Yu Tingwan got her monthly matter at noon.
The dragging pain in her lower abdomen became more and more obvious.
She curled up in a ball, lying on the old wooden desk, her jet-black hair covering her delicate facial features.
No one knew how much time passed, but she slightly lifted her eyes, revealing a face drenched in sweat and without a trace of blood. She reached out toward that piece of brown sugar not even the size of a palm.
Yu Tingwan knew, when menstrual pain is severe, one should drink some brown sugar and egg soup.
This day, she did not go out again.
This rain lasted for two whole days, and the villagers of Linxi Village were cursing the heavens.
The mountain paths were muddy and slippery. Yu Tingwan wouldn’t take the risk of hurrying up the mountain.
Finally, when the sky cleared, she came out of the house, went to the corner to find a half-worn broom, and swept the snow in the courtyard.
The two households were close together, and she heard the voice of the neighbor Wei Shouzhong.
“Where did these jujubes come from?”
Hui-niang, holding needle and thread, didn’t even lift her head: “I went to the river to do laundry early in the morning, ran into Widow Shi. She gave them to me.”
Widow Shi’s son works as an accountant in the county town. Their family’s condition was one of the best in Linxi Village.
She lost her husband early, had hard days, and raised her son with difficulty. Now they had money, but being once poor left its mark—deep down she was still especially stingy and tight-fisted. Even when relatives came over to scrounge, they would only hit a wall.
Hui-niang: “She wants me to help make some meat paste. Before, when the lizheng held a banquet at home, her son had a taste for that dish and thought of it several times afterward, but no matter how she tried, she just couldn’t make that flavor.”
She had a smile in her eyes: “Widow Shi said she’d give me eight wén. I agreed.”
This was considered income for the household.
There were only five jujubes, but they were big and round, looked delicious. They were probably brought from the county by Widow Shi’s son.
While mending clothes, Hui-niang said: “Husband, wash the jujubes and send them to A’Lang.”
But Wei Shouzhong didn’t listen to her words. After washing them, he stuffed two into her arms, then took the rest and delivered them to Wei Zhao, who was lying on the chair pretending to nap.
Looking at the handsome-looking Wei Zhao, a softness flashed in his eyes: “Eat. Since you were little, you loved eating jujubes the most, always running up the mountain every time.”
But in those years, the wild jujubes on the mountain lacked moisture. Not only were they small, they were also sour. Where could they compare to the sweet and crispy ones given by Widow Shi?
Wei Zhao didn’t even lift his eyelids, expressionless: “I don’t like to eat them.”
Wei Shouzhong: “Then what do you like to eat now?”
Wei Zhao had no will to live, nothing he wanted to eat.
Wei Shouzhong: “Then what does A’Lang eat in the military camp?”
Wei Zhao looked at him.
Originally thought he wouldn’t get an answer from him, but unexpectedly, Wei Zhao opened his mouth.
His voice had not the slightest fluctuation, as if speaking about someone else’s matter: “During New Year or festival times, the capital would send me some tribute items.”
Wei Shouzhong: ……
How come he started bragging again.
Wei Shouzhong didn’t expose him, instead followed along and asked: “Can’t tell that our A’Lang is especially favored. Tribute goods are eaten by imperial relatives.”
Don’t know if that particular word pricked him—Wei Zhao’s expression turned gloomy: “Just offering a few petty favors to get me to sell my life, that’s all.”
Why did it sound like there was deep resentment and malice?
Wei Shouzhong sighed: “These years, I often went to ask around. The outside reputation of the Wei Family Army is extremely high. They say that the Great General treats his men well, ensures they eat their fill every meal, and often spends from his own pocket to let you all eat meat.”
What kind of place is the border?
Strong winds, sandstorms, hard days.
Other camps’ soldiers don’t get this kind of treatment. Their duty is to protect the common people, not hesitating to die ten thousand times.
But the Wei Family Army is different.
That young General Wei once said something:
[There are no rules here of trading flesh and blood for peace and stability of the land. The lives of the people are lives, and your lives are also lives! Your parents and brothers are waiting for you to return. You must go into battle alive and come back alive.]
Wei Zhao lightly said: “The army cook often makes me a private meal.”
“As long as there’s no war, every three months the Wei Family Army will go deep into the mountains to hunt. Whoever wins the top prize is heavily rewarded. At night, they even hold bonfire nights.”
When he spoke, Hui-niang paused her work.
The husband and wife listened very attentively, as if from his words they could catch a glimpse of A’Lang’s days at the border.
Wei Shouzhong: “What has A’Lang hunted before?”
Wei Zhao looked at him: “A tiger.”
Wei Shouzhong was surprised: “Really?”
His A’Lang was actually this formidable!
Wei Zhao: “I raised it.”
Wei Shouzhong: ???
Wei Zhao: “Whenever we caught enemy spies, I fed them to it as extra meals.”
Wei Shouzhong: ……
Alright, not believing anymore.
Wei Shouzhong still didn’t expose him: “Then where’s that tiger now?”
Wei Zhao lowered his gaze.
Wei Shouzhong understood—it was because he couldn’t come up with another excuse for his bragging. He laughed and said: “At the time we heard you were selected by the Wei Family Army, your mother and I truly let out a breath of relief.”
He looked at the tall and sturdy Wei Zhao.
“That General Wei is a good man.”
Wei Zhao smiled.
But that smile carried mockery.
“Is that so?”
Wei Zhao: “But good people don’t live long.”
He said coldly and indifferently: “Look, didn’t he just die.”
“Who still remembers him?”
These words sounded strange, but Wei Shouzhong didn’t think too much of it, only assumed A’Lang was heartbroken when speaking of the general.
“Who says so?”
Wei Shouzhong: “All those high officials and nobles in the capital were grief-stricken. Even His Majesty suspended morning court.”
Wei Zhao did not speak.
He was too lazy to say how those people in the capital were the most hypocritical, wearing a skin of false kindness.
The movements from next door—Yu Tingwan, even if she didn’t want to eavesdrop, still heard every word clearly.
She was sweeping the snow with effort, trying to maintain a clear mind free of distractions. But at that moment, Hui Niang’s voice reached her ears.
“His father, why are our bowls fewer?”
Yu Tingwan’s motion stiffened: …
They’re with her.
At this time, Wei Shouzhong was climbing up the stove house roof to repair it: “Count them again, must’ve just been left somewhere and forgotten.”
Hui Niang frowned: “How could I have miscounted? The number of bowls and chopsticks in the house is fixed, now three are missing.”
She had searched inside and out thoroughly, couldn’t even find a shadow of them—it was truly odd. It’s not like the house had been burglarized.
Whether or not the Wei household had been robbed, Yu Tingwan didn’t know. But in the corner of her courtyard by the wall, she saw several bowls stamped with the “Wei” character.
Snow was still falling; on the surface of the bowls was snow as thick as a fingernail. That small patch of ground still had remains of thick, brown gravy.
Yu Tingwan: ???
Why did they all end up in her yard?
Just as she was thinking this, there was a noise above her head. Yu Tingwan looked up—something had been thrown over from next door.
It landed right beside her.
It was a jujube with a bite taken out of it, teeth marks still visible on top.
Yu Tingwan looked at the bowls, then looked at the jujube, and was so angry she laughed.
Meanwhile, over in the other yard, Wei Zhao furrowed his brows as he swallowed the jujube in his mouth.
The jujube was sweet, but to him, it tasted like chewing wax.
There were still two in his hand—he didn’t want to hold them, didn’t want to eat them.
Wei Zhao casually threw the two burdens into the yard next door.
One hit the snow-covered ground, one hit Yu Tingwan on the head.
The little girl held her head, wincing in pain.
Are they treating her home like a junkyard or what!
She really wanted to run over next door and question Wei Zhao why he just couldn’t get along with her!
But after clearly seeing what had hit her, Yu Tingwan felt—maybe she could endure it a little longer.
Yu Tingwan picked up the jujube and took a bite out of it, venting her frustration!