Fu Yuanshan glanced out the window, the cigarette butt flickering in the darkness, but he didn't reply.
Jiang Jianhua sighed and put the newly sewn shoe soles into the basket: "I know you haven't given up on that thought yet, but who is Fu Yucheng? And what kind of person is Yinyin? You should give up on that idea as soon as possible."
Fu Yuanshan tightened his grip on the pipe, a spark falling onto his trouser leg, but he was oblivious: "I didn't mean anything by it."
"No other meaning?" Jiang Jianhua sneered. "Fu Yuanshan, do you think I'm blind or stupid?"
His hand jerked violently, cigarette ash falling onto the mattress: "What exactly do you want?"
“I want to live a good life.” Jiang Jianhua’s voice turned serious. “If Yun Tangyin hadn’t let me off the hook, I would have been kicked out by now.”
Fu Yuanshan's Adam's apple bobbed, and he moved further in, his back pressed against the cold wall.
“I know you think I’m clumsy and stupid, unlike Yinyin who is literate and beautiful.” Jiang Jianhua’s voice trembled slightly. “But you know how I’ve treated you all these years since I married you.”
He closed his eyes and dug his nails into his palms.
"Do you remember the year we got married, when you were whittling a wooden comb for me under the oil lamp?" Jiang Jianhua suddenly laughed, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. "You said you'd make me a silver one when things got better. Now that things are better, you don't even care about me anymore."
Fu Yuanshan suddenly opened his eyes, and the shadow of the wooden comb flickered before his eyes. That peach wood comb with missing teeth was still lying in Jiang Jianhua's dressing case.
“Yinyin is good, but she is Fu Yucheng’s wife.” Jiang Jianhua glanced at the kitchen, where the light was still on and Yun Tangyin’s laughter could be faintly heard. “Even if you snatch her away, what then? Will the Fu family tolerate you? In the end, you and I will both be kicked out.”
He grabbed the cigarette pack on the table, his hand trembling so badly that tobacco spilled all over the table.
“The other day I went to the supply and marketing cooperative and overheard Granny Wang gossiping with someone, saying that you’re used to being a libertine and that the way you look at your sister-in-law is wrong.” Jiang Jianhua’s voice was hoarse. “If these words reach Fu Yucheng’s ears, do you think he will still give you the cold shoulder like last time?”
Fu Yuanshan recalled the look in Fu Yucheng's eyes when he handed over the candy packet; the icy glint beneath that smile could have drawn blood.
"I..." He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but was interrupted by Jiang Jianhua.
“You don’t need to explain.” She added firewood to the stove, the firelight making her profile look yellow. “I’m giving you one last chance. Either give up that idea and live a good life with me. I’ll have a baby for you this spring. Or pack your things and get out now, and I’ll consider all these years as wasted.”
Fu Yuanshan stared at the leaping flames in the stove without saying a word.
"You think Yinyin really has feelings for you?" Jiang Jianhua's voice turned cold. "She's just being respectful because you're her second brother, and she's giving you face."
He clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles turning white.
“I know you’re suffering inside, feeling wronged to marry me.” Jiang Jianhua pushed the oil lamp toward him. “But how many things in this world are truly perfect? Fu Yuanshan, we’re both this old now, and I’ve come to terms with it. I can’t afford to go through all that trouble.”
Fu Yuanshan picked up a cigarette, but didn't light it.
"I'll go to town tomorrow and buy you some cloth to make a jacket." Jiang Jianhua got up and spread out the blankets. "Didn't you say you wanted a new jacket for work?"
He didn't say anything, but moved to the foot of the bed to make room for her.
"It's chilly at night, cover yourself with something thicker." Jiang Jianhua pushed the thick quilt towards him, then wrapped himself in a thin blanket and lay down with his back to him.
The oil lamp cast two shadows on the window paper, one sitting stiffly, the other lying straight, like two stones separated by a thousand miles.
In the middle of the night, Fu Yuanshan heard Jiang Jianhua turning over in bed, muttering something as if he were talking in his sleep.
He leaned closer to listen; it was saying, "Don't take it...it's mine..."
He suddenly remembered that when Jiang Jianhua helped him untie his clothes on the mountain during the day, a jujube blossom leaf was stuck in his hair.
He didn't dare touch it then, but now the shadow of that leaf burns on his heart like a branding iron.
As dawn approached, Fu Yuanshan quietly got up and headed towards the kitchen.
Jiang Jianhua's shoes were placed by the threshold, with a hole worn through in the sole. He picked up a needle and thread and clumsily began to sew them up.
The morning light shone through the window and fell on the back of his hand.
Those hands used to do clerical work in the cultural troupe; now they held an embroidery needle, the stitches crooked and uneven.
Jiang Jianhua lay in the inner room with his eyes open, listening to the commotion outside, tears silently streaming into his pillow.
Fu Yuanshan put the shoes back where they were and glanced down at Fu Yucheng's window, but there was still no movement from there.
He took a deep breath, grabbed the sickle from the corner of the wall, and walked towards the woodshed.
The whetstone was damp from the dew. He squatted down, and the "shush-shush" sound of the grinding wheel rubbing against the blade was particularly clear in the morning silence.
Hearing the noise from inside the room, Jiang Jianhua quietly got up and peeked through the crack in the door.
In the morning light, Fu Yuanshan's profile was taut. His handsome face looked very calm, and the veins on the back of his hand holding the knife hilt throbbed. He seemed to have more of a down-to-earth air about him than when he was copying sheet music in the art troupe.
With a "crack," the blade struck the stone, chipping a gash.
Fu Yuanshan cursed, threw the sickle on the ground, and turned to walk out of the yard.
Just as he reached the door, he saw Yun Tangyin carrying a wooden basin to splash water. She paused for a moment when she saw him and said, "Good morning, Second Brother."
His Adam's apple bobbed, and he squeezed out a "hmm" from his throat, but then paused.
Yun Tangyin rolled up her trousers to her knees, revealing several red welts on her exposed calves from mosquito bites. Fu Yuanshan glanced at them twice and then looked away.
"Going to chop firewood?" Yun Tangyin smiled and moved to the side. "There are some fresh dead branches by the jujube grove on the back mountain, they're easy to chop."
Fu Yuanshan didn't reply and walked out silently, but bumped into Jiang Jianhua as he turned around.
She was clutching a faded blue cotton jacket in her hand, and when she saw him, she hurriedly hid it behind her back: "I...I was hanging out the laundry."
His gaze fell on her feet, the tips of her shoes stained with grass juice, the very pair he had mended in the early hours of the morning.
Suddenly, his throat tightened, and without thinking, he blurted out, "Don't wait for me for breakfast," before striding up the mountain.
Jiang Jianhua stood there clutching his jacket, his fingertips brushing against the frayed edges of the cuffs—the marks from when he went into the mountains last winter to look for his lost flock of sheep, where he had been torn by thorns.
She cried and scolded him for being foolish, but she sat under the oil lamp all night sewing, and couldn't bear to throw the jacket away.
Yun Tangyin leaned over to help her hang the jacket on the line, and whispered, "Second Sister-in-law, Second Brother, he..."
"It's nothing." Jiang Jianhua forced a smile. "He's just stubborn. He'll be fine in a bit."
Even so, watching Fu Yuanshan's figure disappear around the bend in the mountain road, my eyes still welled up with tears.
When the sun reached the halfway point of the mountain, Fu Yuanshan returned carrying half a bundle of firewood. As he passed the supply and marketing cooperative, he inexplicably turned into it.
Sister Wang, behind the counter, greeted him with a smile: "Brother Yuanshan, what would you like to order?"
He stared at the pastries in the glass case for a long time, then his Adam's apple bobbed. "Give me some of those... please."
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