Chapter 328 Grinding Yams into Snow Cream
"We've been married for fifty years, and you've treated me like a wolf my whole life." The old man wiped her eyelids, and the eyelashes he rubbed with his fingertips were as hard as wheat awns. "The ginseng pills that were meant to keep you alive scared the hell out of you." The people waiting outside the mourning hall heard the noise and were hesitating whether to go in. The old man shouted in a hoarse voice, "Come in and kowtow!"
"Send her off for the last time."
The news of the death spread through the village like fallen leaves in the autumn wind. According to custom, they had to kowtow to every household and ask for help, but the Tu Su family had no relatives in the village. Xi Lanfang was just worrying about not having enough white cloth to make mourning clothes when there was a sudden knock on the door.
Aunt Hu and her two daughters-in-law crossed the threshold, their coarse cloth clothes still stained with rice husks. "We're from the same village, it's just a matter of helping each other!" Following behind was the wife of the Wang family, carrying a bamboo basket filled with neatly stacked vegetarian steamed buns. "My husband has gone to town to hire a drum and music band. They'll be there at 3 p.m.!"
A crowd gradually gathered outside the mourning hall. Butcher Zhang brought half a pig, while old oil seller Li brought two jars of sesame oil. Even Mrs. Liu, the woman at the village entrance who had been mad for ten years, arrived clutching a bunch of wild chrysanthemums.
The old man stood in the corridor, watching everyone busy at work, when his sleeve was suddenly tugged. Gu Yuexuan held up a bowl of ginger soup and said, "Grandpa, moisten your throat." When she looked up, she saw the corners of the old man's mouth twitching - the smile lines were lighter than the frost on the eaves.
The news spread faster than the autumn wind. Before the filial sons could kowtow to every household, people from the east end of the village all came over.
The old man threw a piece of white linen over his shoulders and coughed to drown out the noise in the courtyard: "Since we have settled down here, we must abide by the village rules." He tapped the ground with his cane. "Third brother, take the younger ones to prepare the welcoming gift."
Tu Suting muttered a response, his back teeth clenched tightly. Seven or eight filial sons and grandsons knelt outside the doorway, the autumn wind blowing paper money into their trouser legs. Tu Suye shrank his neck and tried to squeeze into the crowd, but the old man's shout pinned him to the spot: "Your mother was still thinking of you before she died. Kneel in front of the coffin."
"Three days and three nights, be filial to your parents."
These words sounded like a knife cutting through the heart. Xi Lanfang pulled Tu Subo, who was about to speak, and shook her head - who dared to say anything when the old man spoke?
As the sun dipped low in the sky, the courtyard was already packed with people. The butcher carried half a pig's leg, the tailor's wife held a whole bolt of linen, and even Mrs. Liu, the woman at the end of the village who had been mad for years, arrived clutching a bunch of wild chrysanthemums. Tu Suting bowed to each of them, his knees burning from grinding against the bluestone slabs.
"Our ancestral grave is thousands of miles away..." Tu Suting looked towards Dongshan Mountain with a worried look. The old man twirled the Buddhist beads on his wrist and said, "When a person dies, it's like a light goes out. Burying him anywhere will only feed wild dogs." He flicked a wooden bead with his fingernail and said, "Just do as the master said and dig a hole at the foot of Dongshan Mountain."
As the coffin closed, Tu Suye was shivering in front of the eternal lamp. His lips, chapped and bleeding from not having eaten rice for three days, and his knees left two black marks on the bricks. The women who came to pay their respects pointed and said, "Serves him right! My mother has been sick for six months and I haven't seen her..."
"I heard that he owed a lot of money to the gambling house in the city..."
Tu Subo was carrying a mourning basin as he passed by the mourning hall. He caught a glimpse of his cousin's hunched back and kicked a cushion in front of him: "Use it as a cushion, don't dirty the floor." These words were colder than the autumn wind.
On the day of the funeral, gongs and drums roared to the heavens. As the eight men carrying the coffin crossed a ridge in a field, a stray dog startled them. The coffin slammed diagonally into an old locust tree, cracking the lid open. Someone had replaced the old woman's burial clothes with coarse linen, and the golden nanmu coffin was stuffed with straw.
Wang Ermaizi, who was carrying the coffin, spat: "It's what you deserve! You tortured me when you were alive, and now you want to wear silk and satin after you die?"
The old man stood at the grave, leaning on his crutches, watching the ashes of paper money swirl toward the eastern hillside. Gu Yuexuan came over with mourning cloth and saw the slightest smile lines at the corners of the old man's mouth, thinner than the frost on the grave.
At dawn on the seventh day, filial sons and grandsons knelt in front of the Tu Su family's old house. Xi Lanfang led the women in the family and stuffed a red cloth bag into the hands of the villagers who had helped. Inside was three copper coins and two handfuls of roasted melon seeds - the most respectable thank-you gift in the village.
"Such a good family, but they have such an unlucky old woman." Mrs. Wang whispered to Aunt Li, clutching the cloth bag. "The big blue brick and tile house has been built, but she just didn't catch up!"
Aunt Li pointed towards the new house and said, "I heard that the main house uses golden nanmu door frames. Before the old lady died, she refused to move them, for fear that her children and grandchildren would enjoy the blessing..." Before she could finish her words, she was interrupted by the smell of scallion oil wafting from Tu Su's yard. Both of their throats rolled.
On the day of the move, three thousand firecrackers exploded, leaving the streets covered in red confetti. Tu Suting stepped through the confetti as he entered the courtyard, shouting to the kitchen, "Old man, prepare some hearty dishes!"
Gu Yuexuan had already rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and set up the stove: a whole old hen mixed with pork tripe and astragalus had been simmering in a casserole for half the night, and the golden oil was skimmed off cleanly; green-shelled duck eggs were mixed with tender leeks, and a "sizzling" sound filled the house with fragrance; river shrimps and small fish were coated with batter and put into the frying pan, and fried until they were golden and crispy enough to reflect a person's reflection.
The most sought-after dish was the yam puree—steamed yam pounded into snowballs, drizzled with osmanthus honey until it stretched into strings. Several half-grown children were clutching the stove, drooling, when Tu Subo smacked them on the forehead, "Wash your hands!"
The eight-immortal table in the main hall was filled to the brim. The sour cabbage was still steaming, and just as Tu Suting was about to start eating, he heard a sudden cry from outside. Everyone paused as Tu Suye collapsed on the threshold of the new house, rolling over: "Mother! Open your eyes and look! These unfilial people can't even wait a hundred days..."
"Drag it away." The old man said without even raising his eyelids, "Don't dirty the floor tiles."
At midnight, Gu Yuexuan trekked to the ancestral hall in the dark, delivering offerings. Moonlight streamed through the newly painted carved windows, illuminating the old lady's tablet—a giant turtle painted with stove ash by someone.
After peeling the yam and throwing it into the steamer, Gu Yuexuan picked up a bamboo sieve covered with gauze and slammed the wooden spoon into Tu Subo's palm: "Grind it hard! It counts only when it can penetrate the gauze."
Tu Subo held the sieve in his left hand and swung the spoon in his right, his wrist throbbing with veins bulging as he ground the yam into a cream. Gu Yuexuan scooped a spoonful of goat's milk and honey into the mixture, knocking the wooden mold against the chopping board. "Second brother, give me a hand!"
The snowball-like yam cake, unmolded, looked like a magnolia blossom. Gu Yuexuan poured a thick, slurry of wild berry jam over it, creating a stunning display of red plum blossoms against the snow. The children licked the edges of their bowls, and the old man even made an exception and ate two pieces.
Only Tu Suye stared at the bowl in a daze, the yam cake being poked into a honeycomb by the chopsticks. Ten-year-old Tu Su Yanting tugged at Gu Yuexuan's sleeve: "Sister-in-law, Third Uncle has pounded the cake into pig food..."
Gu Yuexuan stuffed a piece of cake into her mouth and used her fingertips with berry jam to dot a red dot on the little girl's forehead. "I heard that our Yan Ting will have her hair done next month?" She then shoved the jam-soaked handkerchief into her hand and said, "Keep it as a gift."
Tu Suyanting clutched her handkerchief and blinked: "Combing your hair means tying a braid?"
"I comb my hair into a bun." Gu Yuexuan pinched the red string on her pigtail, "You can't run around like crazy anymore."
The firelight from the stove made the tip of the little girl's nose sweat. Gu Yuexuan watched her nibble on the cake with a greedy look, and her heart ached. Noble ladies in the capital had to learn etiquette at the age of ten, marry at the age of fifteen, and prepare dowry boxes from the time they came of age until they married.
Suddenly, there was a sound of a bowl breaking under the window. Tu Suye stumbled and knocked over a bench, vomiting yam cake mixed with the smell of alcohol all over the floor. The old man threw down his chopsticks and said, "If you want to vomit, do it far away!"
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