Chapter 210: Dani’s Sister

Chapter 210: Dani Mei

The morning rain stopped and started, the overcast sky mirrored Dalun's funeral. The cold air seeped into people's bodies along with the raindrops, making it hard for folks to stay put.

Wei Kai was called away to help temporarily, while Xue Sheng stood guard in a nearby corner, watching over Meng Wan. Meng Wan rubbed his hands together, but the faint warmth they generated was nowhere near enough to warm his body. He stepped forward, intending to find a wind-sheltered spot to stand for a while.

Nongle's youngest son came out of nowhere, handing Meng Wan a bamboo tube filled with hot water. Meng Wan smiled slightly at him, lifting the tube to take a sip of hot water to warm himself, but then he unexpectedly noticed a light breeze stirred up by the kid's running. The wind made the cloth over the coffin flutter, lifting a corner before it fell back down.

Meng Wan’s eyes widened in shock. He had just glimpsed half of the deceased Dalun’s face. The skin, drained of blood, had taken on a cold, bluish-gray color, like old rice paper with no life in it, leaving only a lifeless pallor.

What was most terrifying was that the eye on the exposed half of the face was open!

What does a dead person's eye look like, anyway? It held no spark of vitality at all, but on that stiff face and the gloom tainted by death, it was enough to scare someone half to death.

Meng Wan gasped for a moment, instinctively moved closer to the crowded edge of the wooden building. There was a chicken coop there, and because of the crowd and the cold weather, the chickens had all huddled inside their cages.

The people around were all speaking Zhuang, which Meng Wan couldn’t understand. But the sound of voices made him feel safe and settled, as if it kept him away from the deathly stillness near the mourning hall.

“Are you… an outsider?”

A real broken Cantonese came from a middle-aged woman standing beside Meng Wan. She wore a set of black homespun clothes and a black cloth cap on her head. She looked at Meng Wan with curiosity and admiration, but no ill will at all.

Meng Wan was surprised that someone in Naganzhai could speak Mandarin, and quickly replied, “I’m from the prefectural city. Auntie, you know Mandarin?”

The woman seemed to want to smile, but then, remembering the occasion, she lowered the corners of her mouth. She held her thumb and index finger together. “Yi dian dian la, when I was little I went to the county town with my dad, haven’t been out in these past few years.”

Meng Wan had been in Lingnan for many years, so he could understand Cantonese well enough. “Why haven’t you gone out these past few years?”

When Meng Wan asked, her fingers suddenly froze, and she looked confused, as if she had never thought about it before. Or maybe she had thought about it at some point, but got tangled up in everyday stuff and put it aside.

“Go out… to do what?”

Meng Wan could tell something was off, but given the occasion, he continued chatting with her about other things. The rain, which had been coming and going, hadn’t stopped by noon, but Meng Wan managed to learn about the woman’s background.

Her name was Qin Na, and yes, she was actually Master Tan’s cousin.

Qin Na was a real gentle, innocent woman. Meng Wan found that everyone in the Zhuang village had that same innocence. They were like people trapped in glass jars, living in a tiny space, rising at sunrise and resting at sunset. It seemed idyllic, but people need to see and learn more. Stay cooped up too long—it makes you sick.

While Meng Wan chatted with Qin Na, many people nearby stole glances. Most couldn’t understand what they were saying, but an old man suddenly interjected, “Are you that young man's wife from yesterday?”

A little place like Naganzhai actually had two people who could understand Mandarin? Meng Wan was pretty surprised. “Yesterday my husband said an old man led him into the village. That must have been you, Uncle? Thank you, Uncle.”

“Minor matter, minor matter.” The old man waved his hand. The extra half of the black cloth wrapped around his head hung down naturally, embroidered with simple patterns.

“Your husband's a big official from outside, huh?” He asked with a simple, honest face.

“Yes.” Since Song Tingzhou had come this time and would likely personally visit dozens of villages, there was no hiding the identity of the prefectural official, nor was there any need to.

The old man nodded his head. “Good, good.”

Meng Wan didn’t know what he meant by that, but before he could talk further, someone from the mourning hall came over to call for people.

A few people left the chicken coop area, including the old man. Nongle also came out from behind, having been standing in a corner of the shed the whole time; Meng Wan never saw him even after talking to Qin Na for ages.

The able-bodied men stood guard around the mourning hall; they would take turns keeping vigil tonight. The old man, on the other hand, walked straight up to the coffin, pulled a book from his pocket, and began to calculate while shaking his head and pinching his fingers.

Qin Na took the initiative to explain to Meng Wan, “He is the shaman of the Lazhai village.”

Meng Wan: “Shaman?”

Qin Na told Meng Wan that the shaman was the only person in their Zhuang village who could communicate between humans and gods. He was the village wise man, held in even higher regard than the Tribal Elder. He ran all the funerals and weddings in the Zhuang village, and he even used herbs to treat illnesses.

Meng Wan didn't expect that this approachable old man was such an important figure in the Zhuang village.

The second day of Dalun's funeral, besides preparing the mourning hall, dressing the deceased, arranging the body into the coffin, and a bunch of other tedious rituals, the shaman also selected an auspicious time: the body would be buried at the Chou hour (1-3 AM) the day after tomorrow.

The friends and relatives who came to help stayed to cook and eat. Meng Wan felt bad about freeloading, so he decided to leave Dalun's house and take a stroll. As he walked past the mourning hall, Dalun’s daughter suddenly called out to him and said something in Zhuang. Seeing Meng Wan’s confused expression, she seemed to realize he didn’t understand her words and became visibly anxious.

Nongle came over, asked her a few questions, and calmed her down. But he didn’t know Mandarin either, so he couldn’t explain to Meng Wan what Dalun’s daughter wanted to say.

He gestured a couple of times, probably telling Meng Wan to go rest first and wait for Wei Kai, the translator, to come and translate. But Meng Wan had just met Qin Na, so he asked Xue Sheng to go to the kitchen and fetch her.

“Dani Mei is asking if you are the person who did business with her father. What's that about? Did Dalun buy something from you before?” Qin Na asked Meng Wan curiously.

Meng Wan had originally intended to let this matter go, but he hadn’t expected Dalun’s daughter to bring it up. “Not buying, selling. He wanted to sell me his Murcott oranges.”

Qin Na looked even more astonished. Her mouth slightly open, she asked incredulously, “Aren't oranges just kids' snacks? They can be sold?”

Meng Wan chuckled. “They can be sold, and they're worth more than your cloth.”

In the entire Yu Kingdom, only Yuezhou Prefecture and Lingnan had oranges. Yuezhou Prefecture was relatively close to Shengjing, so the price of oranges there was moderate; some families with a bit of savings could afford to try them fresh.

However, Lingnan oranges, due to their remote location and difficult transportation, could only be shipped as official tribute goods, and only the royal family and nobles could have them, so the price was extremely high.

When Meng Wan was in Shengjing, even the oranges he ate were from Yuezhou Prefecture. After coming to Lingnan, despite the hot climate, he enjoyed a fruit paradise. In his first year at Heshan, he ate so many lychees that his nose bled at night, almost scared Song Tingzhou to death.

Dani Mei and Nongle only saw Meng Wan and Qin Na asking and answering, but they didn't get it until Qin Na translated it into Zhuang.

It was funny to see their different expressions after hearing Meng Wan’s words. Dani Mei looked a little guilty. She was wearing a mourning cloth on her head, turned around, and ran upstairs. After a little while, she came down with a small embroidered pouch decorated with a white rabbit and handed it to Meng Wan, lowering her head and said a couple of things.

Qin Na asked her twice again, and both times she nodded firmly, so Qin Na finally said to Meng Wan, “Dani Mei says this is the deposit you gave her father before. She's giving it back to you now.”

Dani Mei had likely heard about this from Dalun before. She had wanted to return the money but didn’t know how to find Tang Jinshuang. After all, even the adults in the village hadn’t left the stockade for a long time; only her father had gone out once or twice. A naive young girl like her was even more clueless about how to find someone.

This time, seeing that Meng Wan’s clothes and manner matched the “outside person” her father had mentioned, and since she and her mother didn’t know anyone who came to pay respects, she guessed that he was the one they needed to repay.

The girl’s thinking was very practical, and she was very lucky to have guessed correctly.

Meng Wan took the pouch and opened it up; it contained exactly fifteen taels of silver as the deposit, stuffed so full it bulged.

In front of Qin Na and Nongle, he tucked the money pouch into his shirt.

—Good, an honest child. He appreciated that.

Dani Mei, supported by her mother and several relatives, managed to eat two mouthfuls of food before going upstairs to rest. As she lay down on her pillow, she felt something poking her head. After patting the pillow a couple of times, she was surprised to find the pouch had come back.

She was naive, not stupid, and instantly understood what Meng Wan meant. Her heart was both touched and sad—touched by the kindness of a stranger, and sad because her father had been running around for her health and had died accidentally.

Meng Wan took a stroll around Naganzhai. At noon, he asked Wei Kai to buy two chickens from another household in the stockade, and cooked them with Nongle’s mushrooms. A big pot of stew; everyone except Meng Wan ate a lot.

Rain fell all day today, and even until bedtime, the ground smelled like mud and damp. Meng Wan still sat on the porch, holding a pack of dried fruit, nibbling lazily. He propped his chin on one hand and stared intently at Dalun’s mourning hall.

He felt like there was something he couldn't quite figure out. Nothing specific in his mind, yet everything was messy and tangled, leaving him irritated and restless.

Song Tingzhou came up behind him and draped a cloak over his shoulders. “It’s too cold outside. Let’s go inside?”

“Mm,” Meng Wan responded weakly.

As he followed Song Tingzhou into the house, he involuntarily cast another glance at Dalun’s mourning hall. From his angle, he could only see the tarpaulin above the hall and a corner of the coffin. In his mind, he involuntarily recalled the scene he saw in the mourning hall during the day, and his body shivered.

Song Tingzhou, thinking he was cold, quickly pulled him onto the bed and wrapped him in the blanket.

"I haven't brushed yet," Meng Wan said softly.

Song Tingzhou picked up the wooden cup used for brushing. "I'll go downstairs to get you hot water. You can wash up in bed so you don't freeze."

Though he was in his twenties and being treated like a child by Song Tingzhou, Meng Wan felt no embarrassment. They were an old married couple—why be so coy?

After getting cleaned up, Meng Wan burrowed completely under the covers. When Song Tingzhou finished washing up and got into bed, Meng Wan quickly snuggled into his arms.

"So cold~ Why is the Zhuang village colder than the prefectural city?"

Song Tingzhou held him tightly, tucking the blanket snugly around him. "The temperature in the mountains is indeed a bit lower. The gaps in the wooden house's doors and windows let in drafts easily. How about I take you back after the day after tomorrow's funeral?"

"I'm not going back. I've still got business to handle." Meng Wan closed his eyes. The later it got, the colder it became, and he felt the cold wind on his forehead, the cold almost making him cry.

"Didn't you get back the deposit from Dalun?"

"I still need to ask the other villagers if they're willing to sell oranges. Besides, I'm very interested in their cloth. Qina said Danimei is the most skilled in the village. I want to ask if she'll sell her cloth."

"That's good too. But it's a pity that it's Dalun's funeral now. You can talk to her properly after it ends."

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking..."

The oil lamp was still burning. A dark shadow flashed past the window, but neither of them on the bed seemed to notice.

In the morning, Meng Wan struggled to get up again. Today was the third day of Dalun's funeral. Early in the morning, the shaman was chanting sutras in the mourning hall to guide the deceased's spirit.

His old voice seemed to hold a special power, calming restless hearts.

Meng Wan let out a long, weary sigh. The shaman would be chanting all day, which was nice—it felt like it washed your soul.

After breakfast, Song Tingzhou continued, with Tao Shiyi in tow and the Headman accompanying them, to go door-to-door checking records. Meng Wan saw leftover porridge in the pot and asked Xue Sheng, "Where's Nong Na? Didn't he come out for breakfast?" Nong Na is Nongle's son, a real sweetheart and very attentive.

Xue Sheng walked toward the adjacent wooden building, where Nongle and his son lived. "I'll try knocking on the door."

Nongle had been leaving early and returning late these days. Surely Nong Na wouldn't go out playing this early?

Xue Sheng knocked lightly twice, feeling something off about the door. He gave it a firm push, and the door pushed right open.

Inside was an empty room with a messy bed. Xue Sheng called out twice at the door. When no one answered, he closed the door and stepped back. "Hon, there's no one in the room."

Meng Wan frowned slightly, muttering to himself, "He didn't eat breakfast and left so early?"

Wei Kai, stuffed to the brim, wiped his mouth. "Kids, they're all playful. I was like that when I was young. Our Zhuang village is safe; children have always roamed freely."

Putting this small matter aside, Meng Wan decided not to go to Dalun's house today. He asked Wei Kai to find out which families in Na Gan village had many orange trees, write down their names, and take him to discuss selling oranges.

With Dalun's case as a lesson, Meng Wan expected the villagers to be open to trading with outsiders, but instead he was met with a cold shoulder. Those folks flat-out refused to sell their oranges.

"Why?" Meng Wan was very puzzled. These oranges were just for the kids to eat. Didn't they want to earn some extra money for their families? After all, his offer was pretty good.