Chapter 2

“Clear skies...”
At the fifth watch of the night.
Bianjing city gradually awakened to the clanging of iron clappers and the beating of copper gongs from the night watchmen.
Old Luo’s weather announcement was as loud and clear as ever.
Morning had arrived.
“Dong... dong... dong...”
With the melodious morning bell tolls from the watchtower,
Officials prepared to attend court, small shopkeepers readied their doors to welcome customers, breakfast stalls began to spew smoke, and farmers from outside the city brought their pigs, dogs, cattle, sheep, chickens, ducks, and geese into the city for sale.
The streets near the South Xun Gate also started to stir.
Accompanied by the creaking wheels pressing against the packed snow and the rhythmic jingling of bells,
Ox carts weaved through the various neighborhoods.
A strong scent filled the air.
No need to ask—it was certainly the night incense collectors arriving.
“Night incense for sale!”
The shouts echoed far down the streets.
The second son, Yang Shilin, was the quickest to move. He slipped into a worn gray-brown hemp jacket and threw on an oversized sheepskin coat.
His inner clothes were from two years ago, now clearly ill-fitting and revealing his wrists, making his already slender frame appear even more gaunt.
The outer sheepskin coat was a hand-me-down from his late father, one of the only two warm winter garments they owned. Usually, he and his sister Yang Panniang took turns wearing it—whoever went out would put it on.
Yang Shilin climbed down from the foot of the bed, put on his shoes, and expertly propped open the window with a pole.
He called out loudly to the street:
“I’m coming!”
Then he grabbed the night incense barrel and went outside.
Hearing the noise, although Yang Manniang did not want to get up,
Since it had come, one had to face reality.
Life must go on.
She quickly dressed herself in an old hemp jacket tucked beneath her pillow.
At this time, cotton fabric was not yet widespread; only wealthy families could afford quilts made from satin with silk filling.
Poor families did not have such luxuries.
For example, the quilt she had used last night was not a modern cotton blanket but a woven cloth quilt made from ramie fabric, stuffed with used hemp stalks and reed fluff.
She smoothed her obviously dry and rough hair into a bun as remembered, securing it at the back of her head with a wooden hairpin.
Then she pulled a hemp headscarf from the drying line by the bed and wrapped it over her head with practiced ease.
Taking her toothbrush, she applied thick soapberry juice and brushed her teeth.
She rose and went to the stove outside to begin the second task of the morning.
Cleaning out the ashes.
She carefully removed the stone blocking the stove door.
Using a slightly charred wooden ash shovel,
She cautiously scooped up the wood ash from the previous night, piling it in a corner outside the stove.
This wood ash was extremely important to the household—not only for washing clothes and dishes but also because women used it to fill sanitary belts during menstruation.
Though it was her first time doing this chore and somewhat unfamiliar, occasionally coughing from the stove’s dust,
Since charcoal was scarce and ash limited at home,
In a short while, she had cleaned out the stove, leaving only a small glowing coal at the center.
This coal was the daily ember saved for lighting fires.
She carefully placed the walnut-sized, faintly red coal back into the stove chamber.

Then she arranged the purchased charcoal around it.
At that moment, the youngest sister, Yang Panniang, was ready and came out.
“Big sister, let me stoke the fire!”
“All right.”
Yang Panniang was four years younger than Yang Manniang, now nine years old. Her long hair was tied in twin buns; her nose was small and features delicate. However, due to poor nutrition, her complexion was pale, her face thin, and her large black eyes sunken deep, resembling a tiny skeleton from a comic.
Poor children mature quickly, and she was adept at household chores.
Squatting by the stove, she yawned, placed the pot on the stove, and added three and a half ladles of melted snow water.
She skillfully fanned the stove with a large cattail fan lid from the water jar,
Occasionally turning her head, puffing her cheeks to blow air.
Yang Manniang had no time to pity her sister; in this family, every member suffered hardship.
Even the rats nesting in the house were so thin a needle could pierce them.
Her own arms were as skinny as hemp stalks, likely from long-term malnutrition. She often felt a bone-crushing pain in her wrists when carrying heavy wooden basins for laundry.
Time was tight this morning. Yang Manniang lifted the curtain to the storeroom,
Took half a leftover cabbage from yesterday,
Then opened a heavily worn earthenware jar in the corner and scooped out half a bowl of flour.
She prepared a simple cabbage noodle soup.
Without modern greenhouse technology, in this late winter, people mostly survived on cabbage, radishes, and potatoes, which every household stored in autumn.
Having chopped the cabbage and kneaded the dough, and with the youngest sister having already boiled the snow water,
Yang Manniang adapted well to her new role, slicing the slightly firm dough into pieces and evenly dropping them into the boiling pot.
She then added a spoonful of old vegetable brine,
Along with a few thin ginger strips and dill, and let it cook.
“Big sister, we’re out of salt, and rice and flour are almost gone.”
Though young, Yang Panniang was experienced and nimble, cutting the freshly washed frozen cabbage with a worried expression.
Having tasted hunger already, she feared the family’s food supply would run out.
Yang Manniang was well aware of this.
With limited money, they could hardly buy much rice, flour, or charcoal at once.
The remaining supplies might last only three days if rationed carefully.
Fortunately, the laundry work they had done a few days ago had been handed over to Old Lady Liu yesterday, and according to past experience, they should receive payment by this afternoon at the latest.
“Big sister, what if I go sell plum blossoms? A few days ago, I heard from Liang Weng’s third son that many flower sellers outside the city are cutting plum branches to sell near the Sang family’s entertainment district. Customers reportedly tip more than ten coins just for buying plum blossoms—many flower sellers make good money this way!”
The second son, Yang Shilin, entered the room, shook the snow off his clothes,
Hung his sheepskin coat inside,
Washed his hands with snow water from the basin,
Then huddled near the stove to warm himself and spoke.
“Why’s that?”
Yang Manniang asked with some surprise, adding cabbage to the pot.
In the original memories, there were over fifty entertainment districts in Bianjing city.
Each district housed dozens of theaters or pleasure houses, known as “goulans.” The term was not like the modern understanding but referred to venues combining dining, drinking, entertainment, and performances.
These districts offered abundant food and various amusements: small operas, cuju football, puppetry, variety plays, comic singing, storytelling, historical lectures, music and acrobatics, palace tunes, jokes, riddles, street vendors, shadow plays, sumo wrestling, singing and dancing, and bird and insect fights.
The largest entertainment district in Bianjing was the Sang family district,
Which contained over fifty goulans. Among them, the Lotus Pavilion, Peony Pavilion, Yaksha Pavilion, and Elephant Pavilion were most famous, each capable of holding thousands of people.
It was the city’s grandest entertainment center.
However, ordinary patrons usually preferred to reward favored performers, cuju players, storytellers, or sumo wrestlers—those with special skills.
Tips to flower sellers were rare and meager.
“Heh heh, I heard that Li Jieyuan is presenting a new story at the Elephant Pavilion. It’s about the romantic tale of a scholar and a beauty united by plum blossoms. Many officials’ wives and daughters have gone to support the show and naturally tipped the flower sellers as well.”
Yang Shilin, being a boy, had taken on most errands outside since their father’s passing.
Because their father was an accountant, the eldest and second son both learned to read and write.
Yang Shilin was a sharp and diligent child who, being literate, often helped neighbors by reading letters aloud, earning goodwill in the neighborhood.
Thus, no matter old or young, people would chat with him and share news.
But reading letters was not frequent.
Besides occasionally reading letters to earn a few coins, in summer he sold flowers on the streets,
And in winter worked as a newspaper boy.
He supported the family in his own way.
Spending much time outdoors in winter, his ears suffered frostbite. Squatting by the stove, he warmed his hands and rubbed his itchy ears,
Eagerly saying:
“The ladies love listening to Li Jieyuan’s stories. A good-quality plum blossom branch now sells for three coins, one coin more than usual. Even without tips, it’s worthwhile. If I bring our big willow basket, I can cut at least fifty branches at a time—that’s 150 coins, enough to buy ten bushels of rice. If we save carefully, it could feed us for over a month. Big sister, please let me go!”
“No, it’s too cold. You’re just a child. The snow outside the city is so deep, reaching past the knees. It’s too dangerous to go out on foot alone.”
Yang Manniang naturally refused. There were no snow plows or salt spreaders in those days.
In the city, snow was packed down by carts and people, making travel possible, but outside the city, it was truly knee-deep.
Not just for Yang Shilin, a half-grown boy, but even adults had to be extremely cautious.
When heavy snow blocked roads, without shelter, many froze to death.
“Right, second brother, it’s better not to go. The day after tomorrow you have to deliver the newspapers again. If you come back late with the blossoms, someone else might be hired to deliver them—what then?”
Yang Panniang also urged caution.
A young boy’s job options were limited.
Yang Shilin had pleaded long to get the small newspaper delivery job—one delivery every seven days, earning sixty coins a month. Though meager, it was steady income.
Yang Manniang also had a job, earning 250 coins monthly.
Together with occasional laundry work by the sisters, they made about 360 coins a month.
Rent for the ten-foot room was 150 coins a month.
Low-grade rice cost 15 coins per bushel, and charcoal was 9 coins per catty.
The 360 coins barely covered food, heating, and rent, leaving only five or six coins saved monthly.
Seeing her elder and younger siblings’ disapproval, Yang Shilin did not press further.
Though eager to earn more, he feared going outside the city in such cold.
At least within the city, he could warm up in shops during deliveries. At day’s end, thick ice crusted his shoe soles; after removing his shoes and warming his feet in bed, his toes would remain numb for over half an hour.
Outside the city, it would be even harsher.
He could only silently hope for an early spring.
“In two months, the start of spring will come. Then we’ll save a lot on charcoal.”
The three siblings gathered around the stove and ate their simple cabbage noodle soup. Although it contained only noodles and cabbage, no meat, the ginger strips and dill made their stomachs feel warm.
Yang Panniang washed the pot, swept the floor, and tidied the bedroom’s brazier.
Yang Shilin donned his sheepskin coat again, took the family’s large willow basket, and went out. Though he had no errands today, he still had to fill the water jar with snow.
In winter, the family relied entirely on melted snow for drinking and washing.
Yang Manniang, pressed for time, quickly changed clothes and washed her face.
She parted her hair into two large symmetrical sections at the top, styling them into twin flat buns as remembered.
In less than fifteen minutes, she was ready and stepped outside.