When the servants of the Hu family brought gifts, Mi Niang leaned against the door, watching the three people inside, enjoying the attentiveness of the two children. Bahu’s mouth was about to crack from smiling so much, thoroughly enjoying the doting of the two children.
“Dad, you can’t fight anymore. Only bad people fight,” Qiqige lectured with tears in his eyes.
Bahu nodded solemnly, being taught, “I won’t fight anymore.” He glanced at Jiya, listening to his son’s advice.
But Jiya clenched his fists and said, “When I grow up, I’ll help you fight back.”
“…”, In fact, he wasn’t that old, nor was he at the age where he needed his son’s help to vent his anger. He ruffled Jiya’s hair, “Listen to your sister, only bad people fight. I won’t fight, and you won’t either.”
Jiya glanced at him sideways, still angry that he had stopped him, hmphed, and broke free from Bahu’s hand. He walked to the door, grabbed his mother’s hand boldly, and said, “Beat him with a chicken feather duster.”
Seeing the man stunned and Jiya urging, Mi Niang asked softly, “Why do you want to beat your dad?”
“He doesn’t listen,” Jiyreplied.
“He knows he was wrong and won’t fight anymore.” Mi Niang changed her approach and asked if in the future, if he did something wrong and knew it, would she have to hit him.
Jiya twisted his mouth and didn’t speak. He mumbled for a while before saying, “You said earlier that you were going to hit him.”
“I’ve already hit him. Does your dad always smile when he talks to you?” She didn’t hit him, she just talked to Bahu. Besides, even if she wanted to hit him, she couldn’t do it in front of their son. It would undermine the father’s authority.
Feeling a bit exposed, Jiya felt uncomfortable. He glanced at his dad and then lowered his eyes, no longer being stubborn.
Mi Niang glanced into the room and then lowered her head to Jiya, saying, “Your dad has never hit you, and you still want to hit him? That’s unacceptable. If you dare to yell and scream at him again, I’ll hit you first. It’s your own fault if you end up with a sore bottom for being disrespectful.”
Jiya also cared about his face. Being scolded in front of his sister and dad, tears welled up in his eyes, but he endured without crying out loud. He sat on the doorstep, covering his face and wiping away tears.
Afraid that Bahu might be tough on the outside but soft-hearted, and might come back to coax, she lightly lifted his chin, “The cellar isn’t finished yet, right? Go over there now, and come back later to help me with cooking.”
Quite effectively, Bahu obediently followed orders. As he left, he glanced down and quietly squeezed his way out from between mother and son. Mi Niang took a stool to the backyard to sit in the sun, ignoring the two little ones inside.
When lunch was ready, she casually called out to the two children who were grooming the big and small spots, “Qiqige, Jiya, wash your hands and come to eat.”
“Okay,” Qiqige responded loudly, boldly like a tiger roaring. Jiya, who had been scolded, also tightened up.
“Coming,” Jiya put the two horn combs back into the brick cracks, glancing at his parents’ expressions. Seeing that they seemed to have forgotten about the morning’s incident, he immediately felt relieved.
After the meal, the family returned to a state of harmony and joy, but the two children dared not grumble at Bahu anymore.
Bahu carried the slop bucket outside, then came back to see Mi Niang scooping camel milk. He leaned over and asked, “Is it sour?”
“A little bit,” Mi Niang fed him a spoonful.
Bahu swallowed the mildly sour milk and rested his hand on her shoulder, speaking in a hearty tone, “You really know how to educate children.” He had already nipped their rebellious tendencies in the bud.
Mi Niang put down the spoon and turned around, wrapping her arms around his waist, she asked, “How do you plan to thank me?”
“How do you want me to thank you?”
“I want to eat chili peppers,” Mi Niang said softly. Her mouth had become accustomed to mild flavors, and Sichuan peppercorns no longer satisfied her. Even sitting in the backyard, she could smell the faint spicy aroma wafting from the pantry.
Bahu fell silent for a moment, then said, “Really want to eat?” Seeing her nodding vigorously, he relented, “I’ll add two to the dish when I cook tonight. I’ll eat first, and if I’m okay, you can have some.”
His words sounded like she was testing poison on him, like a rat eating it without consequence. But fortunately, he relented. “Alright, then I’ll have some tomorrow.”
…
“Sneeze, sneeze…” As soon as the chili peppers entered the oil pan, Bahu was driven out of the kitchen, holding a spatula, sneezing incessantly. In contrast, Mi Niang stood in front of the stove inhaling deeply, throwing a plate of vegetables into the pot. She stirred with a spoon, and as soon as the vegetables changed color, she scooped them out.
“Are you okay?” Bahu washed the pot and came back in, still sneezing. The smell was too strong, and his nose was turning red.
Not only was she okay, but Mi Niang also looked quite pleased. “Let me cook, you go out.”
Bahu couldn’t bear it indeed, but fearing that she might sneak a taste, he took the dish of vegetables seasoned with chili peppers outside.
Dinner was served in the yard. Bahu took only one bite of the vegetables, found them too spicy, and drank water frantically. Finally, he swallowed them down hastily along with meat and rice, without daring to savor them.
By night, his stomach was rumbling. He had to refill the water basin several times. By the second half of the night, the discomfort finally subsided. He advised Mi Niang not to eat them. His stomach felt like it was on fire, burning intensely.
Mi Niang ignored him and closed her eyes pretending to sleep. The spicy aroma haunted her soul as if she could smell it as soon as she stepped through the door.
By noon the next day, Mi Niang brought out two pieces of tofu. Beneath the man’s furrowed brows, she fried Sichuan peppercorns and diced chili peppers in the oil pan. The white and tender tofu turned red as soon as it hit the pan. After Bahu was driven out, she picked up a chopstick and fed herself, sucking in air with a hiss. She even chewed up the chili threads from the peppercorns in the tofu.
“This is the flavor! Finally, I’ve tasted it.”
“Eat it with rice, don’t eat it alone,” Bahu reminded her from the yard.
“Sneeze—What’s that smell? It’s making my brain feel like it’s on fire,” Uncle Muren came out from another room. The spicy scent filled the yard, making the servants who entered one by one sneeze and run out. They ended up moving the lunch table to the riverside.
Watching Mi Niang mix rice with tofu, Bahu broke out in a fine sweat on his forehead from the heat of the spice. He huffed, his mouth filled with air, continuously scooping up rice. He tried to persuade her, “You don’t just like meat? Eat more meat.”
“Mom, is it tasty?” Qiqige reached out with a spoon, intending to scoop some, but his hand was swatted away.
“You can’t eat this. It’ll give you diarrhea,” Bahu warned, “There’s plenty of other dishes. You can have those.”
But Mi Niang held firm. She spent the whole afternoon under Bahu’s worried gaze, without any mishaps. This made her feel triumphant. “Indeed, we from the Central Plains are made of stern stuff. We don’t yield easily.”
Bahu corrected coldly, “It was brought from the Western Regions.”
“But even so, it took root and flourished in our Central Plains, bearing fruit.”
“Where are you now? Where did the soil and water for growing chili peppers come from?”
Mi Niang paid no attention, firmly believing that the chili peppers had recognized her authority. By dinner time, she clamored for stir-fried beef, insisting that chili peppers be added to the beef as well.
But no luck, “Are you going to collect duck eggs tomorrow? If you don’t go, I’ll make you eat them.”
Mi Niang hesitated repeatedly, “Then I’ll just eat them when I come back.”
That night’s meal was once again light. Bahu, being ruthless, added only a small amount of Sichuan peppercorns to the stir-fry. Mi Niang drank her egg soup, glaring at him with reproachful eyes, feeling his heart was too cruel.
The man pretended to be blind and deaf. Even the Sichuan peppercorns in the tofu at noon, she had chewed and eaten them all, worrying about her stomach.
…
“Ajima, are you going?” Bahu asked as he prepared the Lele cart.
Ajima shook his head, “I’ll stay home and look after the house. Feeding the dogs will be my responsibility.”
“That’s fine too. I’ve instructed Uncle Muren to stay at home tonight. If you don’t go, you’ll have to sleep with him.” He planned to take the big and small spots with him. As for Da Huang, he hadn’t intended to take it, but he was afraid it might follow the scent or couldn’t find Mi Niang and get lost again at night, so he decided to tie it up with a leash.
The Lele cart pulled by the big black horse carried people, while the cart pulled by the red horse followed behind. The big and small spots, along with Da Huang, were in the second Lele cart, with the doors propped open with sticks, leaving only the windows open. Once the horses were well-trained, they wouldn’t need someone to lead them; they would follow the horses in front, unlike sheep, which would veer off the path to graze as soon as they saw grass.
Along the way, there was no sign of human habitation, but occasionally, an old horse could be seen grazing, while wild camels were alertly drinking water by the river. The camels were escapees from camel herds, while the old horses had been released by herdsmen. When horses grew old, they were no longer made to work as pack animals or ride mounts. They spent their days freely roaming the grasslands, eventually lying down in remote areas rarely trodden by humans. Their flesh would feed the eagles in the sky, the wolves on the ground, and the ants and ladybugs in the grass.
The migrating wild ducks and geese had all flown south. Occasionally, a few stray birds would fly overhead, lost and helpless, but still persisting in their wandering. Whether shot down by hunters’ arrows or frozen to death in the first heavy snowfall, they faced a bleak fate amidst the vast white expanse.
“Dad, another wild bird got shot,” Qiqige and Jiya sat on the Lele cart shaft, looking up as a distant silhouette plummeted to the ground.
Bahu glanced briefly and then looked away. They were nearing Asyl’s village. As they approached, a goose with a short arrow lodged in it fell in front of the horses’ hooves.
“Ah—” Bahu pulled the reins, jumped down, picked up the goose stained with fresh blood, and handed it to the two children before urging the horses to continue.
“Brother, someone picked up our goose,” the eldest of the three people, a boy, said as he caught the goose, removed the short arrow, and placed it back in the quiver. “I don’t recognize you.”
“Yes, we’re relatives of Asyl’s family. Step aside, don’t block the way.” After circling around three horses, Bahu said to Qiqige and Jiya, “When you grow up, Dad will help you tame two horses and teach you archery, so you can be as mighty as them.” There is no need to stare at others like a little fool.
The two Lele carts stopped successively at Asyl’s house. The dogs inside barked wildly as they heard the commotion, and Da Huang stuck its head out of the Lele cart window, joining in the barking.
“Big brother, it’s really you guys.” Asyl rushed out with his shoes half on, kicked them off, and patted the two dogs on their backs. “Wow, the gang’s all here. Wait a moment, let me tie up the dogs.”
“Do you still remember this place? You two came here earlier this year,” Bahu asked.
“For ice skating,” Qiqige remembered.
