While she was still lost in thought, she had already been carried onto the wooden raft and set down. Coming back to her senses, she saw three people sitting across from her: an elderly woman in her forties or fifties, a woman in her twenties or thirties, and a little boy around seven or eight years old. They were all on a wooden raft about ten feet square, above which was a makeshift canopy made of a mat propped up on four poles, so the people sitting underneath wouldn’t get rained on.
Old Madam Yang looked at the chubby, fair-skinned little girl and patted her head. “Little girl, are you cold? How about Grandaunt asks your aunt to change you into some dry clothes? Your clothes are soaked through.” Upon hearing this, the woman beside her quickly found a set of little boy’s clothes from a bundle wrapped in oilcloth, took Jiayin into her arms, and changed her into them.
The boy watched the little girl curiously. She was really beautiful, with a face as soft and round as a bun—pale and tender. After Jiayin was changed, she saw that all three of them were looking at her kindly, so she didn’t hold back and gave them a sweet smile, revealing two small dimples on her face. It melted all their hearts.
Fang Zhiyuan gently poked the dimple on her cheek and said, “Little sister, how old are you? What’s your name? My name is Fang Zhiyuan. My nickname is Dazhuang, and I’m seven years old.” Then he gave her a gap-toothed smile.
Ao Jiayin looked at this little boy who was missing his two front teeth and spoke with a lisp, thought he was quite funny, and replied, “My name is Ao Jiayin. I’m fifty years old.”
The several people were stunned. She must have misspoken, right? She probably meant five years old and accidentally added a “ty.”
After coming to this conclusion on their own, Fang Zhiyuan said, “I’m two years older than you. From now on, you can call me Brother Dazhuang—that’s what my younger cousins all call me. By the way, you said your surname is Ao? How can there be such a surname?”
“Did she say it wrong? Could it be Yao instead? I remember there’s a wealthy squire named Yao in our county,” said Zhiyuan’s mother, née Li. A plump, fair, and spirited little girl like this couldn’t have been raised by just any ordinary family.
Old Madam Yang shook her head. “Squire Yao in the county doesn’t have any little girls—only three sons and two grandsons.”
“Mother, how do you know so clearly?” asked Fang Youwei, who was pushing the raft from behind. His own mother had never even been to the county seat, so how was she so familiar with the squire’s household?
Old Madam Yang shot him a sideways glance. “Your uncle delivers charcoal to their mansion every winter. Have you forgotten?”
Fang Youwei suddenly understood. Of course—his uncle was a charcoal burner. Every winter, he would deliver the finest charcoal to the various mansions in the county town. Having done business with them for so many years, it was only natural that he knew a bit about each household.
Ao Jiayin looked utterly bewildered as she listened to them discuss this, not understanding a word. She lowered her head and began counting on her chubby little fingers. She had said she was fifty years old, and this little boy said he was two years older than her. But he had just said he was seven. Did he forget to add a “ty”? That didn’t seem right either. Seventy minus fifty is twenty. Being two years older should mean fifty plus two, so he should be fifty-two!
Jiayin nodded to herself, giving herself a mental pat on the back for her excellent arithmetic skills. Even though she was still a little cub, she had attended a whole month of school! She knew simple addition and subtraction!
She touched her empty belly and said to the newly acquainted little brother, “Brother, I’m hungry.”
She hadn’t eaten anything for days. Although their dragon clan wouldn’t starve to death, having an empty stomach was still very uncomfortable.
When Old Madam Yang heard her say she was hungry, she stopped talking, took a coarse grain pancake from a bamboo basket beside her, and handed it to her.
“Jiayin, this is all we have right now. You’ll have to make do with this to tide you over. Once we reach a safe place, we’ll light a fire and cook something to eat.”
Ao Jiayin reached out and took the coarse grain pancake. She looked at it curiously. “What is this?”
Seeing that she didn’t recognize it, Fang Zhiyuan explained, “It’s a pancake made from a mix of sorghum flour and cornmeal. It tastes pretty good, but you need to drink plenty of water, or it’ll choke you.”
Because their family was small, and his father was a hunter who was very skilled at hunting, their household was doing relatively well. They still had some grain left, unlike other families who had already started eating grass roots and tree bark.
Hearing him say it was tasty, Ao Jiayin took a big bite of the pancake and chewed. Hmm… it had no flavor at all…