Chapter 4

There were more wandering souls on the river than on land.

Several crowded into the mirror, shoving and clawing at one another, their faces pressed together. Little Douzi was so frightened she forgot her pain.

One soul began, “Your father…”

Another cut in. “Dead!”

“Your mother…”

“Dead too!”

“The timber supports for the wall collapsed…”

“Crushed your father to pulp!”

“A pot of boiling soup tipped over…”

“Scalded the skin right off your mother’s face!”

The light faded from Little Douzi’s black eyes.

“Sister,” she told Yihe, “I don’t want to smile anymore.”

Yihe took her hand. “Don’t you want revenge? Stay alive. We’ll take revenge together. All right?”

But Little Douzi only said, “Sister, it hurts too much.”

She was in too much pain, too tired. She had no strength left for hatred.

Revenge, Little Douzi thought, was not something ordinary people could do.

What could ordinary people do?

Repay kindness, perhaps.

While Yihe went to fetch her some hot porridge, Little Douzi summoned the last of her strength and threw herself into the surging river.

If she died on the boat, she thought, it would make things difficult for Captain Zhu and Yihe.

So Little Douzi chose to dispose of herself.

The hot porridge scalded Yihe’s hand red.

She swore she would never meddle in anyone else’s affairs again.

Yihe disembarked without incident.

The boat had docked outside the city. She counted her remaining money. It was not enough for a donkey cart.

She would have to walk the rest of the way.

After replenishing her dry provisions, she continued north along the main road.

About twenty li later, she was desperately thirsty. A villager had set up a tea stop nearby. After hesitating for a while, she went in to ask the price.

It was cheap enough: one copper coin for a pot.

Yihe found a seat and took out her food to eat with the tea.

Several nearby tables were noisy with men laughing over their drinks.

“Go home! You’ve already got one foot in the grave. What revenge are you going to take?”

Curious, Yihe looked over. An old woman sat at the table furthest into the corner.

Her left hand rested on a bundle. A walking stick lay to her right.

Deaf to their mockery, she drank her tea in great gulps.

Her surname was Zhou. She was sixty-eight, a native of this very Zhou village.

Old Madam Zhou’s husband and son had died long ago. She and her daughter-in-law had struggled to raise her grandson. They had only just arranged his marriage when he was seized for service.

Last month, news of his death had reached them. On hearing it, her daughter-in-law’s eyes rolled back, and she too breathed her last.

After burying her daughter-in-law, the old woman had sold the family’s fields and livestock. She meant to go to Xiandu and demand an explanation from the emperor.

That was what everyone found so funny.

Old Madam Zhou set down her bowl. As the proprietor handed her the refreshments she had bought, he urged her to give up this foolish dream. At her age, she could not stand such an ordeal.

She said nothing. Turning, she looked around the tea stop. For a moment, her gaze met Yihe’s.

She put the food into her bundle and left, leaning on her stick.

Yihe stopped looking about and concentrated on her own dry rations.

They were going the same way.

Yihe left the tea stop a quarter of an hour later. Within another seven and a half minutes, she had caught up with Old Madam Zhou.

Yihe was young and walked quickly. However unbending the old woman’s spirit, her body was rusty with age and often failed her.

Yihe passed her without looking aside.

After a few more steps, she sighed and turned back.

“If you’re going to Xiandu, why don’t you buy a donkey?”

“I’m not as strong as I used to be,” the old woman said. “I can’t hold one of those stubborn creatures.”

“If you have the silver, buy one in the next village. I’ll lead it for you.” Yihe paused. “I’m going to Xiandu too.”