Chapter 2

Several donkeys and mules loaded with goods waited by the roadside at the mouth of the alley, watched over by a farmer.

Daylight had already broken, and all kinds of shops and stalls along the street had opened.

Within just half an hour, the blazing sun hung high overhead, and the whole town of Yunjì became lively and noisy.

An elderly woman with graying hair, neatly and respectably dressed, stood in her courtyard with her household gate wide open. Watching a group of men carry in firewood and charcoal, she shouted loudly:

“Put the firewood into the woodshed. Stack those fifty catties of hay neatly under the shed in the backyard.”

Turning her head toward the house, she scolded:

“Zhu’er! Still not coming out to guide them to the backyard to stack the hay? Just lazing around in the house all day!”

A young man replied while stepping out of the house. He had clearly just woken up, still rubbing the corners of his eyes, yawning and stretching at the doorway.

Seeing the piles of hay, firewood, and charcoal already weighed out beside a large scale in the courtyard, and his father chatting with a farmer, he quickly lowered his raised arms before the old woman could start scolding again. With a grin, he said to the two men about to move the hay with pitchforks:

“Why bother with all that? I’ll fetch the cart from the backyard. Load the hay onto it, and we can move it all in one trip.”

Pei Youwa and three other men carried the firewood into the woodshed. After setting it down, Pei straightened the pieces that were not stacked properly before turning to fetch more.

Several plum trees grew in this family’s courtyard. They were not small—obviously tended for many years—but their bare branches had not yet reached blooming season.

For ease of weighing, the longer pieces of charcoal had already been tied into bundles with rope. One man had carried several loads, stacking them neatly in the woodshed as instructed.

The old woman tidied the white hair at her temples and looked into the shed. Seeing both firewood and charcoal stacked just as she had ordered, with nothing scattered on the ground, she was very satisfied—no need for her to clean up.

Turning back, she saw that the hay had already been loaded onto the cart. One man pulled in front, another pushed behind, while Zhu’er carried two pitchforks, leading them toward the backyard.

Noticing loose hay scattered on the ground, Zhao Lianxing spotted a large bamboo broom leaning against the wall. Without waiting for the old woman to speak, he handed it over to the others to sweep clean.

The old man said nothing. He simply felt the purse in his sleeve, already thinking about settling the bill.

The old woman, seeing how quick and mindful these men were, smiled and said:
“Just sweep the hay into a pile. I’ll gather it up later to start the stove fire.”

A young farmer laughed and replied:
“Auntie, just say the word! Where’s your kindling basket? Bring it out—we’ll pick up the hay and put it in for you.”

This was Zhao Lianwang, Zhao Lianxing’s cousin. He had only started traveling with them last year. Young, lively, and cheerful, he always had pleasant words at hand.

“Oh my, you’re too kind.” The old woman slapped her thigh with a laugh and went into the kitchen to fetch the basket.

When she returned with it, Zhao Lianwang, standing closest, immediately took it from her instead of leaving the chore to others. Bending down, he scooped up the little piles of hay that had been swept together.

With six or seven men working, the courtyard was soon put in order. The messy piles were cleared, and the space regained its usual neatness.

When the work was done, the old man pulled out his purse and paid according to the amount previously agreed upon.

The farmers led their mule and donkey carts out of the alley. It had been a good transaction—quite a large one too. The money was received smoothly, leaving everyone cheerful and satisfied.

As usual, Zhao Lianxing led the way. With the money tucked securely in his chest, he shouted a few sales calls as they walked.

One household came out to look, but upon seeing it was only firewood and hay, asked casually before returning inside.

Pei Youwa, leading a donkey cart, spotted a yellow wintersweet branch poking out over a courtyard wall.

In their rush earlier, he hadn’t noticed.

The double-petaled blossoms were in full bloom, golden and bright. While working just now, he had caught a faint, elusive fragrance. Now he knew where it had come from—this household’s wintersweet had bloomed earlier than other families’ plum trees.

In Meizhu Prefecture, people had a fondness for plum blossoms.

Although Yunjì Town lay on the northwestern edge of the prefecture, where the climate wasn’t as warm and moist as the southeast, it was still common to see many families cultivating and admiring plum blossoms.

The donkey team moved out of the alley. The carts went first, with the loaded donkeys and mules being led behind.

Along the street, Zhao Lianxing cried out his wares. Besides the obvious firewood, he called loudly and rhythmically, advertising mountain goods, furs, dried vegetables, medicinal herbs, and all sorts of items.

When they came to a medicinal shop, the donkey team stopped. Zhao Lianxing and his cousin Zhao Lianwang went inside to inquire while the others guarded the goods outside.

The street bustled with passersby, some glancing curiously at the stalls.

“Firewood, charcoal, hay—we have it all! Buy in bulk and we’ll deliver straight to your door!” Pei Youwa and the others shouted.

As merchants on the road, they were unafraid to call out for business. Still, with too many voices at once, things became confusing, and customers might not understand.

Being one of the older men in the group, Pei took the lead in addressing a customer dressed in a long gown. The others lowered their voices and turned elsewhere to attract buyers, working smoothly without interfering with each other.

“We have chestnuts, hazelnuts, and other dried goods. Spices too—cloves, cinnamon, Sichuan peppercorns. Everyday household items like brooms and hemp rope, all brand new and of fine quality. What would you like?”

The man in the gown didn’t answer. He only peered at the cart, uncertain what he wanted.

Pei, used to such encounters, just smiled and diligently pulled out two coils of coarse hemp rope from a basket at the back of the cart to show him.

After a glance, the man left without buying, hands clasped behind his back.

Pei didn’t bother putting the rope away but left it displayed by the cart, where passing customers could see it easily.

From inside the medicine shop, Zhao Lianwang called out:
“Brother Zhuangzi, you and another fellow bring in that basket of cornelian cherries and that basket of dandelions.”

Wang Zhuangzi answered at once. With another man, he unloaded two full bamboo baskets from a mule’s back, carried them inside, and dumped the goods onto a mat for the shopkeepers to examine.

Seeing that the store was interested, Zhao Lianxing felt relieved and began discussing prices with the shopkeeper.

After weighing and calculating, the shopkeeper showed him the figures.

Just as the transaction was complete, someone outside called softly:
“Brother Lianxing, an old customer wants firewood.”

“Coming.” Zhao Lianxing pocketed the silver and copper coins, excused himself to the shopkeeper, and stepped outside with Zhao Lianwang.

At the door stood a sturdy, broad-shouldered woman, dressed for work in a rough skirt, hemp blouse, and apron.

Her round face was full, with bright eyes and a rosy, slightly oily complexion. Her skin showed no dryness, cracks, or frostbite—she radiated the air of prosperity.

“It’s you, sister-in-law,” Zhao Lianxing greeted her with a respectful bow.

This woman’s family sold meat; her husband was a butcher. The couple’s hearty figures showed that life was treating them well.

“Just happened to see you passing by,” the woman said boldly. “And it’s perfect timing—we’re out of firewood. Come with me, unload a load.” She waved her hand with natural authority, striding off energetically.

Zhao Lianwang chuckled, quickly turning the carts around with the others to follow her home.

Every year, countless caravans passed through Yunjì Town. Their little team of farmers with donkey and mule carts was far from unique.

The butcher’s wife remembered them not only because she had bought firewood and mountain goods from them last year, but also because these farmers had worked diligently and cleanly, with a slightly different accent.

When she learned that they had come all the way from Yanqiu Prefecture in Hexi, crossing the Qingyun River to reach here, she had remembered them well.

And since the couple’s sturdy figures were memorable, and their personalities bold and generous, Zhao Lianxing’s group naturally remembered them in turn.

The butcher’s home was just behind their meat shop. The front was the store, and the back a private courtyard residence.

Both house and shop were their own property—their life clearly comfortable.

The donkey team entered from the back alley, stopping at the rear gate. Without even calling her husband from the shopfront, the woman took charge herself, ordering one load of firewood, several bundles of charcoal, and inquiring what other mountain goods they had.

Two glossy, well-fed black dogs had been lying on the ground. At the sight of strangers, they rose warily, but since the woman had brought the men in, they didn’t bark—only sniffed around the group, the carts, and the donkeys.

Zhao Lianxing opened the baskets and bundles of goods, showing her the quality of the mountain products and dried goods.

From the front, the butcher, hearing the noise in the backyard, called out loudly—

Hearing from his wife that it was firewood being unloaded, he let his daughter watch over the meat stall and went into the backyard himself.

After closing another deal with the butcher’s household, one cartload of firewood was completely emptied, and the remaining four carts had all been reduced—some by half, others by a third.

As he was about to leave, Zhao Lianxing noticed a small bamboo basket placed on the kitchen windowsill. Inside were a few bones, the meat already stripped off, hardly anything left.

He wasn’t sure if they were meant for people or for the dog, but at least they were clean.

He thought for a moment: eight or nine men traveling together for a whole month, mostly eating the dry rations of rice and flour brought from home, rarely buying outside food. Bones weren’t expensive, especially stripped ones.

Boiled into a steaming hot soup, everyone could at least have a bowl. That way they’d get a bit of meat flavor, and it wouldn’t be too poor a meal.

Zhao Lianxing smiled and asked, “Brother Li, how much for those bones? I’ll buy two.”

Butcher Li followed his gaze. Those meatless bones were meant for the house dog, but since the other had asked, he didn’t mind. He went over, picked out two big ones from the basket, and handed them to Zhao Lianxing. “No need to talk about money. Just take them.”

Zhao Lianxing accepted them gratefully, thanking him repeatedly.

---

The sun was straight overhead, a rare winter warmth. Many people were sitting in sheltered corners, basking and chatting.

On the western edge of town stood a dilapidated abandoned house. The outer mud wall was only half remaining, withered weeds and fallen leaves everywhere.

Inside, the beams had rotted away, held up by only a few decaying posts. Even beggars dared not sleep inside, and instead leaned against the half wall, putting up a small shack in the corner.

Outside the wall was a bit of open ground. Ashes lay scattered on the ground—sometimes beggars lit fires there for warmth.

At that moment, several donkey and mule carts were parked on the ground—it was Zhao Lianxing and his men.

Two of the men were building a stove, setting up a pot with firewood. They first put the bones in with water and a strong fire, then set up another small stove where they chopped a basin of radishes and a basin of cabbage.

Once the bone pot boiled, they set a big steamer basket on top to heat coarse wheat flatbreads and mantou.

The radishes and cabbages had just been bought. When they left home, they had brought some fresh vegetables, but space was limited due to cargo, so only enough for five or six days.

These vegetables were cheap; every family stored them for winter, and many grew them. Easy to buy along the road anyway. Besides, they didn’t eat them every day, since they had dried vegetables as well.

They carried a small jar of oil, but since they had eaten wonton noodles that morning and were now making bone soup, the cook didn’t use oil for stir-frying—he just ladled some of the meaty broth into the pot for boiling.

Pei Youwa and a few others were tidying up the messy weeds in the open ground. They cut them with sickles, shook off the dust, and piled them aside for fuel.

Within a short time, five or six men had cleared the area. No more weeds or leaves where they were staying.

The beggar smelled the aroma and couldn’t help poking his head out from behind the half wall.

Zhao Lianxing noticed and casually tossed over a piece of coarse bread.

The old beggar, quick-handed, caught it immediately. His hair was messy, his clothes filthy, and he smelled unpleasant. Luckily the wall and distance kept it from reaching the men cooking.

The bone soup still needed time to simmer.

When the vegetables were done and the bread and mantou were hot, the nine men began eating in silence.

On previous days, after eating they would only rest briefly before heading out to sell again. But now they had reached Yunjì Town, the end of this trip.

It was also the first day, and morning business had been good. Zhao Lianxing told them to rest longer while waiting for the bone soup to finish.

The others were pleased.

This spot was secluded, a bit of a walk and a turn away from the nearest street. Few passersby came, and sometimes beggars or drifters occupied the area. But since they were many, all strong farmers, they weren’t worried.

“Brother Lianxing, are we staying at the same inn as last year?” Wang Zhuangzi asked while glancing now and then at the pot of bubbling soup.

“Mm. We’ll pass by later—I’ll go in and ask the price.” Zhao Lianxing poured himself a bowl of hot tea, squinting up at the sky.

Noon was warmer under the sun, but it was already late November, almost the twelfth lunar month. Nights were bitterly cold, and sleeping outdoors risked freezing. Better to spend some money for a shared bed at the inn.

As long as business was good and sales quick, it would only be two or three nights.

Still, staying at the inn with so many people made eating expensive. So, as last year, they’d cook two meals outdoors during the day and only bring carts and animals into the inn yard at night.

The inn’s gates were locked at night and its walls were high. They could bring the more valuable dried goods and herbs inside, safe from theft.

The bone soup bubbled, its fragrance spreading.

When steaming bowls of broth were finally handed out, everyone stopped talking, sipping and blowing carefully. It was one of the rare moments of comfort on the road.

---

They stayed in Yunjì Town three days and two nights. The five carts were emptied. The firewood sold fastest, while only half the mountain goods and sundries were gone. Zhao Lianxing calculated the time and decided not to linger.

With the carts now empty, he led the donkey team to Fengdeng Street and bought 150 lanterns.

The way back would pass through many villages. Wealthier farm households in the countryside also bought mountain goods or lanterns. Just like the way here, he could sell along the road.

The lanterns of Yunjì Town were somewhat famous. Of the ones he bought, 100 were ordinary paper lanterns and 50 were ornate decorative ones.

Because he bought in bulk, the price was lower than market rate. Reselling would yield some profit, though not much.

That afternoon, the sun disappeared. The sky turned gray and heavy, and a north wind picked up.

After leaving the nearest village to Yunjì, it was already late afternoon.

Following the main road, they reached a fork. Zhao Lianxing, at the front, turned off with the mule, and the others naturally followed.

A group of men on the road—no surprise their pace was fast. After just over half an hour, a few houses appeared ahead, and deeper in lay a village.

Zhao Lianxing was experienced and attentive. He knew nearly every town and village along the route. This second village was called Daliu Village—he’d been here once, years ago.

Winter brought little work; villagers were idle. Hearing peddlers had come, adults and children alike came out to watch, even in the cold wind.

A crowd gathered around the donkey carts. Some looked, some touched, and some wanted to buy.

Items were weighed where needed, unloaded where needed. Zhao Lianxing mostly handled the money, with Zhao Lianwang stepping in when it got too busy.

Pei Youwa opened a basket of jujubes and one of goji berries to show some elderly villagers, all the while keeping an eye on the goods on the cart.

The others did the same. Having traveled with Zhao Lianxing for years, they had suffered losses before, so now they were always vigilant.

Children ran around, squeezing through the crowd.

An old villager wearing a headscarf asked for a pound of dried jujubes. Pei Youwa turned and shouted, “Lianwang, bring the scale!”

“Coming! Let me finish this one first.” Zhao Lianwang quickly weighed another order, then hurried over.

At the back of the group of children, Pei Youwa’s casual glance caught sight of a familiar face. He looked again in surprise.

That thin, timid boy of seven or eight—it was the same child they had seen that morning in Yunjì Town.

So his family lived here.

---

Changxia stood quietly behind the group of children, peering through the gaps at the cart piled with lanterns.

Red, yellow, green, pale purple—so bright and beautiful. His gaze followed the colorful lights, edging closer with the others, but he never managed to squeeze forward.

The neighbor’s child, Xiaoxing, who had pulled him along to play, had already forgotten him, busy staring at the cart.

“Kids, don’t poke at them.” One of the dark-faced men spoke up, stopping the children from jabbing their fingers at the lanterns.

Hearing that, Changxia dared not step closer, only watching from a distance.

The wind was biting, stinging his face and ears. He covered his chilly ears with his hands and rubbed them. His thin fingers were swollen red with chilblains.

His clothes were all patched, his oversized shoes didn’t fit, and his thin garments couldn’t withstand the cold wind. Shivering, he finally ran home.

It was cold at home too, but huddling on the heated bed with his sister and brother, wrapped in quilts, would be much better.