Chapter 47

The night passed without a word. In the morning, when Li Cunxin woke, still a bit groggy, she moved lightly and quietly, afraid of waking Yan Baiyu. She sat up and saw the other side of the bed was empty. So Yan Baiyu was already up.

Slipping on her sandals, she pushed open the bedroom door. The main door outside was open, light pouring in, filling the room with brightness.

A figure stood backlit in the doorway, turned slightly to the side as she combed her shoulder-length hair. The long hair was haloed in soft light, as soft as dark clouds.

The early summer morning breeze held a hint of mint, blowing that hair like wisps of smoke, sending it into the room, right before her.

She wasn’t sure if her head felt heavy or clear. She seemed to feel those light, soft strands brushing against her face. There was an itch somewhere on her body, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly where.

Yan Baiyu had heard the sound when Li Cunxin opened the door. She turned to look back. Li Cunxin was still standing dazedly by the door. Her eyes seemed very focused on her, yet also vacant, unfocused.

Yan Baiyu asked, “What are you looking at so intently?”

“Your hair. It’s beautiful,” Li Cunxin said.

Yan Baiyu held a lock of hair in one palm, a boxwood comb resting at the hair’s ends in the other. Her combing motion clearly paused. Her half-lowered eyelids, which gave her a languid look, lifted in that moment. Her lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but what she gave Li Cunxin was silence.

Li Cunxin genuinely thought Yan Baiyu’s hair was beautiful. She also wanted to help comb it, but she felt a little too shy to ask.

A person like Yan Baiyu—her knowledge, her abilities, her refinement, and her appearance—all made Li Cunxin feel she was someone exceptionally excellent and outstanding. Such excellence inspired admiration and envy, but excessive excellence also created an intangible pressure, a sense of distance.

Li Cunxin could very naturally and easily offer to comb Liu Cuo Jin’s hair. Whether Liu Cuo Jin agreed or not, it didn’t matter to her. She felt she and Liu Cuo Jin were on the same level, and the path to closeness was smooth.

Yan Baiyu stood on a step. Li Cunxin would be more cautious about approaching, wouldn’t treat her casually. Like wanting to help comb her hair—the words reached her lips, but she hesitated, feeling slightly uneasy. Having hesitated that one moment, she didn’t say them.

“…” The way Yan Baiyu had clearly been stunned for a moment, followed by that long silence, also dampened Li Cunxin’s initiative.

Li Cunxin remembered mentioning her hair before, and the atmosphere had been quite nice then. Now, with Yan Baiyu’s silence, the mood suddenly shifted. She felt as if needles were pricking the soles of her feet, not knowing how to act. Explaining further didn’t seem appropriate. She could only change the subject.

Li Cunxin said, “I’ll go see if Yunxiu and the others are up yet.”

With that, she stepped out the main door and headed straight for the adobe houses at the back without looking back, muttering on the way, “Why didn’t she say anything?! Why didn’t she say anything!” How strange. Something in her body felt off, like when you can’t sleep at night, recalling an embarrassing moment from long ago, your toes curling tight, wanting to howl, wanting to dig a hole and bury yourself, wanting no more part in the world’s troubles.

Yunxiu and the others were already up, busy with breakfast in the kitchen. Yu Muyang sat in a chair in the yard, brushing his teeth like a lord. “Hey, Village Chief, you’re up.”

Li Cunxin looked at him, then at the kitchen. “Can’t you go give Yunxiu and the others a hand?”

“I wanted to help, but Yunxiu chased me out, said I just cause more trouble. Besides, this kitchen is too small. You can barely turn around with a few more people inside. When are we building a bigger kitchen?” Yu Muyang said. “Oh, right, Village Chief, how is it living in the new house?”

Li Cunxin thought for a moment. “Very comfortable. Spacious and airy. You can even turn over.”

“That’s great.” Yu Muyang leaned on the table, propping his chin on his hand.

“Jealous? Then hurry up and fire more bricks and tiles. Now that the ramie’s used up and the newly planted batch hasn’t grown yet, and it’s not farming season, except for Xia Qing and Yikui, everyone’s going to help you. Even the animal power is all used on your side. When you get to live in a new house depends entirely on how fast you can fire bricks.”

“But isn’t the storehouse being built first?”

“You dummy. The faster the front is built, the faster the ones behind get scheduled. If the front dawdles, how long will the rest drag on? We’re building houses in the order people arrived here. After Xia Qing, Yunxiu, Uncle Xu, and Penglai’s houses are built, it’s you and Wang Ran’s turn. Don’t think building the first house took so long. We weren’t familiar with it then, and we’ll get more and more skilled as we go. Once we’ve stockpiled enough bricks, maybe when everyone pitches in together, building one house won’t even take half a month. It could all be finished by early next spring. Even with delays, at least your and Wang Ran’s houses will have a foundation this year, right?”

The listless Yu Muyang immediately perked up, fixing his eyes on Li Cunxin’s face. “You guarantee it’ll be arranged this year, and no other projects will push our house-building aside.”

Li Cunxin said, “The prerequisite is that we have enough bricks on hand.”

“With your word, even if my hands break, I’ll have the bricks ready before construction starts!” Yu Muyang’s blood boiled. He declared grandly, but after speaking, felt a bit of trepidation. Gripping his willow branch toothbrush, he ran off, saying as he ran, “No, let’s leave those words for later. I’m going to check on the brick kiln first.”

Watching Yu Muyang’s departing figure, Li Cunxin shook her head with an amused smile. That shake somehow shook out the little bit of awkward, strange feeling from earlier with Yan Baiyu in the new house.

After checking the brick kiln and returning, Yu Muyang not only wanted Li Cunxin’s word this time, but also demanded Zhao Penglai give a firm promise.

After that, he howled with energy, worked with deadly effort, not even willing to pause for a breather, and wolfed down his meals.

Zhao Penglai clicked his tongue in wonder. He asked Li Cunxin, puzzled, “What did you say to him to make him work so hard? When I urged him before, he didn’t budge. He fired just as many bricks as before.”

Li Cunxin thought for a long time, then looked at Zhao Penglai and suddenly said, “I have an idea.”

Listening to her subsequent words, Zhao Penglai’s eyes slowly widened, and the corners of his mouth curved up, revealing an excited expression.

Before the meal, Li Cunxin announced this plan to the group.

If, before the weather turned cold, they could stockpile enough bricks, then this year they would set aside all other activities. Apart from farming, they would only do one thing: build everyone’s new houses.

Normally, they pushed forward on all fronts simultaneously—food, construction, clothing, hunting and animal husbandry, resource scouting, various woodworking and bamboo weaving, plus the planned autumn trip west to the Salt Mine for salt extraction and iron smelting. While the foundations of life were gradually improving in all aspects, the scattered focus slowed progress.

Now, Li Cunxin singled out house-building as the sole focus. Specializing in one task would double efficiency, and the faster they worked, the sooner they’d benefit. How swiftly they moved determined how soon they’d get their own houses.

When Li Cunxin’s words came out, no one objected. Instead, someone asked, “Really?”

“Of course it’s true.”

Most people just nodded, appearing taciturn. Someone responded, “Well, that’s great then!” Their words were brief, lacking elaborate speech.

But Li Cunxin sensed the atmosphere at the table become restless, fervent, after she spoke.

The next day at the brick kiln, everyone began working without reservation. It wasn’t that they hadn’t worked hard before, just without this current level of near-madness.

Even Xia Qing and Ning Yikui, having assembled the handcart, set aside their woodworking to rush over to that side. Even the immovable Xu Yin worked with a momentum that seemed to overdraw his strength.

Li Cunxin thought, sure enough, some things are etched into their genes. No matter where these people were, deep down, they all wanted a house of their own.

For them as modern people, they needed a sense of ceremony, sensory satisfaction. Those adobe houses and bamboo huts were only used for sleeping, and they had to squeeze together with others in one bed. There was no personal space. You couldn’t call it your own home, just a shelter from wind and rain. It couldn’t satisfy them.

What they wanted was a house like the completed new house of the Village Chief: structured and edged, white walls and gray tiles, high eaves, a foundation, doors and windows, a living space, and a bedroom that belonged solely to themselves.

And etched into their bones was not only a longing for houses but also an innate fascination and passion for infrastructure.

Soon, it was the hottest time of the year. Wearing straw hats, their feet in the mud, they transplanted rice seedlings under the blazing sun, sweat pouring like rain.

As the saying goes, once raw, twice cooked. This year’s fields were larger than last year’s, but so were their numbers. Transplanting was actually faster than last year.

After transplanting, the first round of ramie could be harvested. The growing cotton needed topping, and the rice paddies needed patrolling for water.

Farming tasks were busy and bustling. After a few idle days, a torrential rain passed. The temperature dropped a bit, and the subsequent sun’s temper eased from its earlier ferocity.

In this way, amidst the crevices of time, they still managed to make up the shortfall of bricks and tiles that Zhao Penglai had estimated they needed.

Yunxiu cooked. Zhou Huan fed the livestock. Li Cunxin checked the water levels. Jiang Beibei wove. Apart from these four, everyone else became part of the construction crew.

From selecting sites, deciding on house types, measuring and planning, to starting construction, leveling the land, and tamping foundations—they left early and returned late, returning late and leaving early.

Covered in dust, they’d clean their bowls at meals and collapse into sleep.

If before, their work was strenuous, now it was as if on fast-forward. Even Li Cunxin found it exhausting just looking at them.

But they were happy. Nothing excited them more than watching brick walls rise foot by foot, enclosing a defined space.

Li Cunxin worried they’d work themselves sick. Before, even at the best of times, they had meat dishes only once a week for heavy labor. Now, she served meat every three or four days. During that time, they also slaughtered two old hens. She boiled lotus seeds, collected from the lotus pods in the bountiful lake near Zhao Penglai’s camp, along with goji berries they’d discovered and stored earlier, making soup with the hens.

The old hens, raised plump on feed, stewed to release a layer of golden-yellow fat. The chicken broth below had simmered to a milky white. Perhaps it was the lotus seeds, but the soup wasn’t overly salty, leaving a sweet aftertaste.

After the first taste, they scraped the soup pot clean, not a drop left. The chicken meat had been stewed until tender, melting in the mouth. If it weren’t for the hot weather preventing food from keeping overnight, Yunxiu would have saved the chicken, added more water, and stewed it twice more.

The group worked like mad right up until the rice harvest. When building their own houses, they weren’t as meticulous as with the Village Chief’s house, so the speed was faster. Coupled with their growing familiarity with the process and the increased manpower, plus now having a clear goal, their work sped up another notch. By that time, not only were Yunxiu’s and Xia Qing’s houses built, but Xu Yin and Zhao Penglai’s, and Yu Muyang and Wang Ran’s houses were also up. Jiang Beibei and Liu Cuo Jin’s new house was half-built.

These houses still lacked doors, windows, and furniture. Inside and out, they were empty—just bare shells. But they looked at them with fondness, desperately fond.

This was a house that belonged solely to themselves, their own home.