Sitting on the kang, Li Cunxin couldn’t settle down. She looked at the pitch-black night outside and murmured, “I still haven’t gone back by now. They won’t see me; they’ll be worried.”
The tall, muscular woman asked, “So you do have companions. Then how did you end up passed out alone in the wilderness?”
“Ah! Mei Wenqin!” The woman’s words reminded the forgetful Li Cunxin. “My donkey… you just said there was a donkey beside me when I fainted—where is he?”
The woman didn’t mind Li Cunxin’s jumping thoughts. Her voice was bright and hearty. “Don’t worry, he didn’t run off. I brought him back. He’s in the donkey shed.”
Hugging the hide around her, Li Cunxin let out a sigh of relief.
The feather-wearing woman chimed in to soothe her. “Stay with us for tonight. It’s dark now; it’s not safe to travel at night, and even harder to find your way back, right? Wait until tomorrow, when it’s light and your clothes are dry. Then we’ll escort you back. Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat first?”
Saying this, the woman didn’t wait for Li Cunxin’s answer and turned, leaving the room.
The tall, muscular woman asked Li Cunxin, “What should we call you?”
Li Cunxin said, “My name is Li Cunxin.”
The serious-faced woman smiled. Her smile was very kind. “A lovely name. I’m Di Wanling. You can call me Sister Wanling.”
The woman who was originally in the room interjected, “I’m Ning Yikui. ‘Kui’ as in the sunflower.”
The tall, muscular woman pointed at herself. “Wen Mi. And the one who just went out is Zhou Huan.”
Speak of Zhou Huan, and Zhou Huan returned carrying a bowl. “Good, it’s still warm.” Zhou Huan handed the bowl to Li Cunxin.
Li Cunxin smelled food, and her stomach and intestines writhed with the sharp pangs of hunger. “Thank you.” She took the bowl. She noticed it was a wooden bowl with a smooth surface. A wooden spoon rested inside, and its handle had a gelatinous texture, reflecting a gloss in the light.
Zhou Huan said, “Eat up. Need me to feed you?”
Li Cunxin hurriedly said, “No need, no need. I’ll do it myself.”
Li Cunxin looked at the solid with a smooth surface in the bowl. The spoon rested on top without sinking in. The shadows were too heavy to clearly discern the color, but she felt it must be steamed egg custard. She scooped up a spoonful, put it in her mouth, and confirmed her guess.
It was indeed steamed egg custard, though she didn’t know what kind of bird’s egg it was. Despite having no seasoning at all, the texture was incredibly smooth.
While she ate, the four women didn’t speak to disturb her, but she felt even more self-conscious. The four of them were just watching her from the side. Their gazes weren’t deliberate, but she couldn’t ignore them. Even her chewing mouth movements became stiff.
Wen Mi noticed her discomfort and said to the three others, “Let’s go wash up and get ready first. It’s getting late. We’ll rest once we’re done.”
Di Wanling nodded. “Good idea.”
Zhou Huan winked at Li Cunxin. “If you need anything, just call for me, little sister.”
The four went out one after another. The sounds of their activity and voices outside were clear enough to hear them distinctly. From this, she could tell they weren’t far away.
Li Cunxin ate the egg custard while raising her head to look around. This adobe room was similar to her own, just a bit more cramped. There wasn’t much inside: just a small wooden table by the kang. It was a proper table with a flat top and legs. One of the four must have the Carpenter talent.
Following that, she noticed the lighting fixture on the table, which looked like an oil lamp. She moved closer to look. The burning wick was rush pith, but she wasn’t sure what kind of oil was in the base. It produced light when lit but gave off a very faint, irritating smoky smell. Mixed within that smoky scent was a certain botanical fragrance.
Li Cunxin finished the egg custard. Ning Yikui came and took the bowl away to wash. Li Cunxin watched the women finish their chores and file back in one by one. She thought they had more questions for her.
That was, until all four of them took off their shoes and got onto the kang.
Li Cunxin clutched the not-so-generous animal hide covering her body, staring blankly at the ceiling. Only then did she understand why the room felt so cramped. This kang had been built too large. And this kang was so big because it was one giant communal sleeping platform.
Five people lying in one bed—not only lively, but hot. Li Cunxin shifted her body; it was a bit too warm. With only a straw mat underneath, it felt as hot as having an electric blanket on.
Ning Yikui, lying beside her, asked, “What’s wrong?”
Afraid of disturbing the others, Li Cunxin kept her voice very low. “A little hot.”
Zhou Huan’s light laughter drifted over from past Ning Yikui. “Sister Wen added more firewood to the kang flue to keep the kang burning, or it’d get cold at night.” All five were sleeping fully clothed, covered by thin grass mats. Heating the kang was their method of keeping warm.
Wen Mi said, “You’ve never slept on a heated kang, have you?”
Li Cunxin said, “Mn.” She wasn’t used to sleeping on one. Even with an electric blanket, she only let it warm the bed and then turned it off. Besides, sleeping on one for too long gave her internal heat.
Di Wanling asked, “Are you from the South?”
“Yes.”
Ning Yikui turned over to face her, lying on her side. “How long have you been in this world?”
Li Cunxin was about to say five years but faltered. She’d forgotten the year Yan Baiyu and the others arrived. Time had passed so quickly, as if in the blink of an eye. And only now did she remember that during this winter’s snows, she’d forgotten to carve a mark on the big bluestone. “Six years.”
“Six years?!” Ning Yikui exclaimed in shock.
Among them, the one who had been here longest was Wen Mi, at just over two years.
Di Wanling asked, “Then how old are you?”
“Twenty… six, probably.” Li Cunxin replied.
The four women sighed collectively. Li Cunxin had been only twenty when she arrived. She probably hadn’t even finished university.
Of the four of them, the youngest was Ning Yikui at twenty-eight. The oldest, Wen Mi, was thirty-eight. Li Cunxin was indeed the youngest among them.
Wen Mi asked, “In all this time, besides us, have you met anyone else?”
Di Wanling slowly added, “Right. Those friends you mentioned earlier—are they companions you met in this place? Where do you all live?”
Li Cunxin said, “I don’t know the exact direction. Mei Wenqin got spooked today—ah, that’s my black donkey. I was holding his reins and got dragged along. Dragged all the way to a watering hole. After I got out, I fainted. If I can get Mei Wenqin back to that water pit, he should be able to find his way back near our village.”
Zhou Huan asked, “Village? So that means there are quite a few people living with you?”
Ning Yikui, looking back towards Zhou Huan’s direction, said, “That’s for sure. Think about it—she’s been here six years. She must have found lots of people.”
“Actually, not that many. Just thirteen.”
Wen Mi said, “Still over three times our number.”
Ning Yikui said, “Your place must be really lively.”
Li Cunxin thought for a moment and gathered her courage. “Sister Wen.”
Wen Mi was a little surprised. “Yeah?”
Li Cunxin could tell Wen Mi was the decision-maker here. “Would you all like to come and live with us?”
Outside the hide covering her, Li Cunxin’s feet curled their toes nervously, tapping together before separating. “We have someone on our side whose talent is Ceramics, and we’re building a brick house now. I also know how to farm. We have rice and wheat. As for food, if you’re willing to put in the work and the weather cooperates, we can basically eat our fill. Also, cotton, cotton… there’s a girl who can weave. This year we made cotton quilts, so the cotton wasn’t quite enough. But next year she can weave cloth and make clothes. Would you all like to come…?”
Ning Yikui listened with rapt attention, perking up and joyfully exclaiming, “Yes!”
Zhou Huan said, “Your talent is farming? Besides rice and wheat, what else do you grow?”
“Chinese cabbage, radishes, sugarcane, notoginseng, ginger… and potatoes. We haven’t started planting those yet. I was picking the land to plow and start planting when Mei Wenqin dragged me away.”
“Aiyo, how can you be such a dear, little girl?” Zhou Huan laughed.
Wen Mi lightly patted Di Wanling’s arm beside her. Di Wanling turned her head back. In the dark room, her pitch-black eyes looked at Wen Mi, part analysis, part commentary. “More people, more skills. Everyone looks after each other. Doing anything is easier, and surviving is easier, too.”
Wen Mi hadn’t given her opinion. Di Wanling knew she needed time to think it over, so she changed the subject to help her out.
The five lay on the kang, chatting off and on. Mostly, it was Zhou Huan and Ning Yikui talking with Li Cunxin.
Unnoticed, the voices grew quieter and quieter. Li Cunxin didn’t know when she fell asleep.
When she woke up the next day, Li Cunxin felt her body’s pain nerves had had time to catch up. Her arms were swollen and painful from overexertion, difficult to lift. She was banged up all over with bruises. The scrapes on her face and hands had already scabbed over. They didn’t hurt much if left untouched. The bump on her head hadn’t subsided yet, but she was sure she hadn’t hit it hard enough to cause any brain damage. Her mind was still sharp.
She changed into her dried clothes and stepped out of the adobe house, finally able to see what the outside looked like.
Coming out of the room, she saw a shaded shelter to her right. Under it was a long table, likely the table where they all ate their meals. There was no kitchen here. Next to the long table, they had only built an open-air clay stove. On the stove sat a clay pot whose shape wasn’t perfectly rounded.
Ning Yikui was boiling water. Seeing Li Cunxin come out, she said, “Hey, you want to wash your face? Ask Sister Huanhuan to take you to the stream.”
Ning Yikui shouted loudly in the other direction. “Sister Huanhuan!”
“What is it?!” Zhou Huan’s voice came from the enclosure on the other side of the building.
It was a pen made of tree branches and twigs. A small shed was built in one corner, under which a waist-high earthen wall was piled with soil mixed with weeds.
Li Cunxin saw the poultry figures bobbing their heads step by step inside the pen. Her eyes lit up. She jogged over and leaned on the fence to watch.
So the rooster’s crow she’d heard this morning hadn’t been a dream. There really were chickens here. And quite a few at that.
Li Cunxin did a rough count; there were eleven. The big rooster had a fiery red comb, eyes gleaming like black obsidian, sturdy claws, a ring of yellow-brown feathers around its neck, and black feathers on its wings, arrayed like swords.
Yan Baiyu’s Domestication talent couldn’t be fully utilized in animal husbandry. Li Cunxin only later learned that husbandry wasn’t truly Yan Baiyu’s home field. Although some knowledge overlapped—for animals like rabbits, with clearly noticeable gestation periods, Yan Baiyu could manage quite well—when it came to poultry like chickens, ducks, and geese, she lacked experience. It was initially hard to tell which eggs were fertilized and could be incubated, which was why even now, the big geese hadn’t produced any goslings.
When it came strictly to animal breeding and rearing, that was truly the domain of the animal husbandry profession.
Zhou Huan’s talent was Animal Husbandry.
