A horse-drawn carriage rolled over the bluestone slabs of Zhaozhou Bridge, its surface ripped into deep grooves by millennia of wear. Those gullies, choked by last night's rain, reflected the skylight like fine silver chains. The wheels' passing water splashed against the shafts like broken jade, startling the swallows nesting under the eaves. The old bridge's stone railings, etched with faint patterns of auspicious beasts, had been worn smooth by time. From beneath the arch came the gurgling sound of the canal, bringing with it the distinct coolness of a northern autumn.
Si Yan leaned against the car window, his nose almost touching the carved wooden frame, his little fingers counting carefully along the ruts, and there was still indigo from the Yangzhou Dyeing Factory between his fingernails - that was rubbed off when he helped Jiang Yan check the accounts the day before. It didn't come off even after two washes, like an indigo star embedded in the flesh. "Mother," he suddenly turned his head, the abacus clacking against his knees, the red sandalwood beads colliding with a crisp sound, startling the swallows on the beams to flutter and fly, their wings rustling across the canopy. "It took twenty-three days to get from Yangzhou to the capital, and the total cost was one hundred and twenty-eight taels, seven cents and three cents." He paused, and fiddled with his thumb on the beam quickly, the beads gleaming with a warm luster in the morning light. "If this stone arch bridge is built into a five-hole connected arch, with three hundred cubic meters of stone for each hole and a daily wage of eighty cents for the craftsmen, we can save thirty percent of the stone and twenty percent of the working hours!" He became more and more excited as he spoke, a blush on his little face, as if he had already seen the stone bridge spanning the river after the reconstruction. The abacus beads danced in his palm like a group of obedient elves.
"Stop!" Su Jinli reached out and tapped his rosewood abacus, her fingertips feeling the warm patina on the beads—marks left by Si Yan's constant fiddling, smooth as jade polished by time. "Think about how to explain this to your grandfather first," she tapped the empty pouch on Si Yan's waist, where the mutton-fat jade ring his grandfather had been wearing should have hung. "How did the heirloom ring he gave me get replaced with a sugar painting?" Her tone was smiling, but her eyes were full of doting. Seeing the indigo stain on her son's nose, she couldn't help but want to wipe it off.
"Because of this!" Nian Li suddenly poked her head through the car window, the red pompom on her pigtails brushing the dust on the windowsill, leaving a faint trail. She held a sugar-painted phoenix in her hand, the sugar threads pulling out translucent golden threads in the wind, the phoenix's tail feathers trembling slightly in the breeze, and the sunlight filtering through the amber sugar layer, illuminating the girl's face like a piece of warm jade. A roadside pancake vendor was so amused by the sight that the flour on his apron trembled with laughter: "Young lady, this sugar painting is more eye-catching than my freshly baked pancakes!" The phoenix was exquisitely crafted, the lines on its wings clearly visible, and its tail feathers flowing like tassels. It was obvious that it was the work of a veteran craftsman, and the passing children craned their necks to stare.
Jiang Yan chuckled softly and reached out to smooth Nianli's wind-twisted braids. His moon-white cuffs were still stained with unwashed indigo, from when he'd helped Siyan calculate fabric costs at the Yangzhou Dyeing Factory. "If you keep shaking, the phoenix's tail will fall off." Before he finished speaking, Nianli flicked her wrist, and a small piece of the sugar thread tail fluttered off. She let out a startled "Ah" and quickly retracted her hand. Her cheeks puffed out as if she were holding a cherry. She looked at Jiang Yan aggrievedly: "Dad, the tail fell off..." Her voice was tearful, and her eyes welled up as she stared at the broken sugar painting in her hands, as if she had lost something precious.
"It's okay," Jiang Yan took out a piece of osmanthus sugar cake from his sleeve pocket and handed it to Nianli, "This won't fall off and you can still eat it." The sugar cake was sprinkled with fine osmanthus flowers, and the fragrance was overwhelming. Nianli immediately burst into laughter, took a bite carefully, and there were sugar crumbs on the corners of her mouth, like a little hamster stealing food.
Suddenly, cries and shouts came from the alley ahead. Nian Li, quick-eyed, lifted the curtain and jumped out, the string of chili peppers clattering around her waist. "Mom! Someone's stealing our buns!" Her voice was crisp, a hint of anxiety, and her face was filled with worry.
Su Jinli and Jiang Yan exchanged a glance and hurriedly got out of the car. In the shadows of the alley, a bearded man grabbed the collar of an old man selling steamed buns. The steamer rolled all over the floor, and the snow-white buns were covered in mud. The old man's beard trembled like dry grass in the autumn wind, and he was still holding a shoulder pole, but the strong man stepped on it. The strong man raised his foot to step on the steamer, panting heavily with a red nose, and the stench of alcohol was so nauseating: "Old man, if you don't pay me back, I'll smash your shabby stall!" His voice was hoarse and threatening, and spit flew into the old man's face.
"Stop!" Nian Li rushed to the center, hands on her hips, her small chest puffed out high, the string of chili peppers hanging from her waist swinging like a small red flag. She had grown taller this year, but her tiger-toe shoes were still the same size as last year. The toes were worn white, revealing the fabric underneath. She walked with a slight stumble, but it didn't affect her momentum at all.
The sturdy man looked down and sneered, his bad breath mixed with the smell of cheap liquor spraying towards him: "Where did you come from, little girl? Go play somewhere else!" His sleeves slipped down, revealing a blurry snake-shaped tattoo on his forearm. It looked dark blue in the sunlight and looked a little hideous. The calluses on his hands showed that he had been doing rough labor for many years.
"You owe Uncle Wang five taels for the steamed buns," Si Yan had come over at some point, and the rosewood abacus slammed down on the tilted tea table next to him. The beads bounced and made a crisp sound, shaking the tea bowls on the table. A little tea spilled out, forming a small puddle on the table. "Last year on March 7th, I bought 200 meat buns and 150 vegetable buns on credit," he said, his face flushed, the tip of his nose still stained with icing from the sugar painting he had just eaten, but his eyes were as sharp as a knife. "At the daily interest rate of one cent, there are thirty-six months and twelve days to date, and you should pay back five taels, seven cents and four cents!" He spoke clearly, and each number was resounding, as if he was reading out some important document, his little finger still gesturing on the abacus, for fear of making a mistake.
The sturdy man was stunned, mostly sober, and tongue-tied: "You...how did you know?" He didn't expect that this young man not only knew about his credit, but also calculated it so clearly, even the date and interest were accurate. A trace of panic flashed in his eyes.
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