The early morning was heavy with dew after the rain. Crystalline droplets clung to leaves, grass, and vegetables. Fu Ruyi emerged from the vegetable patch carrying a manure basket full of seedlings. Her trouser legs and black cloth shoes were soaked through, and her hands were dripping wet, caked with sticky mud and bits of grass that wouldn’t shake off no matter how she tried.
“Breakfast is ready.” Mother Fu came out to find her. “Will Little Lou be coming over for breakfast this morning?”
“Probably eating at his own place. I didn’t tell him to come over this morning.” Fu Ruyi walked to the jujube tree and scraped the mud off her shoe soles against the exposed roots. “Let’s eat without him. Has Father come back yet?”
“He’s at the edge of the village.” Mother Fu spotted him. “Give him a shout. That old man of yours got to the village entrance and stopped to chat—he’ll forget to come home for breakfast entirely.”
“Father! Come eat!” Fu Ruyi hollered at the top of her lungs.
Father Fu heard her and walked back with his hands clasped behind his back. The moment he stepped through the door, he got an earful.
Fu Yuan had only just crawled out of bed at this point. He braved their mother’s scolding to rescue his father from his predicament: “Is the soil in the fields still too sticky? Can we plow today?”
“One more day of sun, and we should be able to plow tomorrow,” Father Fu said. “I took a walk around the high ground to the west. The earliest non-glutinous broomcorn millet sown has sprouted. For the later sowings, if you turn over the soil, you can see green shoots too.”
“This rain was a good one. Sprouting early also keeps the sparrows from scratching up the soil and eating the seeds.” Mother Fu stopped scolding. She brought over the morning meal and handed it to the old man, then turned to ask her youngest son: “Should we plant the hemp first or the glutinous broomcorn millet?”
“Hemp.”
“Then after breakfast, you and your wife go to the river and wash two baskets of fine sand. I’ll bring out the hemp seeds and winnow them. We’ll soak them tomorrow afternoon.” Mother Fu made the arrangements.
Fu Ruyi swallowed the thin porridge in her mouth and asked, “Father, did you tell my in-laws how to sow the hemp seeds?”
“Taught them all of it.” Father Fu nodded.
The big yellow dog suddenly shot out from under the table, wagging its tail as it ran outside. Fu Ruyi looked out—it was the great beauty who had arrived. She quickly scraped the last of the porridge from her bowl and said, “Wait a moment, I’ll be right there.”
With that, she dashed off to the back courtyard. When she came back out, she was carrying a small, lightweight bamboo case.
Mother Fu was still asking her youngest daughter’s husband-to-be what he’d eaten for breakfast.
“Let’s go.” Fu Ruyi lifted her chin. “Grab the manure basket of seedlings by the front gate—those are for your family.”
Lou Zhaoshui didn’t have time to answer his mother-in-law’s question. He stepped back a few paces, hoisted the heavy manure basket, and asked, “Anything else to take?”
Fu Ruyi took an empty manure basket down from the wall and grabbed a carrying pole. “Let’s go. That’s everything.”
Both of them were tall with long legs, taking big strides at a quick pace. In the span of a few words, they were already behind the house.
“Eldest Sister-in-law, I’ve come to dig up seedlings,” Fu Ruyi called out.
“Go ahead and dig. The northeast corner is all set aside for you. Ours are already planted.” Her eldest sister-in-law was busy sorting grain seeds and didn’t come out.
Fu Ruyi led Lou Zhaoshui to her eldest sister-in-law’s vegetable patch. Her family had many mouths to feed—the children had all grown to adulthood with hearty appetites—so they’d carved out a large plot, using every corner of it to plant all kinds of vegetables. She pointed at the seedlings one by one, teaching the great beauty to recognize them.
After digging up all the seedlings her eldest sister-in-law hadn’t planted, Fu Ruyi led Lou Zhaoshui to her second brother’s house at the end of the village. Her second sister-in-law was at home washing clothes. She heard their voices and came out to lead them to the vegetable patch.
“Little sister, your second brother was just mentioning you all last night. Fifth Brother said he wanted to plant glutinous broomcorn millet on a few of the Lou family’s fertile fields—what’s his plan? After this rain is the perfect time for sowing,” Second Sister-in-law asked gently, her voice soft as she spoke of the Lou family’s affairs. She didn’t look at Lou Zhaoshui, instead addressing her sister-in-law. “Your second brother’s idea is for you to keep an eye on it. Plow the fields these next couple of days, get the grain seed ready, and once the hemp is planted in a few days, the brothers will set aside a day together, bring the cattle and seed drills to Pinghe Village, and aim to finish sowing it all in one day.”
“All right, once the fields are plowed, I’ll speak with Second Brother about it,” Fu Ruyi agreed.
Second Sister-in-law nodded. Noticing the ink-and-brush box her sister-in-law had brought, she said, “You have important matters to attend to—I won’t keep you.”
Fu Ruyi nudged the great beauty. “Quick, thank Second Sister-in-law. I’d nearly forgotten all about it, but Second Sister-in-law and Second Brother still remembered.”
“Thank you, Second Sister-in-law and Second Brother.” Lou Zhaoshui did as told, then informed her, “Before the rain, Father Fu had already directed my parents to plow the fertile fields.”
Second Sister-in-law glanced at him briefly, then fixed her eyes on her sister-in-law. “Talk it over with your eldest brother, second sister’s husband, and Fifth Brother—see which day they can free up.”
“All right,” Fu Ruyi agreed again. “Second Sister-in-law, I’m off to Second Sister’s place.”
Second Sister-in-law nodded. “Go on, then. I still need to pick some vegetables.”
Lou Zhaoshui lifted the carrying pole with the two manure baskets onto his shoulder and followed Fu Ruyi out of the vegetable patch toward the village entrance.
“Second Sister-in-law and Second Brother are truly kind.” His heart thrummed with emotion. “Your brothers and sisters-in-law are all wonderful.”
“Of my five siblings, my second brother is the most meticulous. Though he’s not especially close to the main house and doesn’t meddle much in Fu family affairs, anything he takes on, he remembers. My second sister-in-law has a gentle temperament—a bit timid, afraid of troubling others, likes doing good for people, but is uneasy when others do good for her. Give her three parts of kindness, and she’ll repay seven.” Fu Ruyi radiated joy, preening as she said, “My brothers, sisters-in-law, sisters, and brothers-in-law are all wonderful—each in their own way.”
“You really love them. I love my brothers too—my eldest brother is extremely capable, and my second brother is a bit sly and likes to bully me. Whenever he bullies me, my eldest brother and eldest sister scold him. My eldest and second brothers should be back soon—once they return, I’ll take you to my home to meet them.” Influenced by her, Lou Zhaoshui thought of his own two brothers, and a sudden, fierce longing surged in his heart.
Fu Ruyi giggled. “I like bullying my third brother, but if he ever hit me back, all my older siblings would come to my defense…”
The two chatted about their respective brothers and sisters, their steps light and cheerful as they reached the village entrance. Fu Ruyi dug up the vegetable seedlings left for her at her second sister’s house, and the pair crossed the bridge happily, arriving at Pinghe Village.
It had been a while since her last visit, and the moment Fu Ruyi stepped through the Lou family’s gate, she noticed the changes. The sparse wattle fence had been plastered with mud, just like the fence around the Fu family’s courtyard; a chicken coop had appeared in the yard, and beside it stood a livestock pen with its roof unfinished—already occupied, judging by the pungent smell of cattle and sheep urine.
The once-spacious courtyard had lost a corner to the livestock pen and chicken coop, making the yard feel cramped. The washed fine sand was spread out to dry across half the yard, leaving only a narrow path about an arm’s length wide for passage.
This household had taken on a rich, earthy flavor—seeds from the north had sprouted and taken root in the Central Plains.
There was no one at home. Lou Zhaoshui figured everyone was in the vegetable field. He latched the sturdy new wooden door, shouldered the carrying pole, and took Ruyi to his family’s vegetable plot.
“I was just about to head back when you two showed up.” Lou Yueming saw them and walked over to greet them. “Ruyi, why haven’t you come around lately?”
“I’ve been busy trying to catch fish,” she said sheepishly.
“I thought you two had a falling out. Some people were worried sick.” Wan Qianhong also came over. She glanced at the manure basket crammed full of vegetable seedlings and estimated there were nearly a hundred of them.
“That many?” she asked.
“Plant more—your family has a lot of mouths to feed.” Fu Ruyi looked at the newly reclaimed vegetable garden. She didn’t know how many times they had tilled it, but the soil was as soft as plowed and harrowed earth, and not a single weed could be seen in the damp brown dirt. It was kept immaculately clean.
“The seedlings we plant today will also cover all the dried vegetables and pickled vegetables we’ll need for the whole winter. We need to plant more—better to have too much than too little,” Fu Ruyi explained, then added, “When it’s time to make the pickled and dried vegetables, I’ll come over and teach you.”
“Won’t you have married into the family by then?” Lou Yueming asked. She pointed to a cow and a sheep grazing nearby and asked, “Do you like them?”
“Did you just buy them? That calf looks spirited and well-fed—it’ll grow into a hard worker when it’s bigger. Is the ewe pregnant? What’s the going price for sheep these days?” Fu Ruyi remembered she had promised a sheep as a matchmaker’s gift.
Lou Yueming didn’t answer. She smiled and said, “These are your betrothal gifts.”
Fu Ruyi’s eyes went wide. She looked at Lou Zhaoshui.
Lou Zhaoshui’s eyes were brimming with joy. “Once my eldest brother and second brother return, we’ll bring the cow and sheep to your house to deliver the betrothal gifts.”
“Good, that works. I’ll be waiting,” Fu Ruyi agreed in rapid succession, then teased half-seriously: “I’ve been hoping for this day and night, and it’s finally here. By the way, when exactly are your eldest and second brothers coming back?”
“Hard to say.” Half a month ago, Lou Zhaoshui’s eldest brother had sent word that he would return at the end of the third month, but it was almost the middle of the fourth month and there was still no sign of him. The Lou family didn’t know what was going on, nor where to look for him, so all they could do was wait at home.
“I hope your eldest and second brothers return soon.” Fu Ruyi didn’t hide her eagerness.
“We’re hoping for that too.” Wan Qianhong looked into the distance with a hint of worry.
“Let’s plant the vegetables. Let’s plant the vegetables.” Lou Yueming quickly changed the subject.
“Eldest Sister, Eldest Sister-in-law, you two go ahead and plant. I won’t stay long—I still need to go to Ling Village. Someone asked me to write an epitaph,” Fu Ruyi explained. “I’m taking Lou Zhaoshui with me. Ling Village is remote, so he’s coming with me.”
Lou Yueming and Wan Qianhong had no objections. They had both seen Fu Ruyi’s calligraphy and were genuinely in awe of her. They had studied Chinese for nearly ten years and could barely manage everyday conversation, but those Chinese characters that looked like fish, chickens, birds, and animal skeletons—even when taken apart, they couldn’t piece them back together—she could write them so beautifully.
Fu Ruyi led the great beauty out of Pinghe Village and took the familiar road to Ling Village.
The road to Ling Village wasn’t far from the Lou family’s wasteland. Fu Ruyi spotted Father Lou and Mother Lou with Little Blondie and Que’er gathering grass in the plowed field. She went over to greet them. Upon hearing this, Father Lou and Mother Lou immediately dropped their work in the field and insisted on going along to watch.
The people living in Ling Village were all tomb keepers of Mount Beimang, along with the descendants of former tomb keepers. After the fall of the Han dynasty, dynasties changed frequently, and the descendants of the nobles and princes sleeping on the mountain dwindled with each regime change. Without the support of their masters, the tomb keepers who could leave all left, and those who stayed cleared wasteland in the mountains to farm for a living to escape the chaos of war. Three years ago, with the implementation of the Equal-Field Decree, most of the tomb keepers on the mountain came down to register as residents and receive allotments of land and now live the same lives as ordinary farmers.
However, as the situation stabilized and Luoyang was established as the capital, Xianbei nobles and Han aristocratic families all converged on Luoyang, and Mount Beimang once again became a prime feng shui location. Tomb keepers with experience in funeral arrangements and knowledge of burial feng shui seized this opportunity to resume their old trade—hanging banners as mystic masters to select burial sites and read feng shui, raising axes to build coffins, wielding chisels to carve stone tablets, and opening shops to sell mingqi, funerary objects… The nobles and princes looked down on their craftsmanship, but because of their status as tomb keepers, they were highly trusted by the villagers throughout the surrounding countryside on both banks of the Yellow River, and they made a comfortable living from the funeral trade.
Fu Ruyi had once claimed that the gods appeared to her in a dream and taught her to make candles—a stroke of luck, as it turned out. With that mystical pretext, after Ling Village was established, all the candle production from the Fu family was exclusively purchased by the village’s mingqi shops. Through this connection, she got in touch with the stonemasons in Ling Village and left a sample of her calligraphy on a stele. If anyone took a liking to it, the stonemason would notify her to come and write the epitaph.
“Stonecutter Dou, I’m here,” Fu Ruyi called out as she arrived outside a small courtyard piled with stones.
“Come in.” Stonecutter Dou’s old wife walked out. She looked at the unfamiliar faces outside the courtyard and asked, “Honored guests, have you come to look at the steles?”
“Granny Yin, these are people I brought with me—they’re my future in-laws and my husband-to-be,” Fu Ruyi explained.
Granny Yin was taken aback—future in-laws? She sized up the handsome man with golden hair and blue eyes, and complained, “You like this kind of pretty-but-useless type? And you still criticize my grandson for not knowing how to farm? You’ve got him going on and on about wanting to dig in the dirt all day, wanting to give up the family business altogether.”
“Last year I was naive and only wanted someone useful, but this year I’ve fallen for someone good-looking,” Fu Ruyi explained. “Luckily for me, the one I’ve set my sights on is both good-looking and useful.”
Granny Yin didn’t believe a word of it. She hadn’t seen this young, handsome Xianbei man before, but she had seen Fu Ruyi’s future in-laws. The wasteland south of the village belonged to them—overgrown with weeds taller than a person. They wouldn’t know how to farm if their lives depended on it.
“Where are they? The client is waiting.” Stonecutter Dou walked out and waved to Fu Ruyi. “Come in with me.”
“Let’s go.” Fu Ruyi took the great beauty’s hand, then let go after a few steps.
Beyond the courtyard lay another large yard. The stones piled in the back courtyard were all stele blanks in rough form. Three middle-aged men in plain silk were gathered around a stele, speaking in low voices.
“Master Lu, the inscription writer has arrived,” Stonecutter Dou reminded them.
The visitors knew Fu Ruyi was a woman, but seeing her in person still gave them pause.
“So young?” one muttered.
Fu Ruyi opened her small bamboo box and laid out her brush, ink, and cinnabar. “I’ll write two lines of calligraphy on the stone table first. After the three of you have seen it, you can decide whether to hire me.”
“Fine.”
“May I ask the name of the deceased?”
“My late father, Lu Yisheng—Yi from the Book of Changes, Sheng from life and death.”
Fu Ruyi poured water and ground the inkstick. Dipping the weasel-hair brush into the ink, she raised it and wrote on the smooth stone table: The tomb of our late father, the esteemed Lu, given name Yisheng.
From the first stroke to the last, the brush moved without the slightest hesitation. What was surprising was that after finishing a line of sharp, angular characters, she started a new line, and the strokes changed—a firm horizontal pause, a sharp vertical flick, and the characters that took shape were full and rounded.
“Please take a look.” Fu Ruyi stepped aside and asked confidently, “Which style do you choose?”
“This one.” The oldest man pointed to the clerical script written later.
“You have excellent taste. This style was popular during the Western and Eastern Jin dynasties, and most of the steles on the mountain for nobles and royalty are in this script.” Fu Ruyi offered the practiced compliment. “Has Elder Dou told you about my payment? Five catties of lard and twenty catties of grain.”
“We’ve brought it all.”
“Good.” Fu Ruyi immediately switched to cinnabar ink. “Which stele have you chosen? Give me the names of Mr. Lu’s descendants—are any of them deceased?”