Embroidered Phoenix Chronicle

Ruiqian sat outside the carriage, chatting with the driver. Gong Jianyun gave the address very clearly: there is a weeping willow tree that takes two people to encircle at the entrance of Zheng's alley. Go straight in, turn north at the west end, and Zheng Tu's family is at the very end.

When Ruiqian saw Xiangxiang, he was a little stunned—was this the girl? She didn't look like her.

The coachman reined in the horse, and Liulian and Xiuluan peeked out from under the sedan curtain to greet Xiangxiang, who happily walked over as well. Ruiqian quickly jumped down and bowed, which Xiangxiang returned. The horse playfully blew at her, but Xiangxiang wasn't afraid; she lightly patted it and affectionately laughed and scolded it. The alley was wide and smooth, and they soon arrived at the Zheng family's house. Zheng Tu came out to greet them, and Ruiqian quickly exchanged a few polite words. Zheng Tu was a street vendor, not very talkative, but he was good at handling social situations, and he didn't stand on ceremony with these teenagers—these people had stood up for her beloved daughter when she was in trouble, and it wouldn't be right to be insincere.

Guo Tu ushered everyone into the house and sat them down. Because the house was small and there were few rooms, there was no distinction between men and women. After exchanging a few words, two constables in plain clothes came in. Gong Jianyun carried a large box of pastries, while the other one, who was older, carried a jar of wine. The three girls then went to the backyard.

The Zheng family's house was still quite new, a tiled roof made of blue bricks. Zheng Tu lived in the front yard, and the east and west sheds contained soup pots for cooking meat and all sorts of household items—a rather cluttered place. The backyard, however, was quiet. A grape trellis shaded the entire yard. The old woman lived with Xiangxiang in the north room; the east wing was the kitchen, and the west wing was locked. Under the eaves of the north room were many pots of jasmine, all in clay pots, in full bloom, exuding a wonderful fragrance! Looking at the thirty or forty pots of jasmine, Xiu Luan couldn't help but sigh inwardly, a hint of envy in her eyes. Xiangxiang, though secretly pleased, didn't want to show it, and said shyly, "My father thought the smell was unpleasant, so he got me a few pots of flowers to cover it up!" The three of them didn't rush inside, chatting idly under the eaves.

When everyone first arrived, the host was even more reserved than the guests. But when she saw that the guests were very easygoing, Xiangxiang also relaxed, and the three girls quickly became close friends—they were all people who longed for friends, so they naturally hit it off immediately.

The north wing consisted of three rooms, two bright and one dark. The two outer rooms were connected. A table was placed on the west side of the floor, laden with various dried and fresh fruits, candied fruits, and pastries. An old woman brought over a large earthenware pot, its surface spotless, condensing a fine mist of steam. Pouring the tea into a cup, it was refreshingly cool—it was chilled jasmine honey tea. Seeing the two guests nod in approval, Xiangxiang breathed a sigh of relief, a small sense of pride creeping into her heart. The three girls chatted about nothing more than clothing, jewelry, snacks, and trinkets—which shop had the newest designs, which had the most complete selection—all trivial matters. Liulian wasn't very interested in this. Xiangxiang rarely went to town, so Xiuluan became the main speaker, while Liulian, munching on pine nuts, listened attentively, occasionally adding a few words of encouragement.

Xiu Luan opened a door for Xiang Xiang, and the naive girl glimpsed a new world—a world where there was no need to slaughter pigs and cook meat. That world was more prosperous and colorful, something to yearn for. Looking at Xiu Luan's apricot-red cloud-patterned silk dress, and then at the Seventh Miss's light blue cloud-patterned silk dress, Xiang Xiang felt a little downcast: the two of them had both worn light lotus-colored dresses to the market, which looked quite nice, while she only had this cherry-colored dress that she could be seen in public. She thought it was alright this morning, but now, the color looked so silly! Looking at Xiu Luan's delicate eyebrows and eyes, she suddenly felt a little dejected.

The old woman brought over another pot of iced plum blossom tea. Taking the opportunity, Liulian kicked Xiuluan, who looked surprised. Liulian frowned, signaling her to stop blowing. Xiuluan, being a clever girl, began to talk about the jasmine flowers blooming under the eaves. Xiangxiang immediately beamed; she had tended those jasmine flowers herself. The two chatted back and forth.

Ruiqian listened quietly to the two constables boasting. Zheng Tu was a man of few words, only diligently pouring tea for his guest. The two constables flattered each other like a comedy duo, neither of them paying any attention to the boy. Ruiqian was absent-minded, thinking about the willow leaves in the backyard, itching to go and see them, but etiquette prevented him from going to the backyard. Strangely enough, Gong Jianyun was also thinking about that feisty girl. The person being thought of by the two sneezed and laughed, "I caught a cold." Xiu Luan smiled slyly, "I heard that one sneeze means someone is thinking of you, two means you're catching a cold, right, Xiangxiang!" Xiangxiang quickly nodded in agreement. Liulian, her head aching from the fragrance of the flowers, sneezed again. Xiu Luan exclaimed in surprise, "Heavens, two people are thinking of you! Tell me quickly, who are they?" Xiangxiang also said mischievously, "No, it's one person thinking of you twice?" The two began to argue seriously. He lingered, refusing to respond, letting the two of them tease him.

Lunch was lavishly prepared, and the two girls each gave the old woman a small purse as a tip—each purse containing a three-qian silver bead. After washing their hands, the three of them reclined on the fragrant kang (heated brick bed) for a short rest. The earlier gathering hadn't ended; several men were still drinking merrily, and two constables began to lecture Ruiqian on their philosophies of life. Zheng Tu also launched into a long, incessant chatter, and Ruiqian could only nod like a chicken pecking at rice, unable to extricate himself from the conversation.

Wai Mao sat on the firewood, momentarily stunned. After being dragged to the county office in a grand procession, everyone testified that he had snatched Xiang Xiang's purse in public, and Xiang Xiang also insisted that he had stolen it. He was utterly speechless; heaven and earth bear witness, the purse was clearly given to him by her own hand. Damn it, just wait until I get out of here, you'll be sorry! I have to teach this fat girl a lesson; she dares to turn around and accuse me! She's got a death wish!

Waimao was sentenced to exile five hundred li and eight years of hard labor, and his family was in complete chaos. Waimao's wife, withered, thin, and short, immediately collapsed to the ground in tears: Waimao, though not good enough, was still her husband, her support, her everything. Although the family's livelihood depended on her day and night spinning and weaving, and Waimao often asked her for money but rarely gave her any, a husband is a husband. Once she lost him, how would she live? She was lost and confused: Waimao's parents were dead, his brothers were separated, and he had no children. How could she survive on her own?

Wai Mao'er's brothers gathered together, filled with righteous indignation. They argued amongst themselves, each with their own idea, and started arguing again about which one to use. Finally, they reached a consensus: talk to his wife first.

Wai Mao's wife was almost deafened by the noise. Every idea was good, but the problem was money. How could they get anything done with just empty talk? The brothers looked Wai Mao's wife up and down, then turned to look at Wai Mao's house from head to toe. They shook their heads, exchanged glances, and nodded deeply.

For some reason, Wai Mao's wife shivered.

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