Volume One: "In youth, our blue robes were thin" - A sheltered child knew nothing of life's warmth and cold

The carriage carrying the three of them stopped on a level stretch at the foot of the mountain. Once they had climbed down, Xing Yan led Uncle Cheng and Ju Ying up Horseshoe Mountain toward his home.

Although Xing Yan knew Horseshoe Mountain better than anyone, apart from the tale of the heavenly horse's hoof, which he had shown off too early at the restaurant, he could think of no other lore worth mentioning. Ju Ying had already beaten him to naming the scenery, too. He could hardly invent a "Horseshoe Mountain at Dusk" alongside her "Horseshoe Mountain at Sunset." That would be utterly unoriginal.

Of course, he could perhaps talk about the white stone, adding oil and vinegar to his account of what had happened to him on it that summer night. In truth, that night's encounter had already been beyond ordinary understanding. Even without embellishment, it would probably catch Ju Ying's and Uncle Cheng's interest easily enough.

But with that morning's lesson before him, Xing Yan no longer held any hope that others would believe him. If he told them, the likeliest result would be to ruin his image in their eyes. They might think that, while this boy had usually attributed his earlier tales to people of the past, this time he had actually made himself the hero! Accusations of bragging and suspicions of idiocy would surely follow. So the young guide simply kept silent this time.

In fact, with Xing Yan's intelligence, his repeated reflections afterward had long since convinced him that the strange encounter that night had not merely been a dream. Yet however he considered it, it remained too shocking and extraordinary. He never mentioned it even to his parents.

As he pondered the white stone, the three of them arrived before it without his noticing. Finding the atmosphere rather dull, the boy tried to strike up a conversation.

"Look at this stone, you two. Can you see what it looks like? A bed! I often come here to cool off and sleep. It's wonderfully cool. If a big shade tree grew beside it, this would be the perfect place for a summer afternoon nap!"

While he spoke, Ju Ying had already sat down on it, rocking back and forth on her tiptoes as though testing the height and comfort of this stone bed. But from the corner of his eye, Xing Yan happened to notice that the usually tranquil Uncle Cheng looked rather unnatural as he examined it.

He paced around the unremarkable white stone bed several times, seemingly studying something closely, his lips constantly moving in a murmured mutter.

Finding Uncle Cheng's behavior strange, Xing Yan wondered:

Did my words really move him? Does he want to take this stone home for a bed? Is he estimating its dimensions and figuring out how to dig it up and move it?

Just as the boy's imagination began running wild again, he noticed that Uncle Cheng had stopped. On that face which ordinarily betrayed neither great joy nor anger, Xing Yan now actually detected an unusual expression.

While he was wondering why Uncle Cheng looked astonished, he was surprised to see that astonished gaze turn toward him.

Under the boy's puzzled eyes, Uncle Cheng circled him several times, just as he had circled the white stone.

Has this old fellow mistaken me for a stone too?

Xing Yan was baffled. Beside him, Ju Ying blinked her large eyes, equally at a loss.

"Ha! It merely struck this old man that young Xing Yan is like this white stone: unrefined gold and uncut jade, with a frosty radiance held within. Extraordinary material indeed!"

Coming back to himself, the old man hurriedly explained to the two youngsters. A heartfelt smile had already spread across his face.

So he really has taken me for stone!

Xing Yan could not help sticking out his tongue. The girl cried cheerfully:

"Oh! Who would have thought Xing Yan was such fine material!"

Why did that sound so awkward? The boy could not help shooting a glare at the little girl, whose lips curved in a smile.

They wandered around a little more, then brought their visit to Horseshoe Mountain to an end.

After his earlier astonishment, Uncle Cheng shed his former reserve, and the boy could clearly feel that he had become much warmer toward him.

Did that white stone do something strange again? Otherwise, why would steady old Uncle Cheng suddenly behave so differently?

Looking at Uncle Cheng's face, which seemed born to command respect, Xing Yan entertained this mischievous thought.

It was growing late. With Xing Yan's kindly suggestion and Uncle Cheng's seamless cooperation, Ju Ying and her companion stayed the night at Xing Yan's home. The driver and carriage waited at the foot of Horseshoe Mountain.

Xing Yan's home consisted of three thatched rooms. Though the family was poor, his mother, Zhang Wangshi, was capable and hardworking, and kept the cottage spotless. The Zhang couple were most hospitable. Seeing their son bring visitors from afar, Old Zhang ladled out their homemade pine-nut wine for Uncle Cheng, then cut off a piece of salted pheasant they ordinarily could not bear to eat and had his wife stir-fry it with hazelnuts into two large platters to accompany the wine.

Ju Ying seemed interested in everything about the farmhouse, especially the drinking cup carved from a bamboo root, which she simply could not put down.

A pale spray of orchids had been carved into the greenish-yellow outer surface of the bamboo cup. Though formed from only a few strokes, they brimmed with grace; paired with the rustic bamboo, they possessed a charm all their own. Naturally, this homemade vessel, with its touch of elegance, was the handiwork of young Xing Yan. As she listened to his mother's slightly proud introduction, a glimmer of admiration for this ordinary farm boy flashed through the girl's eyes.

Seeing Uncle Cheng and Xing Yan both drinking wine, and apparently enjoying it immensely, Ju Ying could not resist wanting a taste herself. The family's clear wine, brewed from pine nuts gathered on Horseshoe Mountain, was mild and carried the distinctive fresh fragrance of pine needles. Seeing the girl's eager expression, Xing Yan's mother explained this to Uncle Cheng and poured her a small cup as well. She kindly cautioned her to drink slowly, taking only a little at a time and not swallowing right away, so she would not choke.

Ju Ying therefore imitated Uncle Cheng's appreciative manner, taking a slow little sip and letting the wine roll between her lips and teeth as she carefully savored its clear, mellow flavor.

Ju Ying seemed never to have drunk wine before. Although the pine-nut wine was light and gentle, less than half a cup brought a rosy flush to her cheeks. In the candlelight, she looked lovelier still, like a lotus beneath the setting sun, imbued with an indescribably tender charm.

Who knew this girl Ju Ying was actually quite pretty!

At the sight of her flushed, tipsy face, Xing Yan's heart stirred and his thoughts drifted. His years of training at the Ji Family School came naturally into play, and, accompanied by the clear wine, he chanted in a lilting voice:

"A mountain cottage feast, cups drunk with sunset glow,

The wind bears wine's rich musk through all our humble home;

Slender white hands set candle shadows swaying,

Light floats upon the cups and shines on Horseshoe Mountain."

The boy's recitation brought a different response from everyone present.

The Zhang couple were accustomed to this, knowing their son was composing those strange short sayings again. Though they did not understand them, they were probably the learning taught at the Ji Family School. It seemed their son's schooling had not been wasted, and they were delighted.

Uncle Cheng, meanwhile, was visibly moved, and his gaze toward the boy he had once considered boastful changed again. Ju Ying clearly understood that Xing Yan's poem was about her, and found it rather charming, filling her with delight. Though she merely murmured, "What crooked verse," her cheeks grew rosier still, making her seem even lovelier to Xing Yan.

While everyone drank, Xing Yan's mother kept them company at the side. Only after they had finished did she take up her bowl beside the table and eat with them, chewing slowly.

That night, Ju Ying slept alone in one room, while Uncle Cheng shared another with Xing Yan. The elderly couple spread straw in the kitchen to sleep on.

Uncle Cheng seemed to drift off quickly, but Xing Yan did not fall asleep as readily as usual. Tossing and turning, he watched the soft moonlight filtering through the window and recalled the happy hours of that afternoon. It all seemed like a dream.

In particular, whenever he remembered that light touch in the carriage, countless tender feelings stirred in his heart, and the passage he had studied from the "Airs of the States" in the Book of Songs kept circling through his mind:

"A maiden rode beside me, her face like a hibiscus bloom.

As though to soar, as though to fly, she wore fine pendants of jade.

That lovely eldest daughter of Jiang, truly beautiful and graceful;

A maiden walked beside me, her face like a hibiscus flower.

As though to soar, as though to fly, her jade pendants chimed.

That lovely eldest daughter of Jiang, her virtuous name never forgotten;

..."

For the first time, Xing Yan realized that the Book of Songs, which he had always considered dull, could be so vivid and alive!

Actually, she really is quite pretty...

Amid these tangled thoughts, the boy gradually sank into sweet dreams.

In the next room, Ju Ying saw that clean cloth bedding had been spread over the straw bed, with a fresh-looking fox pelt piled upon it. Beside the square earthenware pillow, she also found a pair of black iron scissors for self-defense, presumably placed there by Xing Yan's mother.

What a thoughtful auntie!

So Ju Ying thought.

After a day of play, the girl truly was tired. The lingering strength of the clear, mellow pine-nut wine was also taking effect. She pulled the warm fox pelt over herself and sank into deep sleep amid the mountain wind, mingled with the calls of night birds and the rustling of woodland leaves...

The next morning, when Xing Yan woke to the twittering of birds, he saw that Uncle Cheng's straw bed opposite was already empty. Too embarrassed to sleep any longer, the boy hurriedly dressed, went to the kitchen, ladled some spring water into a wooden basin, and began washing.

As he was nearly finished, Ju Ying's happy laughter suddenly reached him from outside, mixed with the chirping of chicks. Xing Yan tied up his hair and went out to see what had made her so happy. There she was on the open ground before the cottage, holding a dipper and merrily scattering something for the chicks to eat. As she scattered it, she clucked like a mother hen, playing delightedly with his family's chicks, which had hatched only a few days earlier.

"Xing Yan, come and look! These chicks are so adorable! They're like little balls of fluff!"

Ju Ying cried in delighted surprise.

Seeing how novel she found it all, Xing Yan could not help smiling.

This girl really hasn't seen much of the world. They're only chicks. Are they worth getting this excited over?

Still, her enthusiasm was infectious, and he went over to watch the chicks with her.

But when Xing Yan saw clearly what filled the dipper in her hand, his face suddenly grew somewhat pale. He hurried the last few steps toward her, stared at the dipper, and said stiffly:

"Give that to me, quick."

Ju Ying had not yet realized anything was wrong and said:

"Sure! You can scatter some rice for them too!"

But only after handing him the dipper did she notice that his expression was not quite natural. He seemed distressed, and a little angry as well.

Puzzled, Ju Ying nevertheless asked cautiously:

"What's wrong, Xing Yan? Are you angry?"

"No, it's nothing."

Xing Yan answered, though he was plainly distracted.

"You're lying. You must be angry, and I know I'm the one who made you angry. Hurry and tell me what happened!"

As she spoke, Ju Ying's eyes actually began to redden.

"Don't cry, don't cry! I'll tell you, all right?"

Having rarely faced anything like this, the boy immediately lost his composure and spilled everything like beans pouring from a bamboo tube:

"Do you know what you're scattering for the chicks? Rice! My father has to cross ridges and crawl through gullies, working himself to the bone to catch all sorts of game, before he can trade it for one little bag of rice at a rice shop in town. We normally can't bear to eat it. Mother only cooks rice or rice porridge when guests come. Usually we eat coarse wild grain. It's rough and tastes awful. I doubt you've ever even had it. I don't like it either, but there's nothing we can do. Living off this wild Horseshoe Mountain, whatever money and grain we save barely cover our taxes. If I didn't work as a waiter at the Rice Fragrance House, schooling would be out of the question!"

"When we feed the chickens, Mother gathers wild greens and chops them up. We can't even bear to eat this rice ourselves, so how could we feed it to chickens? Mother probably measured out the rice in your dipper to make porridge for your breakfast. Actually, it really is thanks to you that we'll have any. The last time I ate rice porridge was probably over two months ago..."

Perhaps because his feelings had surged so fiercely, Xing Yan unwittingly said all this in one breath, ending with a bitter smile.

It was hardly surprising that he was so upset. Paddy fields were scarce around Raozhou, mountain produce was cheap, and rice was precious. Xing Yan's family struggled to get by. Old Zhang ordinarily tended their small patch of fruit trees and wild wheat on the rough mountainside. When farm work was slack, he hunted game to take into town and exchange for a little grain to mix into their meals. His family rarely cooked pure rice or rice porridge. Instead, Xing Yan's mother roamed the nearby mountains and fields gathering wild wheat, which she ground into coarse meal to serve in place of rice.

Having poured out his hardships in one breath, Xing Yan gradually calmed down and felt that he had lost control of himself. Still, since he had explained the reason as the girl requested, he assumed the matter would end there.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed.

Unexpectedly, after hearing him out, Ju Ying still could not keep from crying. Now it was Xing Yan's turn to panic, and he hurriedly said:

"Oh! I've told you everything, so why are you still crying? If Uncle Cheng hears, he'll think I've been bullying you!"

"It's not your fault," she sobbed. "I was wrong. I just feel awful..."

"Xing Yan, you little rascal! Why are you bullying our young guest?"

Uncle Cheng did not appear. Instead, Xing Yan's mother, alerted by the girl's crying, came out carrying a basin of laundry to see what was happening.

Still choking back sobs, Ju Ying suddenly felt embarrassed when she heard Xing Yan's mother and stopped crying. Haltingly, she explained what had happened, insisting that it had nothing to do with Xing Yan. It was all her own fault; she should not have fed rice to the chicks.

After her sincere apologies, Xing Yan's mother finally understood the whole affair. But the simple farmwife was no polished speaker. She merely kept saying, "It's not your fault, not your fault," while glaring at her son. Xing Yan now felt that his tone earlier had been excessive, and was genuinely apprehensive himself. Hoping to settle the disturbance quickly, the boy, who had no other useful talents, personally promised Ju Ying that he could continue guiding them that day. Only then did her tears truly turn to smiles.

"Wonderful! You mustn't go back on your word! I'm usually quite sensible, you know. I really just didn't understand this time. Xing Yan, you mustn't keep holding it against me!"

Xing Yan hurriedly said:

"I stopped being angry ages ago. Ha!"

"I never imagined your family had such hardships..."

As she spoke, a watery gleam returned to Ju Ying's eyes.

"Uh... if you cry again, I really will get angry!"

After this little storm, the two had grown much closer without even realizing it.