Chapter 62

The village, amidst the hazy drizzle, had its sounds muffled by the pattering rain. Only the cooking smoke remained unchanged.

Xia Qing waited at the village entrance. Seeing Li Cunxin return, she sighed in relief and quickly ran over. “Did you find Mei Wenqin? Baiyu went looking for you—did you not see her?”

Li Cunxin felt completely drained of strength. She was tired, though she couldn’t say where the tiredness was. She simply didn’t want to speak, ignoring the person beside her as she led the donkey straight to the donkey shed behind the adobe house.

Xia Qing saw Yan Baiyu following far behind. Curiously glancing at Li Cunxin’s figure, she jogged over to Yan Baiyu and said, “So you did meet. Why didn’t you give her the hat? Look, she’s soaked through.”

Yan Baiyu looked at the bamboo hat in her hands. “She didn’t want to wear it.”

Xia Qing paused, seemed to understand something, and asked quietly, “Did you find Mei Wenqin?”

“She probably saw it.”

“Then…”

Yan Baiyu said softly, “Don’t ask.”

Xia Qing pressed her lips together, making a zipping motion. Then she remembered. “Yunxiu boiled some hot water and ginger tea. After you two put the donkey back, come quickly to drink some. Don’t catch a cold.”

“Mhm.”

Xia Qing ran on ahead to let Yunxiu know the two were back. By the time they returned after stabling the donkey, the bathwater had already been poured.

For ordinary washing, they used a foot basin. For a full-body bath, they used the same water vat from before, just big enough to fit a person.

With the carpenters’ talent level, timber was freely available, and tools were now gradually complete. A bathtub big enough for a person to soak in wasn’t impossible to make. It was just that, given the current priority of needed farming tools, furniture, tools, and structural components for buildings, a bathtub was way down the queue. Even the foot basins and washbasins were only just now finished—one per household.

After Li Cunxin bathed and changed, she came out. Yunxiu had already reheated the ginger tea once. Though brown sugar had been added, it couldn’t mask the spicy, pungent taste of the ginger threads.

With Xia Qing’s warning, Yunxiu and the others didn’t mention Mei Wenqin at all. Everyone chatted about ordinary, trivial things, as if nothing had happened.

Other villagers who didn’t work with livestock weren’t very concerned about one less donkey in the village. Those who did work with livestock, though pained by the loss of a donkey, accepted that it had died of illness—there was nothing they could do. And they had to be grateful that the donkey’s illness hadn’t been contagious; the other livestock were still healthy.

During the meal, Li Cunxin had no appetite. She ate half a bowl, then put down her chopsticks. She stared blankly at the remaining rice, thinking she couldn’t waste food. She stood up with the half-finished bowl, instinctively about to take it to feed Mei Wenqin.

Yan Baiyu, Xu Yin, and Yunxiu, sitting nearby, all looked at her. A moment later, she sat back down, picked up her chopsticks, and started eating again. The three exchanged glances, but in the end, said nothing.

The next day, the rain was still falling. Li Cunxin held a hoe, clearing drainage channels in the backyard vegetable garden. The newly planted vegetables and melons needed rain, but not too much.

Li Cunxin wore short sleeves, only a bamboo hat on her head. She shuffled along in her straw sandals. The rain splashed mud spots onto her calves. When the rain slanted in on the wind, it soaked a patch of the back of her shirt.

“Village Chief.” Someone came to the back door and called her.

Li Cunxin, enjoying the coolness of the fine rain and light breeze outside, didn’t move. “What is it?”

Yu Muyang pushed the person beside him aside and squeezed to the front. “Shen Hu has something to discuss with you. Can you pause what you’re doing for a bit?”

Li Cunxin came inside from the back door, leaning the hoe against the wall, and took off her hat. “Go ahead.”

Shen Hu had a square, honest face. Long-term outdoor work had tanned his skin dark, making his two eyes exceptionally bright. He glanced at Yu Muyang, who lifted his chin, signaling him to just speak plainly.

Shen Hu rubbed his hands together and said, “Village Chief, before the new year, I mentioned to you that I wanted to try making paper and ink. At that time, you said you’d consider it.”

Li Cunxin couldn’t recall for a moment. She looked at Yu Muyang. Seeing his expression, it seemed this really had happened, so she didn’t bother trying to remember. She nodded. “I did say that.”

“I just wanted an answer.” Success hinged on a single word from Li Cunxin. Shen Hu said, “Look, that bulletin board at our entrance—we write on it with charcoal and wash it off, and now it’s just a grimy black mess. Writing isn’t smooth, the characters are blurred. If we make paper and ink—paste up a white sheet, dip a brush in ink and write—black on white, clear as can be. You could write characters the size of a fingernail and still read them. Once you’re done writing, just peel off the paper and paste on a fresh sheet. Usually, Village Chief, if you need to keep accounts or notes, you’d have something to write on. Written records are easy to store. Also, with paper, in the future we can use it for window screens, make paper umbrellas, and then there’s… toilet paper…”

Shen Hu genuinely wanted this assignment. He couldn’t help but market it vigorously. He had an urge to pioneer within his talent’s domain—things he could make that others couldn’t gave him a sense of accomplishment, setting him apart from the crowd, not just a replaceable cog. It was about realizing his own value, especially since the village hadn’t yet developed this industry. It made him itch with eagerness.

Truthfully, Li Cunxin understood the importance of paper and ink. As their material conditions were gradually met, what they’d need next was spiritual solace. They had no cloud storage here, no electronic documents, no data. Traditional means of recording and transmitting information were none other than brush and paper. For now, they couldn’t speak of cultural heritage. But at the most basic level—exchanging information on that bulletin board, recording attendance and work logs at various locations—they needed it.

“It can be done,” Li Cunxin said flatly.

Shen Hu’s face lit up with joy. He smacked a fist into his palm.

Li Cunxin asked, “What tools will you need for papermaking and ink making?”

Shen Hu said, “There are many raw materials for papermaking. Some use green bamboo, but that takes too long. Usually, bamboo paper is made where bamboo is cheap and trees are expensive. Here, we don’t lack trees. Among the timber Xia Qing and the others bring back, there’s paper mulberry. They don’t use the bark, which is perfect for me to make bark paper. As for tools, I need a water trough, a large cauldron for boiling the materials, and I also need Miao Bing to specially weave me several bamboo screens for sheet-forming. As for ink making, inksticks come in two types: pine soot ink and oil soot ink. One uses soot from burning pine wood, the other uses soot from burning tung oil.”

Li Cunxin asked, “Which do you think is better?”

Shen Hu said, “For us, the first is more economical. There’s plenty of pine here, and it produces a lot of soot. I’ll just need Miao Bing to make some bamboo sheds.”

Li Cunxin said, “I’ll go talk to him.”

Shen Hu seized the momentum. “The main ingredients for an inkstick are soot and glue. I was thinking—didn’t we have a donkey die of sickness? Its hide could be used to make glue.”

Li Cunxin abruptly looked at him. Yu Muyang, who was drinking water off to the side, sprayed it all out, coughing violently.

Li Cunxin merely glanced at Shen Hu once before looking away. Gripping the armrest of the bamboo chair, she gave a helpless laugh, as if she had many words to say, all of which dissolved within that laugh.

Shen Hu was about to speak again when Yu Muyang stepped forward and grabbed his arm. “Alright, since this is decided, you go figure out the details yourself. If you need bamboo weaving, go to Miao Bing. If you need stone tools, go to Feng Huai. If you need sheds built, go discuss it properly with Zhao Penglai.”

Yu Muyang hauled the man out, not forgetting to say to Li Cunxin, “You keep busy, we’re off.”

Yu Muyang dragged the man outside. Shen Hu said, “Hey! Brother Yu, Brother Yu, I wasn’t finished!”

Yu Muyang pulled him a bit farther, then let go of his arm and jabbed a finger at his forehead. “Are you a pig-brain? What were you thinking!”

Shen Hu said, “What did I do?”

“Don’t you know Mei Wenqin—that donkey that died of illness—has been here longer than Yan Baiyu. That donkey was there when the Village Chief settled here. Nine years, brother. Damn it, you’re not even as close to her as that donkey! And you talk to her about skinning that donkey’s hide. You-you-you, I-I…” Yu Muyang raised his hand as if to smack his head.

“I was just thinking, waste not, want not. I didn’t know.” Shen Hu pointed a finger at the sky. “I swear, I didn’t know this. If I’d known, I definitely wouldn’t have said that in front of her.”

As Shen Hu spoke, he started to turn back. Yu Muyang grabbed him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to apologize to the Village Chief.”

“Not bringing up Mei Wenqin in front of her again is the best consideration you can show her. Alright, hurry up and get out of here. Go do whatever you need to do.” Yu Muyang tugged Shen Hu away.

In the main hall, Li Cunxin still sat in her chair. Through the open back door, she could see the adobe house in the distance, standing silent within the bead curtain strung by the fine rain. Though there were clouds, the sky was very bright.

Yunxiu came into the main hall to get some meat. The salted meat and sausages made after the pig slaughter hung on the partition wall over here. “You went out and did something again? Your clothes are all wet through.”

Li Cunxin looked back and saw Yunxiu. It took her half a beat to realize Yunxiu was talking about her clothes. “I was out pulling weeds earlier.”

“Wear your rain cape.”

“I was a little hot.”

“It’s still early spring—you have that much internal heat?” Yunxiu noticed her eyes were all red and couldn’t help but reach out and feel her forehead. “Good heavens! You have a fever! You didn’t realize it yourself?!”

Yunxiu put down the slab of salted meat she was carrying and switched hands to check the temperature of Li Cunxin’s forehead again, confirming it wasn’t because her own hands were too cold but that Li Cunxin genuinely had a fever. Yunxiu rushed to the door and raised her voice to call out, “An Ning! An Ning!”

“Yeah?” Someone from the neighboring cooking shed came out, wiping their hands. They were close, and Yunxiu had called urgently, so they ran right over through the rain.

“Is there any houttuynia left?”

“We used it all up two days ago.”

“Then boil a pot of ginger soup. The Village Chief has a fever.”

“Ah? Is it serious?”

“Pretty hot. Hurry, go quickly.”

“Ah, okay.” An Ning hurried back to the kitchen to start the fire.

Yunxiu turned around and saw Li Cunxin still sitting there. Frantically, she said, “Don’t sit in this drafty spot! Hurry and change your clothes, go lie in bed first, and cover up with a blanket to warm up.”

Li Cunxin’s head felt heavy. She spoke slowly and deliberately. “It’s cool sitting here.”

“Sweetheart, you have a fever—do you understand?!” Yunxiu was so anxious her eyes turned red, her native accent slipping out. With Mei Wenqin just having died of illness, she was more wary of sickness than anything.

Li Cunxin drawled, “Don’t worry. Our biology teacher said this is the body’s immune system battling the pathogen. It’s not entirely a bad thing. I’ve had colds before. The fever burns and burns, then it goes away on its own.”

Yunxiu wasn’t buying any of her nonsense. A cold was just the surface symptom. Who knew what was actually causing the cold and fever? “Don’t treat your own body so carelessly. If you won’t listen to me, I’ll go get Baiyu to talk to you.”

“…”

Yunxiu headed for the door, making as if to call An Ning again.

Li Cunxin stood up. “Don’t yell. I’ll go change.”

Only when Yunxiu saw Li Cunxin enter her room did she head back to the cooking shed. Once there, she remembered she’d come to get meat. She turned back. Li Cunxin had already changed and was sitting in the main hall again.

Yunxiu glared at her.

Li Cunxin mumbled, “I don’t want to lie in bed. When I lie in bed, my head gets all muddled and uncomfortable.”

Yunxiu grabbed the salted meat and left, not wasting more words with her. She directly sent someone to call Yan Baiyu.

By the time Yan Baiyu returned, Li Cunxin was drinking ginger soup, frowning as she muttered, “How did she end up calling you back anyway.”

Yan Baiyu walked up to her and gently pressed the back of her hand to Li Cunxin’s forehead. “Aside from a headache, is there anywhere else you feel uncomfortable?”

Yan Baiyu had just come in from outside. Her hands had been exposed to wind and rain. Though dried, they were cool—comfortably cool against her skin.

“No.”

Yunxiu said, “I told her to go lie in bed under two blankets to sweat it out. She wouldn’t do it no matter what. I’m so frustrated. You talk to her. She doesn’t listen to me anyway.” She looked at Yan Baiyu with an expression that said, ‘You lecture her.’

Yan Baiyu, however, appeared very calm. “Feverish sweating happens because the body is recovering, not the other way around—recovery doesn’t happen because you sweat. Covering her with blankets won’t do much. If she feels comfortable sitting here, let her sit.”

Li Cunxin was actually a very stubborn person. Now that even Yan Baiyu was on her side, Yunxiu had no choice but to let it go.

At dinnertime, Li Cunxin already had no appetite to begin with, and on top of that, she’d drunk a stomach full of ginger soup. She only ate two bites of the steamed egg custard Yunxiu made specially for her before putting down her chopsticks. The leftover custard sat on the table and ended up entirely in Yu Muyang’s stomach. Yu Muyang felt several gazes practically boring holes through him.

At night, although Li Cunxin went to bed early, her temperature never dropped. Lying in bed, she was muddle-headed, half-dreaming, half-awake. Her mind was so active it felt like it would explode. When she opened her eyes, though it was clearly late at night, she felt she hadn’t slept for even a single minute.

The spring night was still deeply cold. She felt unbearably hot, but throwing off the blanket made her cold. She sat up in bed blankly for a while. She was truly exhausted, but so uncomfortable she couldn’t sleep.

A halo of bright yellow light spread from the doorway into the room. Li Cunxin looked toward the door. Yan Baiyu, holding a lamp and draped in an outer garment, walked in and stood by the door.

Li Cunxin’s nose was stuffed, making her voice nasal. “Why are you up?”

Yan Baiyu said, “I heard some sounds and came to check.” Li Cunxin’s door wasn’t locked—specifically at Yan Baiyu’s instruction. Even if the probability was low, she was worried Li Cunxin’s fever was caused by some other illness, so she had her leave the door open to make it easier to monitor her condition.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I’m hot.” Li Cunxin felt as if her own breath was shooting fire.

Yan Baiyu walked to the bedside and checked her temperature. “Lie down first. The night chill is strong.”

Li Cunxin lay down. Yan Baiyu carried the lamp out. The glow receded. Li Cunxin sat up again. She heard the sound of the main door opening. The rain outside had stopped, but there was standing water on the path. Yan Baiyu’s footsteps were light, but the sound of stepping on the wet, slippery ground inevitably carried through the still night.

The sound went from near to far, then far to near. Li Cunxin saw the swaying lamplight cast Yan Baiyu’s shadow onto the screen window.

Yan Baiyu came back with a basin of cold water, a washcloth soaking inside. She set the lamp on the table, then went back out to close the main door.

Li Cunxin’s gaze followed her in and out, until Yan Baiyu brought back a chair and sat beside the bed, bending over to wring out the washcloth. “Lie down.”

“I’ll do it myself.” Li Cunxin took the washcloth from Yan Baiyu’s hand and lay down. She unfolded the cloth, wiped her neck with it, then draped it over her face.

Yan Baiyu retrieved the cloth from her face. Warmed by Li Cunxin’s body heat, it had become tepid.

“Go back and rest.”

Yan Baiyu soaked the cloth in the water until its temperature dropped, then wrung it out, folded it several times, and placed it on Li Cunxin’s forehead. “I’ll go back once you’re asleep.”

On one hand, Li Cunxin was embarrassed at being cared for. On the other, she wanted someone there with her.

The candle flame was behind Yan Baiyu, its light not overly harsh or scorching. Only the warmth of the fire remained.

After a while, Yan Baiyu removed the cloth from Li Cunxin’s head, soaked it, wrung it out, and placed it back on.

The two didn’t speak. The room held only the rustling sound of fabric as Yan Baiyu moved. That sound was very calming. Li Cunxin’s forehead was cooler, not so hot anymore. When she fell asleep, she herself didn’t know it.

But though she’d fallen asleep, it still wasn’t a peaceful rest.

In her sleep, Li Cunxin turned her head to the side. The cloth on her forehead slipped off, a water stain spreading on the cotton bedding.

Yan Baiyu rose quietly, bracing a hand on the bed and leaning over Li Cunxin to retrieve the cloth. A murmur reached her ears.

“Mei Wenqin, don’t jump… it hurts so much…”