On the first day of the fifth month, Qiqian’er’s belly had already begun to show its shape. This stretch of time was hard to get through — perhaps her body had grown delicate, because she’d started being picky about food, not wanting to look at this, not wanting to eat that. For a while, she didn’t know what had come over her — she couldn’t bear to look at Physician Cheng’s face, and whenever she saw it she’d inexplicably burst into tears.
It got to the point where Physician Cheng dodged her on sight.
Carrying An’er in her belly, Qiqian’er was terrified that, just like in her previous life, he would be born thin and small. Her morning sickness was severe — never mind meat, every smell made her nauseous.
Even so, she kept at it, over and over — vomit, then eat, vomit, then eat. For the sake of An’er’s health, whatever was good she forced down her throat. Watching her push herself like this, the whole family felt for her, thinking this woman was truly remarkable in her endurance.
Anyone else in her position would have long since wasted away to nothing but bones.
Yet she had somehow raised herself into something soft, pale, and round as a little egg.
There was one thing Qiqian’er hadn’t told anyone — she really wanted to hit someone, especially Chen Dasheng. Every time she felt sick, her temper flared. She’d even made herself a little notebook, and every time she vomited and suffered, she wrote it down as a debt against him — just waiting for him to come home so she could push him to the ground, plant her foot on his head, and if she didn’t beat him half to death, she’d give up her surname Huo.
Life is a constant cycle of gains and losses. Take this morning — Madam Lu came over smiling and told her that the town would be holding the Grandmother Goddess Temple Fair that afternoon, a three-day fair specializing in secondhand goods.
It was perfect timing, since Qiqian’er needed to clear out old stock from the family’s shop. Since it was such a big fair, she invited all the grandmothers of Qinwei Lane to go, and had even booked the best banquet at Qingfeng Mansion for noon.
But before she could even finish speaking, the basket in Qiqian’er’s hands dropped to the ground. Her face was filled with terror — yes, that’s right, their Fourth Madam was genuinely terrified today.
“You — what fair did you say?”
Madam Lu, not understanding what she meant, blinked and said, “The Grandmother Goddess Temple Fair?”
Qiqian’er felt her soul float right out of her body, and her words came out stammering, “Wh-what Grandmother?”
Madam Lu slapped her thigh. “The Elm Tree Grandmother’s old-clothes fair! I told you, Elm Tree Grandmother is the most efficacious. Before I conceived my Daniu, I went and burned incense to her, and less than half a month later I was pregnant…”
Yes — yes, is that so? How is it I never knew you’d prayed to me?
In an instant, every bolt of lightning in the world seemed to strike down on Qiqian’er’s head. She felt as though she’d been scorched black, smoking — the ancestral fire that burned the mountain couldn’t be escaped, it had burned its way from the old family home straight down onto her own skull.
She understood plainly enough that wherever there was a temple fair, there was bound to be a great market. But that there could be, in this world, a temple fair belonging to herself?
What on earth was she supposed to say to that?
Qiqian’er’s expression twisted for a long while before she finally managed, with great difficulty, to ask Madam Lu, “But isn’t the Elm Tree Grandmother a living person? How does she have a temple fair?”
Madam Lu blinked and was about to answer when Zhang Wanru, carrying a basket of fruit and biting into half a piece, supporting her belly, walked into the garden.
“That’s the old custom of the Grandmother Temple — it has nothing to do with the current generation’s Elm Tree Grandmother.”
“What did you say?!”
I never knew this — so which generation am I, then? Qiqian’er, her face scorched black with dismay, stared at this world she didn’t understand.
The garden belonged to Chang Lianfang’s household — since he never bothered to tend it himself, Qiqian’er had had it cleaned up and planted with some flowers and grass, as a place to see a bit of greenery each day when she went out.
The Prince’s estate was certainly large, but there wasn’t a single friend to talk to and play with. And the back hill, since early spring this year, had become off-limits — especially for women.
As mentioned before, a group of minor officials lived on Back Spring Street, while across the way on Front Spring Street lived a group of scholars from the former dynasty who had been driven out of Yandu. These people had originally lived on Scholars’ Street in Yandu — rather out of touch with the times, they’d hoped to sell their learning to the new imperial court, but His Majesty hadn’t bought it. Perhaps he’d found them too expensive?
He could summon scholars from outlying prefectures, men of talent from Fengwu — he had no need of these ones. So they’d been forced to relocate and settle in Qingfeng Mansion.
Though the court had allotted them housing on Academy Street, that area lacked water access, so bit by bit, this crowd of old scholars had bought land here and begun building large estates right up against Back Spring Street. At least it meant they hadn’t cut themselves off entirely from official circles — their company still wasn’t considered beneath notice.
From then on, it disrupted the activities of the women of Back Spring Street who used to go dig wild greens.
These scholarly men wanted to go admire spring scenery in the wilds, wanted to compose poetry in the wilds, wanted to paint in the wilds, wanted to bellow in the wilds, wanted to get drunk in the wilds, wanted to vent their grievances against Yandu in the wilds… In Madam Wan’s words, they were just a bunch of idle old beggars stirring up trouble out of boredom, every one of them like a wild monkey — the moment they weren’t fed enough, they’d start causing mischief. They looked positively frightening.
The back hill was now off-limits. These madmen, with nothing better to do, had built quite a few thatched huts. Ever since those reed huts went up, chanting monks arrived, wandering Daoist priests arrived, and any fellow who could scrawl out a passable verse took on a hermit’s pseudonym and mixed in on the hill. When they weren’t composing poetry, they imitated the ancient sages by drinking wine and picking lice off themselves, and would strip off their clothes at the drop of a hat. Being decent women, there wasn’t much to look at anyway in a pile of old bags of bones.
As Quanzi Ge put it well, the feng shui of this place was so good that if you dug a random hole and poured in some water, a whole crop of “eminent monks” would sprout right up — for which remark he earned himself a beating from the old madam.
No respect at all! Serves him right!
Although the court had granted this land to Qiqian’er, along with a temple, the land deed had never actually been handed over, so Qiqian’er couldn’t very well go flatten someone else’s reed huts. She could only sigh and retreat to the little garden at Chang Lianfang’s chessboard courtyard to pass the time.
The Li Shi of the Tang family had come over once, positively worshipful, rattling off names — such-and-such master, this-and-that topic they’d discussed, like where exactly the golden tablets and jade characters had been unearthed, or who on earth that fellow Boyi was. And that was just astronomy — the Nine Heavens, the Three Lights, the Seven Governors, the Seven Sisters, the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions, the Five Elements of Musical Notation — to hell with all of it!
…I’m just a woman of the inner quarters — sure, I’ve read books in my past life too, but damn it, what am I supposed to do when I don’t understand a word of this?
Having so many scholars around had taught Qiqian’er one lesson well: even the Thirteen Classics and Eight Governances still left room for the stars and cosmos beyond them — other people’s knowledge would always outstrip your own, spanning lifetimes before and after. You might think you understood, but really you were still only half-informed at best — which was frankly humbling.
Not understanding a word, she had no idea how to join the conversation. But Li Shi understood, and had even tried disguising herself to sneak in among them. She did manage to sneak in — only to arrive just as a group of the very scholars she admired were leaning against the reed wall picking lice off themselves. These “masters” weren’t particular about propriety either — when nature called urgently, they’d simply undo their sashes right in front of her and relieve themselves as fertilizer for the ground, turning their backs to do so. Extremely inconvenient, to say the least.
After that, she too had been driven to come while away the time in the little garden.
Li Shi hadn’t come today. The little garden was full of a circle of young wives — Qiqian’er, Madam Lu, Pan Baqiao, Chai Shi, and Huang Shi — all with their needlework in hand, listening to Zhang Wanru tell an old story.
This was how it usually went — as the story went on, more people would gather, coming and going as they pleased, bringing snacks to share. These were all households with money, standing, and leisure. Even Huang Shi, who they considered the most pitiable among them, now had two old women serving her household, and had recently acquired over a hundred mu of land out at Yiting, thirty li away.
Qiqian’er, badly rattled, poured tea for Zhang Wanru with trembling hands. Zhang Wanru held her teacup and, with an easy laugh, began telling everyone about the Elm Tree Grandmother — the story of eighteen generations of her ancestors.
“…This Elm Tree Grandmother’s maiden family was originally surnamed Yu.”
The teapot in Qiqian’er’s hand fell heavily to the ground. “What?”
But I’m surnamed Huo!
“Mm-hm!” Zhang Wanru nodded firmly at her. “Her maiden family was surnamed Yu. The previous generation’s Elm Tree Grandmother was originally a young maiden serving by Laojun’s side, tending the fire for his alchemy furnace — everyone called her Maiden Yu.”
Qiqian’er: “What?!” She felt she really needed to look into this properly. Was my origin really this noble? Even if it was just tending a fire, that’s still divine bloodline, isn’t it?
So she asked, “Aren’t the ones who serve Laojun all supposed to be boys?”
Zhang Wanru gave her a look of pure contempt. “Sister-in-law, does your household only use young manservants? Your own kitchen, your own needlework — don’t you use old women and maids? Or is it all manservants? That old Laojun is such a great immortal — what’s wrong with him having a maiden attendant?”
Fair point, Qiqian’er thought, and nodded, gesturing with both hands for her to continue. “Go on, go on.”
Zhang Wanru cleared her throat. “So then, one day this Maiden Yu had gone to the Heavenly Garden and cut a bundle of firewood to bring back and burn the alchemy furnace.”
Qiqian’er made a confused noise again. “That’s not right — doesn’t refining immortal pills require the Three True Fires?”
Huang Shi, who rarely spoke, said with great certainty, “Oh please, how old are you, what do you know? Listen, Fourth Madam — take our own household, don’t we burn firewood for cooking on the stove?”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Huang Shi continued smugly, “But when you want to keep warm, you burn good-quality charcoal in the brazier, right? Different fires for different purposes. This Maiden Yu, serving by Laojun’s side — she probably couldn’t cook a whole banquet, but surely she could manage a simple dumpling soup after watching enough times? So she went to gather firewood — this was for making soup, a small task, not worth using those Three-whatever Fires…”
Zhang Wanru clapped her hands. “Exactly! That’s exactly how it goes! So this day, Maiden Yu was cooking up a little elixir…”
Qiqian’er interrupted again. “Wasn’t it dumpling soup? Where did this ‘little elixir’ come from… elixir… go on, go on.”
The story that had barely gotten started was now derailed entirely — this woman was so annoying, always interrupting.
The whole courtyard glared at her in unison, and Qiqian’er sheepishly covered her mouth. Fine, little elixir it was.
Seeing that Qiqian’er had settled down, Zhang Wanru huffed and continued, “So Maiden Yu had just pushed aside her firewood when suddenly she discovered, hidden within the kindling, a single golden stalk of wheat…”
Qiqian’er wanted to ask something again — this was, after all, her own life story — but Zhang Wanru had already anticipated this and glared at her the whole time she spoke.
Covering her mouth again, fine, golden wheat stalk it was — at least it was gold, that much made sense.
“…Maiden Yu looked around and, seeing no one nearby, secretly hid the golden wheat stalk away…”
Well, Qiqian’er thought, that part, at least, wasn’t wrong. Gold — if I found gold hidden in firewood, I’d hide it away too. That checks out, that checks out.
“…That year, the mortal realm suffered a great calamity — the common people were in dire straits. Maiden Yu, seeing children and daughters being sold below and corpses of the starved littering the ground, couldn’t bear it, and so one night…”
Qiqian’er looked up at the sky — why would there even be night up in the heavens?
“…she tucked the golden wheat stalk against her and descended to the mortal world, and as it happened, she landed right on Baiquan Mountain behind us here. As fate would have it, our Baiquan Mountain also had a spirit — a thousand-year-old elm tree that had taken form. This elm spirit was compassionate by nature, and often came out to perform miracles to save the people…”
Qiqian’er bit down on the fruit in her hand with a loud crunch.
Zhang Wanru shot her a glance and continued. “That night, this elm spirit was just heading down the mountain when he happened to encounter Maiden Yu along the way. He was stunned on the spot. Oh, this heavenly maiden was truly a goddess — her looks were just so beautiful, like a… well, anyway, she was gorgeous, gorgeous, wearing those immortal robes, those trailing ribbons, and she came floating down.
The elm spirit took one look and fell for her instantly. He went up and asked, ‘Immortal, have you descended for some purpose?’ This Maiden Yu knew nothing at all about the affairs of the mortal world, and seeing that this elm spirit was so handsome, the two of them became husband and wife…”
Unable to bear it any longer, Qiqian’er finally cut in. “That’s not right — wasn’t she supposed to be here to save the common people? Have you forgotten? Maiden Yu stole the golden wheat stalk and came down here! How did that turn into a marriage?”
There’s no such thing, come on.
Madam Lu, thoroughly enjoying the story, sighed. “Ancestor, dear, can you please let Wanru finish before you say anything? Please?”
Qiqian’er held in a breath with great effort and finally waved her hand in complete resignation.
Zhang Wanru gave a huff, crunched down on another bite of fruit, and continued. “After they became husband and wife, Immortal Yu took out the golden wheat stalk to save the common people. This golden wheat stalk was a heavenly treasure — planted into the ground, it instantly produced tens of thousands of mu of grain in the blink of an eye. The two of them then took this grain down the mountain to save the starving people… Except, one year on earth is one day in heaven, and when Laojun went to tend his furnace, he found his fire-tending maiden missing. He did a quick calculation with his fingers and immediately sensed something was wrong…”
This old man is always sensing something’s wrong. Every time he does, something’s about to get stirred up.
Everyone in the courtyard drew a collective breath. Zhang Wanru clutched her belly, leaned forward slightly, and looked around the circle with a mysterious expression. “Everything in this world has a fixed quota, you know — how many clothes you wear, how much grain you eat, how many people are born and die each year, it’s all set by rule.
Laojun calculated it out and found that the mortal realm was due for a calamity — that year, the underworld was supposed to collect one hundred nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine souls. But as it turned out, the underworld had only collected eight hundred sixty-seven souls…”
Qiqian’er lay back on the low couch, pulled a soft pillow to lean against, and crunched into her third piece of fruit. She gave a small snort, and Siyue came over to rub her back and legs.
To hell with you, where did you even get that number from?
“Oh, this was bad news indeed! This unauthorized descent to the mortal world was already a grave violation of heavenly law, and an immortal marrying a spirit was also forbidden — add to that the crime of stealing a heavenly treasure, which threw off the cycle of reincarnation in the underworld, and it was an enormous transgression. The heavens sent down celestial soldiers and generals to arrest Immortal Yu.
The elm spirit begged and pleaded desperately. Fortunately, Laojun was merciful, and said to the elm spirit: you two meant well, but the grain you gave away never belonged to the mortal world to begin with. Those who were fated to die and ate that grain anyway — nothing to be done about that. But their descendants, who weren’t part of the mortal quota either, the grain they eat from now on will have to come from you.
And so, poor Immortal Yu was taken back to the heavens in chains. To atone for her crime, from then on the elm tree had to strip its bark to repay the grain debt — and that’s how elm bark became edible in this world…”
Everyone around listened with tears welling in their eyes, sighing continuously, murmuring thanks over and over.
Qiqian’er slowly opened her eyes and said listlessly, “Weren’t we talking about the Elm Tree Grandmother today? What does this have to do with elm bark?”
Zhang Wanru shot her a look. “Oh, that’s exactly what I’m getting to. Not long after Immortal Yu returned to the heavens, she gave birth to a daughter. This child, born of the union between a mortal spirit and a heavenly immortal, naturally couldn’t stay in heaven. Laojun later sent someone to deliver the child down to the mortal world, to her father — and this child is our Elm Tree Grandmother’s true form…”
“What! How did I — how did I not know this?”
Qiqian’er was utterly astonished. She knew perfectly well where she’d actually come from — her mother had just been a servant girl, and her father’s head had been left to dry on the walls of Qingfeng City until someone finally took it down and buried it — and it was she herself who had secretly paid Uncle Xin to have it buried in the Huo family ancestral graveyard.
When did that old bastard ever marry a heavenly immortal and strip his own skin to save the common people?
Madam Lu laughed mockingly. “Our Fourth Madam here spends all day at home grinding away at the mill — you never bother going out and about, so how would you know? And you call yourself a local!
Everyone around here knows this story. I’m from Qingfeng City myself, and I knew this story since I was a child — my grandmother, my great-grandmother would tell it whenever they had free time, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard it.
The old folks always said the Elm Tree Grandmother is our local deity, living in the elm grove on Baiquan Mountain. Whenever there were people starving to death at the foot of the mountain, she’d strip her bark and come down to save the common people. Remember that terrible snowstorm a few years back?”
Qiqian’er imagined stripping the skin off her wretched husband and gave a shiver.
Madam Lu gestured around the circle, and countless heads nodded in confirmation that this had indeed happened.
That year it had been bitterly cold, snow piled up past the knees, and so many people had died — the Grandmother had come down the mountain and saved an entire winter’s worth of starving people. When His Majesty heard of this, he was so moved by her hardship that he personally granted her a temple, to be worshipped from then on.
“Otherwise, do you think His Majesty had nothing better to do than just hand out a temple for no reason?”
“Ha—!”
What could Qiqian’er possibly say to that? There was nothing she could say.
Seeing her look of disdain, Madam Lu gave her a slap. “You’re pregnant, don’t go talking nonsense! You live right at the foot of the Grandmother’s mountain — even if it seems far off, she can still hear you.”
Qiqian’er pursed her lips, sat back up, and wanted to shout something — am I supposed to be scared of myself now?
But before she could, Zhang Wanru continued. “And just the other day, that old beggar chief who tends the Grandmother’s temple in Qingfeng City said the Grandmother came to him in a dream. She said her family has had to shed their skin generation after generation, and especially in recent years, they’ve had to strip so much it’s started affecting her cultivation.
The Grandmother said, everything in this world comes and goes in cycles — the households around Qingfeng City, if they have old clothes and shoes they don’t wear, old things they don’t use, they should bring them out and entrust them to the beggars of Qingfeng City to sell on their behalf. For every ten coins you earn, give two to the beggars as charity — it’s a very virtuous act. Actually, this fair existed in the previous dynasty too, but it was suspended during the wars. Now that it’s the first of the fifth month again, following the old custom, Qingfeng is holding the Elm Tree Grandmother’s fair, and people from five hundred li around will come into the city to sell their old goods… It’s a deed that earns merit for the next life.”
Madam Lu nodded and smiled. “Exactly right. Lucky for me, I already knew the custom, so I sent my workers out early to grab two young beggars to come drum up business for us. Once noon passes, we’ll all go sit on the second floor of my shop — I’ve already booked two tables of food!
Let me tell you, this year, thanks to the Elm Tree Grandmother’s blessing, our spring rains have been as rich as oil, so the prefect is delighted and has arranged for the local guild to bring out a thousand drums to escort the Grandmother’s procession through the streets. My place is up high, so we’ll have a perfect view of the Grandmother’s palanquin passing by — all you ladies really must come.”
Finally understanding what was going on, Qiqian’er staggered to her feet, holding her belly, and reached for Siyue’s hand to head home.
Someone behind her asked where she was going. She said she was going home to sort out old things, and to grab a beggar to drum up business for her too.
She couldn’t find Chen Dasheng, that old beggar chief — no matter what, she was determined to give him a beating this time, or she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
Just as she reached the entrance to Qinwei Lane, she saw one of the old madam’s servants coming to fetch her, saying that relatives from Jiangzhu Village had arrived.
This… this… this little temple fair actually stirred up the relatives from Jiangzhu? How embarrassing.
Qiqian’er, still holding Siyue’s hand, had just stepped into the courtyard when she heard a woman’s wailing.
Ah, that voice was familiar too — she’d heard it often enough.
Weren’t all the clan members already settled over at Jiangzhu? These Jiangzhu relatives must have brought the old village womenfolk and children over here to enjoy the good life.
The woman wailing was the niece-in-law of Granduncle’s family, here visiting her husband’s side of the relations.
Actually, by the old customs, this woman did have maternal relatives to visit — her elder cousin was the wife of the second branch, Second Aunt, Dayong’s own mother, the elder cousin-brother.
Country folk always kept track of relations, but as it happened, this woman’s own relatives had passed away, so she had no choice but to rely on her connection through Granduncle to visit here. This left her resentful, especially since the old madam liked to flaunt her wealth — every time relatives from Jiangzhu came to visit, she’d show off her gold hairpins, silver bracelets, red satin jacket, old silk trousers…
With the old madam carrying on like that, how could this woman not feel jealous? She was practically green with envy, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
This woman’s resentment had built to its peak, and so she sat in the courtyard crying over her cousin — the family’s Second Aunt, Dayong’s mother. The general meaning everyone understood well enough: I’m your real, true relative — you’d better treat me well. I have to come make this point once, to remind you.
And so, every single time she visited, she’d sit in the courtyard and cry.
“…My poor, suffering elder sister! You married into the Chen family and had nothing decent to eat or drink! You bore and raised your sons and daughters, such great accomplishments, and yet you lived through such hardship, cold and hunger! I even made you a bowl of soup once, and you said it was delicious, said you’d come back for more — but now you can never come again, my poor sister who’s ascended to heaven!… Look at you now, your son’s become an official, and you never got to benefit from any of it at all, my own dear sister!! My sister, sister we grew up bonded flesh and blood together…”
Qiqian’er sighed and entered the courtyard. The woman, seeing Qiqian’er, took the handkerchief off her face — without a single tear on it — and lifted her face to smile. “Ah, Fourth Sister-in-law has arrived.”
Qiqian’er’s lips trembled, and she nodded and walked on inside.
The whole courtyard was full of people — a good twenty or thirty relatives of the family.
Seeing Qiqian’er about to go inside, this woman called out behind her, “Fourth Sister-in-law, will there be dinner prepared for your auntie tonight? Any meat?”
“Yes!”
“Well, that’s settled then, you’re a woman with a conscience. We’ll eat, then head to the market, and go back home after… my sister, oh, my poor sister who’s died so young — you never had meat every meal like your family does now…”
Qiqian’er went inside, where the old madam was, as usual, showing off her belongings in her room — most recently a fine embroidered silk garment she’d acquired, which she intended to be buried in, to wear closest to her skin when she died.
Qiqian’er had thought that her days were already difficult enough — but she had no idea that the real test would come that afternoon.
That afternoon, Madam Lu brought all the sisters-in-law, along with the old madam, over to the shop to watch the excitement.
As for the family’s relatives, having come all this way into the city, they mostly wanted to buy some secondhand shoes, socks, and clothes to take back for daily life, and at most eat one meal with meat at the family’s expense — the Chen family could certainly afford it, and most of these country relatives were content just wandering around like this anyway.
Having a relative in the city meant a place to stay for a bit — they had no interest in sitting upstairs with the old madam; they wanted to go browse the market.
The second-floor windows were wide open, the street below bustling with noise, and nearly every shopfront had one or two beggars stationed outside, holding clappers, waiting for the procession to pass so they could start drumming up business for their host households, earning a bit extra for the winter.
Understanding now what Uncle Xin had meant, Qiqian’er wasn’t even angry anymore. She took a good seat and leaned against the window, waiting… waiting for herself?
She waited, and waited, until finally, faintly, firecrackers began sounding from the direction of her temple on Baiquan Mountain, and then the earth itself began to tremble.
Before long, a drum-and-gong procession loud enough to make your very heart and liver want to leap out came down from the mountain into Qingfeng City. Such a huge crowd — even without a full thousand drums, there were still two hundred drummers, pounding away as they came down the street…
When Qiqian’er faintly made out the dense crowd of heads not far off, she braced herself and stood up, holding her belly. Before she could even blink, a heart-rending shriek tore through the air right next to her ear: “Grandmother, bless us!! Bless me to bear my husband a…”
Chai Shi, always so composed, suddenly flung herself against the window and, wailing, hurled a string of coins she’d prepared straight at the Grandmother’s idol being carried past below.
Qiqian’er stared at her, dumbfounded. Hit me? You’re throwing that whole string of coins straight at my head?
The old madam pressed her palms together. “Bless us, bless us, bless everyone!”
Amid the thunderous roar all around her, Qiqian’er watched as a hundred-odd sturdy young men, bare-chested, chanting work calls, carried herself… right past herself?
Seeing that Qiqian’er hadn’t moved, the old madam grew frantic and pushed her. “Hurry up! Make your wish! Say something! The Grandmother only comes out once a year, hurry, hurry!!!!”
Qiqian’er stiffly raised her arm and shouted toward her own retreating figure, “That… I want to have a son, An’er!”
Then, thinking this line was already stale, something else occurred to her, and her eyes lit up. She leaned out the window and bellowed furiously, “Tell me! Where did you hide that golden wheat stalk!!!”