Chapter Sixty-Four: Many Affairs in the Twelfth Month

Many traditional Chinese medicinal herbs are poisonous—Chuanlianzi, Tiantianvine, Makuazi, Ginkgo, and even the commonly used Pinellia has a mild toxicity. An overdose of medicine can lead to poisoning. Medicine is also poison, and poison can also be medicine. For An Yi, selecting a few herbs to blend with insecticide was no challenge, especially since she had already specialized in toxic plants in the modern world and even created various types of slow-acting poisons. In her mind, poison and insecticide were essentially the same; one targeted insects, the other humans.

She already had the formula for the poison committed to memory; what she lacked were the proper tools. She couldn't afford to reveal knowledge of the equipment or skill in their use before Dr. Lu had taught her how to process medicinal herbs.

Yesterday's visit to the Lu household to peruse medical texts had been a distraction—her real goal was the tools. Dr. Lu did not disappoint. In addition to the iron mortar and pestle beneath the medicine cabinet, she found, locked in a large chest, an iron pot, a small stone mill, an iron strainer, and a small silver scale.

An Yi searched the medicine cabinet up and down but found neither Bittervine nor the alternative, Chuanlianzi; she could only find Aconite and Pinellia. Bittervine and Chuanlian fruit ripen in October—a clever woman cannot cook without rice—so An Yi had to return home, hide her books, and head to the Herbal Garden to find An Jian.

Upon reaching the Herbal Garden, she discovered a large group of children catching insects. With so many people, she didn't spot An Jian right away and called out, "Second Brother! Second Brother!"

"Hey, I'm here, little sister!" An Jian stood up at the sound of her voice and waved.

An Yi ran over and pointed at the group of children, asking, "What's going on here?"

"I called them. They're my helpers. With so many people, the insects were caught in no time," An Jian replied.

An Yi laughed—this idea wasn’t bad at all.

That evening, Madam Luo and An Kang returned from the city. An Kang hadn't been able to get any advice from Uncle Chen; growing medicinal herbs was much like growing grain—it all depended on the weather.

"Big Brother, it’s alright. Second Brother found a bunch of helpers, and the insects are mostly gone," An Yi said with a smile.

"Really? That's wonderful. Dr. Lu left the garden to Xi'er, and if the herbs were all eaten by insects, he wouldn’t be able to explain it when he returns," Madam Luo sighed in relief. "Growing herbs is even more worrying than growing grain—just two or three months and there’ve already been two outbreaks of pests."

"Mother, pests are a natural disaster; it’s not that I didn’t take care of things. There’s nothing that can’t be explained," An Yi said, confident that Dr. Lu would not blame them.

"My sister is right—natural disasters are beyond human control," An Kang agreed.

"But last time you said 'Man can conquer nature,' didn’t you, Big Brother?" An Jian countered.

An Yi clicked her tongue, "Second Brother, you’re not paying enough attention to your studies—even I know that ‘man can’ is one phrase, and ‘can’ here doesn’t mean ‘definitely will.’"

An Kang shot An Jian a look, "You’d better read the Explanations of Characters and get your meanings straight. Otherwise, next year’s child scholar exam will be a lost cause."

"Oh," An Jian shrank his neck and dared not argue further.

For three days, An Jian rallied the village children to help catch insects. At last, the red spider mites were eradicated, and the medicinal herbs were saved. To thank the children, Madam Luo bought a sack of flour and a pound of pork belly, made over a hundred buns, and gave them as treats.

"Big Brother, call us again next time there are bugs to catch!" the children laughed as they enjoyed their meat buns.

"Don’t worry, if there are bugs, you’ll be the first to know," An Jian replied grandly.

Sitting by the stove, feeding the fire, An Yi rolled her eyes. These little rascals—couldn’t they hope for something better?

The next day was the fifteenth of the eighth month, the night of the full moon, a time for family reunions. Unfortunately, though the moon was full, the family was not.

Madam Luo gazed at the silvery moon, her thoughts turning to An Qing, of whom there was still no news, and Wei Yang, who had left and never returned. Melancholy overcame her; no joy touched her face.

Noticing, An Yi nestled closer and asked, "Mother, why does Wu Gang chop the cassia tree on the moon?"

"I’ve told you the story of Wu Gang and the cassia tree before."

"But I’m still little—I’ve forgotten. Please, tell it again. This time, I’ll remember for sure," An Yi said, clinging to her mother’s arm and acting spoiled.

Madam Luo glanced at her and smiled. "Alright, I’ll tell it again. It’s said that during the Han dynasty, there was a man named Wu Gang, who was obsessed with becoming an immortal but neglected his studies. The Heavenly Emperor, upon learning this, was furious and banished him to the Moon Palace, commanding him to chop down a tree. He said, 'If you fell the cassia tree, you’ll obtain the secret of immortality.' So Wu Gang began chopping, but every time he split the tree, it healed instantly. Day after day, year after year, he never succeeded. The Heavenly Emperor punished Wu Gang by making him perform this futile labor forever."

"That was a good story, Mother—tell another!" Madam Luo was not a storyteller; her tales were dry and lifeless, but An Yi pretended to enjoy them to lift her spirits, clamoring for more.

"Alright, I’ll tell another." Understanding her daughter’s intent, she continued with the story of Chang’e’s flight to the moon. "In ancient times, there appeared ten suns in the sky…"

When Madam Luo finished, An Kang volunteered a tale about the Jade Rabbit pounding medicine.

"Little sister, you were born in the year of the rabbit, and you’ve only studied medicine for a short while yet can already treat people. Could you be the Jade Rabbit spirit come to earth?" An Jian blurted out.

"If you say so, Second Brother, then you were born in the wrong year—it should have been the year of the pig, given how much you eat. You’ve nearly finished everything on the table," An Yi retorted.

"You little rascal! You’ve eaten nearly everything. Why are you stuffing yourself so late at night? Go to the yard and practice some boxing to digest—look at your chubby self, you’re almost as fat as the pigs we slaughter for New Year," Madam Luo scolded, standing to clear the table.

An Jian stuck out his tongue, put down his pastry, and hurried to the backyard.

An Kang and An Yi helped Madam Luo put away the food, washed up, and went to bed.

At the end of August, An Yi and An Jian went to the city to sell herbs and earned two taels of silver. In mid-September, after the busy farming season, on the twentieth, An Ximei was married. Early in the morning, Madam Luo took An Kang and his siblings by ox cart to attend, bringing gifts and dowry.

After a few polite words with Madam Zhu and presenting the gifts and cloth, Madam Luo left to visit Madam Cui.

Madam Cui was still in confinement, lying in her room, unable to help with the festivities.

"Achoo!" An Yi sneezed as soon as she entered, overwhelmed by the strange smell.

"Sister-in-law, I’ve come to see you," Madam Luo said.

The room was dim. An Yi blinked to adjust her eyes and saw Madam Cui lying in bed. She looked nothing like a woman in confinement—emaciated, ashen-faced, her gaze vacant. The once plump, smiling young woman from two years ago was gone.

An Yi’s eyes flickered. She had just seen An Zhi outside; his condition was much better than Cui’s.

Madam Luo sat by the bed, softly coaxing, "Sister-in-law, everything is in the past. You’re still young; look ahead and take care of your health..."

Unable to bear the atmosphere, An Yi quickly excused herself, standing at the door watching the guests come and go. The bustling An family, it seemed, had little to do with Madam Cui.

At dusk, the groom arrived to collect his bride. An Kang and his siblings stood at a distance, not approaching for red envelopes. The groom was from Xiatang Village, surnamed Zhou, and called Leopard—tall, strong, and lived up to his name.

Tears glistened in Madam Zhu’s eyes as she watched her daughter’s bridal sedan depart, followed by twelve chests of dowry she had prepared. Though not as lavish as the ten-mile dowries of wealthy families, it was the finest in Shangtang Village, drawing whispers from the villagers and the envy of the unmarried girls.

Madam Zhu was pleased, but her two daughters-in-law were full of resentment, their faces long, more suited to a funeral than a wedding, muttering to their husbands that the dowry was too much and emptied the family coffers.

Madam Zhu’s ears were sharp; she heard and rounded on them. "You two have nothing to complain about. The portion your sister took was what I saved for her over the years. Listen closely—while your father and I are alive, the family property is not yours to covet."

The two daughters-in-law dared not retort, pursed their lips, and retreated to the kitchen to bring out dishes—the wedding feast was about to begin.

After the feast, as night fell, Madam Luo did not stay the night but took the children home. At the village entrance, Luo Fugui arrived with the ox cart to fetch them.

"Uncle, why did you come?" Madam Luo asked in surprise.

"Chunli couldn’t make it this evening, so I came instead," Luo Fugui explained.

By the time they returned home, it was the Hour of the Pig. They washed up and went to bed, and the night passed uneventfully.

As October arrived, the weather cooled. An Kang and his brothers went into the mountains with the Luo family to gather firewood. An Yi had already joined them twice before, and this time Madam Luo did not stop her.

An Yi spent an entire month gathering over ten jin of Bittervine and Chuanlianzi, along with other useful herbs.

While she was busy extracting Bittervine and Chuanlianzi essences to make insecticide, ominous news arrived from the capital: the Emperor Zhishun, who had ascended the throne less than a year ago, had died at thirty-nine. He had been crown prince for fifteen years but ruled as emperor for only ten months, making him the shortest-reigning monarch of the Xu dynasty.

The emperor had not expected to die so soon and had not named a crown prince. Although he left behind nine sons, the eldest was only sixteen and the youngest three; none had time to build power. With powerful uncles vying for control, seven princes struggled for the throne, plunging the capital into chaos.

As the year’s end approached, the nation entered mourning. Though the capital’s unrest did not reach Jingtang Village, it was clear that the New Year would be cold and somber. Forty-nine days of prohibition on slaughtering livestock left Aunt Zhu in tears.

After the Laba Festival, the days grew colder. An Yi transplanted some of the more delicate herbs from the Herbal Garden into pots and brought them home.

On the twentieth of the twelfth month, the sky was overcast, and a biting wind blew. After checking on the herbs in the Herbal Garden, An Yi headed to the Lu household to continue making insecticide. As soon as she entered and bolted the door, a sharp, icy dagger pressed against her throat.

An Yi drew a cold breath and glanced down at the blade, showing no fear. Anyone who could silently slip a dagger to her throat could just as easily kill her without a sound. The fact that she was still alive meant this person wanted something from her—her life, for now, was safe. Calmly, she took a step back and turned to see a face of breathtaking beauty.

The phrase “as beautiful as an immortal” rarely described a man, but it fit this person perfectly. However, at the moment, that flawless face was tinged with a bluish-gray pallor.

As An Yi sized up Young Master Gong, he studied her as well. Her small, delicate face showed no trace of fear. Her clear eyes met his gaze, calm and unflinching. Confronted by a dagger, she neither screamed nor begged for mercy, but remained composed—truly remarkable for a girl not yet ten years old.

"Go inside," Young Master Gong said, putting away the dagger in a low voice.

Obediently, An Yi walked into the main hall. The door, once locked, now stood open—the tiny brass lock was no obstacle to someone as skilled as the Seventh Lord.

The hall was unheated and chilly. Young Master Gong sat down directly and asked, "Why are you here?"

"My master told me to look after the house before he left," An Yi replied. In truth, she wanted to ask him the same question. What was it about this ordinary village that attracted a legendary physician to live in seclusion for decades, or warranted a visit from the Seventh Lord of the Saintly Robes Sect? It seemed she would need to consult the county annals.

"What’s your name?" he asked.

"An Yi." She dared not offer more; it was improper to ask a young woman’s given name.

His gaze suddenly sharpened. "Dr. Lu calls you Xi’er."

"Xi'er is my childhood name," An Yi replied, surprised that he remembered.

He lowered his eyes. "Come, check my pulse and treat my wounds."

"I’ve only studied medicine with my master for a year," An Yi hesitated, not moving.

"A year is enough," he replied, rolling up his sleeve and placing his arm on the table.

An Yi did not refuse further, stepping forward to feel his pulse.

Young Master Gong looked at her slender, pale fingers—her nails trimmed short, round and pink. He did not want a little girl treating him, but he no longer had the strength to seek a physician in town. Besides, no ordinary doctor could heal his injuries. He had no choice but to take the risk.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked quietly after checking his pulse.

"My back," he said, moving to untie his clothing.

An Yi turned her head slightly, feigning modesty as befitted a young lady.

Seeing the faint blush on her cheeks, he smiled. "Alright, come take a look."

An Yi circled behind him. A purple-red palm print stained his pale skin—distinct and alarming.

"That’s a Cinnabar Palm," he said coolly.

An Yi didn’t know martial arts and had no idea how the Cinnabar Palm was practiced, but she knew cinnabar was toxic. She had sensed the poison in his pulse and assumed he’d been secretly poisoned, not realizing the source was the palm strike.

She knew how to treat mercury poisoning from ingesting cinnabar—but how to treat poisoning from an external wound?

He dressed again. "The medicines in the cabinet are fairly complete. Go prepare an antidote for me."

An Yi was taken aback and looked up at him. Did he truly trust her medical skills?