The auspicious day arrived, and at the perfect, predetermined hour, Scholar Lü and his wife—both dressed in their cleanest clothes—arrived at Li Yao’s home under the guidance of the village chief.
Upon seeing the space specifically set aside for study, Scholar Lü felt he had been granted the respect he deserved. He was immensely satisfied, his face wreathed in a genuine, joyful smile. Many of the villagers had also rushed over to catch the spectacle, crowding the perimeter of the courtyard.
The ceremony was held in the middle of the yard. On a square table sat a boiled pig’s head and tail, a flask of rice wine, half a radish, and a few sticks of incense.
Scholar Lü lit the incense, led the four children in bowing toward the distant Great Master, and offered prayers for the protection of the God of Literature. Only then did he insert the incense into the half-radish and take his seat on a bench alongside his wife, Bai-shi. Once the four children had lined up and performed the great kowtow—three ritual bows to the ground—they presented their apprenticeship gifts one by one.
These were the “Six Rites of Apprenticeship.”
Celery, lotus seeds, red beans, red dates, and longan—these five items were inexpensive, chosen purely for their symbolic meanings regarding diligence, fruitfulness, and success. The sixth and final gift was dried meat, intended as a treat for the teacher.
Li Yao had scoured the entire market, but failing to find dried meat, she had instead prepared an entire pig’s hind leg. She had salted it for three days and then had He Xiaoya roast it over a low fire for an entire day until it was thoroughly cooked through. She figured Scholar Lü wouldn’t mind the substitution.
Scholar Lü’s delight was written all over his face. In the past, the villagers treated him like a walking joke. Though his wife never explicitly stated it, her every word implied that he was a failure for being unable to earn a living. He had known these truths all too well, but he was truly powerless—copying manuscripts for others was deemed too slow, and writing letters for hire was dismissed because he lacked the official Xiucai title.
But now, all of that had changed. After decades of bitter study, he was finally going to earn a decent living. More importantly, Li Yao had gone to such great lengths to put on this grand display, giving him a sense of dignity he hadn’t felt in years. Perhaps, he thought, I shall stop calling her a coarse, shrewish woman from now on. Ahem.
“A whole pig’s leg… that woman really is generous,” one villager whispered.
“I heard she’s paying 2 taels of silver a month. Scholar Lü has hit the jackpot!”
“It seems the food stall business has earned them quite a small fortune.”
The villagers murmured amongst themselves, their voices filled with envy.
However, there were discordant notes in the air. “A widow bringing a grown man into her house all day long… tsk, tsk… I bet her excuse of ‘hiring a teacher’ is a lie; she’s just lonely for a man!”
Although the voice was low, Li Yao heard it clearly. Her eyes narrowed into slits. It has been a few days since I’ve shown my temper—have they forgotten that I am a shrew?
Before she could even open her mouth, Wang Xue-shi’s shrill, thunderous voice cracked like a whip, threatening to pierce everyone’s eardrums.
“Zhu Yougui, you spineless wretch! Your father died young—is your mother spending every day at home ‘lonely for a man’ too? You ill-bred trash, if I hear you chewing on your tongue again, I’ll peel a layer of skin right off your back!”
Zhu Yougui was a notorious rogue in the village, but he knew better than to cross Wang Xue-shi. He didn’t even dare to watch the rest of the ceremony; he tucked his tail and scuttled away.
After cursing his retreating back a few more times, Wang Xue-shi approached, accompanied by her husband, Wang Jiagui. Both were dressed in clean clothes and cloth shoes, as if attending a major festival. Hadn’t they said yesterday they wouldn’t come? Of course, their presence was for the best; they could now keep Scholar Lü company with wine and food.
Seeing the hour was growing late, Li Yao retreated to the kitchen to begin preparing the midday meal.
She sliced pig’s ears into thin strips, tossed with shredded bamboo shoots in a cold vinegar dressing. She prepared a platter of braised pig’s head meat and tail. With the addition of sweet and sour pork ribs and pork with mashed garlic, four cold dishes were laid out, and she had her father-in-law begin drinking with Scholar Lü and the village chief.
The wine was the best rice wine from the market—low in alcohol, but quite pleasant in taste. It was a pity they had no peanuts; it would have been perfect.
Li Yao returned to the kitchen to continue with the hot dishes. He Xiaoya had already prepped the braised pork, so Li Yao only needed to adjust the flavor and reduce the sauce over high heat. The twice-cooked pork, braised fish, and shredded pork with fish-flavored sauce took very little time to finish.
The cold dishes had barely been touched before the hot courses arrived. Finally, she served a mother-hen soup that had been simmered until tender. The table was absolutely brimming with food—a sight that dazzled Scholar Lü and his wife, even while it made Wang Xue-shi’s heart ache at the sheer expense.
These dishes must have cost at least a tael of silver! Wang Xue-shi thought, her heart clenching. Even a wealthy squire’s New Year’s feast wouldn’t be this lavish! This wasteful woman—how can she be so reckless with her money?
If it weren’t for the presence of Scholar Lü and the village chief, she would have unleashed a torrent of criticism upon Li Yao right then and there! Scholar Lü and his wife, however, had never expected such an extravagant reception. They felt an overwhelming sense of pride and prestige.
In this humble mountain village, rules were lax; there was no rigid custom separating men from women or elders from children during meals. However, the square table only seated eight. He Xiaoya, being shy, had stayed in the kitchen with Wang Xiaosi to eat. The moment Wang Xue-shi noticed Li Yao had no seat, she promptly hoisted Wang San-er from his chair.
“Go eat somewhere else and let your mother sit down.”
Wang San-er, delighted by the excuse, grabbed his bowl and scurried off to the kitchen.
The meal itself, however, was awkward. Sitting with Scholar Lü, the villagers felt as though they were walking on eggshells. They had to set their chopsticks down after every single bite to exchange pleasantries or take a sip of wine before picking them back up again. By the time they reached for their second bite, their stomachs were likely digesting the first. When Li Yao realized this, it was already too late to intervene. I should have just stayed in the kitchen to eat, she thought. It would have been much more comfortable.
Eventually, the feast concluded, and everyone left satisfied.
The next day, Scholar Lü arrived as soon as the sun crested the horizon to supervise Wang Er’s studies. He insisted on loud, repetitive reading throughout the morning, followed by in-depth analysis of the classics and calligraphy lessons in the afternoon. Once Dazhuang and his brothers returned from the market, he would teach the three younger ones basic literacy, simple characters, and finally, some elementary arithmetic before dusk. It was a comprehensive curriculum that covered everything from language arts to mathematics.
Li Yao observed him from the shadows for the entire day. She discovered that once Scholar Lü began to teach, he was a completely different person—his eyes glowed with fervor, and his instruction was meticulous and rigorous. His calligraphy was superb; his Lishu (clerical script) was fluid yet elegant, structured with a master’s precision. Li Yao couldn’t help but conclude that Scholar Lü was genuinely learned. His ability to explain complex concepts with effortless references to the classics was astounding. She couldn’t fathom why a man of such intellect had failed to pass the Xiucai exams. Perhaps, she mused, the scholarly competition in this world is simply impossibly fierce.
With Wang Er’s education settled, Li Yao returned to her research on the herbal balm. After a period of experimentation, she had refined a mature, effective process.
To create the perfect balm, two ingredients were essential beyond the herbs themselves: tea seed oil and beeswax. Both were abundant in the nearby mountains, making them easy to acquire.
She dried the harvested tea seeds and pressed them into oil. She then finely chopped a variety of dried medicinal herbs, submerged them in the tea seed oil, and heated the mixture over low heat in a double boiler for five hours, allowing the medicinal essence to permeate the oil completely. Next, she melted the beeswax in the same manner and blended it into the herb-infused oil. As it cooled, it transformed into a rich, emerald-green paste. She sealed the balm into jars, and it was ready.
The core of the process lay not in complexity, but in the precise selection and proportion of the herbs. To verify its efficacy, she gathered the whole family.
“Has anyone been bitten by mosquitoes?”
Though it was late autumn, their proximity to the forest meant mosquitoes were still a plague; every child bore a few itchy red bumps on their skin. Li Yao had them apply the balm.
“It’s so cooling!” Wang Xiaosi was the first to comment.
“Mmm, it feels so cool and comfortable. The itching stopped immediately,” another added.
He Xiaoya dabbed a bit with her finger and held it to her nose. “It smells pleasant, too, not pungent like the herbal poultices. It’s so smooth—no residue, and it’s completely transparent on the skin.”
The final result was better than Li Yao had hoped. Within ten minutes, the mosquito bites showed clear signs of fading. A light application before sleep meant the bumps would be entirely gone by morning. Because she had also included a mosquito-repellent herb, the preventive effect was excellent as well.
Li Yao purchased an exquisite celadon rouge box, filled it with a sample of her balm, and headed straight to a shop called Zou’s Cosmetics, where she asked to speak to the proprietor.