Morning. Mist.
Grandmother Liu's cooking fire was the first light in the village. Smoke rose from her chimney straight up. No wind. The mist sat on the fields and did not move.
Fuxi woke on the floor of the herbalist's house. She slept here. She had slept here since the herbalist died. Nobody had asked her to leave. The house was hers the way the well was hers: because she was there and no one disputed it.
She went to the well. The water was warm. She drank.
...
Morning.
Tao carried a basket of tools to the upper terrace. The basket was heavy. He shifted it from one shoulder to the other every forty steps. Fuxi counted. Forty steps, shift. Forty steps, shift. He did not notice the pattern. She did.
Mingzhu was at the washing stones by the river. She bent carefully. Her belly made bending difficult now. A woman named Lian helped her with the heavier linens without being asked.
Desheng was at the boulder. He had a new pile of stones. He threw them one at a time. Each time, he stood still after the throw and watched where the stone struck. He was not just throwing now. He was aiming.
Old Wei was in the northern terraces. His hoe rose and fell in a rhythm that did not change. He had been farming this ground for forty years. The rhythm was the same as it was forty years ago. His body knew it the way it knew breathing.
...
Afternoon. Sun through clouds.
Children at the well. The counting game again. Today they counted insects. A boy got to thirty-seven before he lost track. He started again. The others watched him. When he reached thirty-seven again, he stopped and looked up. "There's always thirty-seven," he said. Nobody knew what he meant. They went back to counting.
Grandmother Liu crossed the square with a pot. She stopped at three houses. At each house she left a portion of rice. She did not knock. She set the bowl on the step, the way she had set bowls on steps for forty years, and moved on. The bowls were always the same size. She filled each one to the same level.
Uncle Bao sat on the bench outside the communal hall. He was not telling a fish story. He was sharpening a hook with a small file. The sound was a thin scrape, regular, unhurried. His hands were steady. They were the hands of a man who had held a line in current for thirty years. When he finished, he tested the point against his thumb. He nodded. He put the hook in his pocket.
...
Evening.
The communal meal. Last light on the western ridge. The smell of rice and mushroom stew. People sat in their usual places. Nobody assigned places. People sat where they sat. This was how it was.
Tao and Mingzhu sat together. His hand on her belly. The baby kicked. His eyes widened. He looked at Mingzhu. She was already looking at him. They did not speak. They did not need to.
Someone passed a bowl. Someone laughed. Someone called across the square about a goat that had gotten into the winter storage. Three men went to get the goat. The goat did not want to leave.
Desheng ate fast and went back to his stones. He threw in the dark. The cracks against the boulder echoed across the valley.
Yun Xiao sat with two children on the well rim. They were looking at the stars. She was naming constellations. The children repeated the names. They got them wrong. She corrected them. They got them wrong again. She laughed.
Fuxi sat at the well.
She looked down. The water was dark. Stars reflected in it. She could see the sky in the water and the water beneath the sky.
Below the reflection, there was something else. A depth that was not the bottom of the well. She had always seen it. She had never found a word for it. It was there the way the warmth was there. Below everything. Waiting.
She watched the stars move in the water. The water was warm.
Across the square, Grandmother Liu was making her final rounds. Goodnight to the Liu household. Goodnight to old Ma. Goodnight to Lian and her children. Goodnight to the door that had no lock. Goodnight to the door that had no lock. Goodnight to the door that had no lock.
The village settled. Snoring from Uncle Bao's house, three houses away and still audible. The dog by the communal hall steps circled and lay down. Wind moved through the terraced fields.
Fuxi sat at the well. The stars moved above her. The stars moved below her.
The water was warm.