Chapter 53: Late-Night Visitor

Holding the flower, Shaoqiu’s mood was naturally exceptionally pleasant. Breathing in its fragrance, he felt an extreme sense of physical comfort.

As for why Auntie Hua had given him the flower, Shaoqiu had no idea. She had not dared to do it openly, choosing instead to slip him a single blossom in such a covert manner. This remained a mystery to him.

Yet, with this flower to accompany him, his life did not seem entirely wasted. Ceasing to look at the blossom, he returned to sit by the dilapidated wooden table to read. No sooner had he opened his book than he heard voices outside once more. Whose voice could it be if not Xiaohua’s? The mere sound of it swept all of Shaoqiu’s melancholy away on the wind, like an east-flowing river that would never return.

Hearing Xiaohua’s voice, however, Shaoqiu did not dare step out of his room. He was a timid man; even if he went out, he would not know what to say. He could only remain silently within, wondering if Heaven might somehow grant his wish. After Xiaohua’s voice faded, the desolate village plunged back into silence, broken only occasionally by the voices of a few women. Compared to Xiaohua’s, their voices sounded truly grating.

Shaoqiu stayed put as night descended upon the desolate village. Heavy snow continued to fall, and his room grew piercingly cold. He could not light a fire; if he did, outsiders might mistake it for witchcraft or assume he was casting curses on someone, which would inevitably earn him a severe beating. He was not afraid of the pain, but if his bones were broken, how could he find the strength to till the mountain fields? Therefore, he had to endure in silence, letting the cold rage through the room like a howling wind.

Because of poverty, most of the villagers had left. Some had gone to major cities to work and earn a fortune, while others were enjoying leisure at home. Who else could be as destitute and yet as idly wretched as Shaoqiu? Still, he could read his books. After reading for a while, he went outside, wandering aimlessly through the desolate village without any particular destination in mind.

Before long, he found himself inadvertently standing outside Xiaohua’s house. Peering at her lovely silhouette through the window, Shaoqiu felt his spirits lift immensely. He longed to go up and speak with her, but what could he possibly say at a moment like this? He could only linger quietly outside the house.

Suffering from illness, Shaoqiu stood outside Uncle Hua’s house just as Uncle Hua stepped out. Hearing Shaoqiu’s cough, Uncle Hua grabbed a fine wooden staff and rushed over, driving him away from his doorstep. It seemed Uncle Hua knew that Shaoqiu had contracted a disease rumored to be highly contagious, and anyone who caught it was as good as doomed.

Covering his nose, Uncle Hua pressed close, demanding that Shaoqiu leave immediately or else be beaten to death. Yet Shaoqiu was reluctant to leave; he wanted to catch a glimpse of Xiaohua’s lovely form.

However, seeing the massive staff in Uncle Hua’s hand, he knew he could not stay. With one final cough, he trudged back to his own room.

Snowflakes danced incessantly, plunging the desolate village into profound stillness. Not a single voice could be heard, nor any trace of the radiant smiles that usually graced people's faces.

***

Meanwhile, Shaoqiu ran into Grandpa Gou. Grandpa Gou merely glanced at Shaoqiu without a word. Judging by his outing, he was probably off to find some place to warm himself by a fire. He was free to roam the desolate village as he pleased, and seeking warmth was only natural given the bitter cold.

Shaoqiu watched as Grandpa Gou walked into Uncle Hua’s house. Uncle Hua greeted him with an overwhelming degree of warmth, a sight that filled Shaoqiu with intense envy, though he never dared to hope for such hospitality himself.

Dragging his feet along the dilapidated, snow-covered path, he slowly returned to his room. It was pitch black inside, devoid of even a sliver of warmth. He wondered whether he should even bother stepping inside.

Stepping into the room, Shaoqiu sat at his desk, lit a lamp, and resumed reading.

Suddenly, the frantic beating of a gong echoed through the air, warning that a band of ruthless bandits had been spotted. These criminals had countless murders on their hands, and their arrival in the desolate village boded ill for more than just a few meals. Hearing this, Shaoqiu was struck with terror. Yet, with nowhere else to go, he remained trapped in his dilapidated dwelling, leaving everything else to the mercy of fate.

That night, Uncle Hua and Grandpa Gou stayed indoors, drinking wine while watching the snow fall outside. A small fire burned in the hearth—not large, but enough to provide a cozy warmth.

Grandpa Gou kept casting furtive glances at Auntie Hua. Tonight, the moment she laid eyes on Grandpa Gou, her hips seemed to swell with allure. Fortunately, Grandpa Gou still possessed a shred of human decency; he refrained from making any untoward moves, content simply to keep Uncle Hua company over wine and chat about the snowfall.

Outside, the heavy snow fell relentlessly like flying willow catkins. The soft, rustling sound was swallowed by the murky, distant currents of the river beyond the door, imperceptible to anyone not listening closely.

As Grandpa Gou and Auntie Hua sat side by side, Uncle Hua’s eyes grew hazy with drink, and heavy drowsiness overtook him. The world around him faded into a blur.

Taking advantage of the moment, Grandpa Gou gently nudged Auntie Hua’s trousers with his foot. Although her trousers were somewhat worn and stained with the dust of hardship, they still felt warm, especially in this snowy weather. At the subtle nudge, Auntie Hua understood his intent. Without raising a fuss, half-reluctant and half-willing, she was about to respond when the sound of a gong suddenly pierced the night from outside.

Uncle Hua snapped his eyes open, hastily demanding to know what was happening. No one answered; only the sound of urgent gongs echoed from deep within the snowy expanse.

***

"Attention, all households! A gang of murderous bandits is on the prowl. Guard your lives above all else, and do not venture outside alone lest disaster strike!"

With that warning, the crier struck the gong once more before fading away along the ancient path of the desolate village.

Uncle Hua listened for a moment, then closed his eyes. It had nothing to do with him anyway. Damn it, why were they making such a racket and disturbing his sleep?

Just then, Auntie Hua heard someone knocking at the door. Although the sound was faint, it was entirely distinct. Who could possibly be visiting at this time of night?

"Probably just the wind," Grandpa Gou muttered casually.

A moment later, the knocking came again. Clearly, it was no wind, for someone could be heard calling out. Though the voice was hushed, it carried clearly. Fearing that her door might be battered down, Auntie Hua left the fireside and hurried to the front entrance. For some inexplicable reason, she hesitated to open it, seized by a nameless, instinctive terror.

"Open the door." The voice remained subdued, so quiet that one might have mistaken it for a gust of wind.

Assuming it was a distant relative, Auntie Hua unlatched the door. A rush of wind swept inward, accompanied by a flurry of snowflakes. It was a bitterly cold winter indeed.

At first, Auntie Hua could see nothing outside; the night was simply too dark. But finally, she made out the pitch-black silhouette of a figure standing right on her doorstep.