Chapter 19

After A-Min had run far off, Zhu Xuan finally realized what had happened. She hurriedly grabbed the straw sandals A-Min had shoved into her hands and chased after her.

Sensing Zhu Xuan coming after her, A-Min picked up her pace, running even faster. Seeing this, Zhu Xuan’s competitive spirit flared, and she sprinted harder, determined to catch up. The two children ended up running a long way. Zhu Xuan was quicker and finally managed to grab hold of A-Min.

Both girls were breathless from the run. Zhu Xuan, still holding onto A-Min, asked, “What were you running for? Was there a ghost behind you?”

A-Min paused, unable to explain her own flight. After all, Zhu Xuan wouldn’t eat her, nor would she chase and beat her as her mother sometimes did.

Seeing A-Min’s confusion, Zhu Xuan laughed and teased, “Your brain’s all tangled up, isn’t it?”

A-Min thought she’d been a bit silly just now and started laughing too. The two girls exchanged a glance and laughed together. Zhu Xuan led A-Min to a shady spot and said, “You really run fast!”

“And so do you. You caught up to me so quickly,” A-Min replied.

Zhu Xuan dangled the straw sandals A-Min had given her and asked, “What do these mean?”

Scratching her head, A-Min replied, “I’m giving them back to you. You gave me a pair of straw sandals before. I shouldn’t just take something for nothing.”

Zhu Xuan shoved the sandals back into A-Min’s arms and shook her head, “I don’t want you to return the shoes.”

“Is it because I didn’t weave them well enough? I spent a long time making these, but the pair you gave me was much better. I can’t make them as nicely as you do.” A-Min looked at the sandals she couldn’t give away, assuming Zhu Xuan disliked their rough craftsmanship.

“It’s not that. When I gave you those shoes, I never expected anything in return. But…” Zhu Xuan hesitated, then took the sandals from A-Min’s arms. “Since you spent so long making these, I’ll accept them as a gift. This isn’t repayment—it’s a present for me, just as mine were for you. It’s not about borrowing and returning.”

A-Min didn’t quite understand the difference between exchanging gifts and borrowing-and-returning. Either way, things just traded hands. But since Zhu Xuan explained it that way, they were now exchanging gifts. Then Zhu Xuan asked, “Can you teach me how to skip stones? You’re really good at it.”

A-Min nodded and led Zhu Xuan to the riverbank. She picked up a flat pebble and sent it skimming across the water—nearly thirty skips. She explained, “You have to hold the stone like this.” She demonstrated the grip, then added, “When you throw it, tilt it like this, bend your knees, and throw at an angle with a strong flick of your arm—”

As she spoke, the stone in her hand sailed out, bouncing on the river again—this time twenty-nine skips.

Zhu Xuan imitated her, found a thin stone, and tried several times. Her best barely managed a dozen skips; sometimes, her stones sank after just three or four.

A-Min patiently watched her attempts, quietly finding good throwing stones for her while Zhu Xuan practiced. At last, Zhu Xuan managed a throw of over twenty skips and exhaled happily, calling, “Did you see that? I got twenty-one skips just now!”

“I saw,” A-Min replied, handing her another stone. Zhu Xuan tried again, but her results slipped back to her old level. Seeing her frustration, A-Min comforted her, “You’ll get the feel for it once you’ve practiced enough.”

Then A-Min glanced at the sky and said, “I have to go. If I don’t head back soon, my father and the others will come looking for me, and I don’t want to get a beating.”

Zhu Xuan watched her start across the bridge toward home, wanting to call her back. But A-Min stopped first, turned, and gazed at Zhu Xuan with her big, bright eyes. Her lips moved, and at last she called Zhu Xuan’s name, “Sister Xuan…”

“Yes?”

“Can I still come play with you in the future?” A-Min asked.

“Of course you can! As long as we’re both free, why wouldn’t we play together?” Zhu Xuan replied.

Receiving Zhu Xuan’s confirmation, A-Min smiled, a real child’s light flickering on her face, before glancing away and heading home. Zhu Xuan watched her back and couldn’t help but smile as well.

…

At the Zhu family, the autumn harvest was as exhausting as a campaign, stretching over several days. After cutting the rice, there was still hulling to do, and while the weather held, the grain had to be dried and turned in the sun. The straw needed to be bundled, and the fields, once cleared, had to be plowed again, ready for sowing spring wheat as soon as the earth was soft enough.

All this work kept the whole family busy in the fields, leaving no time for anything else. There was no room for laziness—skimp on work now, and the harvest would suffer.

Living off the land meant little more than bare subsistence, even here in Southern Directly Administered Prefecture.

The land in Reed Marsh was good; plant almost anything and it would yield a crop, with two harvests a year for grain. Southern Directly Administered Prefecture was among the first to receive the new seeds brought in by the Princess Royal and her people, which doubled yields, and taxes weren’t too heavy, so plenty of grain remained after levies.

Corvée labor was never called for during the autumn harvest. When work was demanded by the village, it was digging irrigation channels—something that benefited everyone. People didn’t mind, knowing that the new system of waterways would turn every field into a paddy.

Corvée wasn’t the endless toil it had been under previous dynasties, where laborers could be worked to death. In the current Yue Dynasty, accidental deaths during corvée were considered serious incidents, reflecting poorly on the officials in charge, so a balance of work and rest was observed.

When King Yue was still a rebel leader, within two years the people already loved him and his daughter, for they ensured that no one starved, that taxes weren’t oppressive, and that corvée no longer meant losing lives.

As times improved, the Princess Royal even began to care about children’s education, striving to ensure that “the young have somewhere to learn.” Though the goal wasn’t fully achieved, the common folk had modest expectations and already felt life was good.

To scrape by on the land was already a blessing.

This was the Zhu family’s life now. But to hope for more through farming alone was hopeless—no one ever got rich just by farming.

Old Man Zhu did have skills to earn extra money besides farming, but it was never his main occupation; the land remained central. Zhu Ming found better opportunities working elsewhere than he could by toiling at home, and what he brought back was more substantial than any increase in the harvest.

During these days of autumn harvest, the whole family worked from dawn to dusk, and Zhu Xuan was so tired she could barely straighten her back. After school, she not only had to gather pigweed but also bundle straw in the fields.

Even Zhu Ying couldn’t play freely anymore—her only job used to be watching over little Zhu Di while playing with him, but now she was being taught to do some small chores.

Zhu Di, being the youngest, didn’t have to work, but with Zhu Ying less available to watch him, Shen Yun fashioned a cloth sling to carry him on her back while she cooked and worked.

She’d done the same for Zhu Lian, Zhu Xuan, and Zhu Ying when they were little and work piled up. Granny Sun, worried that Shen Yun might injure her back while pregnant, often helped carry little Di as well.

In the end, several family members took turns carrying Di around the house.

Her deskmate, Chen Qiusheng, was also exhausted every day. Her family were farmers as well, and as their only daughter, she was naturally sent to school.

Most of the girls in the village school were eldest daughters; Zhu Xuan, second in her family, was an exception.

Since the first girl sent to school could earn the family grain money, even Xiu Ying, who wasn’t very bright, was sent because she was the eldest and brought in those three years of silver and grain. It was hard to say whether her grandmother sent her for education or just to earn the subsidy; selling wontons alone couldn’t support both grandmother and granddaughter.

But the second and third daughters didn’t earn grain money, so few families sent them. Those who could afford to send all their daughters were rare, and if they were that enlightened and wealthy, they’d hardly bother with the village school; the truly rich had their daughters tutored at home or in private academies.

So when Zhu Xuan told Chen Qiusheng that even her eldest sister Zhu Lian had to carry little Zhu Di, Chen Qiusheng looked surprised. “Xuan, you’re the second daughter?”

“Yes, didn’t I say so on the first day?” Zhu Xuan didn’t understand the question. Chen Qiusheng explained, “Your family is really good. They sent you to school even though you don’t earn the grain money.”

She quietly added, “My mother is expecting again, so I’m especially busy these days. She has to rest, and I have to do a lot of chores at home.”

Zhu Xuan replied, “My mother is expecting too. It’s been a while—she’ll give birth in two or three months.”

Chen Qiusheng looked up and said, “I heard that if it’s a girl, she’ll stay at home, but they’re hoping for a boy this time.”

Zhu Xuan asked, “Do you want a little brother or a little sister?”

Chen Qiusheng thought for a moment. “A brother, I think. My mother hasn’t had another child since me, and she’s taken all sorts of medicines and worried a lot. If it’s another girl, she won’t have it as good as me, and my mother will have to try again. Without a son, my aunt always says nasty things, calls my mother ‘useless.’ My aunt has two sons and is unbearable. If my mother has a son, she won’t be bullied anymore.”

Zhu Xuan had never dealt with such family squabbles, since the Zhu household had only one branch and lived harmoniously. She didn’t really understand the troubles in bigger, multi-branch families, so she just went back to her copybook.

The village school had a holiday every ten days. When Zhu Xuan finished her writing, she began packing her books; it was time for the break.

The children were restless with the prospect of time off. That afternoon, Master Huang had business elsewhere and didn’t teach, telling them to self-study; once their copybooks were done, they could leave early.

At that moment, the sounds of a wedding procession—music and drums—carried from the street into the school. Zhu Xuan paused, and someone among the children shouted, “A rich family’s wedding outside!”

The first-year students were instantly in an uproar, all running out to get a look. With the teacher absent, they scrambled up the courtyard wall to watch. The second and third-year teachers, still present, heard the commotion, discovered their classrooms empty, and found the kids all clambering on the wall to see the bride.

Only Zhu Xuan and Yuan Fengyi stayed inside; Yuan thought it pointless, and Zhu Xuan felt she shouldn’t betray the teacher’s trust and wanted to behave during self-study.

The second-year teacher came banging his bamboo yardstick, finally dragging the children down. He scolded the restless class, “In ancient times, even if firecrackers went off outside, the wise students wouldn’t be distracted. But you lot lose your heads over the slightest excitement. Your teacher steps out and you run wild.”

In the end, all the children except Yuan Fengyi and Zhu Xuan were lined up for a smack across the palms. Chen Qiusheng’s hands turned bright red from the ruler.

But as soon as the teacher left, she eagerly told Zhu Xuan what she’d seen: “It was the wedding of the Guan family from Green Duckweed Village—the ones who run the oil mill and got rich enough to move to the county seat. The bride is a girl from your Reed Marsh, and they say she’s stunning. Such a grand affair—eight men carrying the bridal sedan, sixteen musicians in front, more people carrying gifts, and a whole basket of copper coins thrown for the crowd to snatch…”

“It’s a shame you didn’t see it,” she said, undeterred by the sting in her palms.

Hearing her vivid retelling, Zhu Xuan couldn’t help but feel she’d missed out on something lively.