Chasing Jade (Zhu Yu)

Fan Changyu finally managed to endure the wave of smoke. She blinked, squeezing out the tears caused by the irritation before feeling slightly better. Lifting her head, she noticed Xie Zheng staring at her with an unreadable expression. She patted the top of her head and asked, "Is there ash on my hair?"

The wind was strong, and indeed, her hair and shoulders were covered in fine ash from the ghost money.

Xie Zheng withdrew his gaze and nodded slightly.

Fan Changyu haphazardly brushed at herself, but the soot only smeared and clung stubbornly to her clothes.

Changning spotted this and toddled over, puffing out her cheeks. "Ning Niang will blow it away for you."

Fan Changyu bent down to let her younger sister help blow the ash off her hair. However, Changning was too small and didn’t have enough strength to do it thoroughly. She tugged at Xie Zheng’s sleeve, looking up at him. "Brother-in-law, blow it away for her."

Xie Zheng glanced at Fan Changyu. She was crouched slightly, letting her sister fuss over her hair. From his angle, he could see the pale nape of her neck and half of her delicate profile. As she spoke to her sister, a soft smile lingered on her lips.

Hearing Changning ask Xie Zheng for help, Fan Changyu straightened up. "It’s mostly gone already. Let’s go back—"

The last word caught in her throat.

Xie Zheng reached out, gently brushing the soot and ash from her hair. His touch was light, barely skimming the strands, yet the faint tickling sensation made Fan Changyu stiffen slightly.

It felt entirely different from when she did it herself—though she couldn’t quite pinpoint how.

After flicking away the last trace of soot, Xie Zheng withdrew his hand. "Done."

Fan Changyu met his dark, inscrutable gaze and managed a stiff, "Thank you."

By the time they returned from the ancestral rites, it was nearly noon. Fan Changyu stewed a pork knuckle, sliced a plate of preserved sausage, reheated some steamed pork belly, and stir-fried a dish of dried vegetables to cut through the richness. The three of them made do with this simple lunch.

The dried vegetables were made during the harvest season by boiling and sun-drying greens—a common preservation method in their town, said to have originated from famine years when people needed to store as much food as possible.

Unlike fresh greens, the dried ones had a deep, mellow aroma. Soaked and finely chopped, then stir-fried with ginger and garlic, they were even more fragrant than meat.

By the end of the meal, half the meat dishes remained, but the plate of dried vegetables had been completely devoured.

The large bowl of minced fresh meat and offal beside the gyrfalcon’s cage was also scraped clean. The bird was now preening its soot-streaked feathers with its beak, its beady eyes half-lidded as it basked by the fire pit.

After clearing the dishes, Fan Changyu brought out the red paper for Spring Festival couplets and lanterns she had bought earlier, ready to start decorating.

On New Year’s Eve, pasting couplets and hanging red lanterns were essential traditions.

The writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were all in Xie Zheng’s room. Fan Changyu knocked on his door, clutching a stack of red couplet paper.

A sheet of paper was spread across the desk, and ink was already prepared in the chipped inkstone. As expected, Xie Zheng was seated at the rickety desk, writing something.

When his cool gaze flicked toward her, Fan Changyu scratched her head and asked sheepishly, "Um… do you know how to write Spring Festival couplets?"

Changning, like a little shadow, peeked out from behind the door, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons. "Brother-in-law, write the couplets!"Xie Zheng set aside the half-written paper, clearing space on the desk, and said, "Bring it over."

Fan Changyu then squeezed into the room with the Spring Festival couplets paper and little Changning trailing behind her.

After spreading the couplets paper on the desk, Xie Zheng dipped the brush heavily into the thick ink, leaving little remaining in the inkstone. He tilted his head slightly toward Fan Changyu and said, "Grind some more ink for me."

Fan Changyu hesitated to speak but, seeing him already writing the first bold and elegant character on the paper, didn't want to interrupt. She glanced at the inkstick and began grinding it vigorously in the inkstone.

When Xie Zheng needed more ink and looked into the inkstone, he saw a thick, black pool and paused for a moment before saying, "Too much."

It wasn't just too much—she had nearly ground away half the inkstick just for one pair of couplets.

He couldn't help but glance at her hands.

Considering her strength, it made sense.

Fan Changyu said sheepishly, "I was going to ask how much to grind earlier..."

She could read and, under her mother's cane, had reluctantly learned to write, though her handwriting was barely legible. Writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were precious, so she rarely ground ink herself. When her mother forced her to practice, it was always her mother who prepared the ink and watched her write. She truly had no idea how much was needed.

Xie Zheng seemed accustomed to such situations and said, "Grinding too much isn't a problem, but it's a waste if unused."

Fan Changyu stared at the mostly ground-down inkstick and felt a pang of regret.

Remembering that Aunt Zhao likely hadn't bought Spring Festival couplets either, she suggested, "Then let's write a pair for Aunt Zhao's house too! We can use the leftover ink to write a few more—one for each door, for good luck!"

It was the first time Xie Zheng had heard of hanging couplets this way. His fine brows furrowed slightly, then he found it somewhat amusing, feeling an inexplicable lightness in his heart.

When they first met, he had thought her crude, but now he sensed a vibrant vitality beneath that roughness.

Like wild grass in the wilderness, untended yet growing fiercely through frozen earth and cracked rocks, enduring harsh winters and scorching summers. No matter if the sprouting shoots faced wind, frost, or rain, the roots beneath only dug deeper into the soil, continuously nourishing the shoots upward.

He glanced at the woman sitting sideways at the desk, chin propped on her hand as she watched him write. Dipping the brush into the thick ink again, he continued writing the second line of the couplet.

Snowflakes drifted in through the half-open window, the wind rustling his wide sleeves and Fan Changyu's long hair. As he finished the stroke, she leaned in to examine the couplet, and a strand of her hair brushed against the back of his hand.

His brush paused, leaving a drop of ink at the bottom of the couplet.

Fan Changyu gasped. "Did I disturb you?"

Xie Zheng averted his gaze. "No, I just dipped too much ink."

She looked regretfully at the couplet. "What a shame—the characters are so beautifully written. But it's fine, we can hang this one outside mine and Changning's room!"

Xie Zheng raised his eyes. "You like it?"

Fan Changyu nodded, studying the couplet as she read aloud, "'Ice melts as springs awaken, snow fades while grass sprouts.' The thaw brings new growth—I like the meaning."She smiled at Xie Zheng as she spoke, "When my mother used to write Spring Festival couplets for our home, she also disliked the overly auspicious phrases commonly found in the ones sold in the market."

Xie Zheng was momentarily dazzled by her smile and didn’t respond, lowering his gaze instead. He picked up the brush and with a few deft strokes, transformed the ink blot that had ruined the entire couplet into a wild grass scene full of artistic charm.

Fan Changyu and her younger sister both let out a surprised "Huh," their eyes brimming with delight.

Fan Changyu picked up the couplet and examined it closely. "You can paint too?"

Xie Zheng replied, "Just a little."

Fan Changyu stared at the vibrant cluster of wild grass beneath the couplet. "That’s more than enough."

She glanced at Xie Zheng a few more times and said, "If you sold calligraphy and paintings on the street, I bet you’d make a fortune!"

With his looks and skill, plenty of young ladies would surely flock to buy his works!

The slight upward curve of Xie Zheng’s lips from her earlier praise flattened upon hearing these words.

He said, "I don’t paint what doesn’t suit my heart."

Fan Changyu, familiar with his stubborn temperament, wasn’t surprised by his response. She watched as he continued to write the horizontal scroll.

He penned the phrase "Endure till spring’s birth" with bold, vigorous strokes, as if infused with the tenacity and vitality of wild grass breaking through the soil.

Fan Changyu was already fond of the couplet, but seeing the horizontal scroll made her even more pleased.

To maintain consistency, Xie Zheng added a few strokes of wild grass to the horizontal scroll and the upper part of the couplet paper.

Fan Changyu happily placed the finished couplet on the nearby cabinet to dry.

With the ink blot gone and only enough couplet paper left for three sets, Fan Changyu decided to give one to Aunt Zhao and her family, resolving to hang this one at the front door.

For the elderly couple, Xie Zheng wrote a pair of auspicious couplets wishing them happiness and longevity.

When it came to the last set, Changning clung to the desk, standing on tiptoe and craning her neck. "Ning Niang wants to write too."

Thinking this set was just for their own home, Fan Changyu found the paper for the horizontal scroll and asked Xie Zheng to come up with a couplet. After he wrote it down, she guided her sister’s hand to copy it.

Once they finished the horizontal scroll together, Fan Changyu wrote the upper line in her own clumsy handwriting.

Though the characters were a bit rough, Fan Changyu was quite satisfied.

She handed the brush back to Xie Zheng. "You write the lower line."

Xie Zheng looked at the oversized characters that nearly overflowed the paper, paused for a moment, then wrote the lower line in wild cursive to make it less jarring.

All his writing deliberately avoided his original style, ensuring no one familiar with his handwriting would recognize it.

Just as Fan Changyu was about to call it a day, Changning, who had slipped out unnoticed, returned carrying the Gyrfalcon from the coop in the main hall, her eyes sparkling. "Let’s stamp Falcon’s footprint too!"

Her hold was peculiar—one chubby hand cradled the Gyrfalcon’s belly while the other gripped its neck, as if ready to yank it by the neck if it didn’t cooperate.

Meeting the Gyrfalcon’s terrified and helpless gaze, Xie Zheng felt a strange mix of emotions.

These sisters were definitely related by blood.

Fan Changyu stroked the feathers on the Gyrfalcon’s head and after a moment’s thought, said, "Alright!"

She brought over the inkstone, dipped one of the Gyrfalcon’s claws in it, and stamped a falcon print next to the horizontal scroll Changning had written.The shadow of being smacked on the head still lingered, so the Gyrfalcon kept its wings tucked in, not daring to move a muscle the entire time, only its beady eyes wide open, looking utterly bewildered and pitiful.

After stamping its claw prints, Fan Changyu wiped the ink off the Gyrfalcon's feet with a damp cloth before saying to Changning, "Take it back now."

Changning happily carried the Gyrfalcon back to the main hall and placed it back in the chicken coop.

Fan Changyu then went to the kitchen to fetch the leftover rice porridge from lunch. She first pasted the Spring Festival couplets—jointly completed by the three of them and the falcon—onto the doorframe of the main hall before heading out with the porridge to paste the pair bearing the words "Endure for Chun Sheng."

When the elderly couple of the Zhao Family heard that Xie Zheng had also written couplets for them, they came out to watch Fan Changyu paste the new ones up, grinning from ear to ear.

Other neighbors passing by the alley noticed and asked curiously, "Changyu, your husband can write couplets too?"

Aunt Zhao had always been unwilling to let Fan Changyu be looked down upon because of Song Yan. Hearing the question, she immediately replied, "Of course! That young man is also literate. Just look at this calligraphy—it's even better than the couplets sold on the streets!"

In such a small place, knowing a few characters was already considered a skill. Even without passing the imperial exams, just qualifying as a child scholar could elevate one's status significantly when seeking a marriage partner.

The woman nodded repeatedly. "It's no worse than the Spring Festival couplets Song Yan wrote for everyone in previous years. Changyu really knows how to pick a husband!"

She then smiled at Fan Changyu and asked, "Could your husband write a pair for me too?"

In previous years, Song Yan would set up a stall at the market during the New Year to write couplets for people, earning some extra income. When neighbors in the alley asked him to write, he never charged them, only requiring them to bring their own red paper. However, most people would still bring small gifts as tokens of appreciation.

This year, with Song Yan's family having moved away, getting someone to write couplets would cost a dozen or so coins, and buying ready-made ones wasn't cheap either. Most households in the alley hadn't prepared their couplets yet.

Thinking of Xie Zheng's foul temper, Fan Changyu tactfully declined, "I'm sorry, Auntie, but we don't have any extra couplet paper at home."

The woman replied directly, "I still have some leftover from previous years!"

Xie Zheng appeared at the gate at some point. Seeing him, the woman smiled and asked, "Changyu's husband, do you have time to write a pair for me?"

What kind of ridiculous address was "Changyu's husband"?

Fan Changyu, fearing his sharp tongue might utter something cutting, was about to decline again on his behalf when she heard him say, "Bring the paper over."

Fan Changyu was momentarily stunned, but the woman was overjoyed by Xie Zheng's response. She turned and hurried home, saying, "Wait here, I'll go get the paper right now!"

As if afraid he might change his mind the next second.

Fan Changyu assumed he had agreed mostly out of consideration for her. Once they were back in the yard, she couldn't help but say, "If you don’t want to, you don’t have to force yourself."

Xie Zheng lifted his eyes coolly. "When did I say I didn’t want to?"

Fan Changyu: "..."

Who was it that said he wouldn’t paint anything that didn’t suit his fancy?

Fine, that was about painting. Writing a few characters was no big deal—she was overthinking it.

Soon, the woman returned with red paper, but she wasn’t alone. Several other women and elderly ladies, also carrying red paper, followed her.

Each one greeted Fan Changyu with a cheerful smile. "We heard your husband is writing couplets for people, Changyu. Our family hasn’t prepared any this year either, so we’ve come along shamelessly."It was common knowledge that writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were valuable items, so naturally, the visitors didn’t come empty-handed. Those who had made tofu at home brought a bowl of it, while those who had prepared rice crispy treats wrapped a few pieces and handed them to Changning as soon as they entered, letting her snack on them.

Fan Changyu watched as people arrived with gifts, unsure whether to refuse or accept on Xie Zheng’s behalf. She could only glance at him for guidance.

He had already brought the writing brush, ink, and inkstone from the southern room to the main hall. Catching her look, he calmly said, “Please have a seat, aunties.”

This was his way of agreeing. Fan Changyu then invited everyone to sit by the fire pit to warm themselves.

Xie Zheng didn’t immediately start writing the Spring Festival couplets. Instead, he first asked a question or two about the desired meaning behind the couplets before putting brush to paper.

Amid the swirling snowflakes, his posture as he held the brush was composed and serene.

When an elderly woman from the end of the alley came to request a couplet, she seemed unsure how to describe what she wanted. Her words were hesitant, spoken in a thick local accent, and somewhat fragmented.

Yet, Xie Zheng showed not a trace of impatience. To better hear what the old woman was saying, he even tilted his head slightly, leaning closer.

Fan Changyu, sitting by the fire pit, was surprised by this scene. In her memory, he had always been ill-tempered and proud, so she hadn’t expected this gentle and refined side of him.

After finishing the couplet, he read it aloud to the old woman and explained its meaning. She nodded repeatedly, her face crinkling into a wide smile.

Fan Changyu rested her chin on one hand, watching them, and for some reason, found herself smiling too.

Xie Zheng suddenly looked up, meeting her smiling eyes directly.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her smile stiffened. She silently turned back to the fire.

Word spread quickly after people learned Xie Zheng was helping with couplets. Soon, nearly half the alley’s residents came knocking, and it wasn’t until dusk that the stream of visitors finally ceased. The snacks and treats they brought in gratitude piled high on the table.

When Xie Zheng sat down by the fire pit, Fan Changyu noticed him subtly rubbing his wrist. She teased, “Hand sore, huh?”

He simply replied, “It’s fine.”

She snorted inwardly—this man was nothing if not stubborn.

As night began to fall, she lit the red lanterns, intending to hang them in the yard.

In previous years, her father had always handled this task. Fan Changyu had little experience, and the bamboo pole she found was too short. Unable to reach, she called out to Changning, “Ning Niang, bring me a stool.”

Changning was sitting by the door, nibbling on a piece of rice crispy treat. She broke off small bits and scattered them at her feet for the gyrfalcon to peck at.

Hearing Fan Changyu, she turned and shouted into the house, “Brother-in-law, help A-jie bring a stool to hang the lanterns.”

Fan Changyu was about to scold the child for being so bossy when Xie Zheng emerged from inside.

He didn’t bring a stool. Instead, he walked over and naturally took the bamboo pole from her hands. His palm brushed lightly against the back of her hand, just as it had when he taught her to counter moves in the pine forest—only this time, his crisp, cool scent carried a faint hint of tangerine peel candy.

“Done.” After hanging the lantern under the eaves, he stepped back, and the aroma of tangerine peel candy faded with him.

Fan Changyu felt inexplicably flustered, managing only a stiff, “Thank you.”For dinner, there were the leftover braised pork trotters from lunch, along with the signature New Year dishes gifted by neighbors who came to write couplets. Fan Changyu selected a few dishes to reheat and set up a small pot over the fire pit. She sliced fresh meat, tofu, and winter bamboo shoots, arranged a plate of braised offal, and mixed tender pork liver with a beaten egg to cook on the spot.

This was a hotpot she had seen diners frequently order while helping with the braised meat at the Overflowing Fragrance Pavilion.

Curious, she had once asked what it was. Chef Li told her it was a dish created by Shopkeeper Yu. Other restaurants had similar versions, but none could match the taste of the Overflowing Fragrance Pavilion’s.

During New Year’s Eve and the first day of the year, the Overflowing Fragrance Pavilion was closed. Shopkeeper Yu had given her several blocks of solidified red oil broth to take home for the holiday.

Fan Changyu didn’t know how the solidified red oil was made, but it contained spices like Sichuan peppercorns, bay leaves, and star anise. Once boiled in water, it turned into a bright red broth that made the meat taste even better than the Maoxuewang she had cooked last time.

The only downside was its spiciness. Changning, torn between craving it and fearing the heat, ended up with swollen lips by the end of the meal.

Fan Changyu also found the hotpot overwhelmingly spicy. Unable to bear the heat, she fetched a jar of mild wine and had already poured Xie Zheng a cup before remembering his injury.

She took the cup back and placed it in front of herself. "I forgot—you can’t drink with your injuries."

Xie Zheng, recognizing the mildness of the wine by its scent, said, "This wine won’t hurt."

Ignoring him, Fan Changyu poured him a cup of warm tea instead. "The physician said no alcohol until you recover."

Changning watched eagerly. "Ning Niang wants some too."

Fan Changyu poured her a cup of warm tea as well. "Children can’t drink wine. Have tea like your brother-in-law."

Xie Zheng: "..."

The hotpot was so spicy yet addictive that Fan Changyu ended up drinking the mild wine like water. By the time her lips burned and she reached for another pour, she realized she had unknowingly drunk most of the jar.

She blinked in surprise. "How did I drink so much...?"

Then she reassured herself, "It’s fine. This wine shouldn’t be strong enough to get me drunk."

Her face was already flushed, but Xie Zheng and Changning were also red from the spiciness.

Unaware of her alcohol tolerance, Xie Zheng had assumed she could hold her liquor well, given how boldly she drank. Now, he couldn’t tell if her blush was from the spice, the wine, or both.

He pushed the teapot toward her. "Drink some tea to sober up."

Her mind sluggish, Fan Changyu took a long moment to conclude that he seemed to be mocking her for being a lightweight.

Stubbornly, she poured herself another cup of wine and scowled. "My tolerance is great! My father could drink a whole jar of strong liquor, and I can handle half a jar. This mild wine is nothing!"

Xie Zheng watched as she downed the cup in one go, her almond-shaped eyes growing heavier until she slumped onto the low table, fast asleep.

Xie Zheng: "..."

The child, too, was the type to doze off after eating. Clutching the lucky red envelope her sister had given her, she had long been breathing softly in deep slumber.

On this New Year’s Eve, Xie Zheng was the only one left awake.

Under the eaves, the lanterns cast a warm glow over the falling snow, while distant streets echoed with the crackling of firecrackers from some household’s celebration.Xie Zheng looked at the woman sleeping soundly on the low table, her flushed cheek glowing in the firelight. Just the sight of it made one imagine how warm and soft her skin would feel to the touch.

He watched quietly for a while before shifting his gaze. Picking up the wine jar on the table, he poured himself a cup. With one leg slightly bent and a hand resting on his knee, he lounged casually, taking a slow sip before turning his eyes to the snowy scene outside the door.

Perhaps it was the proximity to the fire pit, or perhaps the warm, soft glow of the light beneath the eaves, but at this moment, his heart was unprecedentedly calm.

Sixteen years after the Battle of Jinzhou, he finally understood once more how the New Year was meant to be celebrated.

Half a jar of wine had been sipped intermittently, yet not a trace of drunkenness showed in his eyes.

At midnight, fireworks burst in the town. He glanced at the woman across the low table, who merely murmured in her sleep at the noise before drifting off again, and softly whispered, "Happy New Year."