Li Yinrong was also twelve years old, two months older than Lin Juan. The two shared similar personalities—gentle on the outside but strong-willed within. They chatted softly along the way, seemingly getting along very well. Li Yinhua was ten, yet she was as tall as eight-year-old Lin Xia. Both were lively in temperament, sometimes stopping to whisper, other times playfully competing, laughing heartily in moments of joy and chasing each other in mischief.
Li Yinwei was eight, almost the same age as Lin Xia, just a few days younger. She was quiet and hardly spoke a word the entire journey. Lin Xia tried talking to her a few times but found it dull and soon ignored her, opting instead to play wildly with Li Yinhua. Li Yinwei didn’t mind. Noticing her younger cousin stumbling while walking and refusing help from the maids, she took the initiative to reach out and hold Lin Fang’s hand, slowly accompanying her behind the four older sisters. When Lin Fang spoke to her, she only responded with nods or shakes of her head. Lin Fang recalled her mother mentioning that despite this little cousin’s silence, she had a strong will of her own.
Take foot-binding, for example. The three sisters had started the practice at the age of four, enforced by their aunt. Li Yinrong had willingly asked for it, believing in her young heart that bound feet were the mark of a refined lady. No matter how painful, she endured it. Li Yinhua, on the other hand, had screamed, cried, and thrown tantrums. At her worst, she even convulsed and fainted, causing such an uproar that their grandmother couldn’t bear it and forbade the aunt from binding her feet any further, sparing Li Yinhua the ordeal. Lin Fang’s mother also said that the grandmother was closest to Li Yinhua because both were playful and got along well.
When it was Li Yinwei’s turn, the little girl said nothing but took the binding cloth and threw it into a well. Her aunt caught her and forced the binding, but Li Yinwei remained silent, enduring the pain. She would undo the bindings whenever she had the chance. Her aunt had no choice but to watch her day and night, even tying her hands and feet while she slept. But that didn’t stop her—if her limbs were bound, she simply refused to eat. After three days without food or water, her aunt, seeing her daughter on the brink of death, had no choice but to relent.
“Fifth cousin, what do you want to do when you grow up?”
Lin Fang remembered that Li Yinwei hadn’t always been like this—she used to be as lively as Li Yinhua, laughing and playing. She wondered what had changed her and thought that such a question might elicit more than a nod or shake of the head. Li Ziyi had two daughters, both older than Li Yinrong, making Li Yinwei the youngest of the five cousins, hence Lin Fang’s address.
“Feed chickens,” Li Yinwei replied flatly.
Lin Fang was stunned. Truly, she thought, the quiet ones are the most surprising. In a family like this, her ambition was to feed chickens?
Little did Lin Fang know then that Li Yinwei’s seemingly odd aspiration would later play a crucial role in her own survival during an escape—but that’s a story for another time.
Upon entering Laiyin Courtyard, Li Yinhua and Lin Xia flitted about like butterflies, eventually taking turns on the swing to see who could go higher, their maids gasping and urging them to slow down. Li Yinrong led Lin Juan into her own room, while Li Yinwei asked Lin Fang if she’d like to visit hers. Lin Fang declined. The courtyard was lush with flowers and trees, many of them fruit-bearing, creating a beautiful and cool setting. Staying indoors would be a waste of such scenery.
After instructing a maid to clean the stone table and stools under the locust tree, Li Yinwei led her cousin to sit beneath it. The tree, likely a century old, had a thick trunk and dense foliage, its sprawling branches forming a natural canopy that kept the heat at bay.
Li Yinwei carried a small basket to a pear tree, picked a few crystal pears, washed them, and arranged them on a plate near Lin Fang. Though not yet fully ripe, the pears were juicy and sweet enough to quench thirst.
“Mmm, delicious. Fifth cousin, have some too,” Lin Fang said, her mouth full, pushing the plate toward Li Yinwei.
Li Yinwei shook her head. “Come earlier next year, cousin. The yellow apricots ripen sooner, and the peaches are already gone.”
“Oh, fifth cousin, Fang knows little. What trees are in this courtyard?” In truth, she recognized most of them but wanted to draw more words from Li Yinwei, whose voice was as clear and melodious as a lark’s.
“Rest your feet first, cousin. Later, I’ll take you to see each one. But aside from these pears and the early-ripening dates, the others aren’t ready to eat yet.”
“No matter. Fang isn’t tired.” Finishing her pear in a few bites, Lin Fang stood up eagerly.
Li Yinwei hurried after her, leading her to wash her hands before guiding her from tree to tree.
The courtyard boasted a rich variety of fruit trees—pears, apples, apricots, peach plums, peaches, and dates. There were two types of pear trees (crystal and common) and several date varieties: pear dates, wood dates, crisp dates, sour dates, and one rare kind.
“Fifth cousin, is this also a date? It looks like a gourd.”
“It’s a gourd date—crisp and sweet, very tasty. Stand back, cousin. I’ll pick some for you.”
Lin Fang would’ve liked to pick them herself—the tree was short and laden with fruit—but the thorns changed her mind. Best not to trouble others.
Qian’er stepped forward. “Fifth young miss, be careful of the thorns. Let this servant do it.”
Li Yinwei shook her head. “Step back.”
Qian’er glanced at Lin Fang, who shook her head in turn, prompting the maid to retreat.
Without a basket, Li Yinwei could only carry two handfuls. As they walked back, she cautioned, “Cousin, raw dates aid digestion, but too many can loosen the bowels. Eat these first. If you want more, wait an hour or two.”
Lin Fang’s second grandmother had also warned her that unripe dates could cause diarrhea but had taught her a remedy: steaming the green dates would counteract the effect.
Lin Fang played sweet. “Thank you, fifth cousin. This is plenty. Fang’s belly isn’t big.”
Li Yinwei chuckled at her childish remark.
“You look lovely when you smile, fifth cousin.”
Lin Fang wasn’t flattering. Li Yinwei was naturally pretty, but her usual stern expression made her seem rigid. A smile brought her features to life, revealing a budding beauty.
“Cousin, are you teasing again?”
Lin Juan had appeared unnoticed, hearing Lin Fang’s sweet talk and teasing her in turn.
As they walked back with Li Yinwei, Lin Fang asked, “Third sister, why are you alone?”
Lin Juan frowned and shook her head. “It was too stifling. I came out to see what you were up to.”
Ah, spending time with Li Yinrong would bore anyone. At such a young age, she was obsessed with propriety—walking without showing her feet, laughing without showing her teeth. It was exhausting just watching. Lin Juan, though passionate about embroidery, was naturally lively and could be as wild as Lin Xia when the mood struck. That she’d lasted this long with Li Yinrong spoke volumes about her patience.
“Third sister, fifth cousin, little cousin.”
“Third cousin, little cousin, sixth cousin.”
Lin Xia and Li Yinhua came bounding over, circling Lin Juan in playful chaos. Noticing Li Yinwei’s clenched hands, Li Yinhua asked, “Yinwei, what’s in your hands?”
Li Yinwei flashed her palm briefly before turning away. Li Yinhua ordered a maid to fetch a small basket and went with Lin Xia to pick gourd dates, while Lin Juan followed the younger girls back to the locust tree to sip flower tea.
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