had melted by now, but the produce and meat were still a little cool.
Satisfied, He Yi began preparing the ingredients.
A feast needed meat. Villagers rarely ate much of it ordinarily, but for a special occasion no one liked to stint. He Yi traded two three-yellow chickens to the Zheng family for two fat, tender drakes. He would use half of one for taro-braised duck and make a whole camphor-tea duck from the other.
Camphor-tea duck was the most troublesome dish. According to his sister’s notes, it was a form of intangible cultural heritage cooking, with several demanding stages. He had chosen it because he wanted a spectacular main dish worthy of the celebration.
After washing the duck carefully inside and out, he would need four distinct stages: marinating, smoking, steaming, and frying. Each was complicated and challenging.
While He Yi worked in the kitchen, Xue Ci came looking for him. Sleeping alone, without the familiar “pillow” beside him, had woken him when the last warmth faded.
He Yi was holding a bowl and sharpening a kitchen knife against its underside. Seeing Xue Ci approach, he leaned toward his ear. “Up already? Don’t want more sleep?”
Xue Ci rested his head on He Yi’s shoulder. “Mm. No more. I’ll help.”
“All right.”
After a great deal of work, it was nearly the end of the si hour before the food was ready. When Xue Ci went to light the firecrackers, he found that guests had already arrived. They asked why he was so late.
“We thought setting them off early would disturb everyone, and the meal took us longer than expected. But it’s finally ready. Let me light the firecrackers, then I’ll show everyone to their seats.” Xue Ci flashed a beautiful smile. The guests fell quiet, unable to scold him.
Missing the auspicious time for the firecrackers was a minor taboo, however. When He Yi brought out the dishes, he still received a lecture from the elders.
Assuming Xue Ci had also been nagged enough, He Yi sent him to carry the dishes and stayed to entertain the company.
In addition to the Zheng family, Uncle Li Chi and his wife and Cen Pu were present. Tang Huai was busy. Qianli was working at home, and her mother had not let her come, so He Yi saved a bowl of meat and vegetables for the girl. He asked Xu Peng to deliver it after eating, so he could see his niece too.
Xu Peng really had come. Several days earlier, when he had descended the mountain to collect rice and grain, He Yi had mentioned the fire-entry meal. Xu Peng had not refused, and today he arrived with a basket of bamboo shoots as a gift.
Most guests had never met Xu Peng, though they had heard his name, so they studied him with curiosity. At first everyone was rather stiff, but Zheng Yuanfeng took the lead in enlivening the gathering. Soon they were chatting and laughing.
Xu Peng was at least as taciturn as Zheng Yuanshi, but when a subject interested him, he spoke readily enough. Seeing how much less severe he looked when talking to He Yi, the other guests gradually relaxed and joined in.
The final dish was camphor-tea duck. Its crisp skin was reddish brown from the smoke of camphor leaves, and its rich smoky fragrance made everyone fall silent and stare.
“What is that? I’ve never seen duck skin cooked to such a beautiful color!” Auntie Liu exclaimed.
“Did you buy it at a restaurant? I’ve never ordered anything like this even there,” the others said.
Xu Peng, who knew a great deal about fine food, was the most astonished. Even his narrow eyes widened.
The color, the texture, the aroma of tea and smoke: everything was exceptionally fine. He Yi was delighted too. His most labor-intensive dish had not failed; in fact, he had outdone himself.
“I tried making this as the main dish,” He Yi said. “For our fire-entry celebration, I wanted to serve food and wine worthy of your company.”
He had bought wine yesterday, choosing the most fragrant Wushan yellow wine he could find. He filled the guests’ cups one by one.
“I don’t know whether the dishes and wine will please you. If anything falls short, I’ll punish myself with a cup. Come, uncles and aunties, please start eating and tell me how it tastes.”
“Far too lavish! We don’t even eat this well at New Year…” Facing four meat dishes, two vegetable dishes, and a soup, the guests were nearly speechless.
The steaming taro-braised duck looked enticing. The taro was so soft it almost melted, coated with sauce around the glossy, lean duck meat.
Even ordinary farmhouse dishes had been prepared beautifully: stir-fried gongcai with tofu sticks and wood-ear mushrooms, mixed vegetables, and steamed egg with fresh shrimp. Their fragrance filled the room.
When Xue Ci finished his tasks, He Yi pulled him into the seat beside him. Rather than serving him wine, he heaped his bowl with rice.
Ten people sitting at one table was a tight squeeze. In the end everyone stood up so they could reach the dishes more easily.
He Yi invited the guests to begin. Auntie Liu did not stand on ceremony and ladled herself a bowl of soup.
“How is it?” Old Zheng asked quietly. He was clearly eager to try it himself.
“So sweet and refreshing.” That boy certainly knew how to use sugar. Auntie Liu sighed in appreciation and quickly drank the entire bowl.
The others saw her drinking and instinctively helped themselves to the soup as well.
The gently simmered pear soup was clear, sweet, and soothing to the throat. Everyone felt their throats ease after drinking it.
The other dishes were equally irresistible. He Yi had put care into every one, especially the featured camphor-tea duck. Its flavor was savory, its skin crisp, its meat tender and juicy. Everyone who tried it praised it.
There was surprisingly little polite table talk during the meal. Everyone was too busy eating to mind the quiet.
Afterward, Xu Peng asked He Yi how he had made the camphor-tea duck. Without hesitation, He Yi recited the entire recipe.
Xu Peng was shocked by how freely He Yi shared it. “…You really don’t know how to be cautious.”
Understanding his concern, He Yi glanced at him and smiled. “We’re family, aren’t we? You’re my older cousin.”
Xu Peng raised his brows and smiled, a rare occurrence.
Cen Pu and Uncle Li Chi had restrained themselves at the table, saving a few pieces of camphor-tea duck to take home for the children. The duck had been sizable, but the guests had eaten it all. Had they not reserved any, nothing would have remained.
“Next time I’ll cook another table’s worth and invite more neighbors. I’m sorry. I hadn’t expected today’s food to turn out this well, so I didn’t dare make a larger batch.”
“If you make it again, make sure to invite us! It was delicious!” Cen Pu gave up all attempts at polite restraint. He had just finished eating, but thinking of the duck made him hungry again.
Xue Ci was less attached to the camphor-tea duck. He preferred the taro-braised duck, scooping up taro mash soaked in savory duck sauce and mixing it with his rice. He ate four full bowls. Worried he might overstuff himself, He Yi rubbed his belly after the guests left.
“It really has become round,” He Yi teased.
Unembarrassed, Xue Ci gave a belch that smelled of wine, wrapped his soft arms around He Yi’s neck, and nestled in his embrace.
He Yi had no idea where Xue Ci had learned to sit on his lap whenever he liked. Then something struck him. “Wait. When did you drink wine?”
“Toward the end it tasted a little salty. There wasn’t any rice left, so I picked up some water and drank it,” Xue Ci explained slowly.
“That was wine…” There really had not been any water on the table.
There was nothing for it. He Yi carried him back to the bedroom, tucked the quilt over his slightly swollen belly, and returned to the main hall to clear away the dishes.
But before he could carry the wooden washbasin into the courtyard, footsteps sounded behind him. A moment later, Xue Ci was squatting beside him with his knees hugged to his chest.
“Why are you up again?”
Xue Ci said nothing.
He Yi studied him, saw no signs of discomfort, and let him stay.
He prepared to fetch the pots, steamers, and other utensils from the kitchen and wash them with a loofah sponge soaked in soapberry liquid. But everywhere he went, a small tail followed close behind.
Xue Ci often liked following him, but never this clingily. He stayed close wherever He Yi went. In the days after the cat climbing frame was built, he had been hard to find, often curled high on the structure chewing a grass ball. He Yi had to call out before he would appear, and the leopard seldom descended on his own.
But it had not been long before Xue Ci stopped spending time up there alone, except when He Yi was in the bedroom too.
He Yi looked back at the tipsy little shadow trailing him. For a long time, he could not suppress his smile.
Two days later, He Yi found they had almost nothing left to do around the house. It might have been the first such peaceful lull. He decided it would be pleasant to go fishing again.