Chapter 3

The thin, small figure ran all the way to a few houses at the back of the village.

One of them had a fairly sturdy mud wall, and the hole in the gate was patched up with nailed wooden planks. A gust of cold wind blew past, making the gate bang loudly.

Changxia ran inside. The banging noise from the door startled him, his heart seemed to jump, so he quickly and quietly shut it.

He was small and short, unable to reach the door latch, so he picked up a stone and propped the door closed.

If the others at home returned, they could push it open with a little force.

With the banging gone, a voice called out from inside:
“Changxia? Or is it Dad?”

“Elder Sister, it’s me,” Changxia replied, running into the thatched main room, and then into the west room.

Jiang Changlian, twelve years old, was sitting with her three-year-old little brother Jiang Changlin, wrapped in a quilt while playing with grass braids. She already knew how to do some mending and sewing, but lately their mother had fallen ill, so she hadn’t received any sewing work.

There weren’t many needles and threads left in the house either. Just yesterday, while chopping firewood, the toe of her shoe accidentally got caught and tore a little. She had been too distressed about wasting precious thread to mend it.

With the weather cold, she could only tend to her sick mother while keeping her younger brother entertained, both huddling under a quilt for warmth.

Fu Xiuyin lay on the heated brick bed, coughing a few times. When she saw her son return, she didn’t say much, just asked her eldest daughter to pour her a cup of water.

Jiang Changlian quickly picked up the teapot from the bed’s edge, poured water, and supported Fu Xiuyin as she propped herself up, feeding her a few sips.

Changxia took off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, and sat by the side, handing his mother a handkerchief after she had finished drinking.

Fu Xiuyin wiped the water from her lips, still feeling weak. She lay back down again, but forced a little spirit and asked, “What did you see?”

Jiang Changlian tucked the quilt over her, then also looked up at Changxia.

Changxia thought for a moment, then spoke softly:
“Mother, there were so, so many lanterns—like flowers, bright red, apricot yellow, and even purple ones.”

Fu Xiuyin smiled faintly:
“Our Changxia even knows apricot yellow now.”

“Yes,” Changxia nodded seriously. “Mother said it once, so I remembered.”

He slipped off his shoes and sat beside his elder sister. Jiang Changlian pulled the quilt to cover all three of them.

The quilt was very old and full of patches. In winter, they dared not wash it, otherwise they would have nothing to cover themselves with. Inside, it was stuffed only with some tattered cotton wadding and bits of straw, all mixed together—barely enough to keep the night’s cold at bay.

The three siblings huddled together, all thin and frail, borrowing warmth from one another.

Inside the quilt, Changxia slowly felt his face and ears stop hurting. He touched the chilblains on his left hand—hard and swollen, though not yet itchy.

He had grown used to these things, treating them like part of play, while chattering about the things he had just seen.

Fu Xiuyin coughed a few more times, then gathered enough spirit to laugh and chat with her three children for a bit.

The front door creaked open. Changxia heard the familiar footsteps, and suddenly—

Then there was no more sound.

Jiang Hai entered the house carrying a heavy bundle of firewood on his back, piled so high it rose above his head.

It was already late. He set the firewood down, closed the courtyard gate, and secured the latch before turning around.

The mud wall had been built years ago, when his father was still alive.

Though the family didn’t own much land, they had one acre of good-quality fields. At that time, he was young, and his parents still had strength. After he married, the four of them worked together. Life wasn’t wealthy, but they always had enough to eat—it could be considered decent.

Five years ago, his father passed away. His mother gradually grew old, then fell seriously ill, spending a lot of money on treatment, and her health worsened so that she could no longer do heavy work.

Because of her illness, he had no choice but to sell that acre of good land.

Originally, he thought once he saved enough money, he would buy it back. But the past few years had been harsh. Three years ago, there was a drought, and the harvest was poor.

Two summers ago, it rained continuously for months, leaving the crops thin and weak, producing little grain. From then on, life grew increasingly difficult.

Last year’s harvest was average; after paying the land tax, the family barely managed to eat their fill.

Since the end of last spring, Fu Xiuyin had fallen ill, and her condition had not improved. She was constantly coughing and feverish, unable to do much work, and every doctor’s visit and medicine purchase cost money.

This winter, her illness worsened. When the fever and coughing grew severe, she couldn’t even get up from the heated bed, confined to lying down.

A few days ago, she had another fright and caught a chill, leaving her bedridden for three days straight.

Jiang Hai himself was also dressed thinly. The cold wind made him shrink his neck and tuck in his hands against the chill.

From the west room came the sound of coughing, and from the east room came his old mother’s labored breathing. The gloomy weather weighed on him, as though a heavy stone pressed against his chest.

—

Seeing the man walk inside, Changxia leaned closer to his elder sister, lowering his head to fiddle with the grasshopper woven from straw in his hands.

“You’re back,” Fu Xiuyin said, followed by two more coughs.

Seeing her flushed cheeks, Jiang Hai sat down by the heated bed and reached out to feel her forehead—she was feverish again.

Jiang Changlian went outside to prepare the medicine.

Hearing movement from the main room, the old woman in the east room called out to her granddaughter, telling her to add some hot tea to the teapot there.

It wasn’t yet dark, but neither room had lit a lamp or candle.

Changxia huddled in the corner of the bed with his younger brother, Jiang Changlin, keeping his head down and saying nothing.

From not having enough to eat, his face was sallow and thin, but his features were well-proportioned, and his teeth grew neatly.

His looks were neither striking nor delicate, but in every way, he appeared decent and proper.

Jiang Hai shifted his gaze from Fu Xiuyin, who was resting with her eyes closed, to his small children. The youngest was still a toddler, though he was a boy.

The eldest daughter was twelve. Though not as strong as a boy, she worked quickly and capably. In another two or three years, she would be of age to marry.

Changxia was eight years old. Though he could already do chores, he was still just a child.

Jiang Hai let out a silent sigh. Picking up the teapot himself, he poured a bowl of tea. The worries in his heart never seemed to fade.

What kind of place was a brothel, he didn’t really know. But at least—there, one could get a proper meal.

If it were selling a child into a wealthy household as a little servant or menial worker, that too was an option. But without connections, and with money so tight, that path was nearly impossible.

No one would willingly sell their own child into the local den of prostitutes. And since the household couldn’t do without people, he couldn’t take Changxia away to some distant place.

He’d heard people say that in Yanliu Alley there was a madam who sold girls to faraway places. As for the price…

The price, of course, was higher than an ordinary indenture contract. If lucky, maybe as much as five taels of silver. Otherwise, he would never have even thought of such an idea.

The scent of medicine drifted into the room.

Even the cheapest herbs cost money.

Jiang Hai set down the tea bowl, his face full of worry and sorrow.

It was the dead of winter—no farm work, no wild greens to dig up. Relying only on himself to work at the docks, or chopping firewood, he could earn just a few copper coins, barely enough to scrape by.

—

They had sold ten or so lanterns, and even managed to sell a pair of decorative flower lanterns.

The north wind howled—it was bitterly cold.

Those with money bought a little of this and that, while those without simply stood around watching the bustle of others buying things. But once the wind picked up, they all went home.

Seeing that it was getting late, they thought about heading to the next village, but it was already too rushed.

Zhao Lianxing struck a deal with two nearby households to let their donkey team stay for the night. They would set out again early tomorrow.

When they had left Yünji Town, it was already past midday. They had only managed to travel for half a day—reaching the next town before nightfall was impossible.

Zhao Lianxing had already planned this. The others knew as well: staying with a farming household in the countryside was cheaper than lodging at an inn in town. That was why they hadn’t lingered longer in Yünji.

Pei Youwa tied up the donkeys and mules, then carried down a few baskets of goods with Wang Zhuangzi, moving them into the house.

After the animals had rested a bit, he brought dry grass to feed them. The other three men worked the well’s pulley, drew water, and filled wooden buckets to give the donkeys a drink.

Pei Youwa fed the other animals first, and only afterward gave his own donkey some dry grass. He stroked its head and patted the dust from its body.

Of the caravan, Zhao Lianxing had the most livestock: three donkeys and three mules.

Zhao Lianwang also had two mules and one donkey. The remaining seven animals had each been brought by the other men from their own homes.

It wasn’t fully dark yet. The cook was preparing food in the neighboring house. Once everything was tidied up, the four men didn’t go over immediately. They knew someone would call them once the meal was ready.

They were staying in a west-side wing room, considered decent for the countryside. The heated brick bed was fairly large—four grown men could squeeze together and manage one night.

They had brought two bedding sets themselves. Winter travel was different from summer travel: they couldn’t simply sleep outdoors. Unless something unexpected happened, they would always stay at a farmhouse or an inn.

But in case they truly had to sleep out in the wild, they brought along a few quilts on the cart when setting out.

Before long—

The host family also brought over two old quilts. Pei Youwa took them, thanked them, and quickly helped the others spread them out—now there were enough.

As they chatted idly, Pei Youwa’s thoughts returned to that child. After mulling it over, he gave Wang Zhuangzi a meaningful look, and the two of them stepped out into the courtyard to strike up a conversation with the host.

Wang Zhuangzi didn’t know what he wanted to ask, so he only added a few casual remarks here and there.

When Pei Youwa finally brought up Jiang Hai from the village, the host man looked a bit surprised. “Him? You know him?”

Pei Youwa was still considering how to answer.

But since the topic was already out, the host man couldn’t help himself and whispered: “I heard that a few days ago, before dawn, Jiang Hai tried to take his second son away to sell him. But his wife found out, chased after him, and managed to bring the child back.”

“Their family used to live decently, but in the past few years the harvests have been bad, and they’ve sunk into poverty. His wife fell ill too, and with no money for proper treatment, she’s only been drinking cheap decoctions. She hasn’t gotten better, and she can’t work either.”

The host man sighed as he spoke. “Six mouths to feed in that household—too old, too young—and not much land.”

Wang Zhuangzi only nodded, without mentioning that Jiang Hai had wanted to sell his child into a brothel.

As for Pei Youwa, when he heard just how poor Jiang Hai’s family was, his interest was stirred again.

Since they’d run into each other once more, perhaps it was fate.

He had to at least ask. If the Jiang family was unwilling, then nothing could be forced. But if they were willing…

After chatting a bit more with the host man, the cook called over the courtyard wall to say the meal was ready. The four of them quickly went over, fetched the food, and returned to eat in their yard.

Pei Youwa ate the fastest, and before long, with his bowl already empty, he headed back to the other side.

When he saw that Zhao Lianxing had also finished eating, he thought for a moment, then called out to him: “Brother Lianxing, come with me to the gate, I’ve got a few words to say.”

When he heard that Pei wanted to buy a child bride for his son, Zhao Lianxing was startled, but then nodded in understanding.

In places struck by disaster, or in households sunk in poverty, such things happened often. And usually, it was better to buy from out of town, to avoid too much entanglement.

Buying a child bride and raising her at home meant that once she grew up, a marriage could be arranged simply—just set two tables of wine and food, no need for a bride price, no need for lavish gifts. It was far more economical.

Ordinary marriages required matchmakers, back-and-forth visits between families, and sometimes things wouldn’t work out.

But a child bride raised in the household meant that if they truly wanted her to marry into the family later, it was a certainty.

And even if, once grown, she didn’t marry their son, she could still be married off into a good household elsewhere—there would be no loss either way.

Seeing how determined Pei Youwa was, and learning exactly where Jiang Hai’s family lived, Zhao Lianxing agreed to go with him to the back of the village.

—

“Who’s there?” Jiang Hai heard knocking at the door and was puzzled. At this hour, who would come knocking? Everyone was at home, hiding from the wind and cold.

“Is this Brother Jiang Hai?” came a voice from outside, unfamiliar.

The door opened, and standing there were two unfamiliar men, clearly not from the village. Jiang Hai looked them up and down and asked, “What do you want?”

“We’re traveling merchants,” Zhao Lianxing clasped his hands politely. “We’re resting in the village for the night.”

Pei Youwa also gave a courteous salute. He exchanged a glance with Zhao Lianxing, who understood, but still exchanged a few pleasantries before tactfully stating their purpose.

Jiang Hai was about to drive them away—he thought they were going door to door trying to sell things. Lately, he had been brooding over money troubles and was in no mood for peddlers. But unexpectedly, these men asked about his children.

“You…” he began, then stopped short.

Pei Youwa spoke directly: “It’s my idea. I have a young son, five years old this year. I want to bring home a child bride for him. Brother Jiang, you can rest assured—if she comes with us, we will certainly raise her with care.”

Jiang Hai was silent for a long time. His lips moved slightly, his brow furrowed even deeper.

One less mouth to feed meant saving some grain and flour.

He studied Pei Youwa. Compared to the man beside him, whose clothes had no patches, Pei did not look like he came from a very wealthy household.

But still—it would mean some money.

He said, “This matter… I need to discuss it.”

Zhao Lianxing nodded. “If fate allows, you can find us at the front of the village tomorrow morning. We still have a long road ahead, and by late mid-morning at the latest, we’ll have to set off again.”

“Mm.” Jiang Hai nodded and said nothing more.

After Zhao Lianxing and Pei Youwa left, he shut the door. As soon as he entered the west room, he saw Fu Xiuyin on the kang bed, eyes open, asking, “Who was it?”

Jiang Hai glanced at the two children curled up in the corner of the bed. After a moment of silence, he called to his daughter outside: “Changlian, take your brothers to your grandmother’s room for a while. The bed there is warmer.”

Hearing this, Jiang Changlian came in, gave her parents a look, then led her two younger brothers away.

On Jiang Old Mother’s kang was spread the thickest old quilt the family owned.

Money was short, and most of the firewood they chopped was taken to town to sell. Apart from cooking and boiling water, they seldom lit the stove at home.

Changxia had heard the voices of strangers outside, and seeing her father come back with that heavy expression, she grew very uneasy.

In the west room—

Fu Xiuyin was wracked by another violent cough, her cheeks flushed red. Barely able to catch her breath, she rasped hoarsely, “No! Absolutely not!”

For a long while Jiang Hai said nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

At last, he came back to himself and spoke in a low voice: “They’re a decent family. They know how to work hard and have the courage to travel this far to make a living—it shows they don’t lack food at home. Besides, it’s for their five-year-old son, to raise her as a child bride. A proper household, not some disreputable place. Better than…”

He trailed off, his brows knitted into a river.

Better than selling her to a brothel.

Life had truly become unbearable. What those two men said had indeed shaken his resolve.

Fu Xiuyin closed her eyes and ignored him.

Jiang Hai looked at her flushed cheekbones—an unnatural redness. His heart grew even heavier with frustration.

She could still hold on for a few more days, but the New Year was approaching, and without money or food, how would they survive afterward?

When it truly came down to the last desperate choice, the one to be abandoned would still be Changxia.

Shuang’er would eventually marry out anyway—better to send her off early. Even if the money wasn’t much, it was still better than selling her into a madam’s hands.

In a low voice, he said, “You’re feverish again. Once you finish this dose of medicine today, I’ll need to get more tomorrow. But with the firewood I chop—if I buy medicine, I can’t buy much rice or flour. We’ll all go hungry.”

“Following us means only suffering. The little one is so young, eating one meal and missing the next. He’s so thin he doesn’t even look like a three-year-old. Without food, who knows if he can even survive.”

As he spoke, he laid out the pros and cons, and at last made up his mind. He sighed deeply: “If only I had two or three taels of silver, I could take you to the town’s medical hall for good medicine. Perhaps one or two proper prescriptions would be enough to set you right.”

“Changlian and Changlin could have a full meal. With some money in hand, they might see hope for the future.”

“As for Changxia… let’s just say fate wasn’t with him.”

Fu Xiuyin still kept her eyes closed, tears sliding silently from the corners of her eyes into her hairline.

·

Before dawn, Changxia stirred in a half-dream, blinking his eyes open to see an oil lamp burning on the table by the kang.

The faint flame was dim, hazy.

The family rarely lit the oil lamp. Seeing his mother sitting there sewing something, he rubbed his eyes and whispered, “Mother?”

Fu Xiuyin muffled a cough, and when she heard his voice, her hands paused. Without raising her head, she rasped hoarsely, “It’s still early. Go back to sleep.”

Changxia curled back into the quilt. His feet, which had been icy when he went to bed, were finally warm after the night.

He didn’t move recklessly. He and his two siblings shared a single quilt; the trapped warmth inside kept them from freezing, but if he turned, the bed would grow cold again.

He drifted back into a fitful sleep, never truly at ease.

Morning came.

Several men arrived in the Jiang family’s courtyard. Changxia heard their voices, his expression turning anxious, his eyes filled with unease.

Jiang Changlian sat on a stool at the foot of the kang, holding their youngest brother, still too young to understand anything.

The room door was closed. Fu Xiuyin leaned against the wall on the kang, pulling Changxia close in front of her as she dressed him in an old padded jacket that she had hastily altered.

It had once been hers. The work was rough, time was too short.

She also gave him an extra pair of socks she had mended.

Changxia sat on the edge of the kang, his legs dangling down, gripping his mother’s sleeve tightly in panic.

Fu Xiuyin could not get down from the kang. Turning to her daughter, she said, “Changlian, put on his shoes for him.”

In silence, Jiang Changlian stepped forward and put shoes on her younger brother.

Fu Xiuyin redid Changxia’s hair and straightened his clothes.

The voices outside quieted—it seemed the deal had been made. Suddenly, her tears fell.

Jiang Hai pushed open the door and came in. Seeing Changxia, his lips moved but no words came out at first.

Changxia couldn’t speak; he only clutched his mother’s sleeve tightly, his thin fingers gripping hard.

After a while, Jiang Hai said in a low voice: “Changxia, come with Father.”

Changxia didn’t move. He turned his head only to look at his mother, his eyes filled with fear and sorrow.

Fu Xiuyin’s tears streamed down. In a sudden burst of cruelty to herself, she gave Changxia a push and turned her face away, saying: “Go, follow them. This is no longer your home.”

Her sobs choked her; she could no longer say anything more.

Jiang Hai stepped forward and pried Changxia’s hand off Fu Xiuyin’s sleeve.

Changxia was carried out.

Jiang Changlian followed to the doorway, only watching silently as tears poured down her face like broken beads on a string. She dared not make a sound.

Three-year-old Jiang Changlin seemed to sense what was happening; he stood frozen, not daring to move.

·

The village headman and two elderly men were invited as witnesses. Changxia’s hand was pressed onto the prepared marriage contract.

The contract clearly recorded his name, place of origin, and age. For the price of two taels and five qian of silver, on this certain day, he was sold to Pei Yao of Wanner Village, Fuyang Town, Yanqiu Prefecture, as a child bride.

It was both a marriage contract and a deed of sale.

Pei Youwa poured out broken silver from his pouch, carefully weighed it, and handed the full amount to Jiang Hai.

He had brought two taels of broken silver when leaving home, sewn into his clothes by his husband. Last night he had unpicked it, and just now he had borrowed another five qian from Zhao Lianxing.

Once the money was settled, Changxia was taken away.