The Warmth of Home

Yan, standing next to Qingsui, first picked up the bowl of soup his mother handed him and took a couple of sips. The soup was bone broth that had been simmering all day; it was thick and white, with a few chopped wild vegetable leaves floating on top. Small swirls of oil rose to the surface, gently swaying as he held the bowl. The warmth slid down his throat and into his stomach, dispelling the chill he had accumulated on the ship. He took two more sips, put down the bowl, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then turned to Qingsui and briefly recounted his trip: "This trip took thirty or forty days. I first took twenty thousand people to settle in the Valley Tribe. Chief Jia Li's preparations were complete, so my men settled in as soon as we arrived. Then I brought ten thousand people from the Greater Qing Tribe tribe from the Valley Tribe." "We picked up another 10,000 people from the Bear Tribe at the mouths of the Big Horse River Mouth Clothing River Mouth, and handed them all over to Uncle Jianya at the Fire Creek River Mouth Outpost. The resettlement of more than 20,000 people went smoothly." He paused, his finger twirling lightly on the rim of his bowl, as if looking for a place to end his next words. "I've inspected all the strongholds we passed along the way. There are many more houses at the Big Horse River Mouth, and the hillside to the north has been cleared, with the field ridges straightened. The dock at the Clothing River Mouth has also been lengthened, and the newly laid planks haven't been completely soaked yet, so their color is lighter than the old planks. A new field has been opened up at the mouth of the Green Leaf River Mouth, and the irrigation canal has been dug, bringing water to the field, making it convenient to grow anything. Every stronghold is expanding outwards, and we have more manpower than before."

Qingsui sat opposite him, still holding the half-sewn piece of cloth in her hand, but the needle and thread had been put down. The cloth was folded into a small square and placed on her lap, the needle stuck in the edge, the thread hanging from the eye, swaying slightly in the afternoon light. After Yan finished speaking, the corners of her mouth slowly curved into a smile, which extended from her lips to the corners of her eyes. She reached out and picked up the cloth from her lap, then put it down again, and spoke, her voice carrying a sense of relief after being assured, "That's good. These past few days since you left, I've sat by the window every day looking out. Mother said it's no use looking, the ship won't come back any sooner just because I look, but I can't sit still, I always want to see. Sometimes I hear footsteps outside and think it's you coming back, so I peek out, only to find it's just people passing by in the camp. Mother said I look like a waiting-for-husband stone, and I said, a waiting-for-husband stone is a waiting-for-husband stone."

She tilted her head slightly as she spoke, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, her fingers pausing briefly on her earlobe before falling back down. Then she continued, her voice softer than before, as if she were pouring out all the pent-up frustrations she had been holding back. "My mother is very good to me. She hasn't let me do any heavy work lately, letting me rest and recuperate. She does all the laundry and cooking, and won't even let me lift a broom. I told her I could manage, but she said, 'You're not alone anymore, you're carrying another one, don't overexert yourself.' If I insisted on doing chores, she would take the things from my hands and put them out of my reach. Eventually, I stopped arguing. If she told me to sit, I sat; if she told me to lie down, I lay down."

As she spoke, her gaze lowered slightly, landing on her lower abdomen. Her fingers unconsciously traced the fabric, her palms pressed against it, as if greeting the unborn Xiaosheng within. Then she looked up and continued, her voice lighter than before. "Sometimes, afraid I'd be bored, she'd have the wives of many tribal chiefs take turns coming to chat with me. Uncle Dabang's wife came twice, teaching me how to make baby clothes. She brought an old piece of cloth and showed me how to cut and sew. Uncle Canglan's wife also came, bringing some dried fruit for me to eat—sweet and sour, I ate several pieces. Wu Xiong Wuxiong's wife was the most interesting. She told me how she vomited terribly during her pregnancy, yet insisted on eating sour plums. Her husband had to search several places to find them for her. She gestured wildly as she told the story, mimicking her husband's sweaty return. I laughed for ages, and my mother laughed along, saying, 'Take it easy, don't laugh yourself sick.'"

She paused, withdrew her hand from her lower abdomen, and placed it back on her knees, gently tapping the cloth with her fingers. "My mother usually likes to cook things I like to eat. She remembers that I love stewed meat until it's very tender, so she always stews it for an extra half hour, until it's tender enough to be easily pierced with chopsticks. She also remembers that when I was little, I loved a kind of wild vegetable-filled pancake back in the Valley Tribe, so she went to the camp to find that wild vegetable, made the dough, and made it for me. You see, I've gotten quite rounder in the last month or so, all thanks to my mother." As she spoke, she gently touched her cheek with the back of her hand, as if confirming that it was indeed fuller than before, a hint of satisfaction on her lips.

Yan looked at her, the corners of his mouth slowly curving into a smile that stretched from his lips to the corners of his eyes, deeper than usual. He reached out and gently patted the back of her hand, which was resting on her knee, his fingertips lingering on her skin for a moment. "That's good. With your mother taking care of you, I feel at ease out here. She takes better care of people than any of us. When I was little and sick, she stayed up all night watching over me. Now that it's your turn, she'll definitely be even more attentive. It's good that you're a little plumper. You were so thin recently that your cheekbones were protruding, and it made me feel bad."

Qingsui nodded, then began to talk about her recent condition. Her voice was lighter than before, like a loosened string finally able to play a more relaxed tune. "My morning sickness is starting to lessen. A while ago, I would dry heave in the morning, and the smell of oil would make me nauseous. I couldn't eat anything. My mother made me soup and told me to drink a bowl every morning. She also told me to put some snacks by my bedside, saying that I should eat a couple of bites before getting up to help. I'm much better these days. I don't vomit as much in the morning, and my appetite has improved a lot. Yesterday, my mother stewed a chicken, and I ate most of it." I even drank two bowls of soup. My mother was overjoyed to see how much I ate. This morning she went to the kitchen and asked for a chicken, saying she'd stew one for dinner tonight. She paused, gently pressing her fingers on her lower abdomen, as if to confirm that it was indeed more stable than before. "My mother said that once the pregnancy is more stable, after three months, I can start walking around more. She also said that when the weather gets better, she'll take me for a walk on the hillside behind the campsite. There's a patch of wildflowers there that's very beautiful. She told me to walk slowly, resting every now and then, just so I don't get too tired."

Upon hearing this, Yan's expression visibly relaxed. He placed the bowl he was holding on the low table beside him, the bottom of the bowl making a soft tapping sound on the wooden surface. Then he said, "It's good that you have a good appetite. Eat more and take care of yourself. When I'm out there, my biggest worry is that you're not eating well. Although Mother takes good care of you, I'm always afraid you'll be too shy to ask for food. Now that I hear you say this, I'm relieved." He paused, then shifted the topic to the situation in the north, his voice lower than before. He drew a line on the table with his finger, as if to give that... The direction was also marked, "The Tiger Tribe and Wolf Tribe to the north have also been making some moves recently. After the Tiger Tribe occupied the Willow Vine Tribe's territory, they resumed farming and production. The fires in several workshops have been lit again, and smoke has begun to rise from the chimneys. However, their rate of absorbing people on the north Long River has slowed down. The tribes to the north are already on guard against them. The people they send out are bringing back fewer and fewer, sometimes even empty-handed. Several small tribes have fled further north at the mere mention of the Tiger Tribe's name, abandoning their houses and crops."

He tapped his finger lightly on the table, the knuckles making a soft click on the wood, as if adding a deeper mark to his next words, "Over there with the Wolf Tribe, Shibang and Yingmu are keeping them under control, their patrol and activity areas have shrunk considerably. But recently they purchased some boats with a carrying capacity of 20,000 jin and 10,000 jin from the Tiger Tribe, hiding them in the tributaries of the Great Rock River. They occasionally come out, always at night or in the early morning, and they're very fast. Shibang has seen them twice, but he hasn't been able to catch them." He paused, his finger tapping the table again. "Once the management center moves to the Valley Tribe, I'll personally keep an eye on things there. It'll be much faster to transfer troops from the Valley Tribe than from here, and the transport of grain and supplies will be much easier. They won't be arrogant for long."

After listening, Qingsui nodded. Her voice was soft as she spoke, "I support whatever you do. Don't worry about me when you're busy. My mother is here to take care of me, so nothing will happen. Just focus on doing your own thing." She paused, gently stroking the cloth with her fingers, as if smoothing out her words. "But you yourself, make sure you eat on time while you're out there. Don't just eat whatever's available. It's cold on the ship, so put on an extra layer at night. You've lost so much weight; it breaks my heart to see you like this."

Yan didn't reply, but gently patted the back of her hand again. The two sat by the window. The sunlight outside had moved away from the table, and the light filtered through the cracks in the window, softening the light on everything in the room. The pot on the stove was still bubbling away. Mother Qingye was busy around the stove, sometimes lifting the lid to check the soup's temperature, sometimes stirring it with a wooden spoon, and sometimes chopping something on the cutting board. Her figure moved back and forth between the stove and the cutting board, her steps small but quick, as if she had walked this path countless times and could find the location of everything with her eyes closed.

After dinner was ready, Qingye divided the food into two portions. One portion was placed on the low table in the room for Yan and Qingsui; the other portion was put into a wooden box, wrapped in burlap, and covered with a ceramic bowl. Then she picked it up and walked towards the door. She paused at the door, turned around and said to Yan, her voice carrying a motherly nagging quality, and her pace faster than usual, as if she were in a hurry: "Yan'er, you two eat first. I'm going to the council hall. Your father has been getting busier and busier lately, and he often doesn't eat on time." "I brought him the food and watched him eat it before I felt at ease. He has more people to manage and more things to do now, it's different from before. Before, he would find something to eat when he was hungry, but now he forgets everything when he's busy, I can't leave him alone. Yesterday at noon he only drank a bowl of water and didn't remember he hadn't eaten until evening." After she finished speaking, she pushed open the door and walked out without waiting for Yan's reply. Her steps were quick and steady, and she carried the wooden box neatly in her hand, as if she had walked this road from home to the council hall countless times and knew every corner by heart.

Yan watched his mother's figure disappear through the door, then turned his gaze to the dishes on the low table: a plate of stewed chicken, a plate of stir-fried wild vegetables, a plate of boiled beans, and a dish of pickled vegetables. The dishes were simple, but hearty; the chicken pieces were large, the wild vegetables were thoroughly washed, the beans were cooked until tender but not mushy, and the pickled vegetables were finely chopped and drizzled with a few drops of sesame oil, glistening softly under the lamplight. He picked up his chopsticks, placed a piece of chicken in Qingsui's bowl, and then picked up a piece for himself. The two sat facing each other, eating slowly. Qingsui ate slowly, chewing each bite carefully, occasionally pausing to drink a sip of soup. Yan didn't urge her; he picked up two pieces of vegetables for himself and added another piece of chicken to her bowl.

The sound of her mother's footsteps receding into the distance drifted in from outside the window, mingled with the occasional barking of dogs and the clanging of wood from the camp in the distance. The noise wasn't loud, but it made the room feel less quiet. After the two finished eating, Qingsui chatted with Yan for a while, recounting some old stories of the Fire Tribe that her mother had told her over the past few days. Yan listened, occasionally interjecting a word or two, sometimes simply nodding. By the time her mother, Qingye, returned from the council hall, it was already dark. An oil lamp was lit in the room, its flame flickering gently, illuminating the three of them. His shadow was cast on the wall, sometimes long, sometimes short. When his mother came in, she was still carrying the empty wooden box. Her expression was more relaxed than when she left, as if she had seen her husband eat before returning home. Yan stood up, nodded to his mother and Qingsui, then pushed open the door and went out. The night wind outside carried the coolness of the river and the damp smell of the turned earth, which invigorated him as it blew against his face. He paused at the doorway, took a deep breath, and then strode towards his residence.