The little courtyard in Willow Alley suddenly had many more mouths to feed.
Two tables pushed together, chairs gathered in a circle, and before long the tabletop was overflowing with food.
Master Shen sat at the head, a brazier by his feet, nibbling candied fruit while watching the crowd.
In the end, Bihua hadn't cooked. Instead, she sent the swift-footed Qingshui to fetch dishes from the Nanshi restaurant. Qingshui grumbled, pocketed two strings of copper, and dashed off. Before long, she returned, still muttering.
"Bihua," Master Shen said as he chewed, his gaze falling on Layne. "You truly have skill. Half a year away, and the boy's grown sturdy. But I wonder—has his study been neglected?"
Layne froze upright, round eyes wide. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Beside him, Bao Silang elbowed Lin Ji, both boys pulling faces at him.
Bihua patted her son's back with a smile. "Well? Your teacher asked. Why not answer?"
Like a mouse cornered by a cat, Layne blurted, "I've copied my texts, I've done my recitations! If Master wants to test me, I haven't missed a thing!"
"Good, good!" Shen laughed, nodding without testing further. "That's how it should be. A scholar must not idle."
Wang Cheng chuckled, pouring Bihua a cup of wine, whispering, "Look at him—gone half a year, and still scared of you like a truant caught."
Bihua thanked him with a bright-eyed smile, then formally introduced Qingshui to the others. After greetings were exchanged, her voice softened:
"For nearly ten years in Youzhen, all of you cared for us. Even though Laisu is gone… you still haven't forgotten me and my son…"
Her words faltered. Wang Cheng quickly shoved Yan Jiu.
"Don't dwell on that! Today's for joy. After so long, we've plenty to talk about!"
Yan Jiu, who had been staring at Qingshui counting a pile of copper coins with glee, snapped back to attention.
"Right, right! Drink! I brought two fine jars—forget that cheap swill from the restaurant!"
At once, Qingshui swept the coins into her sleeve, sprang up, and shouted:
"Bold words from a skinny chicken! Let's see who drinks who under the table!"
She slammed a jar on the table, cracked the seal with a smack, filled Yan Jiu's bowl and her own.
"Come! Witness my capacity!"
They clashed bowls with loud thuds. Qingshui drank, eyes watering, breath hissing, but forced a grin.
Yan Jiu wiped his mouth, face flushed. "Good! Again!"
Coughing, eyes brimming, she sneered: "Look at your red face! Admit defeat already!"
"You're tearing up yourself! Again!"
"Again!"
Bao Silang and Lin Ji gaped.
Layne edged closer, eyes sparkling. "Can I drink a little too?"
"Out." Qingshui and Bihua spoke as one.
The table erupted in laughter—even Master Shen stroked his beard with delight.
—
Laughter carried as they ate. Shen sipped tea, voice gentler, tinged with age.
"Bihua, how has life been of late?"
Her smile faltered, but steadied again.
"Master Shen, we're well. Laisu left some silver. It's tight, but I earn a bit now. We manage."
Her eyes flicked toward Qingshui, still drinking. "Though it doesn't help having a gluttonous teacher—lazy, greedy, and expensive."
Shen stroked his beard knowingly, only smiling.
Wang Cheng raised his cup to her. She clinked hers softly. He swallowed, then said:
"As long as things are steady here, don't worry about Youzhen. Yan Jiu and I are watching it. We swore to you—while we live, we won't forget."
Bihua lowered her head, sipped, exhaled slowly.
Meanwhile, Qingshui and Yan Jiu were already deep into their contest.
"Come, Yan Jiu, again!"
"Girl, you didn't finish the last bowl—left a drop!"
"I drank it! Don't nitpick my bowl!"
Her cheeks glowed, lips glossy, one leg braced on a stool, hand gripping the bowl.
Yan Jiu tilted back another, exhaling hard, face crimson.
Bao Silang whispered, awed, "She really can drink…"
Lin Ji nodded furiously. "Layne, you call her teacher? She seems so unreliable—don't let her corrupt you."
Layne snatched a chicken leg from Qingshui's bowl, stuffed his mouth, and mumbled, "Don't be fooled. She's fierce. Like the heroes in the tales. Look at me—I can wear short sleeves in winter, and I practice every day!"
"Really?" the two chorused.
Chin lifted, Layne pointed proudly at the yard. "After dinner I'll show you. If anyone bullies you, tell me—I'll smash them with Auntie Qingshui!"
Half-drunk, she snorted. "Brag all you like, pup. Trip on your face later and don't blame me."
Layne huffed, hurriedly ladling soup, sneaking glances at his mother to avoid scolding.
Shen watched the merriment, then turned back to Bihua, smiling softly. "Good. Like celebrating New Year early."
Her nose stung. She ducked her head, voice husky with hidden tears. "Yes… New Year."
—
Wine circled thrice. Plates emptied.
The table a mess of bones, sauces, overturned jars.
Shen glanced at the sky. The sun still clung to the eaves, but the air was colder.
"It's nearly evening…" he murmured.
Qingshui slumped, cheek on her arm. "One more bowl… Yan Jiu, pour…"
Yan Jiu sagged in his chair, eyes narrow. "This girl's a wine spirit… I'm done. You win…"
Wang Cheng and Bihua shared a smile.
"Look at them," Wang Cheng said, pulling Yan Jiu upright.
"Don't—don't touch me, I'll puke…" Yan Jiu groaned, limp as dough.
Qingshui stirred, eyes unfocused. She suddenly grabbed Bihua's sleeve, muttering, "Bihua… I want sweet rice dumpling soup…"
Bihua sighed, helpless but fond. "When you wake, I'll make it."
"Liar… I'll forget when I wake…"
"I swear, I'll make it."
Her grip loosened, head drooping back to the table.
Layne and Bihua half-dragged her to her room. Returning, they found Shen's party ready, Yan Jiu draped over Wang Cheng.
Shen tightened his robe, looked at Bihua, gentleness flickering. "We'll visit again. The books I brought—Layne must study them."
She nodded, eyes misting. "I will."
Wang Cheng added, "Take care of yourself and Layne. We left food—some treats he likes. Don't let them spoil."
"Next time… we drink again…" Yan Jiu mumbled, hauled away.
Layne's eyes reddened, clutching Lin Ji and Bao Silang. "We'll meet again! We all will!"
One last look, one last wave, until they vanished at the alley's turn.
The courtyard door creaked shut.
The wind blew colder.
Bihua patted her son's back. "Go, heat water. I need to wash your aunt's face."
Grumbling, Layne went to stoke the fire.
Inside, Qingshui already snored, drooling, mumbling "rice dumplings."
"So grown, yet still a child," Bihua whispered, smoothing her hair.
The courtyard hushed, broken only by crackling fire and boiling water.
Though winter pressed near, the warmth of people's hearth kept the cold at bay.