Chapter 9: Saposhnikovia

Qi Banxia startled herself with the thought. She quickly lowered her eyes, as if they were full of blowing sand, and pressed her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose.

Alcohol didn’t need to make her drunk. Her heart was already doing the job. She mocked herself in silence.

Before dinner, the sky had been heavy with clouds. The wind gradually swept them away, and the crescent moon emerged from the sea of clouds.

A bonfire burned in the middle of the village square. The villagers wore the traditional clothes and jewelry they usually saved for holidays. They formed a circle and waited for the evening’s festivities to begin.

Xiaoxigou Village had a population of no more than two thousand, and around sixty percent of its residents were Miao. Since the women would be leaving the following afternoon, the villagers had prepared a warm send-off, complete with songs and dances.

Lang Yiqiu wore a blue Miao outfit. She rested a hand on Qi Banxia’s shoulder and said playfully, “Sister Banxia, go change!”

“All right. I’ll be right back.”

“The rest of the clothes are in Sister Man’s bedroom.” Lang Yiqiu dashed across to the other side and caught up with Shi Zhen, whom she’d finally persuaded to roast sweet potatoes with her after two minutes of coaxing.

When Lang Yiqiu had first suggested it, Shi Zhen had flatly refused. “You’re an entertainer. Don’t you have to watch your figure?”

“I don’t act. I only sing. What’s there to worry about?”

“Don’t be so sure. Lots of singers are changing careers or branching out into other fields.”

Lang Yiqiu thought about that. “My acting’s terrible. My fans would tear me apart.”

“How did we get so far off topic, Sister Shi Zhen? Come on, just have one roasted sweet potato with me.”

Shi Zhen didn’t know why Lang Yiqiu had singled her out. Since she was soft-hearted, she finally gave in. “Fine, but I’m only having a third.”

“Long live Sister Shi Zhen!” Lang Yiqiu had been craving roasted sweet potatoes for two days. Her roommate, Qi Banxia, wouldn’t even eat rice for dinner, let alone a sweet potato. So while she was changing, she’d set her sights on Shi Zhen instead.

By the time Qi Banxia’s thoughts wandered back, the others had left. Only Wang Man and Jiang Baizhi remained, so the three of them went back to the house together. There were two size-M outfits and one size-S. Qi Banxia was the slimmest, and the size-S dress with its embroidered flower and batik patterns looked as though it had been made for her.

“Xia, the bathroom’s two steps to the right as you leave. You go first.” Wang Man held up the black M-size outfit, which had a dark floral pattern on a dark background, and compared it with her shoulders. She hadn’t acted in the past few years and had focused on charity work and writing, so she hadn’t worried much about dieting. She was afraid she wouldn’t fit. Two months ago, she’d agreed to the show mostly as a favor to the head of Haiyan Entertainment. She liked rural culture, and she’d get to travel with her best friend. What was there not to like?

“You go first, Sister Man.”

“I’m still deciding. Xia, hurry up and go. Don’t argue.”

Qi Banxia agreed. The bathroom in the village chief’s house had to be cleaner than the temporary shed beside their thatched cottage. She hung up her outfit and slipped off her ivory knit sweater, baring the pale nape of her neck.

The top came in two layers. She put on the inner layer and smoothed it out before pulling on the outer one. There were three frog buttons at the right waist, but the holes were a little too small. She struggled to fasten two of them and soon had sweat beading on her forehead.

She needed to make the holes bigger with scissors, but there weren’t any in the bathroom. She would have to ask someone for help…

Should she ask Sister Man? Wang Man was her senior, and they’d only met three times. They weren’t close. After thinking it over, Qi Banxia called softly through the door. “Doctor Jiang? Doctor Jiang…”

No answer.

She cleared her throat and called again, loud enough to carry beyond the door.

“Doctor Jiang!”

Familiar footsteps came closer. Qi Banxia knew Jiang Baizhi well enough to tell her ordinary walk from her brisk one.

“Teacher Qi?”

“Could you bring me a pair of scissors? I can’t fasten the button.”

“All right. Just a moment.” Jiang Baizhi came back two minutes later. “Teacher Qi, could you open the door?”

Qi Banxia opened it just enough to put a hand out and take the scissors.

“Do you need me to come in and help?”

“No, no, thanks.” Qi Banxia shut the door with a snap. Jiang Baizhi stayed where she was, her brows unconsciously knitting together, but she didn’t leave right away.

A while later, there was a rustle inside the bathroom, followed by a sigh. Then Qi Banxia asked in a small, hesitant voice, “Doctor Jiang, are you still there?”

“I am.”

The door opened again, and Jiang Baizhi slipped inside, closing it behind her.

Qi Banxia held out the outer layer. “The hole needs to be cut a little bigger, but I still can’t fasten it. I’ve tried three times. I’m afraid that if I cut too much, the button will come loose.”

“Let me try.” Jiang Baizhi picked up the scissors from the sink. Qi Banxia turned around. She was about to change, so she’d taken off her glasses and could barely see. Afraid she might hurt Qi Banxia, Jiang Baizhi leaned in close.

Her warm breath brushed against Qi Banxia’s skin, illuminated by the yellow bathroom light. Qi Banxia couldn’t help swallowing. The distance between them, the atmosphere in the room—it all made her feel as if she’d been sent to another life.

Back when they’d first gotten together, Jiang Baizhi had tried to make time for her. Their tastes weren’t always the same, but Jiang Baizhi patiently explained her choices, and Qi Banxia usually went along with them after hearing her out. She dressed to please the person she loved and didn’t care what anyone else thought. If a formal dress didn’t fit, Jiang Baizhi helped her put it on. Sometimes, when the mood was right, they kissed. Sometimes, they playfully tussled.

All of that had become a memory, a luxury she could only imagine in her dreams.

“There.” Jiang Baizhi had a deft touch. She snipped at the hole and fastened the button gently.

Qi Banxia trembled almost imperceptibly. She drew a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“They can’t hear us outside.” Jiang Baizhi lowered her voice. “Banxia, why do I feel like we’ve become so distant? You hardly ever used to thank me. I rarely heard that word from you. If you couldn’t get dressed, you’d pull me into the bathroom without a second thought. But just now, you shut the door…”

“Are we not friends?” Jiang Baizhi watched Qi Banxia without blinking as she said the last two words, hesitating slightly before she got them out.

“W-we’re filming a show, aren’t we?” Qi Banxia wanted to look away, but she thought that would only make her look guilty. She clenched her jaw and met Jiang Baizhi’s gaze. It was a little heated, perhaps because she’d spoken so quickly. Qi Banxia gave her an answer she didn’t believe.

“All right.” Jiang Baizhi felt she’d been a little abrupt, too. She looked away, put down the scissors, and reminded Qi Banxia quietly, “You don’t have to take last night’s medicine anymore. After the party, stop by for three more boxes.”

“What medicine?” At the mention of it, Qi Banxia tensed. She’d taken plenty in her previous life. Two handfuls of Western pills and three bags of Chinese medicine every day had been a nightmare.

“Your test results came in. I wanted to help you get your health in order.”

“Where are the results? My brother didn’t tell me.”

“I sent them on WeChat. I got them ten minutes ago.”

Qi Banxia’s lips trembled. “I… I’m not seriously ill, am I?” Cancer took time to develop, but pancreatic cancer could have many causes, was difficult to detect, and progressed quickly. There was no clear timetable. Qi Banxia had asked a doctor about it and thought she might have at least another year of good health.

“You’re run-down, that’s all. I’m going to get changed.”

Thank goodness. Qi Banxia let out a breath of relief, and the romantic mood from earlier vanished.

Once all three of them had changed, they left the village chief’s house. Music was already blaring outside.

Miao dance carried on a legacy of Chinese history and culture. The Miao had a rich tradition of song and dance. Even their drum dances alone came in nearly ten varieties. With so many branches of the Miao people spread across a wide area, the dances were numerous and varied. Xiaoxigou was best known for its drum dance.

The festivities needed a lively opening, and the drum dance was the perfect choice. The villagers placed a large drum on a stand to the left of the bonfire. A man around forty beat the drum while everyone else danced around it to the rhythm.

The villagers invited the women to join in, and more of them joined the circle. The dance had three types of movements: large, small, and fine. The men usually performed the large movements in the inner circle, while the women did the small and fine movements in the outer circle. The women picked up the simple steps quickly. Qi Banxia and Jiang Baizhi still stood outside the circle. Lang Yiqiu had dragged Shi Zhen in, and though Shi Zhen hadn’t wanted to come, she was now dancing and singing along with the rest, punctuating the song with shouts of “Ah-ho!”

“Sister Banxia! Doctor Jiang! Come on in!”

Shi Zhen pulled Jiang Baizhi toward the dance. Dancing was Qi Banxia’s weak spot. She’d changed only because she wanted to sit by the fire, but Shen Yuyang and Wu Wei caught her and pulled her into the circle.

“I—I can’t dance.”

“Xia, it’s easy.” Wang Man had already learned the steps.

The Miao girl beside Qi Banxia was patient as she taught her to repeat one eight-count on the left, then one on the right.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. You missed one, Sister. Sister, that wasn’t right. You have to do it twice. Sister, over there, you only sway once.”

“You all dance in front. I’ll learn from behind.” Qi Banxia didn’t want to slow everyone down, so she stepped out of the circle.

Asking her to dance was like asking her to die. She’d hired dance teachers before and tried countless times, all to no avail. In the end, she’d been told, “Teacher Qi, you’d better stick to acting.”

So Qi Banxia rarely accepted roles that involved dancing. If she couldn’t avoid one, she used a dance double.

Fortunately, the drum dance ended quickly, and the next activity was a request-song game. The villagers would put forward one singer, and the women would put forward another. Shen Yuyang and Lang Yiqiu were singers, so of course they were the main candidates for the difficult and noble task.

The next second, Wu Wei announced an unexpected rule: the performers would be chosen by drawing lots.

“Xiao Wei, I’m no good at singing. Try not to put my name in.” Wang Man spoke to Wu Wei in a low voice. Qi Banxia decided that if Wang Man managed to persuade him, she’d suggest they put only Shen Yuyang’s and Lang Yiqiu’s names in.

“Sister Man, it should be fair.” He refused her without a second thought.

They put slips with the eight women’s names into a box for the villagers to draw from. The women drew slips to choose a village representative.

“The women’s representative will be Doctor Jiang from Shi Zhen’s team.”

Jiang Baizhi couldn’t carry a tune, and her repertoire was limited…

Qi Banxia followed the others’ gaze. A wave of cheers erupted.

“Doctor Jiang! Doctor Jiang!”

Jiang Baizhi’s expression didn’t change. She looked calm, but Qi Banxia knew that the more nervous Jiang Baizhi got, the less she showed it.

“Now it’s time to choose a song. The villagers won’t make things too difficult for the women. You can pick from eight songs, both old and new.”

The eight titles appeared on the screen. Jiang Baizhi spoke in a calm, unhurried voice. “Quietly.”

It was the song Qi Banxia had once wanted to hear her sing, only to have Jiang Baizhi avoid it again and again.

It was the song she’d finally heard Jiang Baizhi sing just before she closed her eyes in her previous life.

So was it because she’d sung it while they were filming, and Shen Yuyang had recorded it again later? Had the production team cut Jiang Baizhi’s part, and was that why she’d refused to talk about it afterward?

“I only want to see you smile. In my eyes, you’re the best…” To everyone else, Jiang Baizhi’s voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Qi Banxia’s eyes suddenly filled with tears.