Chapter 45: Laba Festival

Chapter 45: Laba Festival

On the sixth day of the twelfth lunar month, the dry, cold wind stung their cheeks. A thin layer of ice had formed over the rice paddies. When Zhao An went out, he saw mischievous kids scooping up the ice to play.

Their fingers and cheeks were chapped red from the cold, yet their smiles were utterly innocent and pure. Upon seeing Zhao An, they immediately dropped the ice in their hands and scurried off toward the classroom, afraid of being late and missing out on good spots.

This was only possible because life in Zhaojia Village had recently improved, giving the children the luxury of mischief. In previous years, each family had only two padded coats, and the whole family had to take turns wearing them just to use the outhouse. The rest of the time, they huddled in bed to stay warm, eating only one meal a day to save food. There was no time for play—even getting up to use the outhouse felt exhausting.

After the children ran away, villagers participating in training jogged past in the distance, breathing out white puffs of breath. The leader was now Zhang Wei, who had begged Zhao An to let him stay in the village after returning from Qianzhou for the second time, using protecting Zhao An as an excuse to avoid going back to the mountains, claiming the food up there wasn’t good.

Zhao An allowed him to stay and take over the training of the villagers. Zhang Wei never seemed tired, dutifully leading the group in training every day, though he ate quite a lot—at least three large bowls of food per meal.

Zhao An, finally arriving at the classroom with his sleeves tugged down for warmth, lit coal stoves in all four corners. Despite this, he could still feel the wind blowing in through the low walls. He patted his cheeks to wake himself up and wrote a quickly put together two-hundred-word essay on the blackboard. It mainly introduced the Laba Festival (a traditional Chinese festival on the 8th day of the 12th lunar month), the types of grains used to make Laba porridge (a traditional festive rice porridge), and some common phrases.

Since the Laba Festival was just two days away, everyone in the class, regardless of age, listened with great interest. Even the women sitting at the back of the classroom, stitching shoe soles while warming themselves by the stove and listening in, paid closer attention.

They exchanged glances, each thinking to herself that she would immediately gather ingredients upon returning home, determined to make the best Laba porridge that would beat everyone else’s.

So when Zhao An asked them to write down the names of longan, lotus seeds, gorgon fruit, Job's tears, red beans, mung beans, and so on, everyone showed unusual enthusiasm and seriousness. They were eager to memorize these names so they could go to the city to buy them the next day—some impatient ones might even head into the city that very afternoon.

The class reaction was lively that day, but when Zhao An returned home, he was met with the same cold emptiness.

Hu Sheng had been gone for over twenty days. Zhao An had already successfully fired a batch of glass. Due to impurities, the initial products had a greenish-turquoise hue reminiscent of old-fashioned glass, with visible bubbles and ash spots.

Zhao An himself was not entirely satisfied, but the kiln workers involved in the glassmaking were delighted and had even made some innovations. Since they didn’t know how to blow glassware, they used a casting method: first, they created molds from ceramics, poured in the molten glass, and after it cooled, polished and refined it. The final bottles and jars had a rustic, old-fashioned beauty.

Zhao An had these glass items stored away. Without access to the upper-class trade channels of the Dawn Country, he had no plans to sell them yet. He decided to wait until Hu Sheng’s situation stabilized, then transport them to the Nanyue Country to sell, or perhaps resell them back to the Dawn Country after routing them through there.

As Zhao An idly flipped through a travelogue, his thoughts wandering, he suddenly heard Zhang Wei shout from downstairs, "Zhao An, a letter from the General has arrived!"

At that, he immediately dropped the book in his hand and rushed downstairs, where he saw Zhang Wei holding a small wooden box. Zhang Wei grinned and handed the box to Zhao An, saying, "Young Master, why did you come out without your outer robe? You should go back inside and read it slowly."

But Zhao An paid no attention to his teasing. He simply said, "Thank you," grabbed the box, and ran back upstairs.

Opening the box, he found an assortment of small items on top: dried flowers, an amber piece encasing a small insect, a perfectly round golden pearl, and a small wooden figurine that bore a striking resemblance to Hu Sheng.

He carefully picked up these precious little treasures before digging out the letters underneath. Sure enough, Hu Sheng had been writing to him nonstop along the journey, sharing his experiences and sending back interesting and beautiful things he encountered. Later, missing Zhao An terribly, he began carving a small statue of Zhao An. Only after temporarily settling down in the Nanyue Country did he realize Zhao An must be missing him too, so he carved a statue of himself and sent it back along with the accumulated letters.

Some of these letters might have been written on horseback during the journey, as the handwriting was very scribbled. But Zhao An read every word, imprinting them deeply in his heart. He stayed up until past midnight before finally packing the box away again. He paced around the room before eventually storing it at the very bottom of his wardrobe, treasuring it dearly.

From the next day onward, Zhao An shook off his despondency and became cheerful again. At the very least, he could be sure that Hu Sheng was safe in the Nanyue Country. After the greedy border army commander died, the surrounding local tribes occasionally attacked their camp, but they were always driven back.

For the royal family of the Nanyue Country, the border army commander’s enemies were actually the unruly local tribes, not the neighboring behemoth, the Dawn Country. After all, the Nanyue Country was merely a vassal state that had submitted to the Dawn Country—why would they fear invasion from their suzerain?

Hu Sheng told Zhao An that they had begun to gain the trust of the King of Nanyue. He also had begun to trust Ma Chuan’s abilities and promised to return before the Lunar New Year.

With such a promise, Zhao An decided to properly prepare for the Lunar New Year celebrations. For example, on the Laba Festival, they should drink Laba porridge, so he planned to go into the city that day.

Perhaps because the Lunar New Year was approaching, the streets of Changxi County were much livelier, almost erasing the traces of the natural disasters earlier in the year, when many families couldn’t make ends meet and were forced to sell their children.

Zhao An, infected by the festive atmosphere, found his mule cart loaded with New Year’s goods before he even realized it. Most of the items were various foods transported from other regions, and he also bought new clothes for Uncle Hai and Qintong.

When it came to food in the Dawn Country, the variety was indeed rich. He even found steamed egg cakes filled with baked strawberry dried fruit at a pastry shop—the sweet and sour aroma was mouthwatering just to smell. However, the prices were still steep: a small strawberry dried egg cake cost ten copper coins, and a jin (approximately 0.5 kg) of twelve cakes cost a string of cash.

As a result, most children who caught the scent could only stare longingly as Zhao An ate. Even if a child threw a tantrum, the parents would at most grit their teeth and buy them a one-coin sugar pancake to satisfy their sweet tooth.

Some parents, reluctant to spend the money or truly too poor, could only smack their kids’ bottoms and drag them away.

Zhao An ate his egg cake while watching this lively scene, which was far more pleasant than the heart-wrenching sight of children being sold that he had witnessed on his previous visit to the county town.

Just then, a familiar voice called out from a building across the street, "Zhao An, what brings you such good spirits today?"

Zhao An looked up and saw Feng Shaoping wearing a black sable cloak. He didn’t feel embarrassed about being caught amused by the children’s antics and waved cheerfully, saying, "Young Master Feng, you seem quite free today too."

Dressed in sable fur, rare in the south, Feng Shaoping sat in an open-air tea house enjoying the view. In the cold of the twelfth lunar month, only someone with nothing better to do would do such a thing.

Feng Shaoping clearly detected Zhao An’s teasing. He picked up the little girl beside him, who was not yet tall enough to reach the windowsill, and waved her hand toward Zhao An. "The road construction projects have recently wrapped up, so I really don’t have much to do. I brought my daughter out for some fresh air."

The little girl, bundled tightly in a red cloak like a little red packet, was momentarily stunned when her father picked her up before shyly turning to bury her face in his chest.

It suddenly occurred to Zhao An that Feng Shaoping was already married and had a daughter, though his wife had passed away.

Previously, seeing Feng Shaoping as just in his early twenties, Zhao An hadn’t fully grasped that he was already a father. It only sank in now, seeing his daughter.

So Feng Shaoping’s flamboyant, boastful personality wasn’t due to youth—it was simply his inherent nature.

Zhao An complained to himself inwardly but maintained a polite demeanor outwardly. "Tomorrow is the Laba Festival, Young Master Feng. Why not bring your little niece to Zhaojia Village for a bowl of Laba porridge?"

This was merely a polite offer, but to his surprise, Feng Shaoping nodded and said, "Sure, sure."

Zhao An’s smile stiffened briefly but quickly returned to normal. After all, he planned to make a big pot of porridge to share with everyone who worked for him. Setting aside a little extra for Feng Shaoping wouldn’t be a problem.

On the day of the Laba Festival, Zhao An prepared twenty types of grains and nuts, cooking two large pots of Laba porridge to distribute to the kiln workers.

After drinking the thick porridge, everyone’s first comment was, "It’s sweet. Delicious."

Zhao An wasn’t upset that they didn’t fully appreciate it. Instead, their smiles lifted his spirits—until Feng Shaoping arrived late.

Not only did he bring his daughter, but he also brought plenty of wine and dishes. He ended up getting drunk at Zhao An’s house, clutching his daughter while sobbing, "I already have Xiaoping. Why do I need to remarry and have more children?"

Zhao An frowned, worried he might hurt the child, and quickly took the girl from him. He then had Qintong and Zhang Wei haul the drunk man to a guest room.

That left the little girl. Uncle Hai brought her hot water to wash her face. Zhao An escorted her to the guest room and apologetically said, "You’ll have to sleep alone tonight. Are you scared?"

The girl, much more outgoing than during their previous meeting, shook her head and said, "I always sleep alone. I’m not scared."

Zhao An patted her head and said, "Alright then, off to bed on your own."