Ever since he was little, Huo Luqi had fallen asleep listening to his mother’s poems.
His mother’s voice was so very gentle that before she was halfway through a poem, he would already be sound asleep.
So, rather than growing into an accomplished poet under her influence, Huo Luqi grew up longing to become a sharpshooter.
Thanks to the habit he had developed as a small child, the mere sight of a poetry collection now made him sleepy.
When he was seven, Huo Luqi went with his parents to visit his maternal grandmother for the New Year and met several people he had never seen before.
His mother told him that they were his great-aunt and aunts.
Great-aunt and aunts?
So they were his mother’s aunt and sisters, then.
Why did they never come to their house to pay New Year visits?
Huo Luqi’s eyes suddenly lit up, and he asked his mother, “Will I get red envelopes?”
He did not.
The Lu family had come to ask for handouts themselves.
In the years since Master Lu’s dismissal, life had grown increasingly difficult for the Lu family.
Even after going from rich to poor, they had continued spending extravagantly. Once they had pawned everything they could and sold the ancestral residence, they were poorer than ordinary commoners.
With their shabby clothes and humble bearing, they looked even more wretched than Yan Zhen had when Gu Zhi saw her all those years ago.
Lu Shuyuan huddled at the very back. Almost the moment her gaze met Huo Xingchao, she began trembling all over and shrinking fearfully away.
In fact, Huo Xingchao had never crippled her hands or feet afterward, nor had he done anything to her when she could not write anything down.
One could even say he had let her off very easily.
But Lu Shuyuan remained utterly terrified of this man.
At home, her life was harder than anyone else’s.
Because her parents and elder sister hated her, she was left to do much of the dirty, exhausting work. She was getting older, yet still could not find a husband.
Although she had kept her life, she did not know whether living like this was better than simply dying.
Sometimes she wondered why heaven had made her transmigrate at all. Had it sent her here just to suffer?
She had only made a wish in passing. Why did people who transmigrated in novels go on to achieve such great things, while she alone was treated so cruelly?
The woman lowered her head, her eyes burning, wishing she could disappear into the ground.
In the end, Mother Gu could not bear to see her own younger sister reduced to this. She sighed and gave her some money and grain.
“I can help you for a while, but I can’t help you forever. From now on, you need to make a proper life for yourself too.”
Aunt Lu accepted the things with profuse thanks. But perhaps the family also found the stark contrast between their circumstances unbearable. They hurriedly said goodbye and left without even staying for lunch.
Watching their bedraggled figures retreat, Huo Luqi asked curiously,
“Mother, don’t they have enough to eat?”
…
Gu Zhi stroked his head without answering.
These were bitter, chaotic times, and most people’s lives were hard.
For many, having enough to eat was merely a hope amid the flames of war.
That night, as they were going to sleep, Gu Zhi was suddenly overcome with feeling. She rolled over and nuzzled against Huo Xingchao’s chest.
The man raised his eyebrows, a faint smile in his voice. “What is it this time?”
“Nothing.”
Her voice drifted softly from beneath the covers. “I just feel very grateful to you.”
“What are you thanking me for?”
“Mm, thank you for giving me a box of gold.”
…
And thank you for giving me a peaceful, comfortable life.
Thank you for protecting my family.
Thank you for being so dependable, for shielding me from the hail of bullets.
Only after seeing so much hardship and displacement did I understand how precious your protection was, how thoughtful everything you gave me.
So thank you for everything.
And thank you to myself, too,
for being able to meet you.
…
When she was little, Gu Zhi had lived in the quietest, most secluded part of that alley, with the mountain just behind the house.
Her father was busy with his business, while her mother and grandmother were also occupied with making a living.
Much of the time, Gu Zhi would sit alone reading the battered collection of classical poetry her younger cousin had not wanted.
That night, stars filled the sky. Her family had all gone out to collect rice and had not yet returned. Not wanting to go inside alone, she took the poetry collection and sat in the courtyard, reciting softly by the feeble light of an oil lamp.
“Before Mount Xisai, white egrets fly; beneath peach blossoms, flowing waters fatten the mandarin fish. A blue-green bamboo hat, a green straw raincoat…”
“In slanting wind and fine rain, there is no need to go home.”
A clear, melodious voice suddenly sounded behind her, completing the last half-line she had yet to recite. Every word was distinct and pleasing to the ear.
Surprised, she gave a little “Oh?” and turned around, only to see an unfamiliar boy standing casually by the courtyard wall. Holding a peach branch, he looked at her with one eyebrow raised.
His face was indistinct between the lamplight and starlight.
The boy waited for a while. Seeing that her expression remained unchanged, he could not help asking curiously, “Why aren’t you afraid?”
Gu Zhi answered earnestly, “Father said there’s a mountain behind the wall, so all sorts of things might climb in. He told me not to make a fuss.”
The peach branch in the boy’s hand shook. The night was too dark for Gu Zhi to make out his expression, and he said nothing more. With nothing to say herself, she fell silent for a while.
After thinking for a moment, she sat back down and went on reciting her poem.
“Before Mount Xisai, white egrets fly; beneath peach blossoms, flowing waters fatten the mandarin fish. A blue-green bamboo hat, a green straw raincoat. In slanting wind and fine rain, there is no need to go home…”
The long, starry night, the girl with the clear, innocent face, the boy beside her holding a peach branch, and the softly spoken verses would become the most moving scene in her memory.
Gu Zhi would always remember reciting “The Fisherman’s Song” ninety-six times that night. When lights gradually appeared on the mountain behind the house, the boy stood up. He approached her with a faint smile and handed her the peach branch.
The peach blossoms were in brilliant bloom. He asked, “What’s your name?”
“Gu Zhi.”
Her voice was clear and bright.
“Thanks for letting me stay in this nice spot. My old man’s coming to find me. I should go.” He raised his eyebrows, his face impossibly handsome. After a moment’s thought, he picked up a piece of bamboo from the ground and wrote a few words in the soft earth.
Holding the peach branch, Gu Zhi watched him leap up and disappear over the courtyard wall. Only his clear voice lingered in the air.
“‘The Fisherman’s Song’ is my favorite lyric poem too.”
When she got up the next day, she saw a line written in the courtyard soil, the strokes strong and somehow open and graceful:
Her face and the peach blossoms reflected each other’s rosy glow.
In truth, they had exchanged only a few words that night, yet it was hard to forget.
And so, years later, she had somehow recognized him at a glance.
Beside the wonton stall, he walked toward her just as he had that night, offering her peach blossoms, raising his eyebrows with a soft laugh.
A single thought became a lasting attachment. From then on, beside the peach blossoms, there was someone she loved.
Amid apricot blossoms and misty rain, he wore a military uniform, his features handsome, a gun still in his hand.
He said, “Hey, your fiancé doesn’t want you. Why don’t you come with me?”
“Why should I go with you?”
“I can save your father. I can make sure your family has enough to eat and warm clothes to wear, and protect you for the rest of your life. If we only have one bowl of wontons, you can eat the meat, and I’ll drink the soup.”
…
She thought it over, decided it was a good bargain, and nodded.
“All right.”
“But don’t worry. If we only have one bowl of wontons, I’ll share the wrappers with you.”
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