Shen Qingqing stood where she was, looking at the woman as well. Her small body stood in the autumn wind like a stubborn sprig of wormwood. Their eyes met. The woman opened her mouth, wanting to call her daughter’s name, but it was as though a wad of cotton had lodged in her throat, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not utter it. In the end, all she could do was turn away with reddened eyes and enter the apothecary. The wind blew against the door curtain, making it fall heavily into place and conceal the figure inside.
Shen Qingqing’s gaze settled on the swaying cloth curtain. She watched it for a long while, until Nanny Zhou called to her softly. Only then did she slowly withdraw her gaze and place her little hand in Nanny Zhou’s warm palm.
The autumn wind swept up the withered leaves on the ground and brushed past their feet with a rustling sound. The street vendors’ cries and the noise of carts and horses remained lively, but Shen Qingqing felt that everything had suddenly become very far away. She followed in Nanny Zhou’s footsteps, one step, then another, and never looked back again.
Shen Qingqing followed Nanny Zhou toward the eastern end of town.
The streets of Qingshui Town were not wide, and the flagstone road gleamed after being washed by the rain. All kinds of shops lined both sides of the road. After the rain stopped, more people had begun to fill the streets again: cloth sellers, sundries merchants, blacksmiths, food vendors. The various cries gradually grew livelier.
She kept her head lowered, her gaze fixed on the cloth shoes that exposed her toes. Her mother had made the shoes by hand, sewing the soles thick in the hope that they would last longer. But after their flight from the famine, the soles had worn through and the uppers had come apart at the seams. Her exposed toes were spattered with mud and felt cold. She did not dare step into the puddles by the roadside, afraid that muddy water would splash into her shoes. They were the only pair she had.
Nanny Zhou walked quickly, and Shen Qingqing had to trot along on her short legs to keep up. After they turned down two streets, the view suddenly opened up before them.
A large residence appeared before her. It had white walls and dark tiled roofs, and its tall, imposing gate tower was extraordinary in its grandeur. Two old locust trees stood before the gate, with a pair of stone lions crouching beneath them, their eyes filled with majesty. Above the gate hung a plaque, its two large gilded characters especially eye-catching: the Lu Family Ancestral Residence.
Shen Qingqing did not recognize those two characters, but she knew in her heart that this was the place Nanny had spoken of—the place where she would be staying from now on.
Nanny Zhou brought her in through the side gate. When the gatekeeper saw them, he bowed in greeting without saying a word.
Beyond the gate was a spacious front courtyard. Several servants in short coarse jackets were sweeping with brooms. When they saw Nanny Zhou, they stopped their work and respectfully called out, “Nanny Zhou.”
Nanny Zhou merely gave a faint nod. She led Shen Qingqing across the front courtyard, then through another carved, hanging-flower gate into a quieter courtyard. A plaque hung above the courtyard entrance, bearing the words “Qingyuan Pavilion.”
Several stalks of green bamboo grew in the courtyard, their leaves clattering whenever the wind blew. A few fish—some red, some yellow—swam slowly in a stone basin by the corner of the wall. Several maids in blue cotton clothing stood beneath the veranda, their hair combed sleekly. When they saw Nanny Zhou, they all performed proper greetings.
Nanny Zhou slowed her pace and stopped at the entrance to the main room. Turning around, she said to Shen Qingqing, “Wait here beneath the veranda for now, and don’t make a sound. I’ll go in and report to Madam, then bring you inside.”
Shen Qingqing nodded earnestly. Clutching the hem of her clothes, she obediently stood beside a pillar, not even daring to turn her head carelessly. She had never seen a single thing in this courtyard before. Her heart pounded, and she did not dare breathe too loudly. She only dared sneak a glance from the corner of her eye at the carved door of the main room.
Seeing that she was standing quietly, Nanny Zhou pushed open the door and entered, pulling it shut behind her.
She walked to the bedside, bent down, and spoke several words softly into Madam Lu’s ear, recounting in full how she had found Shen Qingqing.
“Really? Bring her in quickly and let me have a look.” Madam Lu’s voice was hoarse and urgent.
Before long, Nanny Zhou came out of the room and beckoned to Shen Qingqing beneath the veranda. Her voice was gentler than before. “Come in. Madam wants to see you.”
Shen Qingqing stepped over the threshold, still keeping her head lowered, and stood there properly.
The room was very quiet. The shadows of the bamboo outside the window swayed across the floor. The blue-gray bricks gleamed brightly enough to reflect a person’s image. Against the wall stood a zitan-wood curio shelf, with various vases and jars arranged on it, all so exquisite they looked as though they had been painted into a picture. Farther inside was a zitan-wood canopy bed, hung with blue gauze curtains through which the indistinct outline of someone lying inside could be seen.
“Raise your head and let me have a look at you.” The woman’s voice was raspy, as though she had been crying for a very long time.
Shen Qingqing slowly lifted her head. A woman sat beside the bed, dressed in silk and satin, with ornaments of pearls and jade in her hair—things Shen Qingqing had never seen before. The woman’s face, however, was frighteningly pale, and her eye sockets were red. As she spoke, her eyes kept drifting toward the bed. Shen Qingqing recognized the anxiety and heartache in that gaze. Her mother had worn the same expression when she held her little brother and begged the physician for help.
“Come closer.”
Shen Qingqing took two steps forward and stopped in front of her, still clutching the hem of her clothes.
The woman reached out and used her fingertips to brush aside the messy bangs on Shen Qingqing’s forehead. Her cool fingers passed over the little girl’s mud-spattered face as she examined her from top to bottom. Her gaze was deep, as though she were trying to identify her.
Shen Qingqing did not dare move. She let the woman look at her, her eyelashes fluttering, but she did not shrink away.
The woman carefully studied the little girl before her. She was so thin and small that it seemed a gust of wind could knock her over. Her dry, yellow hair lay messily against either side of her face, while the bangs on her forehead were stuck down by sweat. Though several streaks of mud marked her small face, they could not conceal the delicate features between her brows and eyes. Her large eyes were clear black and white, calm and pure, revealing a resilience far beyond what one would expect of a six-year-old. Her nose was small and delicate, and her lips were somewhat thin. At that moment, they were pressed tightly together, giving her an air of bewildered restraint.
The woman stared at Shen Qingqing for a long while before finally asking, “What is your name?”
“Shen Qingqing.” Her voice was soft, but her words were clear.
“How old are you?”
“Six.”
“What can you do?”
Shen Qingqing thought for a moment, then answered seriously, “I can help Mother look after my little brother, start fires, sort vegetables, and wash clothes. I can do all of those things.”
The woman paused. Her voice softened. “Good girl.”
After a moment, she turned her head to look at the bed, then turned back and said, “From now on, you’ll live here and keep the older brother on the bed company. Is that all right?”
Shen Qingqing followed her gaze toward the bed. The little figure behind the gauze curtains did not move at all. She asked softly, “Is Older Brother sick?”
The woman nodded. Tears fell with a series of soft pats onto the front of her clothes. “He is sick.”
Shen Qingqing remembered that her little brother, Xiaobao, had also burned with fever for several days and nights. Her mother had knelt outside the apothecary, begging for help until her knees had broken open. She asked in a small voice, “Didn’t you find a physician?”
“We did.” The woman clasped her hand. Her hand was icy cold, and it was still trembling. “We invited every physician in town…”
Shen Qingqing furrowed her little brows. She could not understand. If there were physicians, how could they still be unable to save him? But when she saw the woman’s reddened eyes, she ultimately said nothing more and pushed her doubts down. As she looked at the motionless figure on the bed, she suddenly remembered the child named A-Zheng in the ruined temple, who had also curled up alone in a corner, utterly solitary. She had felt awful for him then, and now, facing this older brother she had never met, that same ache rose within her again.
Seeing her bewildered yet quiet expression, the woman opened her mouth as if she had something to say. But in the end, she did not say it and swallowed the words back down.
Just then, the boy on the bed suddenly moved his lips and murmured something indistinctly, his voice as faint as the hum of a mosquito.
Shen Qingqing pricked up her ears to listen. It seemed to be, “…Don’t go…”
His voice was choked with tears, as though he were begging someone in a dream. Hearing it made one’s heart tighten.
Madam Lu seized her son’s hand, and tears immediately streamed down her face. Choking back sobs, she said, “Yuer, Mother is here. Mother isn’t going anywhere…”
After she had cried for a long while, Physician Wu entered from outside and gently urged her, “Madam, you haven’t closed your eyes for several days. Your body won’t be able to endure this. You should go and rest. This old servant will watch over Young Master Yu.”