Chapter 299: In the Fields and at the Edge of the Farmland

On the twenty-seventh day of the second lunar month, the day of Qingming Festival, Mrs. Luo took An Jian and An Yi up the mountain to pay respects and sweep the graves of her parents and father-in-law. From a distance, An Yi saw Li Guyu kneeling with a frail little girl before a grave overgrown with green grass.

After Qingming, the temperature rose noticeably. Those in good health shed their thick winter cotton and donned lighter spring clothes. Yet Mrs. Luo insisted, “Cover in spring, freeze in autumn,” refusing to let An Jian and his sister take off their layers.

With February gone, spring truly arrived in March.

March was the season for spring planting. In the countryside, people feasted in the first month, played in the second, and busied themselves in the third and fourth. Even if An Yi didn’t trouble Xinliu with poetic challenges, Xinliu hardly had time to come by; her family was short-handed and she had to help her parents plow and sow in the fields.

The villagers were all out working the land. For a while, only the barking of dogs echoed through the village; human voices were rare. The An family, living in Jingtang Village, had no fields of their own. Mrs. Luo’s father owned nine acres, which, after Luo’s marriage, were divided among Luo Fugui’s three sons. Of course, the three brothers didn’t slight their niece; Mrs. Luo’s dowry was quite generous.

Although the An family had no fields and the Luo family plenty of labor, Mrs. Luo still sent An Kang and An Jian to help in the fields each year, handing out seedlings and such.

The private school was full of farm boys, so the teacher gave them three days off for spring planting, so they could help their elders. After all, the imperial exams were no easy feat; if the boys failed to master their studies and lost their knack for farming, their lives would become unmanageable.

The city academy did not grant spring planting leave this year—An Kang didn’t return, so Mrs. Luo sent An Jian instead.

The moment An Yi heard they were heading to the fields, she snatched up her small basket and hoe, calling out, “Second brother, I want to go too!”

“You want to go? What for?” Mrs. Luo teased, “Off to dig up weeds again?”

“Mother.” An Yi’s expression was solemn, as she earnestly clarified, “I’ve said before, I’m not digging up weeds, I’m gathering medicinal herbs, medicinal herbs!”

“Oh, little sister, stop fussing. You’ll roughen your hands. Do you think medicinal herbs are so easy to find? If the hills were full of medicinal herbs, why would Doctor Lu go to town to buy medicine? Sister, if what you dig up are medicinal herbs, then what I cut must be top-grade medicine.” An Jian mocked.

An Yi pouted, “What you cut is grass for feeding rabbits, not top-grade medicine. What I dig up are medicinal herbs. If you don’t believe me, check the medical books.”

An Jian was about to argue further, but Mrs. Luo interrupted, “Enough, enough, Shuanzi. If your sister wants to go, let her play.”

“What’s so fun about the fields?” An Jian grumbled.

“Remember to keep an eye on your sister,” Mrs. Luo reminded him.

“Mother, am I going to help out or to watch my sister?” An Jian laughed.

Mrs. Luo scolded with a smile, “You rascal, you’re going to help, but you must also watch your sister.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep an eye on her,” An Jian made a funny face and led An Yi toward the fields.

One grain sown in spring yields a thousand in autumn. If you slack now, you’ll regret it at harvest. The fields were a hive of activity.

“Granduncle!” An Jian called out loudly from afar.

Luo Fugui stood on the field ridge, turned at the sound, and laughed, “Shuanzi is here. Eh, why has Xier come too?”

“She’s here to pull grass to feed the rabbits,” An Jian, doubting An Yi was gathering medicinal herbs, offered a casual excuse.

An Yi didn’t want anyone to know she was collecting herbs. Since An Jian said so, she let it stand, smiling sweetly, “Granduncle.”

Luo Fugui chuckled, seeing her tottering, afraid she’d fall off the ridge, and came over to take her hand.

The Luo family had few fields, the three branches together totaling one hundred twenty-seven acres of rice paddies. Among the Luo clan in Jingtang Village, they were middling folk. Each year, all three families worked together; this year, the first day belonged to Luo Yaozu’s household for plowing. Except for Luo Donglin’s four-year-old son, Luo Jinpeng, all the Luo men were present—fifteen in total.

The fields weren’t many, and with oxen pulling the plow, there was no need for so many hands—labor was abundant. The younger ones, like An Jian, were there more to play in the mud than to truly help.

An Yi had come to find a medicinal herb called gotu kola, which grew along the ridges and damp ditches, also known as “broken bowl” or “beggar’s bowl.” Pungent and slightly bitter, cool in nature, it cleared heat and toxins, promoted circulation and reduced dampness, treating acute jaundice hepatitis, acute bacterial dysentery, heatstroke, and other ailments. It could be harvested year-round, fresh or dried.

“Sister, stay here and play with the grass, don’t wander off,” An Jian reminded her between play.

“Okay,” An Yi replied, using her small wooden stick to part the grass along the ridge, searching carefully for gotu kola, murmuring, “Creeping herb, slender stems, roots at joints, clustered leaves, round-kidney shaped.”

Spring was the perfect season for herbs to flourish; gotu kola grew everywhere, and An Yi dug happily. She’d filled half her basket when she looked up and saw Xinliu.

Xinliu’s family rented land close to Luo Yaozu’s. They had no ox, and few families in Jingtang Village did. Now that it was plowing season, no one would lend theirs. Aunt Liu pulled the plow up front, while Xinliu’s gambling father Zhu Fucai and Xinliu pushed from behind. Both pulling and pushing was exhausting.

An Yi stood and calmly watched Xinliu. She was indeed weary and pitiable, but hardship and pity could not justify harming others. There were many ways to change one’s fate—marriage was indeed a shortcut, but it shouldn’t come at the cost of another’s life.

“Sister, sister!”

An Yi turned to see An Jian running over, hands cupped around a lump of mud.

An Jian presented the mud as if offering a treasure, saying, “Sister, look.”

An Yi blinked, puzzled—what was he showing her?

“Sister, I made this. It’s you—does it look like you?”

An Yi stared at the lump, her lips twitching. Was this how he saw her? The face was crooked, nose and eyes a mess, eyebrows a string, mouth a basket; if she truly looked like that, she’d hide at home and never step outside. Being ugly wasn’t a crime, but going out and scaring people like this would be!

“Sister, did I do badly? You don’t like it?” An Jian asked timidly when An Yi stayed silent.

“No, you did well, I like it,” An Yi replied against her heart, not wanting to hurt An Jian.

An Jian giggled, “I knew you’d like it.”

At noon, the Luo women came to deliver lunch. An Jian led An Yi back to the village with them; no one paid much attention to the grass she’d gathered.

“Thump!” An Yi tripped over a stray plow rope on the ridge and fell forward.

“Xier!” Madam Li, walking behind, hurried forward to help her up, “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Sister, your mouth is bleeding!” An Jian cried in alarm.

The Luo family stopped and turned to look.

An Yi opened her mouth and spat a fallen baby tooth into her palm.

“Oh, our Xier is growing up—she’s losing her teeth,” Madam Yang exclaimed in relief, laughing.