Wang Ran and Jiang Beibei only then learned that the resources here far exceeded their expectations.
Because the weather was still warm, the cotton batting that had been compressed flat under their bodies on the beds had been put away. The ginned cotton was stored in the clay vats in the small storehouse. The unginned cotton, having nowhere else to go, was piled up in the bamboo room on Yu Muyang’s side. That small spinning wheel, unused all this time, had been tucked away in the bamboo room where Xia Qing slept.
Being new arrivals, Wang Ran and Jiang Beibei hadn’t felt it right to let their eyes wander around blatantly and snoop. So they had no idea that not only did the storehouse hold large amounts of cotton, but the bamboo room’s spinning wheel had gathered dust.
Li Cunxin’s group had the materials but no technique. They’d tried spinning cotton into thread. While not entirely clueless, the results were never satisfactory.
Jiang Beibei didn’t know that she was exactly what they had been waiting for. Without resources to supply it, a Weaving/Spinning talent was useless. But the missing piece Jiang Beibei lacked, Li Cunxin could provide. Her talent meant protection against cold and the sense of decency modern people held dear—an indispensable link in the chain of food, clothing, shelter, and transport.
Jiang Beibei was startled by Yu Muyang’s roaring outside. It was only when Li Cunxin and the others smilingly explained to her how they had been praying and waiting for someone like her that she blushed deeply. At the same time, a fire seemed to ignite in her heart, drying out the gloom, confusion, cold, and fear. Her warm, bright, steadfast heart faced the morning sun. Her eagerness burned so fiercely that she wanted to weave cloth right then and there, to make new clothes for everyone, wanting to see the surprised joy on their faces when they changed into them—to repay their generous welcome.
After the meal, Xia Qing brought out the small spinning wheel, wiped off the dust, and gave the crank handle a spin to check it was still working. Then she handed it to Jiang Beibei.
Li Cunxin brought over a basin of cotton. The seeds had been picked out, but the fluffy white lint still held plenty of crushed, withered leaf fragments.
Everyone gathered in the courtyard in front of the main hall, wanting to watch Jiang Beibei spin. Jiang Beibei smiled gently, tucking her loose hair behind her ear. She took the wooden comb everyone used for their hair and combed through the cotton, picking out the dead leaves.
Wang Ran used bamboo and twine twisted from animal tendons they’d saved to make a simple cotton fluffing bow. He spread the combed cotton on the wooden table in the main hall, then placed the bowstring over it. Hitting it with a wooden mallet, the string vibrated with a twang, lifting the cotton fibers.
A rush of warmth filled Wang Ran’s heart. A sourness inexplicably welled in his eyes, and his throat tightened. He couldn’t help singing a line: “Fluffing cotton, oh—fluffing cotton—” Stirred by nostalgia, his voice lost its clarity at the end and grew hoarse.
Xia Qing took up the song: “Half a catty of cotton fluffed into eight taels and eight.”
This song, “Cotton Fluffing,” was familiar even to those who’d never seen cotton being fluffed. Struck by the sudden, unspoken harmony, everyone burst into laughter—a shared, hearty laugh after a moment of perfect silence.
Once Wang Ran had fluffed the cotton until it was light and airy, Jiang Beibei used a wooden strip to press and roll the cotton into rods. She wrapped some waste thread around the radial wooden spokes of the driving wheel, then dampened the cotton rod with water and hooked the end onto the spindle.
Sitting on a small wooden stool, Jiang Beibei turned the driving wheel with her left hand while her right hand held the cotton rod, pulling it backward in coordination. As the spindle rotated, everyone saw a long thread trailing from the end of the cotton rod in Jiang Beibei’s right hand.
A collective, fascinated “Oooh—” went up from the crowd. It was astonishing that the long thread drawn from the cotton rod didn’t break. As it wound more and more around the spool, Jiang Beibei reached the end of the rod, took another rod, and connected it—the thread still held without snapping.
Li Cunxin asked, “Why doesn’t it break?”
Jiang Beibei explained, “Because the cotton fibers are entangled with each other.”
Li Cunxin understood only half of it. Xia Qing’s hands itched to try. “Let me give it a go.” After she’d built the spinning wheel, not knowing the process, she’d also tried blindly. But the soft, fluffy, thread-like cotton just wouldn’t form a line. Using a hook to guide and twist the fibers into thread, it would break after only a short length. Rubbing it by hand made it too thick. It had infuriated her to the point of banishing the spinning wheel into storage.
Jiang Beibei showed her how much pressure to apply. Xia Qing pinched the cotton rod and pulled back, but before the wheel could even spin, the rod broke in her hand.
Awkward and uneasy, she held the broken rod. “It… it broke. What now?”
Jiang Beibei took it and reconnected it, smiling. “It’s fine. It’s easy to lack the right touch when you’re just starting.”
After watching the novelty for a while, everyone had to get back to their own tasks. Zhao Penglai decided to set aside the new house for now and first build a workshop for Liu Cuo Jin, because this workshop would be used for refining iron implements and couldn’t be done carelessly.
Li Cunxin had said earlier that the project didn’t need to be rushed—timber could be processed slowly, bricks and tiles could be fired slowly. Yu Muyang had taken her words to heart and didn’t rush. Whenever he had free time, he fired bricks and tiles. In this world, time passed very slowly, and work became the only means of passing it. Yu Muyang did the work meticulously. Over the better part of a year, little by little, he had amassed a considerable number of bricks and tiles.
When everyone realized it, they were also startled. A thick wall of stacked bricks had unknowingly risen there.
Everyone worked intensively, preparing to build the workshop. Another large area of land was cleared. This tract of interwoven trees, shrubs, and weeds suddenly became unusually spacious.
Xia Qing was outside doing carpentry, using a stone saw to cut wooden slats. The saw teeth kept breaking and getting stuck in the wood cracks. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and went inside to drink water, bumping into Yu Muyang, who had also come to the kitchen for water.
Yu Muyang grinned cheekily. “When’s your loom going to be done? My New Year’s new clothes depend on you and Sister Jiang!”
Xia Qing rolled her eyes at him. “You wish. A loom isn’t something you just whip out. The mechanisms inside are incredibly intricate. Am I supposed to make it with just this one axe or these stone chisels that break every three days? By the time I’m done, I might be making my own coffin!”
“I was just asking. No need to get so fired up.” Yu Muyang put on a pleading face again. “So, if what you’re saying is true, was I just celebrating for nothing?”
Xia Qing gulped down a bowl of water and let out a long, satisfied breath. She said, “Once Little Liu smelts the iron, and Uncle Xu and Brother Wang forge the chisels, then carve the files, then sharpen the saw blades with the files, and then make the planes and gouges, I might have an easier time. But even then, I won’t have time right now. I need to figure out how to make a bellows for Little Liu.”
She pondered and muttered to herself, “I’ll have to ask Uncle Xu and Baiyu to go hunting and get me an animal hide to make the leather bladder.”
The joy on Yu Muyang’s face, which had only just been built, crumbled. “Then how long do I have to wait? By then my shorts and short sleeves will have rotted away.”
Xia Qing patted his shoulder. “Even if I manage to cobble that loom together, Sister Jiang still needs time to spin the thread and weave the cloth. So, just forget about this year. Maybe by next winter you’ll have new clothes.”
“…” Yu Muyang turned completely ashen. He’d come over bubbling with excitement, but now he left on the verge of tears.
Jiang Beibei spun thread all the way until dinnertime. The cotton thread, wrapped around wooden sticks, looked like plump white bundles. Seeing the several bundles she’d spun, she felt a sense of accomplishment and was a little reluctant to stop.
For the convenience of spinning, Jiang Beibei, after discussing with Li Cunxin, temporarily moved the spinning wheel into the bamboo room she was staying in.
Now, the season was shifting between autumn and winter. The parasol tree leaves outside had turned as red as maple leaves. After dinner, it quickly grew dark.
Everyone busied themselves with washing up and resting. Li Cunxin and Xu Yin had a word by the pond. When she returned, she happened to see Jiang Beibei and Wang Ran entering the bamboo room one after the other.
Li Cunxin signaled Xu Yin with a glance. Xu Yin nodded to her and went to stand by the bamboo room door, knocking. Wang Ran’s voice came from inside, “Brother Xu, what’s up?”
Xu Yin said, “Come over to our place for a chat?”
Wang Ran said something to Jiang Beibei, his voice softer. Li Cunxin couldn’t catch it. She just saw Wang Ran come out moments later and follow Xu Yin toward the men’s quarters.
When Li Cunxin reached the bamboo room, Jiang Beibei was standing at the doorway, looking outside. Seeing Li Cunxin, she smiled. “Village Chief.”
Li Cunxin said, “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
Jiang Beibei seemed a little surprised and studied her briefly, understanding almost immediately. She wasn’t slow-witted; in fact, she was very perceptive. Xu Yin had just taken Wang Ran away, and now Li Cunxin was here—clearly a coordinated effort. But Jiang Beibei wasn’t afraid. Though they’d only known each other for a day, she could sense that Li Cunxin was a good person.
“Come in,” Jiang Beibei said, moving aside to let her into the room.
Li Cunxin thought for a long time before speaking very bluntly. “Sister Jiang, are you and Brother Wang a couple?”
Jiang Beibei nearly launched herself upright off the bed, but she held back. Her eyes blinked rapidly, her gaze darting and unable to meet Li Cunxin’s.
“Just, um…” Even though Li Cunxin had rehearsed this countless times in her head, she still stumbled. Deeply embarrassed, she pressed on brazenly. “Actually, Uncle Xu called Brother Wang over to talk about the same thing. It’s just… the, uh… issue of you two, that… you know.”
Li Cunxin spoke in riddles, leaving Jiang Beibei thoroughly confused and unable to resist looking up at her. The moment Jiang Beibei looked at her, Li Cunxin grew even more nervous, her face flushing red, steam practically rising from her head. Still, she steeled herself and numbly continued, “Right now, we have no effective method of contraception. So, if you two are… well… sleeping together, you need to be… cautious. If you were to get pregnant, it would be extremely dangerous. It might even cost you your life.”
Once Jiang Beibei caught on, her own face instantly flushed crimson, too. The two of them sat there, red-faced, heads slightly bowed. Jiang Beibei murmured, “He and I aren’t in that kind of relationship yet. I understand what you mean.”
Li Cunxin’s flushed face turned stern again as she said solemnly, “Life is precious. You only have one.”
Jiang Beibei smiled. “I know. Thank you.”
Li Cunxin stood up. “That’s all I came to say. So… you rest well.”
“Goodnight.”
Li Cunxin hurried out of the bamboo room. In the night breeze, her face still felt hot. She fanned herself with her hand. Once inside the main hall, she shuffled straight to the adobe bed and flopped face-down on it, groaning.
Sitting at the table, Yan Baiyu could only see her blood-red ear sticking out. “What’s wrong?”
Li Cunxin’s voice was muffled. “I reminded Sister Jiang about the danger of pregnancy, told her it’s best not to do that kind of thing with Brother Wang. But they aren’t even a couple.”
Yan Baiyu said, “Prevention is always better than cure. It’s good to give a warning.”
Li Cunxin sat up, her face still red, her hair a mess like a little lion’s mane. “But it’s so embarrassing, okay? I… I never even managed to date a boyfriend before getting dumped in this godforsaken place. And she’s older than me, and I’m not even close to her. Having to bring up that topic—I just forced myself through it. My hair was standing on end.”
Yan Baiyu’s gaze flickered.
“You could have let me talk to her,” Yan Baiyu offered.
Li Cunxin said, “But I figured, I’m the Village Chief, aren’t I?” She rolled over onto her back, lying flat on the bed. Her thoughts drifted from that topic. Curious, she asked, “Hey, Baiyu, do you have a boyfriend?”
The room fell silent for a long while. Li Cunxin turned her head to look at her. Yan Baiyu’s face wore a very strange expression—quite striking compared to her usual calm.
It was as if countless words were about to spill from Yan Baiyu’s mouth.
But after a long pause, she only said flatly, “No.”
