Since Wang Zhefu went to Jilin to guard the border, he would send one or two letters back to his home in Jinling every year.
From Wang Zhefu’s previous letters, it was known that he was an old friend of Chen Tu, the official in charge of local border affairs. Furthermore, because the Jilin government had always treated exiled scholars from Jiangnan with great kindness, Wang Zhefu, who had a good reputation, was also well taken care of. Although he was required to serve in the military, his basic living was guaranteed.
Wang Zhefu mentioned Chen Tu’s care for him many times in his letters.
And this letter was from Chen Tu.
Wang Xichen immediately noticed the four most striking words in the letter—”Lord Wang is seriously ill.”
Wang Xichen was extremely worried. He looked with a questioning gaze at the person seated at the head of the table in the hall: “Mother…”
The white-haired Old Madam Dong said firmly, “After the New Year, we will set off for Jilin.”
Wang Xichen, suppressing tears, replied, “Yes.”
It was the twelfth lunar month, and the weather was cold and the roads icy, making travel difficult. Such a long journey required considerable preparation, and there were only ten days left until the New Year.
With the matter settled, the next step was to discuss who would go.
Wang Xipu was out of the question; Chen Tu’s letter only mentioned “serious illness,” suggesting there might still be a chance for recovery, and Wang Xipu naturally couldn’t rashly leave his post.
Wang Xirui was the eldest son, but he had difficulty walking and was also busy with his private school duties. Compared to him, Wang Xichen considered himself the least busy and thus volunteered for the task.
Wang Yuan wanted to accompany his second uncle, but Old Madam Dong looked at her eldest grandson, who was already twenty, and said, “You should stay home. Your father is unwell, and your third uncle is away on a post. After your second uncle leaves, you should take over the household affairs.”
Meeting his grandmother’s aged eyes and thinking of his grandfather, who was seriously ill and whose fate was unknown, Wang Yuan hesitated for a moment before agreeing earnestly.
Old Madam Dong then looked at her second grandson, “Jie’er, you should stay too. Focus on preparing for this year’s imperial examination. If it really comes to that, you younger generation, can go to help with the funeral arrangements then.”
Wang Jie obediently agreed.
Wang Xirui hesitated and said, “But if it’s just my second brother alone, I’m afraid it won’t be enough…”
Jilin was a strange place thousands of miles away; there would inevitably be many people and things that needed to be taken care of.
Grandma Dong: “I’ll go too.”
The Wang brothers were both startled: “Mother!”
“Your health…”
“My health is still very good,” Grandma Dong interrupted her sons. “When it comes to managing social relationships, you two might not be as good as this old woman.”
The old lady was a woman of her word. Ignoring her sons’ reactions, she looked instead at her obedient granddaughter standing to the side: “Let Deqing come with me.”
Wang Xichen was even more stunned: “Mother, this…”
“Deqing is her grandfather’s favorite child… let her go see her.”
Wang Xichen valued filial piety highly, and hearing his mother’s words, he couldn’t object further.
Zhenyi asked in disbelief, “Grandmother, can Zhenyi really go?”
Grandma Dong asked, “Don’t you want to?”
Zhenyi quickly replied, “No, Zhenyi wants to go!”
Zhenyi dreamed of going to Jilin to find her grandfather, and hearing of his serious illness only intensified her anxiety and urgency.
However, in Zhenyi’s current understanding, going out to study or handle affairs was usually the domain of the men in the family; she had no opportunity. If she suggested it, she would surely be scolded. Zhenyi wasn’t afraid of being scolded, but she didn’t want to cause unnecessary trouble and displeasure for her family at this time, so she had been very quiet lately.
Now, suddenly being called upon by her grandmother to accompany her, Zhenyi felt as if she were in a dream. Thinking of seeing her grandfather soon, her eyes filled with tears, which she held back.
Yang Jinniang was very surprised to learn that her daughter was going to Jilin.
Like her husband, she was devoted to filial piety and obeyed her mother-in-law’s every command. Therefore, although Yang Jinniang disapproved, she dared not object, and could only repeatedly instruct her daughter, emphasizing the two most important things: “Serve your mother well, and in public, your words and actions must be impeccable; above all, do not act on your own initiative…”
Zhenyi agreed to all of this.
Yang Jinniang was still worried and instructed Chun’er daily.
Besides, Yang Jinniang didn’t trust servants with the father and daughter’s belongings and insisted on handling them personally.
Yang Jinniang was very thoughtful. They would set off in the first month of the lunar year when the weather was still cold, and their return date was uncertain. Clothes for all four seasons needed to be prepared. Making clothes while traveling was inconvenient; they might not fit properly and were very expensive… Zhenyi was growing, and last year’s clothes would inevitably be too short. All winter clothes that could be made larger needed to be made an inch larger, and several summer clothes needed to be made quickly.
Yang Jinniang, along with Zhao Mama and Chun’er, busied themselves with preparations. With the Lunar New Year approaching, Zhenyi’s birthday was quickly forgotten by the time the Spring Equinox arrived.
Amidst the hustle and bustle, Zhenyi didn’t mention it either. However, when she got up early that morning, she found three sparrows neatly arranged on the table.
Ju Zi hadn’t forgotten; after this birthday, Zhenyi would be eleven years old (by the traditional Chinese age reckoning).
As for why there were three this year, it was because Ju Zi had included Chun’er’s share—last year, when Chun’er roasted the sparrows, the aroma was so enticing it made her mouth water.
Zhenyi went over and asked Ju Zi, who was perched on the table, with delight howhet remembered.
Ju Zi’s expression held a hint of smugness.
Ju Zi couldn’t count very long days, but it had a clever plan—Zhenyi’s birthday was on the Spring Equinox, and every year on the day before the Spring Equinox, a clay ox used for beating the spring ox would be prepared in front of the Jinling City government office. Ju Zi remembered that whenever Ni Niu was about to be beaten, it was Zhen Yi’s birthday.
A few days after the Beginning of Spring, the Lunar New Year arrived.
This Lunar New Year, they prepared fried New Year’s goods, offered sacrifices to the gods, prepared incense and candles, and strung together money to ward off evil spirits… The Wang family lived a very routine life, and no one had the mood for grand celebrations.
After the third day of the Lunar New Year, Wang Xichen also began packing his books. For a scholar, especially a scholar who had passed the county-level imperial examinations, books were indispensable when traveling far away.
Zhen Yi saw this and went back to her room, spread out a bundle, put in the several mathematics books given to her by Zhan Mei, and then took out the “Collection of Explanations of the Seventy-Two Seasonal Phenomena.” Just as she was about to turn around and put it in as well, she saw Ju Zi squatting upright in her bundle.
Zhenyi blinked. “Ju Zi, do you want to go to Jilin too?”
“Meow.”
Zhenyi understood. “Wait here, I’ll go talk to Father!”
Zhenyi put down her book and ran out.
About fifteen minutes later, Zhenyi returned dejectedly, apologetically telling Ju Zi, “Father hasn’t agreed.”
Ju Zi, already lying in her bundle, slowly swished her tail, completely unconcerned.
It was a cat, after all.
Did a cat need permission to go out? She’d never heard of such a reversal of reason.
Ju Zi had made up her mind—little Jilin, was it really that hard to keep up?
…Indeed, it was.
Only after running away did Ju Zi have to admit this fact.
Zhenyi and her family set off on the seventh day of the first lunar month.
Chun’er didn’t go with them. Recently, Yang Jinniang had been exhausted and worried; her appetite was poor, and her old ailment had flared up. Zhenyi felt that Zhao Mama was too old and might not be able to manage alone, so she offered to let Chun’er stay and take care of her mother.
Yang Jinniang was worried, so Zhenyi said that she was already eleven years old and could take care of herself. Besides, her grandmother had the capable Zhuo Mama by her side; if there was anything she couldn’t do, she could ask Zhuo Mama for advice.
Wang Zhefu was an honest official, and the Wang family’s circumstances had changed in the past two years; many servants had been dismissed. This trip was also kept simple. After Chun’er was left behind, only three servants were taken: Zhuo Mama, a fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl, and Wang Xichen brought a young page.
The carriage and horses were rented, and the driver was also from a horse trading company. The carriage didn’t travel very fast, covering at most a hundred li a day, stopping to rest every twenty or thirty li. If they went any faster, it would be a way to injure the horses, which would cost extra.
Even so, Ju Zi ran alongside them all the way out of Jinling City, nearly losing them several times.
Once out of the city, the carriage was on the official road and went much faster. Ju Zi could only run frantically, her four legs moving like a blur, but it still wasn’t enough—”My dead legs, faster!!”
Although the carriage was no longer visible, fortunately, the official road was straight, and she could just run along it.
Twenty li outside the city, the carriage stopped to drink water and rest. Zhen Yi remained inside, clutching her bundle, lost in thought. This was her first time leaving Jinling, and even after leaving the city, she began to miss home, her mother, Chun’er, Zhao Mama, and Ju Zi.
Zhenyi buried her face in the bundle in her arms, a few strands of orange-white cat fur still clinging to it.
After what seemed like half an hour, the coachman called to the group that they were continuing their journey.
Mama Zhuo helped the old lady back into the carriage, and Zhenyi also reached out to help her grandmother. Once her grandmother was seated, Zhenyi reached out to close the two back doors of the carriage. Halfway closed, she suddenly saw a fluffy orange-white cat running towards them.
Before Zhenyi could react, the carriage had already started moving.
“Wait a minute!” Zhenyi cried out hastily, grabbing the carriage door and shouting urgently at the figure, “Ju Zi? Ju Zi!”
Ju Zi, with its last bit of strength, struggled to catch up, stretching out its front paws and leaping into the air towards the carriage.
Zhenyi caught it in her arms, hugging it tightly, overjoyed: “Ju Zi! How did you come along!”
The carriage continued on its way. Zhenyi asked her grandmother, “Grandmother, may I take Ju Zi with me?”
“Grandmother, Ju Zi will be very obedient!”
“Ju Zi can hunt! It catches many birds!”
“Ju Zi can catch fish! It catches many fish!”
“Ju Zi can also give massages! It’s very good at it!” Zhenyi said, urging Ju Zi, “Ju Zi, quickly give Grandmother a massage too!”
Exhausted, its fur dirty and disheveled, Ju Zi closed its eyes in despair: “…” Maybe it should just go back.
Grandma Dong laughed and nodded, saying, “If it’s coming along, then take it. This cat is indeed quite intelligent.”
Mother Zhuo smiled and said, “Like mother, like daughter…”
Orange was allowed to come along, and Zhenyi no longer cared about home. She wet a cloth and wiped Orange’s paws, only to find that not only were the four paws dirty, but the pads were also worn raw.
Zhenyi felt sorry for Orange and blew on them repeatedly.
The spring breeze blew and blew, bringing a fresh green hue to the earth and mountains.
The further north they went, the more different the scenery became. Zhenyi peered out the carriage window, her eyes filled with the novel sights, often exclaiming in amazement.
Orange, who considered herself worldly-wise, remained calm, quietly observing Zhenyi, who was seeing the world for the first time. Until one day, during a rest stop, she noticed that the fields on both sides of the road were planted entirely with winter wheat.
Orange’s eyes widened in surprise.
“The people here are so kind! They’ve even planted so much cat grass for cats!”
Orange plunged into the wheat field, happily rolling around.
After traveling for several more days, they passed a peony garden. Wang Xichen stood quietly, admiring the peonies that were about to bloom, and said to his daughter, “Look at the peonies three days after Grain Rain… The peony is also known as the Grain Rain Flower; when the peonies are about to bloom, Grain Rain is approaching.”
After a rain, Grain Rain arrived, and the peonies, as expected, kept their promise to the seasons, blooming profusely after the rain.
Zhenyi pondered quietly, feeling that all things in heaven and earth were worthy of praise, for they were all trustworthy and kept their promises, thus creating order in the world—but then, who established this order?
Her mother always said it was the gods, the gods who governed everything.
But who had ever seen a god?
Once, her mother whispered that the Emperor had seen gods—the Emperor was the Son of Heaven, the child of Heaven, chosen by the gods to rule the world, so disobeying him was a grave crime, absolutely forbidden.
Zhenyi was about to say something more when her mother covered her mouth, sternly telling her not to speak nonsense, or she would be beheaded.
That day, Zhuo Mama picked several bunches of fresh, tender toon sprouts along the way. Upon arriving at the inn where she stayed, she borrowed a stove from the kitchen and cooked two plates of stir-fried toon sprouts with eggs.
Orange lay at Zhenyi’s feet, listening to health blogger Wang Xichen say, “Grain Rain season is the perfect time to eat toon sprouts… Toon sprouts have spleen-strengthening and qi-regulating effects.”
Orange, however, had no intention of tasting them. It couldn’t stand the taste of toon sprouts, and for cats, an unpleasant smell often meant they had to avoid certain foods. Orange wanted to accompany Zhenyi to a long and healthy life.
After dinner, it started raining again. Zhenyi tiptoed and peeked through the window into the backyard. She saw the innkeeper and two waiters setting up porcelain jars in the yard to collect rainwater.
Zhenyi remembered her father saying that rainwater collected on Grain Rain day could be used to make tea, called Grain Rain Tea, which could brighten the eyes, clear the mind, and dispel internal heat.
After days of rain, as the sky cleared, Zhenyi smelled the scent of the sun drying everything in the air. After Grain Rain, the sun was closer; summer was approaching.
Finally, they arrived in Jilin.
On the day of their arrival, the Chen family personally greeted them. The one who came was Chen Tu’s son, also a scholar. He bowed politely, yet seemed somewhat embarrassed and amused: “My father was overreacting. Last early winter, Lord Wang only coughed for a few days…and my father rushed to write, which is why you and my brother have come all this way for nothing!”
Old Madam Dong breathed a sigh of relief, saying, “A cough in the lungs is a life-threatening matter. It’s all thanks to Lord Chen’s care in getting him medical treatment and medicine…otherwise, how could a convict in exile have recovered so quickly?”
Wang Xichen was also overjoyed, repeatedly thanking Chen Tu’s son and exchanging pleasantries.
Zhenyi understood—her grandfather was alright!
Zhenyi was overjoyed. Remembering her mother’s instructions to speak little, she only reached out to tug at her grandmother’s sleeve; she couldn’t wait to see her grandfather. Orange also reached out its paw to tug at Zhenyi’s clothes; it too wanted to see Old Wang as soon as possible!
Grain Rain has ended, and all six solar terms of spring have concluded, beginning the summer solar terms section. This article is 1/4 complete.
(Note: From records concerning Wang Zhefu, it can be inferred that Zhenyi’s journey to Jilin at age 11 was not for a funeral, but for a visit. Wang Zhefu was still alive that year. Furthermore, if Wang Zhefu had already passed away that year, and he was exiled when Zhenyi was six or seven, then he would not have had the opportunity to effectively teach Zhenyi. However, Zhenyi’s collected writings repeatedly mention that she received much instruction from her grandfather, who had a profound influence on her.
Therefore, in my humble opinion, the online claim that “Zhenyi went to Jilin at age 11 for her grandfather’s funeral” is an incorrect and unverified statement.)