A childhood sweetheart's folly

Before He An reached his front door, he saw a glimmer of lamplight coming from inside. He pushed open the half-closed door. Beneath a flame no bigger than a bean, a figure sat with his back to him on a bench, pouring and drinking alone. It was his uncle, He Kui.

There were two sets of bowls and chopsticks on the table, half a bowl of plain rice porridge, two bulbs of garlic, and a dish of kidney beans. Hearing He An's footsteps, He Kui tipped back a cup of wine and said without turning, "Why are you home so late? The porridge on the stove has gone cold. I'll heat it up for you."

Warmth filled He An's heart. He sat beside He Kui on the bench, took the reed-leaf-wrapped chicken leg from inside his robe, and laid it on the dish of beans. "Uncle, this is... Dazhi asked me to bring this for you. Something to go with your wine!" He gave a sheepish smile, took the wine cup from He Kui's hand, and filled it to the brim. "Sit and enjoy your drink. I can handle a little thing like warming porridge myself!"

"That little brat Dazhi hasn't come around for a while!" The corners of He Kui's mouth twitched, and he raised the cup for a sip.

The lamplight fell across half of He Kui's face, flickering between light and shadow. He was in his forties, with unkempt stubble and long, black-and-gray hair loosely gathered into a topknot, stray locks hanging free.

His eyes were deep and melancholy. As he turned his gaze, a scar stood out on his left cheek. It was thin and narrow, yet strangely, rather than disfiguring him, it lent him an even wilder, more unrestrained air.

He An brought the warmed porridge from the kitchen and sat beside He Kui, lowering his head to eat. He Kui drank another cup of wine, picked up the chicken leg, stripped off the reed leaves, and placed it in He An's bowl.

"You're still growing. Eat more." He Kui picked up a kidney bean with his chopsticks, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly.

Under the lamplight, He An turned and noticed that a few more white hairs had somehow appeared at his uncle's temples...

After dinner, He An washed the bowls and chopsticks, tidied everything away, and told He Kui about the amusing things that had happened at the private school over the past few days. When He An mentioned a new instructor surnamed Fang, who had come from the Luoyang Knowing-and-Doing Institute in the capital, a strange look flashed through He Kui's eyes. He An went on to say that the instructor was usually a man of few words, and that the principles of combat he taught were rather like those his uncle often explained...

He Kui nodded. Looking at He An's handsome, still-childish face, he could not help seeing a valiant figure rise in his mind... War drums thundered, and battle cries shook the heavens. Arrows filled the sky like flying locusts as they charged into enemy ranks thick as a forest of spears and halberds, their horses trampling through camp after camp. That extraordinary woman always rode beside him, her red cloak streaming, her cloudlike hair drenched in sweat, twin swords swinging with all her strength, like a burning cloud of fire...

He Kui shook his head and drove the memory away. Affection flashed in his eyes as his broad hand stroked He An's head. "The Knowing-and-Doing Institute is renowned throughout the land. This instructor must have exceptional abilities. Learn well from him. It's late. Get some rest. I'll feed the horse." He stood, stepped forward with his left leg, then slowly dragged the other after it and opened the door...

His right leg was crippled. He was, in fact, lame.

At school the next morning, an instructor named Ding Wenxiu taught "Lesser Odes: Deer Crying." When he reached the lines, "When I went away, the willows swayed softly. Now I return, snow falls thick and fast," Fan Dazhi snorted with laughter twice. Luckily, the teacher did not notice.

That afternoon, the old master taught "Great Learning: Book of Rites" as usual. This time, Fan Dazhi did not fall asleep. He stared distractedly out the window, occasionally stealing a glance at He An... At last, lessons ended, and the children scattered like birds and beasts.

He An and Fan Dazhi slipped down to the Han River. They walked over the soft grass along the bank, watching the water shimmer as a cool breeze brushed past.

Fan Dazhi said eagerly, "He An, if we catch a big fish, we'll roast it right away and eat it. I've got everything ready!" With that, he actually pulled a firelighter from inside his robe, followed by a small oilpaper packet. Inside were grains of green salt, chili flakes, ground cumin, and other seasonings.

He An did not know whether to laugh or cry. "All you ever think about is eating. Your father caught you stealing half a roast chicken yesterday, didn't he? Did he beat you?" Fan Dazhi scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. "My father was just putting on a show. He couldn't really bear to hit me."

Talking as they went, the two easily found the ropes they had tied to the tree roots the day before. He An hauled up one fish basket first. As soon as the dripping basket reached the bank, Fan Dazhi hurried over and thrust his face close, sticking his backside out as he peered inside. After a long look, he tipped the basket over and shook it about, dumping out a stone, a few broken chicken bones, and a lively river shrimp the size of an index finger.

Fan Dazhi smacked his lips. "What a shame, what a shame. Such a big basket, and all it caught was one shrimp. Still... roasted shrimp tastes wonderful too. Hmm... a few more would be even better."

He put the shrimp back in the basket, then swung his foot and kicked the stone into the river. It landed with a plop, sending up little splashes.

He An went to pull up the other basket. One tug told him it was unusually heavy. "Dazhi, come help!" he called urgently.

Fan Dazhi cheered and hurried over to grab the rope with He An. Together, they hauled until the basket barely broke the surface. Inside, fish tails thrashed, churning up sprays of water and pulling the rope taut.

Shouting with delight, Fan Dazhi struggled alongside He An to drag the basket onto the bank. They tipped and shook it again, spilling out two large carp that looked to weigh three or four jin apiece. The fat fish flopped and leaped on the ground until He An pressed them down firmly, their huge tails beating the earth in vain.

Next, the stone used to weigh down the basket rolled out, followed by a black carp more than a foot long and a brown-shelled crab the size of a fist. The crab bulged its eyes and raised its two pairs of hairy pincers, flaunting its might before Fan Dazhi.

"To hell with you!" Fan Dazhi cursed with a laugh, lifting a foot as though to kick it. The crab scuttled sideways through the grass with astonishing speed, slipped into the river, blew a string of bubbles, and vanished...

As darkness gathered, firelight shone on Fan Dazhi's face. He stared spellbound at the fish roasting over the fire, practically drooling. Skewered on willow branches, their tails curled and their bodies had turned golden brown. When He An was not looking, Fan Dazhi secretly tore off a piece of flesh beside a fin and hastily popped it into his mouth, sucking in cool air as it burned him...

They roasted both fat carp. He An ate a little less than half of one, while most of the rest went into Fan Dazhi's belly. He An carefully lifted the flesh from half a fish, wrapped it in reed leaves, and set it aside to take to Miao Feifei.

Miao Feifei was the daughter of Auntie Liu, who ran the village tailor's shop, and was about He An's age. The two had grown up playing in the mud together. Now that they were getting older and He An attended the private school, they saw each other less often. Still, they had been childhood sweethearts, playing with green plums and bamboo horses, and their affection had only deepened.

Fan Dazhi belched, then began snorting with laughter again. "I thought you were taking that roast fish to Uncle He. So it's for Feifei... The willows swayed softly, now I return, snow falls thick and fast. Miao Feifei, I yearn for Miao Feifei." By the end, he was deliberately squeezing his throat to make his voice shrill, his tone and expression utterly sleazy.

He An suddenly understood. When the teacher had been explaining "Plucking the Ferns" that morning, this fellow's inexplicable chuckling had been because he was thinking of Miao Feifei.

He An washed his hands by the river. Flicking the water from them, he said with a perfectly solemn air, "I heard Sun Erniang from the oil press in the east of the village has taken quite a liking to you. She says you're a little greedy and a little fat, but at least you're honest. She's already sent a matchmaker to talk to your father several times. Once the New Year is over and spring comes, they'll betroth you to her Tiger Girl. When you become her new son-in-law, don't forget to invite your big brother here for wedding wine."

Fan Dazhi's face went pale. Thinking of Sun Erniang, whose fierce temper was famous throughout the village, and her freckled, broad-shouldered, thick-waisted daughter Tiger Girl, he shuddered. Half believing and half doubting, he said, "Don't talk nonsense, He An. I'll ask my father when I get home. If it's true, I... I... I'd rather die than agree."

He An burst out laughing, then mentioned that his uncle He Kui had not seen Fan Dazhi for days and missed him very much. Fan Dazhi slapped his thigh. "I'll go, I'll go! I'll come home with you tonight."

Still talking, they doused the coals with water and threw the leftover fish bones into the river. Fan Dazhi threaded a grass rope through the big black carp and tied it to his waist, then swaggered ahead with a stride that acknowledged neither kith nor kin.

They reached the great scholar tree at the village entrance. He An had only just followed Fan Dazhi across his family's threshold when Fan Dazhi's father hurled a rag straight at his son's head. Fan Dazhi tilted his head and dodged, leaving it to strike He An squarely in the face.

"You little brat! Coming home this late-there's no dinner for you!" his father scolded. Then he noticed He An behind Fan Dazhi, and his old face flushed red.

He An pulled the strongly sour-smelling rag from his face and greeted Fan Youfu. Beaming amiably, Fan Youfu invited He An to sit down and have some tea. Then he turned and spotted the black carp dangling from his son's waist like a saber. His expression darkened, but before he could erupt, Fan Dazhi lowered his head and offered the fish to his father with both hands. "He An caught it... especially for you," he muttered.

Fan Youfu's face instantly filled with smiles. "Oh, Little An... how could I accept this? Goodness... look at you, so young and already so considerate. You're far better than our Dazhi..." He praised He An at length, then shot his own son another fierce glare.

In front of his father, Fan Dazhi became a sealed gourd again, not a word escaping him. He sat stiffly on a stool, first like an old monk lost in meditation, then endlessly rubbing his fingers together, as though those two fingers were stained with filth he could never wash away.

As soon as Fan Youfu turned to take the black carp to the kitchen, Fan Dazhi abruptly came back to life. He rummaged through chests and cupboards for a wine flask, lifted the lid of the family's wine vat, filled the flask to the brim, and tucked it inside his robe. Calling a farewell to his father, he grabbed He An and ran.

Fan Dazhi's home stood in the liveliest part of the village, right beside the great scholar tree. Shops lined the street. Besides the Fan family's little tavern, there were Honest Zhang's smithy and Old Wang's tofu mill. At the end of the tightly packed low houses, around a corner, stood a tailor's shop. That was where Miao Feifei lived.

The tailor's shop was closed. Through the decorated lattice window, the two boys could see lamplight inside. Miao Feifei's mother, Miao Liu-shi, was cutting cloth patterns beneath the lamp with scissors and a measuring ruler. A bamboo basket beside her held spinning wheels, spindles, scraps of cloth, and other sewing odds and ends.

Miao Feifei leaned over a nearby table, brush in hand, scribbling on a sheet of white paper. Her grip was wrong, and the characters she wrote were crooked and uneven. She was quietly growing angry with her writing when she heard He An softly calling her from outside.

Miao Feifei's eyes lit up. She dropped the brush and sprang up eagerly to open the door, then hesitated. Turning back, she ran to the dressing mirror, looked herself over from either side, and smoothed her straight-cut bangs. Then she hurried to her mother, Miao Liu-shi, and rustled through the basket for something.

Miao Liu-shi rolled her eyes at her daughter and gave a knowing smile. Pretending not to see, Miao Feifei found what she wanted, turned, and hurried away like a gust of wind.

He An gave Miao Feifei the roasted fish. Seeing how late it was, he turned to leave, but she suddenly called him back. Taking a handkerchief from inside her robe, she said, "Brother He, I just made this handkerchief while learning from my mother. It's for you. My sewing isn't good, so you mustn't turn your nose up at it. And... my mother agreed. Tomorrow, I'm going to the private school too. I went with her at noon to put my name down, and the instructor even gave me a brush and some writing paper."

There were few girls at the private school, and He An had always regretted that his childhood playmate could not study. He had never expected Miao Feifei to persuade her mother. Delighted for her, he said excitedly, "Wonderful! Dazhi and I will come get you tomorrow, and we'll go together." He took the handkerchief she offered, only to find it bulging, warmth spreading against his palm. Unfolding it, he discovered a boiled red-shelled egg.

Miao Feifei glanced at Fan Dazhi and said apologetically, "Brother Dazhi, I didn't know you were coming too. I haven't had time to make so many handkerchiefs... next time. I'll make one for you next time, all right?"

Fan Dazhi had been lurking off to one side. Caught off guard when Miao Feifei spoke to him, he instantly blushed. Luckily, it was too dark to see clearly. "It's fine, it's fine," he stammered. Seeing his timid manner, Miao Feifei covered her mouth and giggled, then turned and went back inside.

The moon shone bright that night, with only a scattering of stars, lighting the road as clearly as day. Past the village ancestral hall, along a row of willows, and through two lanes stood He An's home: two rows of low thatched houses and a stable at the easternmost end of the lane.

Not a trace of lamplight showed inside. Puzzled, He An pushed open the half-closed door. He had barely set one foot over the threshold when a whoosh came from the darkness, and a fierce gust rushed at his face.

He An tilted his head, pulled in his stomach, raised his palm, bent his knee, blocked with his elbow, and swept his leg. Listening to the rush of air to locate the blows in the dark, he dodged or parried several attacks in an instant. Then sudden pain struck his lower belly, driving him back two steps...

"Not bad. You can withstand ten moves from me now. That's quite an achievement!" As the words fell, lamplight filled the room. A man sat on the bench, holding a staff as tall as his eyebrows. It was his uncle, He Kui.