Chapter Six Persimmons
Just as I finished getting ready and was about to leave, I heard a series of steady footsteps outside the gate, crunching on the frozen snow.
Zhang looked up and saw a tall figure appear at the doorway; it was Xiong Zixiang.
He wasn't wearing his official uniform today, but only a thick, dark gray cotton robe with a cloth belt around his waist, which made his broad shoulders and thick back appear even more prominent.
A carrying pole rested steadily on his shoulder, with heavy bundles hanging from both ends.
One end looks like thick fabric, while the other end looks like dried mushrooms, dried green beans, or other dried goods.
The load looked heavy, but Xiong Zixiang walked steadily and breathed evenly, as if he were only carrying two baskets of cotton.
In his free hand, he was carrying a small basket woven from thin rattan, which contained a dozen or so crystal-clear persimmons.
Xiong Zixiang had obviously also seen Zhang Yili standing at the kitchen door.
The moment their eyes met, they both froze for a second.
This was the first time the two families had met since their formal engagement.
The steam from the stew wafting from the kitchen mingled with the chill outside.
A strange atmosphere, tinged with unfamiliarity and shyness, permeated the air.
Xiong Zixiang's gaze fell on Zhang Liuyi's face, which was red from the cold, and then quickly shifted back to the persimmon basket in his hands.
He seemed a little awkward.
His hand unconsciously stroked the rough rim of the wicker basket, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he finally began to explain:
"Cough... On my way back from a business trip, I saw some on the mountain. I tasted them and they weren't bitter, so I thought I'd give them to you as a snack."
He paused, then added.
"I brought it along since I was passing by."
After saying that, he slightly raised his arm and handed the small basket of bright orange persimmons to Zhang Yili.
Zhang looked at him with a sense of warmth rising within her, and her cheeks felt slightly flushed.
She stepped forward, took the basket, smiled, and unconsciously softened her voice, carrying a touch of girlish shyness:
"Thank you, Brother Xiong. These persimmons are so sweet; they're so comforting to eat in winter."
She looked up and handed over the rough earthenware jar containing pickled vegetables.
"These are pickled mustard greens and dried radish from my family. I added some chili sauce. They're great with rice. You and your aunt and uncle should try them and have a change of pace."
Xiong Zixiang found her smile very striking, so he quickly put down the carrying pole and hurriedly went to catch the jar.
His movements were a bit too large, almost knocking over the bundle of dried goods next to him, which made Zhang Xiaoyi chuckle again.
He steadied himself and took the earthenware jar, still warm from the kitchen. It felt heavy in his hand, and his heart felt heavy too—a comforting feeling he couldn't quite describe.
He pointed to the bundle on the carrying pole, his voice regaining its usual composure, but his speaking speed seemed a bit faster.
"This... my mother asked me to bring it over."
He untied the knot in one of the bundles, revealing several pieces of cloth neatly folded inside.
It was a thick, durable piece of indigo coarse cloth, clearly made for men's clothing.
The other piece was a slightly finer, moon-white cotton cloth, with a soft texture.
On top of it was a small piece of brightly colored, festive brocade embroidered with lotus scroll patterns.
“Mother said… although the wedding is still a while away, but… but the wedding dress should start being sewn. This material… is her most treasured possession, and she wants you… to take the lead in making it.”
When he said the words "wedding dress," his gaze shifted slightly, and his ears seemed to turn a little red.
"Wedding dress?"
Upon hearing this, Zhang Yili was stunned. She no longer cared about feeling embarrassed.
"Ah? This...this...Brother Xiong, to be honest, I'm good at butchering pigs and chopping wood, but sewing a needle...this is really going to kill me! I...I'm afraid I can't even sew a button perfectly round!"
She made a face and pointed to her hands with distinct knuckles.
"These hands are fine for holding a knife, but a needle... they won't obey you. Don't waste this good material!"
Looking at her frank and earnest expression, Xiong Zixiang felt no disgust; instead, he found her exceptionally genuine and endearing.
His tightly clenched lips curved upwards almost imperceptibly before quickly smoothing back down, but a subtle smile flickered in his eyes. He thought for a moment, then naturally offered a solution.
"It's alright. If you really don't like needlework, you don't have to force yourself."
“I’ll take this fabric back. When I go on my mission, I… I’ll secretly take it to a familiar fabric shop in the county and ask the owner’s wife to cut and sew it for me. She’s skilled and reliable, she won’t say anything.”
He paused, looking at Zhang Yili's visibly relieved expression, and then asked seriously.
"But... what patterns do you like? What do you want to embroider on it? You have to have some preferences."
Zhang Yili didn't expect him to solve this huge problem for her so easily, and even ask about her preferences.
A warmth filled her heart, and the embarrassment she had felt earlier vanished.
She thought for a moment, then turned her gaze to the few withered grass stalks in the corner of her small courtyard that still stood tall in the cold wind, covered with a thin layer of snow. Their lines were simple, yet they carried a kind of winter stubbornness.
She pointed in that direction, her tone relaxed and natural:
“Look, let’s embroider that! Just those withered grass stalks, simple, neat, pleasing to the eye, and…it can withstand wind and snow.”
What she didn't say was that, like him, he didn't need to be extravagant; he had his own strength and character.
Xiong Zixiang followed her gaze and saw the few withered grasses trembling in the wind.
He nodded, without asking why, and simply replied.
"Okay. Dry grass stalks." It seemed like the most natural choice.
He repacked his bundle, carefully placed the pickled vegetable jars back on the ground, and then easily picked up the heavy carrying pole.
"Then I'll head back now. Pickled vegetables... thank you."
He looked at Zhang Yili, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment before shifting to the basket of persimmons in her hand.
"If the persimmons are frozen, remember to thaw them in cold water before eating them."
"Um."
Zhang nodded, watching his tall and upright figure steadily carrying the load, striding out of the courtyard gate, his footsteps crunching on the snow, disappearing into the end of the village lane filled with the festive atmosphere and chill of the New Year.
She looked down at the dozen or so bright orange persimmons in the basket, feeling the cold touch on her fingertips.
She picked one up, walked to the water vat, scooped up a ladle of cold well water, and dipped the persimmon into it.
The icy well water made her shiver, but it also made the warmth in her heart even clearer.
On the other side, Xiong Zixiang steadily carried his load home.
The carrying pole was heavy at both ends; one end held the pickled vegetable jar given to him by Zhang Liuyi, and the other end held the red cloth that his mother had asked him to deliver.
His steps remained steady, but upon closer inspection, his usually cold and hard lips seemed to have softened slightly compared to usual.
With the Lunar New Year just past, even the most habitual thieves and petty criminals were busy hibernating or preparing for the New Year, and had no interest in committing crimes. He was on leave at home.
But even during this break, I wasn't really idle.
Early in the morning, before dawn, he was roused from his warm bed by his mother, Song.
Song Shi circled the stove, her mouth never stopping: "...Zixiang, you have a day off today, perfect! Go to town... no, go to the carpenter Wang's house in the neighboring village and see if he's still taking jobs before the New Year. Our dining table is a bit wobbly... Oh, and on your way back, stop by Li the peddler's place and see if he's got any new red ribbons... And also, that fabric! Don't forget to send the fabric to Jingyi! It's the end of the year, and it's important for the girl to sew her wedding dress! You have to deliver it to her and make sure she accepts it with your own eyes! Do you hear me? Don't just stand there like a silent gourd..."
He talked on and on, about everything, big and small.
He silently agreed, but he already had a plan in mind.
Delivering fabric is a proper business, but... he wanted to bring something else to pay attention to.
In the dead of winter, with the fields and trees bare, what fresh things could be found?
He recalled that yesterday, on his way back from a business trip, he passed by the wild persimmon grove at the east end of the village and saw several old persimmon trees with many frozen persimmons, bright red and shiny, like little lanterns, still stubbornly hanging on their branches.
At the time, I thought, "I think I'll like this bright red, cool thing."
It's sweet and sour, which is perfect for cutting through the richness.
So he quickly finished the chores his mother had assigned him, and then deliberately took a long detour, braving the cold wind, to run to that wild persimmon grove.
Taking advantage of his height and long arms, and his martial arts training, he climbed the tree trunk and carefully picked more than a dozen of the largest, reddest, and most frozen persimmons, which he then carefully packed into a wicker basket.
It was with this selfish motive that he hurriedly went to the Zhang family.
At this moment, as he approached his home, Xiong Zixiang slowed his pace.
He looked around and, seeing no one nearby, quickly slipped into his woodshed.
He put down the carrying pole, deftly untied the bundle containing the cloth, and carefully pulled out the bright red brocade.
This color... is too eye-catching.
He quickly rolled up the red cloth and stuffed it into an inconspicuous gap deep inside the woodpile, then used a few pieces of dry firewood to cover it up.
He then repacked his bundle, casually picked up the load, and pushed open the door to the main room.
A warm, comforting aroma, a blend of food fragrance and the smell of charcoal fire, wafted over.
Madam Song was sitting on a small stool in the main room, sewing a thick, multi-layered cotton shoe sole by the dim light of the charcoal brazier, the stitches fine and dense. Hearing the sound, she immediately looked up, her face filled with anticipation.
"You're back? Did you send the fabric to her? Did she... did she say anything? Is she happy?"
"Yes, it's been sent over."
Song's gaze immediately fell on the rough pottery jar.
"Huh? This jar... isn't ours, is it? Did you notice it was given to us?"
Her eyes lit up, and she immediately put down her shoe sole, stood up, and came closer.
"Hmm." Xiong Zixiang handed over the earthenware jar. "The pickled vegetables she gave me were homemade pickled mustard greens and dried radish, with chili sauce."
Song happily took the jar; it felt heavy and slightly cool to the touch. She eagerly lifted the lid, and a rich, unique aroma—a blend of sour, salty, and spicy—immediately filled the air.
Song couldn't resist dipping her fingertip in the chili sauce and putting it in her mouth to taste it; her eyes immediately narrowed.
"Wow! This tastes just right! It's fragrant and spicy! Look at this girl, she's really skilled! She pickles vegetables so well!"
She put the lid on, hugged the jar like a precious treasure, her face beaming with joy, and praised her son repeatedly.
"Look at her! She's so good at managing money! She's not even married yet, and she's already sending things to her husband's family! This pickled vegetable, paired with hot tofu, or stewed in meat, would be so delicious with rice! Zixiang, your wife, I like her more and more. She's a really good girl, hard to find even with a lantern!"
Hearing his mother's undisguised joy and praise for his attention, Xiong Zixiang's slight guilt about hiding the red cloth vanished.
He nodded silently, turned around, walked to the water vat, scooped up a ladle of cold water, and prepared to wash his hands before eating, to ward off the chill from the journey.
Inside the kitchen, Song was still holding the jar of pickled vegetables, humming a tuneless little tune with a contented smile.
Is the relationship developing too fast?
Not so fast, it's time to go to the bridal chamber.
It might not be feelings, but they got engaged, and it just happened involuntarily.
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