A-Wu

Black Han's home was tiny, with only two drab gray rooms. The west room had a stove and doubled as a storeroom; the east room had an earthen kang bed and could just barely pass for a bedroom.

In the west room, little A-Wu stood on a large stone, busying herself at the stove.

Seeing how small A-Wu was, and how she needed a stone beneath her feet just to reach the stove, Wang Yang wanted to help. But remembering his assumed identity as a member of the gentry, he held himself back and asked Black Han, "How old is A-Wu this year?"

"Seven this year, young master."

Perhaps because of malnutrition, the little girl was so thin and small that she hardly looked seven. Wang Yang could not help remarking, "She can already cook at such a young age."

"My girl learned to run the household early. Usually, she handles all these chores herself." As he spoke, Black Han ushered Wang Yang into the east room and seated him on the kang, where he had just laid out fresh bedding.

"What about her mother?"

Black Han sighed and said quietly, "Her mother hated that A-Wu was born on the fifth day of the fifth month and insisted on throwing her into the river. I refused, and we had a terrible row. I lost control and hit her, and then... then we divorced..."

Black Han did not go on. After a pause, he gave a bitter smile. "I hear she's married a wax seller now and moved to Jiankang. She must be living very well."

Ordinary households at the time could not afford candles, so when Black Han learned that the man actually sold wax, he knew she no longer lacked money to spend.

Moved, Wang Yang asked another question. "Then when you go to the barracks, A-Wu stays home alone?"

"Yes! At first, I asked the neighbors to look after her, but none of them wanted to come. Luckily, A-Wu is clever and determined. She can look after herself. When I came back last month, guess what I found, young master? Heh, she'd even learned needlework!" Black Han lit an earthenware oil lamp, its faint light illuminating his face, which brimmed with pride.

Wang Yang had often seen Black Han's ingratiating smiles. This was the first time he had seen him so pleased and proud.

The little girl's voice drifted over from the west room. "Dad! There's moonlight! Why light the lamp? Put it out!"

A little embarrassed, Black Han called back, "It's for Young Master Wang!"

The little girl fell silent for a few seconds, then spoke again. "Dad, come help me carry the food."

Then Wang Yang heard father and daughter arguing. Their voices were too low for him to make out much, but he caught the little girl saying something about "not much hempseed oil left."

Wang Yang smiled and blew out the lamp. The argument in the west room stopped at once.

Black Han hurried over. "Did the lamp go out? I'll light it again for you, young master."

"No need," Wang Yang said. "The moonlight is enough."

Black Han's expression immediately grew anxious, and he stammered, "Young master, my girl is used to running wild. She doesn't know any better! Please don't hold it against her!"

Wang Yang smiled unconcernedly. "Why would I? I'm neither reading nor writing right now. There really is no need for a lamp. The moonlight is enough."

Black Han was so afraid Wang Yang might be displeased that he was about to explain further when little A-Wu ran over. "Dad! Young Master Wang! Time to eat!"

This was Wang Yang's second meal since transmigrating: a bowl of Bean and Wheat Porridge, a bowl of soybean-leaf soup, and a small dish of salted black beans.

The Bean and Wheat Porridge was made by simmering soybeans and barley together. The soup used dried soybean leaves, also called "Huocai." As for the salted black beans, also known as "fermented black beans," they were a common accompaniment to meals among ordinary people at the time.

"Didn't I tell you to make soybean and barley rice? Why did you make porridge instead?" Black Han pulled little A-Wu aside and asked in a low voice.

A-Wu wrinkled her little nose. "We only have that little bit of barley. I wanted to save some to make barley porridge for the Cold Food Festival."

"You little thing!" Black Han could not bear to scold his daughter and merely gave her forehead a gentle poke.

He did not dare sit at the same table as Wang Yang, so he took little A-Wu to sit beside the stove.

Wang Yang knew that if he wanted to pass convincingly as a scholar-gentleman, he should keep his distance from them. But he was staying in their home and eating their food; he simply could not bring himself to let the guest usurp the host's place. So he invited Black Han and the little girl to eat with him.

Only when he saw their food did he realize that they were not eating the same thing as he was.

Father and daughter were eating steamed beans. There was an old expression for poverty, "chewing beans and drinking water"; "chewing beans" meant filling one's stomach with beans.

As little A-Wu ate, she stole glances at Wang Yang's meal. After all, she had not smelled the fragrance of barley porridge in over a month, and it had been even longer since she had tasted Mallow Soup.

Catching the longing in A-Wu's eyes, Wang Yang asked, "Would you like some?"

Little A-Wu hurriedly shook her head and bent over her beans.

"Here, I don't have much of an appetite. Let me give you some."

"No, thank you." Little A-Wu's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz. Afraid she would be unable to resist the temptation, she did not even dare raise her head.

Black Han urged him, "You've been hungry all day, young master. Please eat. Don't worry about her."

Wang Yang took a sip of porridge. "I can only manage half a bowl. If no one wants the rest, I'll throw it away." As he spoke, he made a show of getting up to pour it out.

Little A-Wu sprang to her feet and shot toward Wang Yang like a little rocket. Holding out her bowl and turning her face aside, she mustered all her courage and said, "If you're going to pour it out, pour it in here!"

"A-Wu!" Black Han scolded.

"It's all right," Wang Yang said with a smile, pouring half his porridge into little A-Wu's bowl.

Little A-Wu returned to her seat in delight. Just as she was about to eat, she suddenly stopped and scooped two large spoonfuls into her father's bowl.

Black Han had been very displeased with A-Wu for asking for the porridge, but the sight of his daughter spooning it into his bowl melted his heart at once. He scooped it back. "You eat it, A-Wu. Dad gets this all the time at the barracks!"

"You're lying again, Dad!" A-Wu stubbornly poured the porridge back into his bowl.

Watching father and daughter argue as they passed the porridge back and forth, Wang Yang felt his nose sting. "Black Han, bring your bowl over. I'll give you some porridge too."

Black Han hastily refused. "No, no, no! You're already eating far too little, young master!"

"I have no appetite. Besides, it's your grain in the first place."

No matter what Wang Yang said, Black Han simply refused.

So Wang Yang told little A-Wu to come get some porridge for Black Han.

Black Han scolded little A-Wu. "Don't you go!"

Wang Yang's face hardened. "I told her to."

Black Han did not dare say anything more and merely glared at his daughter.

Little A-Wu stuck out her tongue and pattered over to Wang Yang with her bowl. Wang Yang gave her two spoonfuls, but when he went to give her a third, she pulled her hand back and said softly, "That's enough!"

Little A-Wu transferred the porridge to Black Han. Seeing Wang Yang finish his remaining porridge in two or three mouthfuls with the fermented black beans, then frown as he drank the Mallow Soup, Black Han realized he was not used to the food. He instructed his daughter, "Take out that piece of cloth at the bottom of the chest. Go to Zhang Lisi's house and trade it for some Jar-Pickled Fish for Young Master Wang."

"Do we have to?" Little A-Wu's eyes widened. If this was the price of sharing the porridge, she would rather pour it back!

"Go on!" Black Han said sternly.

"Jar" meant an earthenware pot, while "pickled fish" referred to fish preserved in salt or fermented lees. This was a very popular food in the south at the time.

For Wang Yang, whose palate had been shaped by modern food processing and who was somewhat particular about food and drink, this bowl of wild greens soup really did not taste good. It had an indescribable fishy bitterness. But seeing how hard life was for Black Han's family, how could he let them trade for Jar-Pickled Fish? He hurriedly said, "There's no need. This soup is fine."

He did not dare taste it again. Gritting his teeth, he gulped down the Mallow Soup in one go, his face contorted as though he were swallowing medicine.

Little A-Wu watched with an aching heart.

Of course, her heart did not ache for Wang Yang, but for the Mallow Soup.

Hey, hey, hey! If it tastes that awful, don't drink it! You could at least leave half a bowl for me!

After Wang Yang returned to his room, little A-Wu pulled her father into the west room and said with a very serious expression on her little face, "Dad, I think there's something wrong with this Young Master Wang!"

Note: "Divorce" was an ancient term, not an exclusively modern one. For example, when Wang Xianzhi was gravely ill, he said, "I am aware of no other unfinished matters; I remember only my divorce from the Xi family." (A New Account of Tales of the World, "Virtuous Conduct.") The Book of Jin, "Biography of Wang Yan," states: "The crown prince was falsely accused by Empress Jia. Fearing disaster, Yan personally submitted a memorial requesting a divorce."

As for "amicable separation," that was a Tang-era term found in the Commentary on the Tang Code. The expression did not exist during the Northern and Southern Dynasties period.