The morning mist on the canal was like a crumpled piece of silk, spreading in wisps along the side of the black-sailed boat, wetting the string of gardenias hanging from the awning. Hu Bo hunched over and untied the ropes that tied the boat. His old fingers brushed the gardenia branches tied to the side of the boat. The dew condensed on the snow-white petals rolled down and dripped onto the shoulders of his blue cloth shirt like a piece of unmelted frost. Nian Li lay on the bow of the boat, holding tightly in her arms a blue cloth bag. Inside was the candied osmanthus flowers that Hu Bo had made himself last night. The sugar icing had seeped through the coarse cloth, leaving dark yellow stains. She shook her calves in new shoes, and her pearl hairnet swept the moss on the side of the boat. Her voice like a silver bell pierced the morning mist: "Goodbye, Yangzhou! Don't let the salt merchants raise the price!"
The old tofu seller sitting on a bench by the shore was grinning with his gaping teeth. His wooden spoon stirred the boiling soy milk into whirlpools, and the milky white milk splashed on the bluestone slabs: "Don't worry, my dear! The next time that black-hearted guy raises the price again, we will bring the millstone to sing your nursery rhyme!" The morning breeze blew away his words, carrying the rich aroma of beans into the cabin, startling the swallows nesting on the beams and making them flutter and take flight. Si Yan was holding the account book sent by Uncle Hu. The four characters "Jinxiu Jingwei" (Splendid Classics and Latitudes) in gold on the indigo cover had darkened from the salt air of Yangzhou. He poked the shipping list on the page with his fingernails, his little brows furrowed tightly: "Mother, the waterway from Hangzhou to Suzhou is 240 miles. According to the rules of the Cao Gang, the freight should be increased by 20%, but Uncle Hu only recorded 15% in the account book. I'm afraid he was understated by 320 wen..."
Su Jinli leaned against Jiang Yan's shoulder, a corner of her moon-white shawl lifted by the river breeze, like a butterfly about to fly, sweeping across Jiang Yan's palm, which was covering her hand. The salt warehouses lined up on both sides of the river gradually receded into blurred white dots, replaced by continuous mulberry forests. Morning dew rolled down the palm-sized mulberry leaves, startling sparrows hidden among them. The fluttering of their wings and the splash of water at the bow of the boat intertwined into a melody. "What are you thinking about?" Jiang Yan's fingertips stroked the thin calluses on the back of her hand, the marks left by holding a pen and copying scriptures in a past life and holding children in this life. His fingertips touched the delicate skin beneath the calluses, with the slight coolness of the Jiangnan water vapor.
"Thinking," Su Jinli turned to look at him. The morning light gilded his slightly furrowed brows, and his eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows under his eyelids. "At this time last year, I was still embroidering my dowry in the west wing of the prime minister's mansion. If I made a mistake in a stitch, my stepmother would punish me by reciting the "Legal Rules for Women" ten times. My fingers were so frozen that I couldn't hold the needle. I never dared to think that I could now take care of the salt merchant's inventory account books better than the accountant with a child." She thought of her previous life, when she was on her sickbed and couldn't even drink a mouthful of rice soup with salt, and the spittoon was placed next to her pillow. But now she could watch Si Yan counting the numbers on the abacus and Nian Li singing her own nursery rhymes at the bow of the boat. Her heart felt swollen as if soaked in warm water.
Jiang Yan lowered his head and placed a light kiss on her forehead. His stubble made her feel itchy, with the faint scent of last night's incense: "Silly girl, you have always been very powerful. It's just that the yard was like a well in the past, trapping your light." He gathered her hair that was messed up by the wind. The gardenia hairpin inserted diagonally in her hair was given by her grandfather. The jade petals were cold, but gradually warmed up as they touched her scalp.
"Mother! Look!" Nian Li suddenly screamed, pointing her little hand to the reeds on the shore, startling the red dragonfly that was perched on the edge of the boat awning. Three egrets soared into the sky, their snow-white wings skimming across the turquoise water. The ripples they created encircled the sparkling water, like someone had scattered a handful of broken gold, flickering in the morning mist. Si Yan dropped the account book with a "pop", the abacus jingling at his waist, and pounced on the railing of the bow, his little nose still stained with soot from last night's accounting: "If egret feathers could be spun into thread, and two embroidery threads could embroider one foot of brocade, three egrets could spin..."
"Another muddled calculation." Su Jinli scratched her son's nose, her fingertips stained with dust, and she couldn't help but laugh. Jiang Yan smiled and rubbed Si Yan's head, his bamboo-patterned cuffs brushing against the water droplets on the side of the boat. "Go to Suzhou and find you the best peacock feather thread. Blue and green, brighter than egret feathers, so you can embroider a color-changing phoenix."
"I also need to embroider a flower nest for the 'sugar painting'!" Nianli held up the bamboo cage. The gray sparrow inside was pecking at the corn given by Hu Bo. When the sparrow flapped its wings, the red silk tied on the cage bars swayed. It was bought by Nianli with the seventeen copper coins she earned from singing nursery rhymes in Yangzhou. There was a crooked knot tied at the corner.
The pleasure boat passed under a stone arch bridge. The moss beneath the bridge reflected the water's light, like a flowing jadeite. As the boat's awning brushed the arch, tiny drops of water dripped down, wetting the pages of Jiang Yan's book. The scenery on both sides gradually changed: Yangzhou's dark salt warehouses gave way to Suzhou's exquisite embroidery towers. Bamboo poles stretched out between the pink walls and black tiles, hanging colorful silks to dry. Some were crimson like newly opened pomegranates, some were moon-white like sleepless jasmine. The river breeze made them rustle like countless small flags. Women washing clothes by the waterside hummed the soft tune of the Wu dialect. The "bang bang" of the wooden pestle hitting the clothes and the "rush" of the water splitting the bow of the boat formed a natural rhythm, which made Nian Li nod her head to the rhythm.
Su Jinli watched Nianli chase a yellow butterfly across the deck, her skirt sweeping past the abacus on the bow. Siyan squatted at the stern, counting the passing black-sailed boats. Jiang Yan pointed out the distant, half-looming shadow of the Hanshan Temple pagoda, its spire catching a waning half-moon. Suddenly, she felt a surge of pain in her stomach. This life's happiness was like a freshly brewed Biluochun tea, slowly unfurling in the porcelain bowl of time, transforming the bitterness of past lives into sweetness. She remembered her grandfather's words in Hangzhou: "Life is like salt; you adjust the saltiness yourself." Now, this bowl of life, the one she had personally prepared, was so sweet it might stick to her teeth.
"What are you grinning at?" Jiang Yan pinched her cheek, his fingertips touching her hot skin, and a smile filled his eyes like a canal. "Are you thinking about your past life again?"
"I was thinking," Su Jinli held his hand, her fingertips stroking the calluses in his palms, which were the marks left by holding a pen and riding a horse, "it would be nice if we could keep going like this. From Hangzhou to Yangzhou, and then to Suzhou, Hangzhou... wherever we go, it doesn't matter, as long as you are here." The canal water made a gurgling sound under the boat, as if someone was whispering in response, or as if time was whispering in his ears.
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