Yi

As time went on, the intervals between Qingsui's contractions became shorter and shorter. In the afternoon, she could still talk to Yan for a few minutes after the contractions subsided, occasionally drink some water, and sometimes close her eyes to rest for a while. At that time, although her face was pale, she could still sit up on her own, leaning against the headboard, her fingers resting on her face, occasionally gently pressing her waist, or getting out of bed to walk around. By evening, the intervals between contractions had shortened to less than two minutes. Each time a contraction came, her brows would furrow sharply, her lips would purse into a line, and her fingers would grip the corner of the blanket tightly, her knuckles turning white. The veins on the back of her hand bulged, like tiny snakes lurking beneath her skin. Her breathing became rapid and heavy, each inhale carrying a suppressed groan, as if she were swallowing those sounds deep into her throat. Yan sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand in his own. Her fingers were icy cold, her fingertips digging into the back of his hand, her nails digging in, but he didn't care about the pain. With his other hand, he used a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Shuihen that soaked a patch of the pillow.

Qingye and the midwife were busy in the room. The midwife was a woman in her fifties with gray hair and wrinkles on her face like a dried-up riverbed, but her eyes were bright, her hands were steady, and she spoke slowly and deliberately. She leaned close to Qingsui's ear, her voice not loud but clear, and gestured as she spoke, "How to breathe, how to save energy, yes, that's it, you're doing very well." Qingye brought a basin of hot water from the kitchen, placed it on the wooden shelf at the foot of the bed, and then picked up another clean piece of linen, folded it, and placed it beside the bed. Every now and then, she would reach out and press on Qingsui's belly to feel the position and pressure, and then exchange a whispered word with the midwife.

Yan couldn't help, so he prepared food for Qingsui at noon and in the evening and brought it over. Even though she was giving birth, she still needed to replenish her energy, otherwise where would she get the strength? When Qingsui's contractions subsided, he would hold the bowl and feed her, but she didn't eat much. She would barely swallow a few mouthfuls before shaking her head and refusing to eat anymore. Yan didn't urge her to eat more; he just put the bowl down and continued to hold her hand.

After dinner, Qingsui's contractions became more frequent, occurring roughly every ten breaths. With each contraction, her body involuntarily arched, her hands gripping the blanket tightly, her teeth biting her lower lip until it turned white, and a tiny trickle of blood even seeped from the corner of her mouth. Yan, watching her, felt as if something was repeatedly squeezing his heart, or as if something was stuck in his chest, unable to come out or go down. Unable to help, he could only stand up and pace around the yard, his steps hurried and erratic. He walked from one end to the other, then back again. Occasionally, he would stop and glance into the house, seeing the shadows of Qingye and the midwife moving about on the curtain, before turning back and continuing on. The small trees in the courtyard cast indistinct shadows in the twilight, and his shadow, stretched long by the light from inside the house, moved back and forth with his steps, sometimes long, sometimes shrunken. When he reached the east end of the courtyard, he looked up at the moon, which was obscured by thin clouds, revealing only a small part, like an unfinished sickle. He then lowered his head and continued walking.

Just as Yan was pacing back and forth in the courtyard, Jianshi came over from the council hall. He was wearing a white linen robe today, with some dust on the hem, as if he had just finished working and hadn't had time to change. He walked to the courtyard gate and saw Yan pacing anxiously back and forth. He paused for a moment, then strode in and stopped in front of him. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the Chenwen of someone with experience. His speech was slower than usual, as if he were carefully uttering each word. "Yan'er, don't worry, everything should be alright. When your mother Qingye gave birth to you, I was just like you, pacing back and forth, listening to the sounds inside, my heart pounding. You can hear the sounds; she should be giving birth soon. Don't panic. Midwives are most afraid of people outside causing chaos; it distracts them."

As he spoke, he patted Yan's shoulder with a firm touch, making Yan sway slightly. The pat seemed to calm Yan's anxiety somewhat. He stopped, nodded to his father, and spoke in a lower voice than usual, "Father, I know. It's just that hearing her cry out in pain and not being able to help makes me feel terrible." He paused, tapping his fingers lightly against his side, pressing his fingertips against the fabric of his trousers before releasing them. "The midwife told her to push harder, and she cried out. I almost rushed in; my hand was already on the curtain, but I put it down."

Jianshi nodded, patted Yan's shoulder again, and then withdrew his hand. "The first time is always like this, it's bound to hurt. When your mother gave birth to you, she was in pain from morning till night. I waited outside all day, without even eating lunch. When you came out, it was already dark. Your mother was so tired that she didn't even have the strength to open her eyes, but she still smiled when she saw you." As he spoke, his gaze fell on the gradually darkening sky above the courtyard, as if recalling something. Then he looked back at Yan's face, his speech slowing down. "Don't think about anything right now. Just wait outside. Eat and drink as usual. Don't collapse too. If you collapse, who will take care of her? Who will hold the baby? If you feel like you can't stand, go get a stool to sit on. Don't walk around in circles like a donkey in the yard. You're making my eyes blurry."

Yan's lips twitched slightly after hearing this, as if he was amused by his father's comment about "going around in circles like a donkey." His voice was a little softer than before when he spoke, "I know, I'll wait here and won't wander around anymore." As he spoke, he went to the wall and moved a low stool over, placing it next to the doorway. He sat down, his hands on his knees, fingers interlaced, his Jianshi rubbing the knuckles of his other hand. Jian Shi sat down on another stool next to him, and the two sat side by side, listening to the sounds coming from inside the house. Occasionally, a breeze would blow in, rustling the leaves in the yard and bringing over some of the smell of cooking smoke from the kitchen.

The two were sitting when a loud cry suddenly came from inside the house. The cry was sharp and loud, like a piece of cloth being torn open, shattering the tense atmosphere in the courtyard. Yan was stunned for a moment, his whole body seemingly frozen in place. He sat on the stool without moving, his fingers tapping on his knee, his fingertips pressing against the fabric of his trouser leg before releasing. Jianshi also stopped talking, turning his head to look in the direction of the house, a slow smile spreading across his lips, but he didn't speak.

A moment later, Qingye peeked out from the doorway. She had a smile on her face, the lines around her eyes had smoothed out, a few fine beads of sweat clung to her forehead, and her hands were still damp. When she spoke, her voice carried a sense of relief, and her speech was a beat faster than usual, with a slight tremor at the end. "Yan'er, congratulations, congratulations! It's a son, and both mother and child are safe!" She didn't pause for long after saying that, then turned and went back inside. The curtain fell, once again obscuring the view inside, but the crying continued, one after another, loud and clear, as if it were trying to fill the entire courtyard.

Yan sat on the stool and let out a deep breath, a long and heavy exhale that seemed to come from the deepest part of his chest. His shoulders slumped, his fingers on his knees opening and closing repeatedly. The corners of his mouth slowly parted, the smile extending from his lips to the corners of his eyes, smoothing out the vertical line between his brows. Jianshi beside him also let out a breath, then spoke, his voice laced with laughter, his pace a beat lighter than before. "Alright, mother and child are safe, you can breathe a sigh of relief now. You should name the child, and make sure the name is good, something meaningful."

Yan thought for a moment, tapped his fingers on his knee, pressed his fingertips against his trouser leg, and then released them. His gaze fell on the direction of the house, and then he said, "Let's call it Yi, four fires, burning brightly, Yi from the Fire Tribe."

Jianshi read the name aloud, his lips moving twice as he pronounced it, as if he were weighing the weight of the four fires on his tongue. Then he nodded, slapped his knee with a short, muffled thud. "Good name. Fire from the Fire Tribe, four fires stacked together, even stronger than fire, two more fires than your 'Yan'. Okay, let's call him Yi." He paused, as if remembering something, stood up, and gestured to Yan, "You stay here for now. I still have some things to finish. I'll be right back. Don't push yourself too hard. Take a nap if you need to. The baby's just been born; he'll only eat and sleep, he won't bother you."

Yan nodded, raised his hand to his father, and Jianshi turned and left the courtyard, heading towards the council hall. He walked quickly, his boots rustling on the gravel road, and was soon swallowed by the night.

Yan sat in the courtyard for a while longer. When his mother, Qingye, said he could come in, he stood up, moved the stool back against the wall, walked to the doorway, paused, lifted the curtain, and went inside. The room had already been tidied up. The midwife was gathering the used items to one side, folding the blood-stained burlap into a pile in a basin, and pouring water from the basin into a bucket. Qingye sat by the bed, holding a bowl of hot water, which she was offering to Qingsui's lips. Qingsui leaned against the headboard, her face pale, her lips chapped, the sweat on her forehead not completely dry, her hair wet and clinging to her temples, with a few strands sticking to her neck. Beside her was a small creature wrapped in burlap, its eyes closed, its face small and not yet fully developed.

Yan walked to the bedside and sat down next to Qingye. His gaze lingered on Qingsui's face for a moment before settling on the little one's face. He looked at her for a while, then looked up and returned his gaze to Qingsui's face. His voice was not loud but steady, as if he were placing his words in their proper place. "Qingsui, you've worked hard."

Qingsui slightly opened her eyes, turned her head to look at him, and slowly raised the corners of her mouth. The smile was faint, as if it were slowly rising from the depths of exhaustion, illuminating her entire face. When she spoke, her voice was soft and hoarse, as if she were using the last bit of strength to speak, "I didn't expect I to be so capable, to be able to give birth to such a big child. The midwife just said that the baby is quite large, and when I heard her say that, I was startled myself. You hold him."

Yan reached out and carefully picked up the tiny child wrapped in burlap. The child was both light and heavy. Light in his weight, heavy in the weight of his very existence. He cradled the child in his arms, looking down at his son. He saw his tiny nose, tiny mouth, tiny fingers peeking out from under the burlap, clenched into fists, fingernails smaller than grains of rice. His skin was red and wrinkled, as if it hadn't yet softened. Yan looked at him for a while, then looked up at Qingsui and said, "I named him Yi, four fires. I hope he will surpass me in the future."

After listening, Qingsui gently shook her head, a small but firm gesture, the stray hairs at her temples swaying slightly with her movement. When she spoke, her voice carried a gentle warmth, as if confirming something. "No need for great achievements, just peace and safety, being able to run, jump, and work, that's enough." As she spoke, her gaze fell on the child's face, as if she were conveying her own hopes to him.

Qingye put down the bowl beside her, stood up, stretched her stiff back, wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and then spoke, her voice carrying a sense of relief that everything was settled. "Yan'er, you and the midwife stay here for a few hours. I'm going to rest for a bit, and I'll come back to relieve you later. Don't just sit there; move around and drink some water. The baby is still sleeping soundly, so you don't need to hold him all the time; just put him on the bed." As she spoke, she walked to the door, glanced back at the mother and child on the bed, and then lifted the curtain and went out.

Yan nodded to her retreating figure, "Mother, you've worked hard. Go and rest." He gently placed the child back beside Qingsui Qingsui, then tucked the blanket around her. Qingsui closed her eyes, her breathing gradually becoming steady, as if she had finally been able to take a breath after being exhausted. A slight smile lingered on her lips, the joy not yet fully gone. Yan sat by the bed, watching over the two people, one big and one small. The room quieted down, with only the occasional flicker of the oil lamp's flame making a soft crackling sound. The moon had risen outside the window, casting the shadows of the small trees in the yard onto the window paper, swaying gently. He turned down the oil lamp's flame, then leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, but didn't fall asleep. He just sat there, listening to the alternating high and low breaths of Qingsui and the child.