Back under the old poplar tree, Wang Cuijuan was chatting away animatedly with someone. Mai Sui smiled gently: ”Second Sister-in-law, what good things did you buy?”
“Oh, nothing much, just a few little things.” Wang Cuijuan hugged the cloth bag tighter to her chest, hugging it so hard the tin can pressed its shape into the fabric.
Mai Sui’s brow arched slightly as she looked at her with a knowing smile: “That tin can is quite pretty. The chubby baby painted on it looks so festive. Second Sister-in-law, is it for Tiedan? Or a gift for someone in your family?”
Wang Cuijuan’s hands tightened suddenly, squeezing the cloth bag out of shape: “No, it’s nothing, just… just saw it passing by and thought it looked nice, bought it on a whim.” The smile on her face was warmer than usual—warm to the point of being overdone.
This table is big enough for everyone.
Gu Qingye set the woven basket by his feet and handed her a paper packet: “Freshly fried cakes. Eat them while they’re hot.”
Mai Sui took it. The paper packet was still warm. She took a bite—red bean filling, sweet almost to the point of cloying. Gu Qingye then pulled a military canteen from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and set it on the cart bed, saying nothing, not even looking at her.
Mai Sui lowered her head to drink and found the water was warm, and sweet. This time it wasn’t ginger water—it was sugar water.
She glanced up at him. The day before yesterday it was ginger, today it was sugar. Did he think he was testing recipes for an army mess kitchen, switching the formula every day?
Gu Qingye was tidying the hay on the donkey cart, his back to her, as if the water had nothing to do with him.
Wang Cuijuan, watching from the side, pulled the corners of her mouth down hard, nearly rolling her eyes, but quickly piled her smile back on: “My, Big Brother really dotes on Big Sister-in-law. I’ve been married to your Second Brother all these years, and he’s never once bought me a fried cake.”
Mai Sui swallowed the fried cake and wiped the corner of her mouth: “Then later have Second Brother go line up under the old poplar too. Fried cakes are only crispy when eaten hot.”
The smile on Wang Cuijuan’s face twitched, and she turned to look elsewhere.
Gu Qingye didn’t take up the thread. He bent down to lift the woven basket onto the donkey cart and said, “Get on. We’re going home.”
The donkey cart swayed and rattled its way back to Liulin Village. On the return trip there were fewer people on the cart. Old Wang leaned against the shafts humming a little tune, and the gray donkey walked faster than it had coming.
Mai Sui sat beside Gu Qingye, the woven basket between the two of them.
The cart jolted, and the basket slid toward Gu Qingye. He reached out to steady the rim, and the back of his hand brushed against the back of Mai Sui’s. Both of them froze for a moment.
Mai Sui withdrew her hand first.
Gu Qingye’s hand lingered on the basket rim a moment longer before he pulled it back.
“How much did the mountain goods sell for today?” he suddenly asked, his tone as flat as ever.
“One yuan and two mao.”
“Not bad.”
Mai Sui pulled the few remaining small bills from her pocket and showed him: “Enough to buy two jin of meat for Mom and Dad.”
Gu Qingye didn’t look at the bills. He was looking at her hands—her fingertips, red from the cold after all that handling of money and making change.
“The meat’s taken care of,” he said.
Mai Sui tilted her head to look at him: “When did you buy it?”
“A comrade opened a butcher shop. Ran into him today. He gave me half a rack of ribs.” He paused. “No charge.”
“Your comrade gave it to you?”
“Mm.”
“Then I’m the one benefiting.”
“…You’re not benefiting.” He watched the donkey’s ears swaying up ahead and lowered his voice a little. “He said it was a meeting gift for his sister-in-law.”
Mai Sui froze for a moment, then lowered her head and smiled—not at the ribs, but at Gu Qingye.
The way this man said “sister-in-law” was like chewing on a rock—heavy and hard.
“Then tonight I’ll stew pork rib soup,” she said.
“Mm.”
“Extra ginger.”
“Mm.”
Wang Cuijuan, dozing beside them, blearily opened her eyes and saw the two of them sitting on either side of the basket, neither too close nor too far apart, neither looking at the other—but one had curved lips, and the other had red ears.
She mumbled a question about whether they’d arrived yet, then closed her eyes and dozed off again.
Gu Qingye’s ears stayed red all the way home.
By the time they got back to the village, it was almost noon. The moment the donkey cart stopped, Wang Cuijuan hopped off, said she’d go home to cook first, and hurried off.
Mai Sui and Gu Qingye walked home a few steps behind. Once inside the courtyard gate, Gu Qingye set the woven baskets down by the kitchen door and carried in the half rack of ribs Cheng Wanli had given them.
Mai Sui was about to go inside when a small head poked out from the kitchen. Xiaoya spotted her and ran over. “Sister-in-law!”
“That woman from the west room just left, heading east, carrying a bundle.”
Mai Sui’s hands paused. East? Li Ming’e had snuck over to Aunt Zhang’s house while everyone was at the market? When had she gotten in touch with Aunt Zhang? Or was she taking advantage of Wang Cuijuan’s absence to collude with Aunt Zhang over something else?
“What color was the bundle?”
“Gray, about this big.” Xiaoya gestured with her hands. Not big, not small—big enough to hold a few doses of medicine or a stack of ration tickets.
“Good girl. Come on, to the kitchen—I saved you a fried dough cake.”
Xiaoya happily ran to the kitchen.
Mai Sui had thought Li Ming’e was just patient and biding her time. Now it seemed this woman moved much faster than Wang Cuijuan. While Wang Cuijuan was still at the market buying malted milk to curry favor with her brother’s wife, Li Ming’e had already slipped off to meet with Aunt Zhang.
Mai Sui withdrew her gaze and followed Xiaoya into the kitchen.
She ladled out half a basin of warm water, sat Xiaoya down on a little wooden stool, and pulled off her tattered cotton shoes. Xiaoya’s feet were red from the cold, with a crack on her heel covered in a dark red scab.
“Sister-in-law, what are you doing?” Xiaoya drew her feet back.
Mai Sui said nothing, pressing both feet into the warm water. She crouched down to wash them. Xiaoya kept trying to pull back at first, but the water was warm, and when Mai Sui’s fingers rubbed over her heel, she went still.
After washing her feet, Mai Sui pulled the new cotton shoes from the bottom of the basket and slipped them onto Xiaoya’s feet. The ring of gray rabbit fur at the cuffs fit snugly around her ankles—not too big, not too small.
Xiaoya stared down at her new shoes, silent for a long while. Then she looked up with reddened eyes. “Sister-in-law……”
In the courtyard, Gu Qingye was crouching by the well sharpening the hatchet. His hands stopped.
At the courtyard gate, Liu Guifang had just come in carrying a shovel. Through the half-open door she saw the scene and froze. Then she quietly set the shovel against the wall and turned to leave—taking two steps before glancing back once more.
Mai Sui patted Xiaoya’s feet. “Don’t step in water with new shoes. When it snows, walk around the puddles.”
“Mm!” Xiaoya nodded hard, pacing back and forth a couple of times, each step taken with careful precision. Then she crouched down to touch the rabbit fur at the cuffs and looked up at Mai Sui with a smile.
Xiaoya grinned, but just as she took the basket, she suddenly remembered something. “Sister-in-law, Second Sister-in-law came back a while ago, grabbed a cloth bag from the room, and left again. She said she was taking some things to her parents’ place and wouldn’t be back for dinner.”
Mai Sui’s hands paused for half a beat.
Wang Cuijuan’s parents lived in the neighboring village, half as close as Old Niu Village. She couldn’t wait even a single day with that jar of malted milk—she was probably itching to deliver it to her parents right away.
After settling Xiaoya in, Mai Sui headed out with her empty basket. As she passed the well, Gu Qingye was still there sharpening his knife—the blade on the whetstone was already polished bright enough to reflect a person’s shadow. He’d been at that one knife for over half an hour.
She looked away and was about to push open the courtyard gate when her steps suddenly stopped.
There was a line of footprints beneath the window of the west room, leading toward the east wall. A few bundles of corn stalks were piled against the east wall, and behind them was the back courtyard wall.
Mai Sui suddenly remembered what the rat had said that night—Li Ming’e never used the front gate when taking things to her parents’ house. Under Gu Qingye’s puzzled gaze, she walked over. The shoe sole was a layered-cloth one, with dense stitching—exactly like the pair Li Ming’e had worn yesterday.
She stood up and followed the footprints toward the east wall. One small bundle of corn stalks had been moved aside, a patch of snow had been scraped off the top of the wall, and in the snow at the base of the wall lay a short length of hemp rope, cut cleanly with scissors.
Li Ming’e thought that slipping out while everyone was at the market would let her come and go without a trace. But she’d forgotten—snow doesn’t lie. Step on it, and it leaves a print.
She tucked the rope end into her pocket, pushed open the courtyard gate, and headed up the mountain. At the bottom of her basket were white sugar and matches, along with a cornmeal flatbread.
By the well, Gu Qingye was still crouching there. Gripping the knife handle, he watched Mai Sui’s figure disappear through the gate. Then he stood up and walked over to the window of the west room. Frowning at the footprints in the snow, he followed them to the east wall, where he saw the moved corn stalks and the scraped snow on the wall. He stepped up to the base of the wall and peeked outside. Beyond the wall was the small path leading to the village entrance, its snow trampled into a mess.
The Gu family’s house sat in the middle of the village, with the mountain right behind it.
Gu Qingye jumped down from the wall and brushed the snow off his hands. This woman—she was investigating something.
And it was no trivial matter.
From the kitchen came Xiaoya’s giggles, along with Liu Guifang’s voice, lowered but unable to hide her delight: “These are new shoes your sister-in-law bought you. Take them off quick—we’ll save them to wear for New Year… Don’t get them dirty.”