Meng Yan's Transformation

Zhan Mengyan harbored an instinctive aversion to Zhang Defu's appearance and manner of speaking, an aversion that even affected her sensory experience. At Zhang Defu's home, when he enthusiastically brought her sweet soup, Zhan Mengyan reluctantly accepted the porcelain bowl containing it, took a small sip, and found the supposedly sweet soup tinged with an indescribable bitterness, as if her displeasure had seeped into her taste buds. She stared down at the amber liquid shimmering in the bowl, sensing an inexplicable barrier hidden beneath its sweet surface. This bitterness stemmed not only from her taste buds but also from a lingering anxiety about their relationship—just as even the sweetest sweet soup cannot mask the lingering taste of a certain container, Zhan Mengyan's impression of Zhang Defu was always shrouded in an indelible sense of distance. She wanted to put down the bowl of sweet soup and run home, but her rational mind reminded her that her impulsiveness would embarrass her father, mother, and sister Yingying.

The main room of the Zhang family's house was filled with the restrained laughter of adults, and the aroma of tea and the sweet scent of fruit platters mingled in the warm yellow sunlight.

Zhan Yingying and Zhang Defu sat side by side on a chair, at just the right distance, but their occasional synchronized laughter revealed a glaring tacit understanding.

Zhan Mengyan, idle and bored, sat in a corner watching the adults chat and laugh, gossiping about everyday matters. She observed Zhang Defu: the overly practiced way he offered cigarettes to the elders, the proverbs and allusions he used in conversation carrying a certain implication and hidden meaning, and the appraising look in his eyes when he looked at Zhan Yingying. All of this reminded Zhan Mengyan of the overly packaged gift boxes on the shelves of the supply and marketing cooperative, exquisite yet empty. The adults' conversation enveloped Zhan Mengyan like a thick layer of cotton wool, their topics ranging from land contracting to household responsibility systems to choosing a wedding house location, every word heavy with practical considerations.

Zhan Mengyan saw Zhan Yingying's profile as she smiled with her lips pursed, a smile that carried an unfamiliar shyness and compromise.

The second hand of the old-fashioned grandfather clock in the corner moved sluggishly. Zhan Mengyan counted the number of times the hand swept across the marks, began to study the repeating floral pattern on the curtains, and compared the subtle differences at the seams of the newspaper pasted on the wall.

When Zhang Defu told three unfunny jokes that elicited laughter from the entire room, Zhan Mengyan quietly moved a tiger-shaped pillow behind her waist, trying to carve a hiding place in the soft object. The light streaming through the window into Zhan Mengyan's eyes resembled a metaphorical escape route.

Zhan Mengyan noticed that Zhang Defu always liked to use his left and right hands to gesture when he spoke, and she noticed that Zhan Yingying's shoulders leaned forward unconsciously when Zhang Defu spoke, as if she was being pulled by invisible threads.

The apples in the fruit bowl began to oxidize and develop brown spots. Zhan Mengyan stared at the arc, recalling how her sister had taken her through the wild peony fields in front of Liujiu Mountain when she was a child. The fragrance of those wild peonies contrasted sharply with the heavy incense burning in the Zhang family's main house. Zhan Mengyan's knuckles quietly tightened on her knees; she froze herself into the only silent footnote in this self-contradictory scene.

Suddenly, two little boys appeared in front of Zhan Mengyan. The older one was about twelve or thirteen years old, and the younger one was about eight or nine years old.

"Sister, will you play with us?"

One of the younger boys looked at Zhan Mengyan with his clear, big eyes as he spoke.

As if under a spell, Zhan Mengyan led the little boy by the hand to another room. The boy opened a cabinet and took out many comic books—"Ying Ning," "Nie Xiaoqian," as well as "Water Margin" and "Dream of the Red Chamber," but most of them were related to "Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio."

These comic books, presented to Zhan Mengyan with exquisite illustrations and vivid visuals, brought the characters and scenes in the story to life.

Before long, the three of them were completely engrossed in watching.

Three boys lay sprawled on the warm kang (a heated brick bed), their knees pressed against the faded phoenix and peony quilt, their six feet swinging haphazardly over the edge. A well-worn comic book of "Water Margin" lay open in the center of the kang mat, its pages exuding the scent of ink mixed with the scent of bygone days.

Zhan Mengyan propped herself up on her elbows, her fingers carefully tracing the yellowed pages. Her collar was open, her breathing gradually slowed, and her gaze was fixed on the comic book about Wu Song fighting the tiger. The twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy and the eight- or nine-year-old boy on either side leaned forward simultaneously. The twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy on the right unconsciously bit his lower lip, while the eight- or nine-year-old boy on the left had his mouth half-open. When they saw Wu Song swing his cudgel, all three of them tensed up at the same time, as if they were all supporting that immense force.

Amid the rustling of turning pages, an eight- or nine-year-old boy suddenly imitated the action in the picture, accidentally bumping his elbow into his companion beside him. The two exchanged a brief smile before immediately turning their attention back to the pages.

Zhan Mengyan gently smoothed the crumpled corner of the paper, a subtle gesture that immediately silenced the two boys' playful antics, drawing them back into the story. Their shadows overlapped on the earthen wall, forming a frozen sculpture, with only their eyelashes trembling slightly in sync with the plot.

Footsteps and shouts could be heard outside the window, but none of the three looked up. The eight- or nine-year-old boy's fingertip hovered above the character "leopard" in the inscription, tracing the ink marks.

The crackling of the unburnt firewood in the stove mingled with the rustling of pages turning in the book.

As the last page was closed, the three men's lingering gazes remained fixed on the cover.

"Okay, let's read this book, 'Nie Xiaoqian'."

As Zhan Mengyan spoke, she put down "Wu Song Fights the Tiger" and picked up "Nie Xiaoqian".

"Deyun, Defu, let's take your sister Mengyan to wash her hands and have dinner."

As Zhang Defu's mother, Li Fengzhen, spoke, she patted her two sons' heads.

"Hello, Auntie!..."

As Zhan Mengyan spoke, she seemed reluctant to leave, glancing at the comic book out of the corner of her eye.

"Let's go eat later, after we finish reading this book."

While speaking, Zhang Deyun's eyes were still fixed on the comic book.

"Deyun, Defu, have you two forgotten what day it is today? Today is your older brother's special day. You two need to cooperate well. What did your father tell you last night? You forgot as soon as you picked up your comic books? Listen to me and go have dinner with your sister Mengyan. You can read them after dinner."

As Li Fengzhen spoke, she looked at her two sons with a gentle yet serious expression.

Zhang Deyun and Zhang Defu, holding Zhan Mengyan's hand, walked towards the main house.

The Zhang family prepared a feast: cold dishes were served first—a mix of shredded vegetables that were translucent like cicada wings, halved century eggs with runny yolks, scrambled eggs, and braised tofu served as appetizers. The main dishes were braised carp, symbolizing abundance year after year, a whole chicken, signifying good fortune, and braised pork belly with its fat trembling in a white porcelain bowl. The staple food was handmade longevity noodles, which conveyed the blessing of a long and happy marriage.

During the meal, the "cousin-in-law," who had acted as the matchmaker, beamed and offered many blessings. She then toasted and exchanged drinks with everyone at the table.