On the day Jicheng and Zhou Jing set off, everyone was still immersed in the joy of the New Year. The sound of firecrackers continued to rumble even after the fifth day of the lunar month.
Jicheng had arranged most of the household affairs and had even asked Sister Liansheng in advance to help look after Chunfu. He felt somewhat embarrassed, always troubling others. When it came to leaving, he disliked dragging things out—finishing the task as soon as possible and returning early was his way.
Chunfu stood at the door to see them off. Jicheng had packed a basket full of things he might need, which almost made her laugh, though she couldn’t bring herself to. That was a place where one gambled with their life—not against men, but beasts. She had seen the rolled-up map. The jade was near a cliff and deep valley, treacherous not just for its terrain but for the vicious creatures that might lurk there.
Partings and reunions always happened in the blink of an eye. One moment she was reminding him to be careful on the road, and the next, his shadow had vanished. Worry churned in her stomach, but she swallowed it down and said nothing more. In the depths of winter, she rarely went out. The water vat was full, and there was enough grain. Aside from feeding the chickens and dogs, she kept the door bolted, passing her days in a haze of eating and sleeping, oblivious to the outside world. Time slipped away unnoticed.
One day, the sky looked ominous, as if snow was coming. She wondered how far Jicheng and the others had traveled. She hoped the heavens would be kind and not trouble them on their journey. Just as drowsiness overtook her and her eyelids grew heavy, someone pounded on the door, calling her name. She forced herself up and opened it, asking in confusion, “Zhang Tong, what’s wrong? Why the hurry?”
Zhang Tong’s eyes brimmed with tears, his face flushed from running. Gasping for breath, he choked out, “Auntie, come quick! My father—he’s not going to make it!”
Chunfu froze. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she wiped them away with her sleeve, threw on her coat, and locked the door. Hand resting on her belly, she strode forward. “How could this happen so suddenly? Did you call a doctor?” All past grievances vanished—only sorrow remained. Heaven had made her live in place of her former self, burdening her with all its emotions. Hearing this news, her chest ached with a dull pain she could hardly bear.
Zhang Tong’s eyes were red. Even as he jogged beside her, he steadied her. “We did. Dr. Han said my father’s illness is beyond cure. He just coughed up blood again. Father didn’t want me to tell you—said you were the last person he had the face to see, that this was his retribution. But I know you care for us. It’s just that we were too harsh before, and that’s why things turned out this way. I want my father to close his eyes in peace.”
Since Chunmu’s illness worsened, Zhang Tong had matured suddenly, like a little adult. Chunfu patted his head. “You did the right thing. Let’s get home first.”
When Chunfu entered the courtyard, she heard Li Xiu’e wailing. Her heart clenched as she rushed inside, only to see Chunmu struggling to keep his eyes open. At the sight of her, a relieved smile crossed his face. “This son of mine—I didn’t spoil him for nothing. He understands me best. Chunfu, sit down. I have something to say.” His hands, once strong, were now skeletal, like an old man’s, devoid of vitality.
Chunfu sat beside him, eyes burning, but she forced a smile. “Brother, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I—”
Chunmu waved weakly. “It’s fine. I don’t blame you. I’m the one who ruined things between us. When you were sick, I was petty and resentful. If you hate me, it’s only fair. I never meant to be a bad person, but somehow I became one. I made you suffer so much—I owe you. Your recovery should’ve been a good thing, but I made you afraid to even speak of it.”
Chunfu bit her lip as his feeble hand tightened around hers. She looked up into his tear-streaked face. “I know it’s shameless of me to ask this now, but after I’m gone, what will happen to your sister-in-law and Zhang Tong? Just this once—let your brother be shameless one last time. Help them when you can, so they don’t suffer as a widow and orphan. I’ll beg our parents for forgiveness in the afterlife. Whatever I owe you in this life, I’ll repay tenfold in the next.”
“Your sister-in-law—she’s simple-minded. She just follows what others say. She’s not bold, and she’s not capable of real evil. If she’s ever wronged you, for my sake, don’t hold it against her, alright? You and Jicheng have a good life. I only ask that you help Zhang Tong until he can support the family.”
Chunmu fought back the metallic taste in his throat. His once-handsome face was now sallow and lifeless. With all his remaining strength, he squeezed Chunfu’s hand until it hurt, his blurred eyes pleading for her nod.
Chunfu suddenly broke down. “Brother, have you ever thought about how hard this is for me? You’re so selfish—always thinking of yourself. What about me? I can’t agree willingly.”
Chunmu’s eyes dimmed. With great effort, he smiled. “Chunfu, just this once… truly, the last time…”
A fit of coughing wracked his body, draining what little strength he had left. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, stark and terrifying. Chunfu closed her eyes briefly, then nodded. “Fine. I promise. But if Sister-in-law steps even slightly out of line, don’t blame me for being harsh.”
Relief washed over Chunmu. His breathing eased, and though his smile was weak, it was peaceful. “Now I can rest.”
The snow finally began to fall, thick and fast, soon blanketing the ground. Watching Li Xiu’e sob over her husband’s body, Chunfu felt a pang of sympathy. For all her faults, Li Xiu’e’s love for Chunmu had been genuine—always saving the best for him, her eyes brimming with unspoken tenderness.
Zhang Tong stood weeping but didn’t approach. Chunfu touched his head. “Why not go closer? It’s your last chance to see him. It’s a shame Zhang Yan couldn’t make it… Even at the end, your father didn’t mention him. His heart was always so hard. After all, Zhang Yan was his son too—he never did anything wrong.”
Zhang Tong wiped his tears and lifted his chin. “I won’t trouble you, Auntie. I’ll take care of my mother and myself.”
With no man to manage the household, Chunfu, heavy with child, took charge. Many villagers came to help, offering condolences. But numbness had set in—what grief was left? Just as her own departure had been bleak and unnoticed, who truly understood? After days of arrangements, Chunmu was laid to rest beside their parents, so he wouldn’t be alone.
That winter brought no joy, only loss after loss. Jicheng returned over a month later, gaunt and weathered. When he heard about Chunmu’s passing, he was silent for a long moment before meeting Chunfu’s gaze. “Zhou Jing… he didn’t make it back. Just as you said, that place was a cliff. The stone wasn’t large, but the terrain was deadly. We loaded it onto the cart and were about to leave when Zhou Jing said he’d forgotten something up there. I should’ve gone with him. If I had, maybe we wouldn’t have only found a bloodied sleeve… I asked villagers nearby to search. Three days, and nothing. An old farmer said wild beasts might’ve dragged him to their den. No tracks, no trace—just gone.”
Chunfu covered her mouth in disbelief. “Zhou Jing was—? No, he knew how to hunt! How—?”
Who could predict life’s twists? Some guarded against death fiercely, only to lose their lives at home. Seeing Jicheng’s grim expression, Chunfu held back further questions, only asking worriedly, “And Miss An…?”
Jicheng stripped off his shirt and poured hot water for himself. “When we delivered the stone, she and Manager An were waiting outside. She asked about Zhou Jing, and I had to tell her the truth. For all her sharp tongue, she collapsed right there, saying she shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to him. She cried like her heart was breaking. Thinking of what Zhou Jing would’ve wanted, I handed the orchard over to her. At least he can rest easy now.”
Two familiar souls lost in one winter. The biting wind and endless snow shrouded everything, leaving the couple devoid of smiles for a long time. Only when the baby in Chunfu’s belly began kicking, as if greeting them, did the gloom lift slightly. From then on, all their focus turned to the child.
In the eighth month, with Sister Liansheng and the village midwife’s help, Chunfu gave birth to a plump, fair-skinned daughter. Many had predicted a boy, given the shape of her belly, but out came a delicate, rosy-cheeked girl. Chunfu didn’t trust Jicheng to pick a name, so she pondered while nursing, eating, and even before sleep. Three days later, she tugged at Jicheng, beaming. “Let’s call her Ji Nian. It’s pretty and easy to remember.”
Jicheng gazed at the woman who’d endured so much for him. He’d always thought of Chunfu as young, but now she was a mother, radiating warmth and gentleness. He felt content for life. He took over household chores without being asked, even managing the shop’s jam-making.
All he wanted was to watch her and their child grow, living simple, carefree days. On the baby’s one-month celebration, he visited their parents’ graves to share the news and exchanged a few words with Chunmu. When swamped with work, he delegated simpler tasks to Chunfu, helping where he could—but no longer sending money as before. People grew dependent too easily, and he feared stripping Zhang Tong and his mother of their last shred of dignity.
The Mu family sent people occasionally too. Upon hearing of the baby’s birth, Mu Hong, the elder uncle, rushed over excitedly, indifferent to others’ stares. The family had lacked new life for so long, its atmosphere stifling. Now, at least, their mother would be happy. Without hesitation, he declared, “Has she been named yet? Mother already chose one for the family registry. Since it’s a girl, she’ll be called Mu Lianya.”
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