Chapter Forty-Nine: Hibernation
The wind in December was like a knife, freezing the Zhuoshui River.
The boat captains sealed off their boats, and the boatmen and laborers, clutching the copper coins they had saved up throughout the year, retreated to their warm homes to hibernate.
The once bustling riverbank, teeming with people, is now deserted except for a few sparrows, seemingly unfazed by the cold, pecking at grass seeds.
On the last day of the shutdown, the dock was sparsely populated. The cold wind stung their faces. Zhang Yili and Li Xiulan wrapped their thick cotton-padded coats tightly and put their hands in their sleeves. Their breath was instantly blown away by the wind.
"Mrs. Zhang, Mrs. Li, are you closing up shop today?"
Chen Laoliu, a regular customer, also came over with his hands in his pockets and his neck hunched, greeting the two of them familiarly.
"Yes, Brother Chen, it's too cold, and there's no one here."
Zhang Yili responded, his hands moving non-stop as he ladled the last bit of warm sweet porridge into a rough earthenware bowl and handed it over: "Here, this is the last bit, warm yourself up. I won't charge you. We'll set up the stall again when spring comes and the weather gets warmer."
"Oh, Madam Zhang is so kind-hearted!"
Old Chen hurriedly took the bowl, warmed his hands against the scalding hot rim, squinted comfortably, and slurped up a big mouthful: "This sweet porridge is truly comforting. I'm the first one to come here this spring!"
He then looked at Li Xiulan: "Sister-in-law Li's soup is also superb! See you in the spring!"
"See you in the spring!" Li Xiulan laughed heartily, deftly stacking the last few bowls.
Old Wang, who sells bamboo baskets, also came over shakily: "Closing up shop? Good, take a break. It's so cold, you'll suffer in this weather. Come back in the spring, I'll be back again."
"Alright, Uncle Wang, I'll serve you a generous portion this spring!" Zhang Liuyi waved with a smile.
Zhang Yili and Li Xiulan's mess has finally come to an end.
Without another word, the two tacitly loaded the last of their belongings onto the cart.
Li Xiulan urged Dazhuang along, while Zhang Liuyi pushed from behind. The wheels creaked as they rolled over the frozen ground, gradually disappearing into the distance.
The two large pots were washed clean and placed upside down in the Zhang family's storage room. The stools were stacked neatly and covered with coarse cloths to keep out the dust.
They survived the entire winter on the grain harvested in the fall and the pickled vegetables they made.
Of course, Zhang Dashan's gleaming pig-slaughtering knife shone brightly in the chilly winter morning as he worked busier than ever before.
The rooster crowed three times, and it was still getting dark.
Zhang Dashan was already jokingly sharpening his precious pig-slaughtering knife in the yard, the sound of the friction particularly clear in the quiet winter morning.
Inside the kitchen, the fire blazed brightly, illuminating Zhang Yili's busy figure.
Mix the dough, knead it, roll it out, chop a handful of fragrant scallions that have been sun-dried for days, and render the oil from a piece of fatty pork.
With a sizzle, the meat oozes oil, and the rich aroma of scallion oil bursts forth, dispelling the chill.
She deftly spread scallions and lard evenly on the thin pancake, rolled it up, flattened it, and fried it in a pan until golden brown and crispy.
The thick, fragrant cakes were stacked neatly, wrapped tightly in a cloth and tucked into the chest, then filled with a bamboo tube of boiling ginger soup and carried in the hand.
She walked out of the kitchen, where Zhang Dashan had already sharpened his knife, wrapped it in oilcloth, inserted it into a leather sheath, put on a thick, shiny leather apron, and carried a heavy satchel on his back.
"Dad, dinner's ready!" Zhang Liuyi stuffed the hot pancake into his hand and hung the bamboo tube on the cart.
"It's cold outside, daughter, you should stay home and not come with me." Zhang Dashan looked at his daughter's red cheeks from the cold and didn't want her to come along.
“Wangjiazhuang is far away, so please let me go with you. I can lend a hand.” Although Zhang Yili was asking the question, her hands were still moving. She had already led Dazhuang out and hitched up the cart.
Zhang Dashan didn't say anything more. He took a bite of the pancake, which was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, with a wonderfully warm aroma of scallions and lard.
He nodded, sat on the carriage shaft, Zhang paid attention to driving, and Da Zhuang, puffing out white smoke, pulled the cart creaking towards Wangjiazhuang.
Zhang Dashan munched on a pancake, watching his daughter's profile, wrapped in a thick cotton-padded coat and buffeted by the cold wind, his eyes filled with deep satisfaction.
In the constables' quarters of the county government, a charcoal brazier burned, but it couldn't dispel the chill.
Several constables on duty were huddled in their chairs, dozing or spacing out.
Xiong Zixiang pushed open the door, bringing with him a chill. He was dressed in a thick black robe, with a knife at his waist, and stood tall with a calm expression.
"Bear Head," a few constables greeted lazily.
"Hmm." Xiong Zixiang responded, walked to the table, picked up the roster, and said, "Take attendance."
…
After the roster was checked, everyone was on duty.
Xiong Zixiang closed the booklet and glanced at it: "Is there anything urgent today?"
“Reporting to Xiong Tou’er,” his colleague Zhao Delu stood up, “the streets are very clean despite the freezing weather.”
“Yes, boss.” Qian San’er chimed in, “Even thieves need to hibernate, right? We’ll just clock in and have a cup of hot tea, that’ll be enough for us. You can rest easy.”
Everyone chuckled in agreement and reached for the charcoal brazier.
Xiong Zixiang nodded without saying anything more.
He walked to the window and looked at the gray sky. The government office was quiet, but at home... things were busier than ever.
Since the stall closed down, she has been working with her father-in-law, leaving early and returning late to slaughter pigs. Sometimes they don't get back until it's dark, and they're so tired that they fall asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.
When he got home from work, the stove was cold, the house was cold, and he wanted to look for her, but he didn't know which village she had gone to that day. He felt empty and desolate.
"Hey, Bear Head, are you homesick?" Sun Daye chuckled as he came over.
Xiong Zixiang glanced at him indifferently: "Hmm? You've thought about it? I'll let you go back early today?"
Sun Daye felt embarrassed under his gaze: "Ahem... no need, boss, I'll stay here on duty and I will never leave my post early."
"Okay, focus. Remember to distribute the silver the clerk gave you to the brothers. Buy some good charcoal for me, the kind that doesn't produce much smoke, and light it for the brothers." Xiong Zixiang looked away, walked to the charcoal brazier, picked up the fire tongs and poked at the charcoal, sparks crackling softly.
Sun Daye, feeling awkward, gave a nod and shrank back, and the constable's office fell silent again.
When Xiong Zixiang returned home after his shift, he pushed open the courtyard gate and found it completely silent.
The kitchen was cold and empty; when the door was opened, the quilts on the kang (a heated brick bed) were neatly arranged.
Xiong Zixiang stood quietly at the door for a moment, but he really didn't want to be alone, so he turned around and prepared to go to his parents' place.
As soon as they arrived, the curtain to the main room was lifted, and their mother, Madam Song, came out, carrying a needle and thread basket.
She looked at her son and casually said, "Did you go to slaughter a pig with your dad?"
Xiong Zixiang hummed in agreement.
Song's gaze swept over the pile of rough wood next to the woodpile in the backyard. She thought, "I'll assign some work to my son."
"Your dad said to chop up that pile of wood in the backyard to heat the kang (a traditional heated bed). Chop some up and take some back with you. Also, keep an eye on that bundle of old elm logs in the corner of the storeroom. He said he'll need them to render lard in a couple of days. You need to chop them into smaller pieces so they burn longer."
After she finished speaking, she turned around and went back into the house with the winnowing basket in her arms.
Xiong Zixiang did not respond, but silently walked towards the backyard.
He took off his thick cotton-padded coat, wearing only a single layer of clothing, picked up his axe, and chopped down the thick wood with steady and powerful strokes.
The rough wood split open with a crack, turning into neat blocks of firewood, and sweat seeped from his forehead.
After chopping the firewood and stacking it neatly, he picked up a carrying pole and buckets and went to the riverbank. He drew water from the river, which was covered in ice crystals, and the cold air was biting.
Without even frowning, he steadily filled two buckets, picked them up, and walked back to his courtyard with steady steps, pouring the water into the water vat until it overflowed.
Then he went into the warehouse and found the bundle of tough old elm logs.
He bent down and, with patience and steady hands, chopped the lump into even, thin strips of firewood, which he then neatly stacked.
As darkness fell and the cold wind intensified, the creaking of an oxcart echoed from the village entrance.
Zhang Yili helped the slightly tired Zhang Dashan off the cart, which was still loaded with half a pig and some unwanted offal.
As the father and daughter entered the courtyard, a warm and rich fragrance wafted towards them.
Steaming hot rice porridge was bubbling in the pot in the kitchen.
On the stove, a plate of golden-brown, crispy fried pork cracklings with scallions and lard, still bubbling slightly, looks particularly tempting, with a warm steamed bun next to it.
Xiong Zixiang was standing by the stove wiping his hands. He was wearing only a thin shirt, and his hair was damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead. When he saw them come in, he greeted them, "You're back." He casually draped the cloth he was using to wipe his hands aside.
"Yes, I'm back." Zhang Yili replied, his eyes immediately drawn to the plate of fried pork cracklings, then he noticed the neatly stacked firewood and the full water vat in the backyard. A warmth spread through him, and most of his fatigue dissipated.
She walked to the stove, picked up a hot piece of fried pork fat, and took a crunchy bite. The crispy, fragrant filling her mouth was delightful. "Mmm, delicious, fried just right." She looked at Xiong Zixiang with a smile, "You...made this?"
His gaze swept over the woodpile and water vat.
Xiong Zixiang hummed in agreement.
He picked up a rough earthenware bowl, filled it with a full bowl of steaming white rice porridge, placed it in front of Zhang Liuyi, and then served Zhang Dashan a bowl: "Dad, drink some porridge first to warm yourself up."
Zhang Dashan took the bowl, and the warmth emanated from it: "Hmm, warm." He picked up the bowl and took a big gulp.
The three of them sat down around a small table to eat. Zhang Xiaoli drank his porridge and ate some pork cracklings, sighing contentedly, "After a long day, it feels so good to have something hot to eat."
She looked at Xiong Zixiang and casually asked, "Nothing much happening at the yamen today, right?"
"It's cold, so nothing's wrong," Xiong Zixiang replied briefly, then lowered his head to drink his porridge.
Zhang Liuyi picked up another piece of fried pork crackling and chewed it with a clattering sound. Suddenly remembering something, he looked at Xiong Zixiang and said, "By the way, I made quite a bit of money today. I reckon it'll be more than I expected, so I'll have more money to spend when visiting relatives during the New Year."
Xiong Zixiang looked up at her bright eyes and his lips curved into a barely perceptible smile: "That's good."
He paused, then picked up a piece of fried pork fat and put it into Zhang's bowl. "Eat more."
Zhang looked at the fried pork cracklings he picked up, feeling a sweet warmth in her heart.
As she ate the fried pork cracklings, she glanced at the sweat still clinging to his forehead, reached out and wiped it away with her sleeve, and asked softly, "You fried these pork cracklings too, didn't you? Did you get this sweat from the stove fire? Aren't you tired?"
Xiong Zixiang paused for a moment, looked up at her, and said in a low, steady voice, "I saw that we were out of oil, so I just made a little bit. It's not tiring."
He finished the last mouthful of porridge in his bowl, put the bowl down, and looked up at Zhang Yili again.
Under the dim light of the oil lamp, his lips moved, and his voice was even lower than before, almost audible only to Zhang Yi: "...It's just...it feels...cold at home when you're not here."
A small complaint warmed Zhang Xiaoyu's heart. She couldn't help but reach out and gently touch the back of his large, well-defined hand, which was resting on the edge of the table, with her fingertips, her voice soft and gentle.
"Okay, I'm not going anywhere tomorrow. I'll stay home and make you plenty of pancakes. I'll also stew a pot of hot sauerkraut and pork belly. I'll make sure the stove is burning brightly, okay?"
Xiong Zixiang's hand felt warm as her fingertips touched it.
He nodded, then turned his hand and gently grasped her slightly cool fingertips with his rough, warm hand.
Zhang Liuyi also lowered his head, the corners of his mouth unable to help but turn up, and continued to drink the white rice porridge in his bowl, which seemed even sweeter.
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