In July, the scorching sun scorched the city of Yangzhou mercilessly, threatening to reduce it to ash. The canal waters, like unbridled wild horses, rushed back into the streets and alleys, turning the once smooth bluestone pavements into a swamp of mud. The air was filled with a damp and rancid stench, making it hard to breathe.
Su Jinli stood resolutely at the bow of the Jinyun. The tassels of her moon-white veil were wet from the heavy steam, clinging tightly to her slightly tired face. The dock was crowded with refugees, their tattered clothes clinging to their bony bodies, as if a gust of wind could blow them over. Children clutched the remaining pages of "Flying Fox" and ran around in the mud. The yellowed pages dragged long trails in the muddy water, making them look tattered. It was the storybook she published last year, which once carried countless beautiful fantasies, but now it had become a diaper for children to cover their shame, which made people feel sad.
"Madam, watch your step." Jiang Yan stretched out his strong hand and helped her get off the boat steadily. The hem of his stone-blue official robe had long been soaked in mud and turned dark gray, like an ink painting that had been smeared wantonly. He carried two bags of white rice on his shoulders. Every time he took a step, his official boots sank into the half-foot deep mud with a "puff", revealing the eye-catching patches on the thousand-layer cloth shoes underneath, telling of the hardships of the journey. "Three more sections of the river embankment ahead have collapsed. The soldiers guarding the embankment said that there will be heavy rain tonight." Jiang Yan's voice was tired, but more of it was firm and worried.
Su Jinli squatted down gently, her eyes full of pity, and she draped her fox fur coat over the shoulders of a child who was frozen purple. The soft mink of the fox fur brushed gently against the child's scabby cheeks, and this scene suddenly brought back memories of her previous life in the Prime Minister's Mansion. At that time, Liu ruthlessly gave her winter clothes to her own son, and the child in front of her was suffering the same hardship. Her fingertips touched the child's bony shoulder blades, and her heart ached. She turned abruptly and said to Jiang Yan with a firm look, "You take the soldiers to repair the river bank, and I will set up a workshop at the dock."
"Workshop?" Jiang Yan was slightly taken aback, then unloaded the rice from his shoulder. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, dripping onto the rice bag, creating a small dark spot. "What is Madam going to do?" His eyes were filled with confusion, but also with anticipation for Su Jinli's idea.
"Weaving straw sandals," Su Jinli said as she quickly pulled several bundles of straw rope from her bag. The stems, still wet with morning dew, shimmered faintly in the sunlight. "Yangzhou is covered in waterweed. We can't let the people walk barefoot in the mud." Her fingertips expertly crisscrossed the rough grass stems, the sound of the cross-knotting echoing through the clamor, like a unique melody. "Watch this. First, take three ropes and tie a knot like this..." She patiently demonstrated, each movement filled with focus and perseverance.
At that moment, an old woman, leaning on a cane, trudged over with shaky steps. Her withered fingers, like old branches, gripped the straw rope tightly, her eyes filled with longing. "Girl, can this thing... be exchanged for a mouthful of rice?" Her arm, exposed from her sleeve, was as thin as firewood, as if it would break at the slightest bend. Yet, on her wrist, she wore a polished silver bracelet, a treasured dowry from the bottom of her chest, carrying with it the memories of her past.
"Yes," Su Jinli smiled, gently pressing the freshly woven straw sandals into the old woman's hands. The burrs of the rope brushed against her palm. "Jinyun Bookstore is selling them. Ten coins for a pair." She pointed to the temporary accounting office nearby, her eyes filled with encouragement. "Weave ten pairs, and you can exchange them for a liter of millet." Her words, like a ray of light in the darkness, brought hope to the old woman.
The old woman's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up, as if the flame of life had been rekindled. The silver bracelet swung gently between the straw ropes, making a crisp sound. "I... I can weave!" The old woman's voice was filled with excitement and determination, as if she had found the motivation to live.
As Jiang Yan led the soldiers away, he couldn't help but look back. He saw Su Jinli kneeling in the mud, completely ignoring the fact that her skirt was soaked with sewage, covered with grass scraps and mud. She was patiently demonstrating the rope-braiding gestures to a group of children, her movements gentle and focused. A little girl with pigtails lay on her knees, tightly grasping a charcoal pencil in her hand, carefully scribbling on the remaining pages of the storybook. Seeing this, Su Jinli gently held her hand and began to draw a flying fox stroke by stroke. The fox's tail was wrapped with a string of copper coins, and the word "rice" was clearly written on the copper coins, as if depicting a bright future for the children.
"Master Jiang, this way!" The shouts of the soldiers interrupted Jiang Yan's gaze. He came to his senses, resolutely swung his hoe, and smashed it hard into the breach of the dike. The muddy river water roared like a beast behind the dike, as if it was going to swallow up the entire Yangzhou city. At this critical moment, he suddenly remembered the slightly curved corners of Su Jinli's eyes when she painted the fox. It was the tenderness and strength he was familiar with. He also remembered the wrist guard made of straw rope that she had personally stuffed into her, and a warm current surged in his heart, as if this strength made the hoe in his hand much lighter. He gritted his teeth and, together with the soldiers, struggled hard against the surging river.
In the afternoon, just as the soldiers had feared, a rainstorm arrived as expected. Raindrops as big as beans pounded the ground mercilessly, sending up high sprays of water. Su Jinli's straw sandal workshop erected an oilcloth tent, providing a small shelter for everyone. Old women sat on the muddy ground, their fingers darting through the straw ropes. The sound of knots tying echoed through the tent, like a melody filled with hope. Just then, a servant hurried into the tent, holding an oil-paper bag high in his hand, and shouted, "Miss Su! Lord Jiang sent some medicine!"
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