Chapter Bonanza (5/10)

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The biggest fear before the wheat harvest is rain that ruins the threshing floor.

That heavy downpour a month ago—when the rain poured down in buckets—had everyone on edge. Fortunately, it stopped after just a few hours, followed by several consecutive days of clear, sunny weather.

From then on, until just before the wheat harvest, there were only two brief thunderstorms—neither too heavy nor too light.

The heavy, golden wheat ears turned half of Xiashan Village a golden yellow. Every year at this time, people working in town return one after another, and even daughters and gers who’ve married out of the village bring their husbands back to help out.

Cooking smoke curled into the air, and the aroma of fresh wheat wafted from the kitchens of every household. Throughout the year, aside from the busy Twelfth Month preparations for the New Year, this is the time when the butcher’s business is at its peak. Everyone is willing to splurge on meat dishes, steam buns, and make dumplings—eating their fill of rich, nourishing food to build up their strength and ensure the granaries are filled to the brim.

The Huo family had finished harvesting their five mu of wheat fields, yielding a total of ten shi of grain. Ten jin of wheat could be ground into eight jin of coarse flour or seven jin of white flour—enough to feed five adults for an entire year. If the household weren’t so large, there would even be some left over.

Of course, they had to set aside a portion to pay the grain tax, but at the same time, the family still had two mu each of sorghum and corn—enough to last from the beginning of the year to the end, even if they varied their meals constantly.

After the wheat was stored away, Zhao Yinsheng and Zhao Chensheng took Dager into the mountains.

Meanwhile, under the Huo family’s eaves, Huo Feng—who, after many years of farming, was experiencing for the first time a year when he didn’t have to spend money on grain but could actually sell grain for money—was grinning from ear to ear. Early in the morning, he was carrying Xiao Lin around the house, singing off-key nursery rhymes at the top of his lungs.

Huo Ling, listening from just a wall away, covered his ears.

“Those are perfectly good nursery rhymes, but when he sings them, it sounds like the wailing of ghosts and howling wolves. Xiao Lin is something else—he didn’t even cry from being scared.”

Yan Qi smiled wryly from the side: “It’s not just that he doesn’t cry—didn’t you hear what my sister-in-law said? He even uses it to lull Xiao Lin to sleep. My sister-in-law sings beautifully, but it doesn’t work; the kid just loves listening to that off-key singing.”

Huo Ling sighed, “It’s over. When this kid grows up, he’ll probably take after his dad and have a terrible voice.”

“Every child takes after their parents—for better or worse—and there’s no way to pick and choose.”

Yan Qi said, “I take after my parents—I’m short. It was fine back home, but here, I always feel like I’m being outshone.”

“Our child won’t be short.”

Huo Ling said, “Look at Yingzi—even though she’s a girl, she’s got big feet for her age, so she’s bound to be tall when she grows up. And Lin’er has long arms and legs, too. Our Huo family may not have many other strengths, but we’re tall—and…”

“And what else?”

Yan Qi could more or less guess what Huo Ling was about to say, but he asked the question anyway, even though he already knew the answer.

“And we’re not ugly.”

Huo Ling raised an eyebrow at him.

“I knew you were going to say that.”

The ger couldn’t stop laughing, but a moment later he suddenly let out a “Whoa!” and looked down at his stomach.

Huo Ling hurriedly asked, “What’s wrong? Are you going into labor?”

“No, I’m not about to give birth.”

Yan Qi hesitated for a moment before saying.

He rubbed his stomach. “The baby just kicked me—pretty hard, actually.”

He pulled Huo Ling’s hand over so he could feel it too.

However, after Huo Ling placed his hand on his belly, he didn’t feel a second kick for quite a while—but he wasn’t disappointed.

Lately, he’d heard several experienced mothers say that the further along the pregnancy, the less the baby moves—which made sense. There’s only so much room in there, after all, and it’s not like the baby can’t move around as the pregnancy progresses.

As long as the baby isn’t motionless for too long, there’s nothing to worry about—no need to get too anxious.

Huo Ling let out a sigh of relief and sat back down.

“It’s really hard to say when this will happen—there’s no set date, so I’m on edge all the time.”

But since he’d reached full term, he was still hoping the baby would arrive soon.

That evening, Ye Suping came over and knocked on the door of the west room. When the door opened, she peered inside with a smile and said to Yan Qi, who was lying on the kang: “Brother Qi, tomorrow is the Qixi Festival. Give me the needles from your sewing basket—we’ll gather a few more—and I’ll polish them up. Then I’ll prepare a basin of ‘mandarin duck water.’ When the time comes, we’ll face the moon and thread the needles with colored thread to cast shadows, just to celebrate the occasion.”

The Qixi Festival wasn’t widely celebrated beyond the Great Wall, but the custom did exist. If one had the leisure, they would do just this: find seven needles and five-colored threads, and on the evening of the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, compete in threading needles under the moonlight. Whoever threaded the needle the fastest was considered to have “begged” for dexterity.

There’s another custom called “Testing Skill by Throwing a Needle,” which involves mixing water drawn during the day with water drawn at night—this mixture is called “Mandarin Duck Water.”

On the sixth day of the seventh lunar month, the mixture is left in the courtyard overnight; on the seventh, it is left out in the sun all day. That evening, an embroidery needle is dropped onto the water’s surface, and the shape of the needle’s reflection is observed. As long as the reflection isn’t a straight line, it is said that one has attained dexterity.

Yan Qi waited day after day for the baby’s birth, not daring to wander far. At most, he’d pace around the house a couple of times, check on the vegetables in the backyard, feed a few blades of grass to the newly purchased ewe, or go to the east room to see his young nephew and play with the dog—it was all rather boring.

When Ye Suping mentioned they were going to celebrate the Qixi Festival, he said happily, “That’s great—I have three needles right here.”

“That’s plenty.”

Ye Suping took the ball of thread with the needles stuck in it back home. Seeing the ger’s face beaming with anticipation, Huo Ling’s heart filled with joy as well.

“Tomorrow is your holiday. Is there anything you’d like to eat?”

Yan Qi shook his head.

“I eat and drink well every day—if you ask me now, I can’t think of anything.”

“Let me put it this way: do you want something sour, spicy, sweet, or salty?”

This time, the little ger thought carefully for a moment, licked his lips, and said, “I want to eat the red bean buns that Ming-ger sells.”

Huo Ling chuckled. “You’re asking for something complicated—but that’s easy enough. I’ll get up early tomorrow and buy a few while they’re still hot, before they come into town.”

“Ding-ding-ding, ding-ding-ding.”

On the day of the Qixi Festival, the peddler, shaking the rattle in his hand, passed through Xiashan Village.

A group of children gathered around him. Those with a copper coin or two drooled as they bought candy, while those without money could only tag along behind the kids who had bought some.

The timid ones who weren’t close to the children could only watch longingly, while the bold ones who were familiar with them would crowd around, trying to curry favor in the hope of getting a taste.

Huo Ling, on his way back from buying meat at Guo Tuzi’s, called out to the peddler along the way to buy an embroidery needle.

Earlier that day, Ye Suping had been sharpening an iron needle and accidentally bent an old one out of shape. She’d said that since it had grown dull from long use anyway, if the peddler came to the village, she’d buy a new one; if not, she’d borrow one from someone else.

Every year around this time, the peddler would go to great lengths to make the rounds through all the villages; after all, it was a holiday, and he could sell a few more needles and threads than usual.

And just as she was muttering to herself about it, one actually showed up.

“One embroidery needle, three wen.”

The peddler took a cloth pouch from his well-stocked shoulder pole—which was hung with all sorts of goods—and plucked a thin iron needle from inside.

Seeing that it was a man making the purchase, he found it a bit unusual and gave him a second look.

Huo Ling didn’t offer much explanation; after paying, he casually pinned the needle to his clothes so it wouldn’t fall off.

Once the needle was brought home and the set of seven was complete, Ye Suping arranged them one by one on the ball of thread and said to Huo Ling, “Qi said he went inside to take a nap. There’s been no sound for quite a while—I guess he’s fallen asleep.”

Huo Ling nodded. “That’s probably it. It’s for the best—he’ll wake up, have a meal, and the holiday will be here. He’s been looking forward to it all night.”

Ye Suping laughed, “He’s just like Yingzi. I suddenly thought of this last night, too. To be honest, I hadn’t given it a second thought since I got married. I never expected Qi to like it. Since that’s the case, we’ll celebrate it every year from now on. Once Lin grows up, there’ll be even more of us in the family to celebrate with.”

Since Yan Qi had been perfectly fine all afternoon, no one had suspected anything was wrong. Unexpectedly, when he woke up and was about to get off the kang, his water suddenly broke.

He’d heard people say before that watching others give birth is, after all, someone else’s business—but it’s only when it happens to you that you truly know what panic feels like.

Yan Qi had always considered himself level-headed and composed, having weathered great hardships in the past, but at that moment, he could only steady his nerves with Huo Ling’s reassurance.

“I’ll call my sister-in-law over to keep you company. Don’t be afraid—everything will go smoothly.”

Huo Ling planted a firm kiss on his forehead, helped him settle back onto the kang by supporting his legs, and as soon as Ye Suping came running at the sound, he rushed out the door.

It had been several months since the Ma family’s daughter-in-law had last come to the Huo household to assist with a birth, so she knew her way around well. Since Yan Qi was having his first child—and a ger at that—she was even more cautious. She had brought several packets of medicine with her: some to induce labor, some to boost energy, and some to stop bleeding, just in case.

From the water breaking to the onset of labor pains, and then from the labor pains to the actual start of childbirth.

The sun sank westward until it vanished completely, replaced by the rising moon. Those who should have been praying to the moon for good fortune were instead struggling through the ordeal of childbirth indoors, while Huo Ling stood in the courtyard, unable to do anything but pray to the gods and ancestors for protection.

Huo Feng was equally tied up. Xiao Lin was still too young; with so many people in the house and his mother absent, the child cried incessantly after being startled, so he had no choice but to go inside to comfort him. In the end, it was Huo Ying who stayed by Huo Ling’s side.

Perhaps because she had experienced her mother giving birth to a younger brother a few months earlier—and now that Yan Qi was the one giving birth—the little girl was no longer as frightened as she had been back then; she was even able to comfort Huo Ling in return.

“Uncle, are you scared?”

She said in her childish voice, “If you’re scared, you can talk to me.”

Huo Ling looked down at her, ruffled her hair, and admitted, “Uncle is indeed scared.”

As a mountain porter who spent his days in the mountains, his hearing, eyesight, and even sense of smell were keener than those of the average person.

It was no exaggeration to say that he could clearly smell the scent of blood wafting from inside the house. The moment he thought about where that smell was coming from, his heart began to lurch and race, leaving him gasping for breath.

Huo Ying obediently lowered her head to let him pet her. As she’d grown older, she actually didn’t much like having her head petted anymore, but at that moment she still said magnanimously, “Petting my head is fine—Uncle, you can pet it a few more times.”

The dogs nearby—perhaps having heard her words and accurately picked up on the word “pet”—rushed over one after another, shoving their heads into Huo Ling’s arms.

Huo Ling had no choice but to pet them one by one, though his mind was completely elsewhere.

Huo Ying glanced at her uncle’s furrowed brow, picked up Mantou, buried her chin in the back of Mantou’s head, and pressed her lips together, saying nothing more.

Huangyae and Heidou were also affected by Huo Ling’s mood and grew restless; they tried several times to go inside, scratching at the door with their paws, but Huo Ling called them back each time.

With Dager absent, and the atmosphere at home unlike any other day, even the usually calm hunting dogs had lost their composure.

Compared to the indescribable anxiety of those outside, the situation inside the house had reached a critical juncture.

Ye Suping stood watch by Yan Qi’s side; even though his grip had left marks on her arm, she remained composed, encouraging him: “Almost there! Almost there! Qi, take another breath and push!”

Yan Qi opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling beam above him. The pain had become so intense it had turned to numbness. His face was wet with a mixture of sweat and tears, and the voices he heard seemed to ebb and flow, sometimes near, sometimes far.

He had no time to think; he mustered all his strength once more, over and over again. He didn’t know how many times he’d endured it, but finally, in an instant, his whole body went limp, and a loud cry followed immediately.

Tears suddenly began streaming down uncontrollably. He raised his hand to wipe them away and, through blurred vision, saw the infant being held out to him.

This was a piece of flesh that had come from his own body—his and Huo Ling’s first child.

Even though the baby was bright red, wrinkled, and not at all cute, he recognized the red mole between its eyebrows at a glance.

“Is it a ger?”

He heard his own voice ring out, hoarse and raspy.

“Yes, it’s a ger, just like Lin-ger.”

Ye Suping couldn’t help but wipe away her tears either; giving birth was simply too painful. She felt both heartache and joy.

Soon after, the blood-stained straw was cleared from the room. Huo Ling, who had been waiting with bated breath, slipped some red envelopes to the midwife and was finally allowed to enter the room to see his husband—and at the same time, cradle his own child.

The ger had been given a quick wipe-down by one of the midwives; he looked a bit better than when he was first born. He was so tiny, it seemed as if he could be lifted with just one hand.

Ignoring the others still in the room, Huo Ling kissed Yan Qi, then pressed his lips against the baby’s cheek.

Though Yan Qi was exhausted, he didn’t feel like sleeping. After Ye Suping took the baby away to feed him goat’s milk, he asked Huo Ling what time it was.

“It must be the hour of the Tiger.”

Yan Qi felt a twinge of regret, but he still said to Huo Ling, “Although the seventh day has passed, the baby was still born in the seventh month. Let’s call him ‘Xiaoqi’—what do you think?”

The name had suddenly occurred to him a moment ago; for some reason, he just really liked it.

Huo Ling repeated it to himself and immediately replied, “That’s a good name. It rolls off the tongue, and it serves as a memento.”

Huo Xiaoqi, born on the eighth day of the seventh month, thus acquired his childhood name.

A few days later, he received his formal name from his biological father, who had been racking his brain over it for days.

Huo Ling even made a special trip to the Qi family home to find Qi Chunshu, who had returned from the private school for the day off, and asked him to write down three characters.

“Huo Yuanshan.”

He unfolded the rough-edged paper in his hand and pointed it out to Yan Qi.

Yan Qi picked up the child, ran his fingertips over the dried ink marks, and even though she knew he wouldn’t understand a word, she spoke patiently and softly: “Xiaoqi, look—this is your formal name.”

Born amidst the mountains, named after them.

It embodies both the protection bestowed by the great mountains and the blessings of his parents.