Chapter 2

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Spring water flowed gently, the ice and snow in the creek had melted, and now the weather was warm. The willows along the river had sprouted new buds, and the fields were lush with green.

A few women and young men gathered by the river to wash clothes together. Jiang Yun had collected all the garments from his household, piled them into a basin, and carried them down to the riverbank. He came alone, for he was usually quiet and withdrawn, and did not care to join the others. He found a secluded stretch of shore, squatted down, and began to wash.

Although spring had arrived, the creek was still icy cold. By the time he finished washing a few pieces, his hands were red and numb from the chill, and he blew on them to warm his fingers.

In the basin were the clothes of Liu Guihua and Jiang Mo, along with a few brightly colored hair ribbons. Jiang Yun gazed at the intricate patterns on the ribbons, unable to resist running his fingers over them.

He remembered that when his mother was alive, he too had such a ribbon. Later, when Liu Guihua brought Jiang Mo and married into their family, he had only a single gray garment to wear, year round. Those bright and delicate things seemed forever severed from him.

Jiang Yun found a large stone and continued washing the clothes he hadn’t finished. The soap pods, once cracked open, produced white froth that cleaned the fabric thoroughly.

He dared not scrub Jiang Mo’s clothes too hard; if he wore them out, Liu Guihua would lock him in the woodshed and give him a beating.

Though his hands were busy, his ears, seeking distraction, caught the conversation of two boys nearby.

“Did you hear? A new family moved in across the river, the Lius. I went with my mother to have a look—the house they built is so grand. The roof tiles are all blue, and they have plenty of books at home…”

“You got it wrong, they didn’t move here. Their ancestors are from this village. The Liu family used to teach out of town, but they retired and brought the younger generation back to settle.”

“Isn’t there a young master in their family, about seventeen or eighteen?” The speaking boy’s cheeks flushed as he lowered his head, pretending to wash clothes.

His companion nudged him. “Come off it. He’s a scholar, bound to marry a pretty girl one day. You think he’d ever take a fancy to you? Don’t be so foolish.”

“Can’t I even dream?” the first boy retorted with mock anger.

“Dream all you want, but you’d best get on with the washing, or your mother will threaten to marry you off to that jinx up in the hills.”

Mentioning the hills, both boys fell silent, fearful of any connection with that person.

Jiang Yun, in truth, cared nothing for the Liu family or the Ye family. For him, hope was a thing long lost; all he wished for was to be beaten less when he married into another household.

He knew that among all the boys and girls married off, few escaped hardship.

Even if Liu Guihua despised him and found him a husband from a family so poor they could hardly put food on the table, as long as he worked hard, perhaps he could suffer a little less.

As for the so-called jinx, Jiang Yun dared not even imagine such a thing.

He’d heard the man had returned from the battlefield, had killed many, and even earned a little military merit. Most importantly, those who’d seen him said he was hideously ugly and strong as an ox.

One punch from him could probably kill ten of someone like himself.

Jiang Yun pressed his lips together and quietly finished the last piece of clothing.

To get home from the shallows where he washed, he had to pass the bridge. At its end, Jiang Mo approached, face flushed with embarrassment.

Jiang Yun wanted to turn away, but Jiang Mo caught up and grabbed him.

“Didn’t you hear me tell you to wait? Are you blind or deaf?”

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Jiang Yun slowed his steps but didn’t reply.

Jiang Mo, annoyed, called him an idiot in his heart, but recalling what had just happened, his expression brightened and he said with a smile, “I need a purse. Stitch one for me tonight.”

He had always ordered Jiang Yun about like this. Ever since he arrived, Jiang Yun did everything around the house: washing, gathering grass, cooking, embroidering purses, and more.

Jiang Mo claimed his hands were made for reading and embroidery, not farm work. Jiang Yun often thought in secret, yet even Jiang Mo’s embroidery was quite unsightly.

Whenever Liu Guihua went out, she would tell others the purses were Jiang Mo’s work, earning him praise across Green Sprout Village for years.

Jiang Yun pressed his lips. “I have to cut grass tonight, I can’t do it.”

“If you can’t, just sleep less.”

Jiang Yun ignored him and carried his basin forward.

Jiang Mo, angered, grabbed him and pinched hard. “If you don’t, I’ll tell Father and Mother you bullied me. Just wait for your beating!”

At the mention of a beating, Jiang Yun trembled. The bruises on his back hadn’t faded, and there was no money for medicine in town—not even for the cheapest herbs.

Seeing his threat work, Jiang Mo lifted his chin. “Fine, for your service I’ll let you off this time. Just finish the purse for me, and I’ll reluctantly let you have this hair ribbon.”

He plucked a ribbon from the basin and tossed it onto Jiang Yun’s head. He had plenty of such things anyway, and left with a final warning, “I want it by tomorrow morning! If you don’t finish, just wait and see!”

Left alone, Jiang Yun’s eyes reddened, his fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the basin.

Useless tears spilled down his cheeks. He wiped them away fiercely, picked up the ribbon, and hurled it into the stream. It floated away, and he didn’t look back.

Up ahead, Jiang Mo, walking briskly, suddenly tripped for no reason, scraping his knee badly enough to sit down crying. When he saw someone approaching in the distance, he wiped his tears and forced himself to stand, preserving his image.

Jiang Yun paused for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. This, perhaps, was heaven’s punishment for the wicked.

Behind a tree, Gu Chengwu held the leash of a big black dog, a freshly hunted rabbit in his left hand. His features were chiseled and severe, a faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, his eyes deep and unreadable. A scar marred his face, but could not obscure his stern, handsome air.

He radiated a fierce aura that would make anyone wary, but if one overlooked that, his looks alone were enough for matchmakers to wear out his doorstep.

He had seen everything that happened just now; the stone that struck Jiang Mo’s knee was tossed by him without a thought.

Other people’s troubles meant nothing to him, but Jiang Mo had blocked his path, lingering to talk with Jiang Yun.

“Let’s go, Blackie.”

At his command, the hulking dog, as sturdy as a little tiger, wagged its tail, picked up three rabbits in its jaws, and trotted up the hill.

By the bamboo grove on the hillside stood a single household, built as a two-story bamboo house, with a backyard that connected to the kitchen, latrine, and animal shed.

No one ever came around here. Not only was Gu Chengwu’s fearsome reputation well known, but the mountain was so far away, no one would come unless they’d lost their wits.

Gu Chengwu walked to the house, just as smoke curled from the backyard kitchen.

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A middle-aged woman’s voice called out, “Back so soon, Wu boy? Why are you early today?”

“Godmother,” Gu Chengwu nodded, hanging the rabbits on the fence outside the first floor. Blackie gazed hungrily at the rabbits but didn’t dare touch them without permission.

Gu Chengwu went to the backyard to wash his hands. “It’s going to rain. Hunting will be tough, so I just set some traps.”

His parents had died early, leaving him to join the army alone. He’d survived by luck, but his comrades had perished on the battlefield. When the war was over, his military merits earned him sixty taels of silver, and he brought another twenty—left by his brother-in-arms—to Green Sprout Village for Zhang Cuilan.

Zhang Cuilan lived alone; her son had died. Gu Chengwu became her godson, settling here for good.

When the fire in the stove died down, two hot dishes and a soup were brought to the table. Gu Chengwu’s hunting skills kept the household well supplied with meat; nearly every few days there was a meat dish at their table.

No one but Zhang Cuilan knew this.

“You eat first, I’ll bank the fire. I’m going to the town tomorrow to do some mending for Master Zhang’s family. I’ll see if they want any rabbit.”

Gu Chengwu scooped a mouthful of rice. “Those rabbits are for you, godmother.”

She waved him off. “I’m not old yet, not at the age where I need to build up my strength. But you, don’t be fooled by those ninety taels we have now. If you ever marry and build a house, host a wedding feast, it won’t stretch far at all. Or do you want your future wife or husband to live with you in the bamboo grove?”

“I haven’t thought about it, and besides, no one would want to marry me,” Gu Chengwu said quietly, his eyes cool and distant, never one for easy smiles.

Zhang Cuilan disagreed. “That’s just because they don’t know you. Don’t worry, I’ll ask around for you these next few days. We have enough for a betrothal gift.”

Gu Chengwu had gone to war at a young age, his days filled with drills and killing. He had no concept of marriage or companionship.

The only thing that crossed his mind was the boy by the river today, quietly shedding tears, looking resigned and too fragile.

After eating, Gu Chengwu went to clean the rabbits with Blackie. The dog had been too quick during the hunt, killing two outright; only one was left kicking.

He rapped Blackie lightly on the head. The dog, knowing it was wrong, let out a whimper and lay obediently at his feet.

Rabbit meat was scant and gamey, but prepared well, it was a delicacy. Every year, the Juju Restaurant in town bought thousands of rabbits; their pelts could be sewn into little jackets.

Gu Chengwu, hardened by the army, had no need for such fur to keep warm, but Zhang Cuilan felt the cold, so he always skinned and tanned the pelts, keeping them for her.

“Take care of what I told you. You’re grown now, and it’s time to find someone to keep you company. That’s the way to a long, happy life. Have a big, healthy son, and the whole family will be complete.”

“I know, godmother,” he agreed readily, but paid no real mind, thinking only of whether he could catch a few pheasants in the coming days to sell.

To him, living alone or with someone made little difference; it was all the same: hunting, eating, sleeping, and working the land.