Another year of eastward migration, the gates locked, the sheep pens empty. There were traces of overturned soil on the vacant land to the southwest; it was where radish seeds had been sown just two days ago.
The person at the front of the procession looked back; the brick and tile houses were getting smaller and smaller. He scanned the empty grassland in the direction they were heading, but Big Spot and Little Spot still hadn’t returned.
Around the corner was the main road, with tire tracks and dense hoof prints already indicating that some had migrated eastward ahead of them.
The temperatures in the morning and evening were very low. Qiqige and Jiya could only ride the cows when the midday sun was strong. The siblings sat in the wooden cart, each occupying a window seat, gazing outside. They envied Ajima, who could ride on the back of the cow.
“I wish I could grow up faster,” Qiqige pretended to be mature, sitting cross-legged on the cotton-padded board, tapping her mother’s belly through the quilt. “Brother, are you still sleeping? The sun has already risen.”
“He’s just a lazy bum,” Jiya also leaned over, resting his head on Mi Niang’s belly, giggling. “I gave him a name. I’ll call him Lazy.”
“Mom, do bugs really get lazy? What do they look like?” Qiqige asked. “Why would they be called Lazy? Aren’t there lazy bugs and diligent ones?”
Mi Niang leaned against the folded mattress, flipping through the stories written by Ajima. These were the stories he had told Qiqige and Jiya before.
“Qiqige, my eyes hurt from reading. Can you and your brother tell me a story?” The two little chatterboxes were giving her a headache with all their questions.
Qiqige and Jiyahcouldn’t read, but they were too proud to admit it. Jiya stiffened his neck and took Ajima’s storybook away, dodging his mother’s gaze. “You’ve heard all these stories before. They’re not good. Mom, my sister, and I will make up stories to tell you.” They made up something perfunctory, starting with a lazy bug and two diligent bugs, which was quite representative.
As they continued southeastward, halfway along the journey, the last thirty-six pregnant ewes from Bahu’s family gave birth one after another. The lambs were wrapped in felt and tied to the backs of camels, only being taken down when the ewes nursed them.
As they passed the halfway point of the journey, the temperature started to rise. Qiqige and Jiya were allowed to ride cows and drive sheep. Mi Niang also got out of the Lele cart, and sat on the shaft, leaning against the Lele cart, counting the flocks of birds passing overhead. When large flocks flew over their heads, it gave a creepy feeling, and the neck seemed to shrink inexplicably.
“Swish.” An iron dart shot up, bringing down a goose, which fell straight into the river, with feathers still drifting down from the sky.
Qiqige sat up from the cow’s back and looked at the boy riding the horse to the river to pick up the bird. As he passed by, she leaned out and asked, “Is it still alive?”
“How could it be? My big brother’s arrows never miss, and there’s never a survivor.” The dark-skinned boy raised his hand, the gray-white goose dripping wet with blood from its abdomen as it fell to the ground with the water.
Qiqige glanced at Jiya, who was about ten feet away, looking at him expectantly. She also had a brother.
Jiya pretended not to understand her meaning, turning to look at the flowers blooming in the grass. When it was time to stop for lunch, he took a basket and went to pick flowers.
Bahu was cooking, and he glanced at the little girl sitting on the stool by the fire and asked, “Did you have a fight with your brother?”
Qiqige shook her head. “No.”
“Then why aren’t you picking flowers with him?”
“I’m helping Dad with cooking and lighting the fire.” Qiqige poked the cow dung in the stove, and the flames shot up.
Bahu felt relieved. His daughter was still considerate. He scooped up a piece of lamb from the pot. “Come, taste it, and see if it’s seasoned well.”
Qiqige hadn’t even chewed the food yet, but she flattered first, “The dishes my dad cooked are beyond words.”
Bahu caught sight of Mi Niang coming back from her walk and smirked. He raised his voice and asked, “Well, compared to your mother, whose cooking is better? Mine or hers?”
Mi Niang paused at the words, waiting for the little girl’s answer.
Qiqige was experienced in such matters. When one parent was absent, she would praise the other, and if both were present, she would either remain silent or praise differently.
“Your dishes are tastier, especially fragrant,” the little girl flattered, her face full of praise.
Bahu was delighted and couldn’t stop grinning. He continued, “What makes them tasty? Or is it that your mother’s cooking doesn’t suit your taste? Is it too salty, too bland, or too spicy?”
Qiqige sensed something was amiss. She looked around, but no one else was there. She scratched her head and heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Her heart sank, and she quickly changed her tune, “Dad, I lied to you. My mother’s cooking is tastier.”
It was already late, and Mi Niang grabbed her ear with one hand while holding her waist with the other. “You little fibber, not a word of honesty in your mouth.”
Qiqige slowly straightened up, pleading for forgiveness with coquettishness. Her body went from being bent to standing straight, and eventually, even her tiptoes were raised.
“Mom, Mom, Mom, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” she grimaced, admitting her mistake, “I won’t fib anymore.”
“She just glared at me,” Bahu exaggerated as he noticed Mi Niang’s gaze, adding fuel to the fire. “Twist her ears off. Let’s add a dish to this meal, stir-fried human ears.”
Qiqige behaved herself this time, lowering her brows and eyes, her eyeballs rolling under her eyelids. As soon as her mother loosened her grip, she immediately ran to the side.
Mi Niang instinctively tightened and then loosened her grip. Fortunately, the little girl was quick, and Mi Niang didn’t catch her, otherwise she would have wailed in pain.
Qiqige, still feeling pleased with herself, ran a long way before turning back, sticking out her tongue and making a face. She didn’t dare to offend her mother again, so she turned to scold her father instead, “I won’t help you with the fire anymore, or taste your food. You’re so annoying.”
“Silly girl,” Mi Niang replied without much patience, grabbing a stool to sit by the stove, and preparing to start the fire.
“No, I don’t want you to start the fire. Don’t move,” Bahu stopped her, adding water to the pot and covering it. He then came back, carrying a lump of dried cow dung into the house.
“Has the child been causing trouble today?” he asked.
“She’s about to give birth, so she’s been quite active. But it’s not too bad,” Mi Niang replied calmly. Having given birth to Qiqige and Jiya before, she had experience and wasn’t panicking. However, while she remained calm, Bahu was anxious. He asked about her condition five times a day and often woke up startled at night, finding it hard to fall back asleep.
“It’s just another twenty days at most. Hang in there,” he said, looking at her swollen belly. Clearly, he was speaking to the baby inside. Giving birth on the road was hard on both adults and children.
Mi Niang didn’t want to talk about these things. Although they were words of concern, the repetition day after day was putting pressure on her. Instead, she asked, “How many chickens have you caught along the way?”
“Thirty-four. I’ve traded all the roosters for hens with other families. Once you give birth, we’ll have hen soup every day,” replied Big Spot and Little Spot. If they were around, he wouldn’t have to bother catching chickens.
“They should come back. Big Spot and Little Spot like honey,” he suddenly said.
Mi Niang noticed the siblings approaching and kicked him lightly. “Stop it, the baby is coming.” Finally, they stopped talking about Big Spot and Little Spot incessantly.
Jiya came over alone, carrying a basket. He didn’t let Qiqige help with the basket, dragging it on the ground by himself.
Mi Niang and Bahu thought the siblings were fighting, but then they saw Jiya dividing the basket of wildflowers into two parts. He handed the larger portion to Mi Niang and stuffed the smaller portion into Qiqige’s hands.
“Son, why are you suddenly giving flowers to me and your sister?” Mi Niang chuckled, her mouth almost reaching her ears.
Jiya mumbled a few times, his ears turning red. His hands, stained with green juice, rubbed his clothes awkwardly as he mumbled, “Just felt like it.”
When it came to being cute and sweet-talking, Jiyah was Bahu’s biological son. Father and son were equally clumsy with their words. As Bahu put it, even before speaking sweet words, their tongues would go sour from the effort.
Mi Niang didn’t press him further, only saying she liked it very much. If he wanted to make her happy by giving her flowers every day, she would be happy every day.
“Then I’ll give you flowers every day,” Jiya smiled, showing his teeth, his eyes twinkling. He truly was a sweet boy.
Bahu had been nervous the whole way and finally arrived in Lingshan on the evening of April 20th. He didn’t have time to tend to the cattle and sheep; instead, he tied up the felt bags, assembled the dismantled wooden beds, and before sleeping in the felt bags, he fumigated every nook and cranny with cow dung.
In the middle of the night, Mi Niang was startled awake by a wet sensation. She nudged the man sleeping on the outer side.
“Is it time?” Bahu asked as soon as he opened his eyes, his words clear as if he hadn’t been asleep at all.
“Take a look, I think my water broke,” Mi Niang lay still. When the water breaks, childbirth is imminent. “I was sleeping too deeply. I only had a vague feeling of pain in my stomach, and I thought it was a dream, so I didn’t wake up.”
Bahu had already rolled off the bed, lit a candle, and put on his clothes. “I’ll go fetch the midwife.”
As the door opened, the heavily pregnant Da Huang came in, whimpering at the smell in the room, wanting to approach the bed but also afraid to get too close.
No one paid attention to it at this moment. Bahu went out to wake up Uncle Muren and Ajima. “Mi Niang is about to give birth. I’ll go fetch the midwife. Ajima, you go inside to accompany Qiqige and Jiya to sleep. Old man, you stay in the courtyard and keep watch.” With that, he hurried away.
The midwife was deeply asleep when she was awakened and was surprised when Bahu pushed her onto the horse. “Both mother and daughter are blessed. If she had given birth one day earlier, it would have been on the road.”
Bahu still felt relieved. While others congratulated him, he only felt relieved. It had been too rushed and too risky. If Mi Niang had given birth one day earlier, she would have given birth on the road, without even resting, she would have been put on the Lele cart, the doors and windows tightly shut, and they would have rushed along the bumpy road.
Perhaps because of the mother-child connection, Mi Niang endured without making a sound. Qiqige and Jiya’s next door were still awake, unable to be comforted into sleep no matter what. After much persuasion, they finally went outside to stand by the felt bag.
When the midwife arrived, both Bahu and Mi Niang relaxed a bit. Bahu went into the kitchen to boil water for cooking, and the two children were also brought in to help with the fire.
“Your mother is giving birth, and we’ll need a lot of hot water. Can you two be responsible for boiling water?” Bahu asked, mainly to keep the two younger ones and Ajima inside, or they would likely be frightened by the buckets of blood later.
Qiqige and Jiya both nodded, sitting by the fire with full concentration. Bahu took the brown sugar and egg soup outside, while Ajima came in. Uncle Muren sat outside the felt bag, not allowing the three children to peek outside.
As the first ray of golden light spread across the land, there was suddenly the tender cry of puppies from the dog’s kennel. Bahu paused, then walked over with stiff legs to take a look, Da Huang had also given birth to pups.
“Wah, wah, wah—” First, there was the loud sound of applause from inside the felt bag, followed by the baby’s crying.
“It’s a chubby little boy, full of flesh, and he cries even without being spanked,” the midwife called for Bahu to fetch water while she attended to Mi Niang.
“Did my mother give birth?” Qiqige asked nervously.
“Yes, yes, she did. You have a little brother now,” Uncle Muren smiled, having stayed up all night, his hair wet with dew. “It’s a beautiful dawn.”
When Qiqige and Jiya were let out of the kitchen, the felt bag had been cleaned up inside. Mi Niang lay on the bed, her lips pale, with the wet-haired child wrapped in a blanket lying in her arms.
Qiqige and Jiya were fine outside, but as soon as they saw Mi Niang, they couldn’t help but burst into tears, not saying a word, just sobbing at the bedside. They had been eagerly anticipating their little brother for half a year, but now that he was here, they didn’t even bother to look at him.
