Chapter 56

Chapter 56

After Pei Yufeng headed out, Ji Yunshu cleaned up the remaining broken branches and small stones in the yard. She gathered the branches she could pick up, tied them into bundles, and leaned them against the wall, then swept the gravel into a dustpan and dumped it into the bamboo basket outside the gate.

The orchid whose pot had broken was temporarily moved by Ji Yunshu into an old chipped enamel basin, placed in a sheltered spot under the eaves. Its leaves were still wilted, but the roots weren't broken—after watering, it should recover.

In the evening, a light rain began to fall again. The raindrops were so fine that they were almost weightless against the skin, dense and continuous, giving the branches still scattered around the yard a glistening wet sheen. The humidity in the air had risen noticeably, and when the draft blew through, the bedding and clothes all took on a damp feel.

Ji Yunshu closed the doors and windows tightly, heated water for a bath, changed into a light blue nightgown, and leaned against the headboard with a book as a writing surface to compose letters to He Qiuxia and Wang Wanru. Huajuan was curled up on her knee dozing, while the cat, Shenshen, crouched on the windowsill, gazing through the glass at the nearby rooftops and the gray, distant sea, the tip of her tail flicking gently.

Ji Yunshu knew that letters were hard to send out during typhoon season, but her gaze kept drifting to the window without her realizing it, as she waited for Pei Yufeng to show up—she had to force herself to think about something else. Pei Yufeng had said he might not be back tonight, which meant there was also a chance he would return. But how were the fishermen whose homes had collapsed in the typhoon going to get through the night? Were the temporary tents the soldiers had put up going to be enough? Once it got dark, everything became harder to manage—might Pei Yufeng get hurt? The rain was light, but working in the rain during rescue operations was the surest way to catch cold—would he fall ill?

Ji Yunshu couldn't write anymore halfway through. She forced herself to close her eyes and listen to the patter of rain outside the window as she tried to fall asleep. But she tossed and turned for a while, and those scattered thoughts in her mind simply refused to settle. She finally gave up and opened her eyes, pulled the collar of her nightgown together, draped one of Pei Yufeng's old military jackets over her shoulders, slipped on her slippers, and headed downstairs.

She first heated some water in the kitchen, thinking that if Pei Yufeng came back, he could jump in a hot shower right away, then carried a small stool out to the porch under the eaves, leaned against the doorframe and sat down. Pei Yufeng's military jacket was very large—the hem fell just above her knees, and the sleeves hung way past her hands. Ji Yunshu rolled the sleeves up twice and rested her chin on her hands, which poked out from the rolled-up cuffs.

The rain outside the eaves was as fine as embroidery needles, lit by the dim porch light overhead, like countless silver threads dangling from the gray sky. The guava tree in the yard leaned to one side, the exposed root wet from the rain, and the raindrops on the leaves gathered bigger and bigger until they couldn't hold on anymore and plopped down, sending tiny ripples across the muddy puddles below.

At some point, Huajuan had followed Ji Yunshu downstairs, circled her feet, then jumped into her lap, curled up into a ball of fur, and went back to sleep.

Ji Yunshu didn't know how long she sat there. The sound of the rain under the eaves was hypnotic, but she felt no drowsiness at all—she just sat there quietly, listening to the rain, watching the gate, waiting for a familiar figure to come around the corner of the slope.

Just as Ji Yunshu was starting to feel a little silly and was about to get up and head back inside, the courtyard gate suddenly swung open.

Pei Yufeng stood at the entrance. He was soaked to the bone—his military jacket was off and draped over his shoulder, leaving just a wet shirt plastered to his skin, and his pants were caked with mud. But in his arms, he was holding something wrapped tightly in a rain poncho—round and plump—cradled carefully in both hands, like it was a precious treasure that couldn't be damaged.

Seeing Ji Yunshu sitting under the eaves, Pei Yufeng paused, then strode through the gate toward her, his brows furrowed, and there was a rare note of urgency in his voice: "Why aren't you asleep yet? It's almost midnight—are you not feeling well?"

Ji Yunshu could hear the worry and tension in his voice. She quickly stood up, pulled the military jacket closed, and gently set Huajuan off her lap. "I'm fine, just felt the room was a bit damp and couldn't sleep, so I came out to sit for a bit. You're back—are you hurt? Why aren't you wearing your rain poncho? Don't talk, go take a hot shower first—you're soaked."

Pei Yufeng didn't bother answering her questions right away. He pulled her inside so she wouldn't catch cold, scanning her from head to toe, making sure her complexion was normal, her forehead wasn't hot, and she seemed relaxed—only then did he let out a small sigh of relief. He set the round thing wrapped in the rain poncho on the dining table, his voice softer now: "The rescue went better than expected. The collapsed houses have been cleared, and the villagers are settled in the temporary shelter at the elementary school. I'll head back over tomorrow morning—for tonight, I'm home."

Ji Yunshu was stunned to see that what was wrapped in the rain poncho was actually a watermelon: "How'd you bring back a watermelon?"

"From the military farm—we'll cut it open in a bit." Pei Yufeng looked down at his mud-caked pants and soaked shirt, then at the clean, fluffy military jacket on Ji Yunshu, and stepped back half a step, afraid of getting mud on her. "The room's damp? Is the bedding musty?"

"A little—the quilt doesn't feel all that dry." Ji Yunshu answered honestly.

Without another word, Pei Yufeng kicked off his mud-caked rubber boots outside the bathroom door, went in barefoot, and took the quickest hot shower imaginable. After washing off the mud and the salty smell of the sea, he came out in a clean undershirt and shorts, his hair still dripping, with a few water droplets hanging from the ends.

After that, Pei Yufeng went upstairs to check on the bed. The bedroom did have a musty smell, and the quilt felt distinctly damp and cool to the touch. The floor by the window had been wiped dry during the day, but now a thin layer of dampness was seeping up again. He pulled a set of dry bedding out of the wardrobe, moved the slightly damp bedding to a nearby chair to air out, put the dry set on, carefully tucked the four corners of the sheet under the mattress, and fluffed the pillow before putting it back.

The wardrobe always had camphor blocks and a bit of charcoal to absorb moisture and keep pests away, and at the very bottom was a piece of quicklime wrapped in oil paper. Pei Yufeng checked it—the quicklime had already absorbed moisture and crumbled, which is why the clothes and bedding in the wardrobe were drier than the stuff left outside.

Only after all that did Pei Yufeng go downstairs to deal with the watermelon he'd brought back. The emerald-green rind still had a rain-washed sheen, and the cut end of the vine was still a fresh light green. It was one of those local sandy-soil watermelons—not big, but perfectly round and plump.

"With the typhoon coming, the farm was worried about losing the crops and fruit, so they picked a lot before the storm hit. To keep them from spoiling, they distributed them to the cadres. The manager said these are the last watermelons of the season—they'd hoped to have them through August, but the typhoon forced an early harvest. If we don't eat them now, there won't be any more." Pei Yufeng washed the watermelon in clean water, cut off the stem end, and deftly sliced the flesh into crescent-shaped pieces, picking out the few center pieces with the fewest seeds and placing them on a plate for her. "Try it—he said it's a sandy-flesh melon, should be pretty sweet."

Ji Yunshu took a bite. The juice burst in her mouth, sweet as honey water, the sandy texture melting on her tongue, and the cool juice sliding down her throat swept away all the worry in her heart. She remarked, "It really is sweet."

Ji Yunshu's eyes curved into a smile as she pushed the plate toward him. "You have a piece too. Where are the villagers from the back mountain staying tonight? How many houses collapsed?"

"Seven collapsed, and another dozen or so had their roofs torn off—not safe to live in for now. But everyone's fine. They're temporarily staying in the elementary school classrooms tonight, and tomorrow we'll help them get the roofs rebuilt." Pei Yufeng took the piece she offered, finished it in a few bites, and put the remaining flesh into an enamel basin with cold water to soak—it would keep for another day. He then cut the watermelon rind into thin strips and placed them in an enamel bowl with a pinch of salt—a local Qiongzhou way of eating it, pickled watermelon rind that was crisp and could be served as a breakfast side dish. Then he turned around, pulled Ji Yunshu up from her chair, pressed his palm against her back, and gently guided her toward the stairs. "Come on, let's sleep first. Tomorrow when the sun comes out, everything will be fine."

Upstairs, Ji Yunshu slipped into bed. The dry sheets carried a faint scent of camphor blocks. Pei Yufeng lay down beside her, reached out, and pulled her into his arms. Her back pressed against his chest, and she could feel his body heat seeping through the thin fabric, driving away the lingering dampness on her skin. His arm circled her waist, his palm resting on her lower belly, dry and warm.

"The villagers from the back mountain all said that every year during typhoons, the People's Liberation Army is the first to arrive—faster than their own sons." After these busy days, Pei Yufeng's voice was unusually light, as if he could finally relax and share the little things he hadn't had time to tell her during the day. "One grandmother even said she wanted to introduce her granddaughter to Xiao Wang from our company. Xiao Wang's only seventeen—he was so flustered he hid behind our company commander, which made the grandmother laugh heartily."

Ji Yunshu leaned against him, listening to him recount what the villagers had said to the soldiers today, a smile curving at the corners of her mouth, and drowsiness finally began to creep in. With half-closed eyes, she mumbled, "And then what happened?" Pei Yufeng's voice continued above her head, but she could no longer make out the words—she only felt his heartbeat coming through her back, thump, thump, thump, merging with her own until they beat in perfect unison.

When Ji Yunshu woke up the next morning, the spot beside her was already empty. Millet porridge was warming in the pot on the kitchen stove, with a plate of pickled watermelon rind and a plate of fried eggs beside it. The note Pei Yufeng had left was tucked under the enamel cup: Porridge is in the pot, watermelon rind is pickled, might not be back for lunch.

Before leaving, Pei Yufeng had checked all the damp areas of the house again, wrapped the remaining quicklime in a cloth and placed it in the corner, and washed the damp bedding, which was already drying on the balcony.

The sun was wonderful today—after a week of rain, it had finally stopped completely. Sunlight rose from the horizon over the sea, making the water sparkle. After breakfast, Ji Yunshu moved her rocking chair out to the yard to bask in the sun. The sun wasn't too hot at this time of day—warm and pleasant.

In the evening, when Pei Yufeng returned from the camp, two burlap sacks were tied to the back of his bicycle. One sack held two large pieces of freshly burned quicklime, and the other held herbs he'd bought from the military pharmacy—a bundle of dried Radix Fici Hirtae root and a package of dried Poria cocos slices.

Pei Yufeng broke the new quicklime into small pieces, divided them into several old cloth bags, and placed them at the bottom of the bedroom wardrobe, under the kitchen sink, beneath the cabinet in the main room, and in every corner prone to dampness. Then he washed the Radix Fici Hirtae and Poria cocos, put them in a pot, added plenty of water, brought it to a boil over high heat, then turned to low and let it simmer slowly. When the water gradually turned a light brown, it was just about done—the air filled with the distinctive faint coconut-milk aroma of Radix Fici Hirtae, mingled with the mild, clean fragrance of Poria cocos.

"This is for dispelling dampness. Radix Fici Hirtae root is a local medicinal herb—warming and tonifying, good for dispelling dampness, suitable for people with weak constitution. Poria cocos also helps drain water and eliminate dampness. The clammy feeling you've had these days and the restless sleep are both due to heavy dampness. Drink this tea like water, a full pot a day—after a while, you'll feel the dampness lessening." Pei Yufeng poured the brewed medicinal tea into a large enamel pot to cool.

Ji Yunshu picked up the enamel cup and took a sip. The tea was mild and light on the palate, with a faint milky aftertaste—not unpleasant, but the characteristic bitter-herb taste took some getting used to at first. However, Pei Yufeng brewed her a pot every day without fail and filled her enamel cup, placing it on the table, so she got used to drinking it like water.

After drinking it continuously for a week, Ji Yunshu indeed noticed that the clammy, sticky feeling on her body seemed to have dissipated considerably. She slept more soundly at night, and even during the day, she found herself with more energy when sewing clothes—no longer feeling drowsy and heavy every afternoon like she had in the previous days.

"This tea really works." Ji Yunshu sat at the dining table holding her enamel cup, tilting her head to say to Pei Yufeng, who was washing dishes, "I've felt much lighter these past few days—not as weighed down as before."

"Once the dampness recedes, you'll feel more energetic." Pei Yufeng placed the washed dishes by the window to air dry.

Ji Yunshu leaned against the kitchen doorframe with her enamel cup, lost in thought for a moment, then decided to write to He Qiuxia and ask her to buy a household medicine manual and send it over.

About a month later, He Qiuxia's package arrived, and Ji Yunshu got the household medicine book she needed. The book detailed the properties, flavors, and meridians of many common medicinal herbs, along with simple formulas. Ji Yunshu flipped to the "Dispelling Dampness" chapter, cross-referenced the two herbs Pei Yufeng had brewed for her, then flipped back to the "Clearing Heat" and "Draining Water" sections, lightly drawing a few pencil lines on the pages.

From that day on, Ji Yunshu read the book seriously and asked Pei Yufeng to take her to the military pharmacy on weekends when he was free, to consult the old pharmacist there about the uses of several common local herbs. The old pharmacist was a local man in his fifties who knew the common medicinal herbs of Qiongzhou Island like the back of his hand. Hearing that she was a military family member learning about health on her own, he was delighted and, in his heavily accented Mandarin, taught her how to identify several local dampness-dispelling herbs.

After that, Ji Yunshu began researching simple tea formulas on her own. Using the herbs she'd bought from the military pharmacy and the manual, she identified each herb one by one in the kitchen, memorized their properties and flavors, and clumsily weighed portions with a small brass scale. Sometimes the measurements were off—a few extra grams of Poria cocos, half an ounce less of winter melon peel—but she didn't get flustered. She simply arranged the weighed herbs on an enamel tray and jotted down each ingredient's amount and brewing time in a small notebook with a pencil, as carefully as keeping a lab record.

Soon, Ji Yunshu had formulated her first pot of herbal tea—winter melon, lotus leaf, and Poria cocos tea. She washed and shredded the winter melon peel, cut the lotus leaf into small pieces, and put them in a large enamel pot with a pinch of Poria cocos, pouring boiling water over them and letting them steep for about ten minutes. The tea turned a pale green, with a clean, light taste—easier to drink than Pei Yufeng's Radix Fici Hirtae tea.

A few days later, Ji Yunshu tried bottle gourd and brown sugar tea—boiling dried local bottle gourd with a few slices of ginger and a small piece of brown sugar in a small clay pot. The flavor was sweet with a warming note and a faint caramel aroma, and it tasted even better cooled than hot.

Ji Yunshu poured these herbal teas into glass jars she'd bought specifically for storing them. Each tea had its own subtle color, and once filled, the herbs inside swirled up and down, looking as pretty as the bottled sodas sold at the supply and marketing cooperative. Every day before Pei Yufeng left, Ji Yunshu would fill a glass jar to the brim for him to take to work.

And so Pei Yufeng carried a jar of differently colored herbal tea to the camp every day. The tea in the jar changed daily—pale green winter melon and lotus leaf tea, light brown bottle gourd and brown sugar tea, amber Radix Fici Hirtae and Poria cocos tea, and occasionally a jar of pale yellow ginger and tangerine peel tea. When he was reviewing documents in his office, he'd keep the glass jar on the corner of his desk; after training, he'd come back, unscrew the lid, pour a cup, drink it in one go, and continue working.

The first time the company and battalion commanders of the Second Regiment saw the colorful glass jar on Deputy Regiment Commander Pei's desk, they didn't dare ask. Commander Lin was curious too—he leaned in for a look and asked Pei Yufeng what this good stuff was. Pei Yufeng, without changing his expression, unscrewed the lid, poured a small cup, and handed it to him, saying, "Dampness-dispelling tea, blended by Xiaoshu herself."

Commander Lin took a sip, and his eyes lit up—he said it was much better than the tea his own wife brewed.

A few days later, when Ji Yunshu ran into Li Shu at the supply and marketing cooperative while buying groceries, Li Shu pulled her aside and asked what was in the glass jar that Deputy Commander Pei carried every day. She said her Old Lin had mentioned it several times at home—how Pei Yufeng of the Second Regiment drank his wife's herbal tea every day, refilling it with water and drinking it all day, and was in great spirits. Li Shu said Old Lin's tone was so sour, like he'd drunk half a bottle of aged vinegar. Ji Yunshu laughed so hard she could barely stand straight, said it was just a simple dampness-dispelling herbal tea she'd blended herself, and wrote down the recipe for her. Li Shu took the note with endless thanks and left.

A few more days passed. When Pei Yufeng came home from work, he set the glass jar on the dining table—empty as usual, with only a few fully steeped slices of winter melon peel and lotus leaf at the bottom. He walked to the kitchen doorway and saw Ji Yunshu standing at the stove, studying the medicine manual for a new formula. Huajuan was crouched at her feet, using her tail to hook around Ji Yunshu's ankle, trying to get her to play, but Ji Yunshu was too absorbed in her reading to notice.

Seeing Ji Yunshu so focused, Pei Yufeng let out a low, involuntary chuckle. He stood in the kitchen doorway for a moment, then walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on top of her head. In his voice was a faint trace of pride that only she could detect: "Today Old Lin also brought a glass jar to the office—said his Li Shu made it using the recipe you gave her. Old Lin took a sip right in front of me and said it wasn't as good as ours. Ming Zhe also had his wife learn to make it. She brought it for the first time today, but the jar wasn't screwed on tight—half of it spilled across the desk, filling the whole room with the milky aroma of Radix Fici Hirtae. Commander Lu happened to pass by and smelled it. He asked who brought such fragrant herbal tea, and Deputy Battalion Commander Liu said they'd learned it from you. Commander Lu said that at the next meeting, he'd have Aunt Wang learn from you too, so she could prepare a pot for him as well."

Ji Yunshu, held from behind, still holding a half-weighed piece of Poria cocos, with the pot bubbling on the stove, tilted her head and gently rubbed her cheek against his. She smiled and said, "Then next time I'll make extra and send a few packs to Aunt Wang, so she can just steep it directly."

Pei Yufeng: "Alright, whatever you say."

--

The next time Ji Yunshu received a letter from Wang Wanru was already late August. Wang Wanru's handwriting was as neat and elegant as always, but this time, a weariness she couldn't hide seeped through the lines.

"Xiaoshu, reading this letter is like seeing you: Your last letter asked about home, and Mother hasn't been able to reply until now, truly because I've been too busy to get away. Your eldest brother left over a month ago, and your eldest sister-in-law left last month. Mother saw her off at the train station—she barely spoke the whole way and didn't cry when she left. Your sister-in-law gave the child a nickname. She said the baby's face is round like a glutinous rice ball, so she called her Yuanyuan, hoping the family can be reunited one day."

"After she left, Yuanyuan stayed with your father and me. Don't worry about us—your father still goes to the Cultural History Museum every day, and I take care of the baby at home during the day and help copy documents at the street office in the evenings. Yuanyuan is very well-behaved and rarely cries, but there's no breast milk, so the child can only drink rice water. Rice water isn't as nourishing as breast milk—by her full month, Yuanyuan had gained less than two pounds, smaller and thinner than other babies her age. The neighbors know our situation, and a few families who can get milk occasionally share some with us, but milk isn't available every day. When there is some, she drinks it; when there isn't, she goes back to rice water. Yuanyuan is easy to care for—she drinks the rice water with gusto and smacks her lips when she's done. It's just that Mother's heart aches, feeling we've shortchanged her. The dried scallops and dried shrimp you sent last time arrived, and I made soup to mix into Yuanyuan's rice paste—she loved it. Everything is fine at home; don't worry. Take good care of yourself on the island, and thank Yufeng for me. Mother."

Ji Yunshu read the letter, and a wave of bitterness surged in her chest. The child was so young and had already lost her parents. Gan Tang's body hadn't even recovered before she was forced to go to the northwest for re-education through labor. But the Meng family had already cut ties with Meng Guangze and Gan Tang—they absolutely could not have any further contact with them.

Ji Yunshu's heart ached for her thin little niece. She opened the cabinet and checked the family's food stores—there was still half a bag of rice flour, a few cans of fruit, and a package of white fungus. The white fungus was something Pei Yufeng had spotted when he went to Yue City to purchase supplies for the military, and he'd bought two packages thinking to make white fungus soup for Ji Yunshu. There was still one package left unfinished.

Ji Yunshu went through all the nutritional items in the cabinet again, and the more she looked, the more she felt it wasn't enough. Wang Wanru didn't even dare buy milk in Su City now—the situation at home was certainly harder than she'd described in her letter. The family's remaining savings were probably limited. Ji Yunshu wasn't short on money—the allowance Wang Wanru had given her over time added up to three or four thousand yuan, and she'd barely used any of it. This was the perfect chance to give back.

When Pei Yufeng came home that evening, Ji Yunshu told him her thoughts: "What can a newborn baby eat? Mother wrote that sister-in-law left, and the child might not be able to get milk... I was thinking, why not buy a few cans of milk powder and send them home? We can't let Xiaosu starve."

"Milk powder is hard to buy on the island—the supply and marketing cooperative doesn't stock it often, you have to get lucky. But the overseas Chinese store in Yue City has imported milk powder, which you can buy with overseas remittance coupons, or you can have someone bring it from Hong Kong." Pei Yufeng took her hand and placed it in his palm, gently stroking her thumb across the back of her hand as he pondered for a moment. "How about this—tomorrow I'll have Old Qiu go to the state-run department store in the capital to buy it, and have him mail it directly to Su City instead of sending it to the island first and then forwarding it. That would be too slow."

"Is buying milk powder enough? Should we get something else too? I've heard babies can eat condensed milk—let's buy some of that as well. I have ration coupons for non-staple foods and money here, and let's send more local specialties from the island to your comrade—we can't have him helping for free." Ji Yunshu quickly added.