A vida cotidiana na aldeia de Qingmiao

Seventy years ago, the Great Yun Dynasty was plagued by disasters and wars. People fled from calamity and famine, seeking refuge wherever they could. In Yunshui County of Qingzhou, refugees from all over gathered and formed a village with mixed surnames. The county authorities gave it a name—Qingmiao Village.

Nestled at the foot of majestic green mountains, Qingmiao Village leaned against the misty, sprawling Yunwu Mountain. A clear stream ran through the heart of the village, the lifeblood for generations.

On the morning upstream, peace was shattered by the sound of quarreling. Several women, holding wooden basins, hurried to the riverside and fought fiercely for the best spot to wash clothes. Not a single one was willing to yield.

“You, from the He family, don’t push your luck! You’ve hogged this spot for days. Anyone who tries to use it, you shove aside. What, is this your family’s land?” shouted Zhang Xiulan, hands on hips, towering over the others.

Zhao Xiang, who had snatched the spot, was just as unwilling to back down. She slammed her laundry stick into the water. “First come, first served! I got here first, so it’s mine. If you want it, run faster!”

Her sharp features matched her biting words, her nose turned up in disdain.

“I’ll beat you, you wretched woman! No wonder your husband never comes home!” Zhang Xiulan was hot-tempered, quick to act. In the blink of an eye, she and Zhao Xiang were grappling.

Zhao Xiang’s sore spot was hit. Ever since she married young, her husband had never spared her a glance, and her son gre