maidservant

Chapter 157 March in the Southern State

As the cicadas' chirping broke through the thick, sticky air of a midsummer afternoon, Yun Shan was leaning against the window, her silver needles darting about like butterflies.

Outside the window, the babbling brook flows with sunlight like scattered gold, and the reflections of the weeping willows on the bank are distorted into blurry phantoms in the water.

Since she rushed to this village by the stream more than two months ago, she has lost count of how many such afternoons have passed.

The day before yesterday, a letter from Physician Liao arrived, informing them that they had already hung the imperial plaque at Xinglin Medical Clinic. The clinic's reputation spread like wildfire, reaching beyond the capital and becoming famous throughout Yezhou.

Yunshan had heard about the story of Xinglin Medical Clinic in Nanzhou.

Just a few days after Yunshan arrived, her needlework and medical skills caught the attention of her neighbors. That day,

"Miss Yun!" came an aged voice from outside the courtyard. The elderly neighbor, leaning on her bamboo cane, stood shakily in front of the fence covered with trumpet vines.
"My grandson's clothes are torn again, could you please mend them for me?" Yun Shan quickly put down her unfinished embroidery and went to greet him.

The old woman's wrinkled hands handed over a coarse cloth shirt covered with patches, her cloudy eyes filled with gratitude. "You, young lady, your stitches are so fine, much better than mine when I was young."

Yunshan took the clothes, and her fingertips inadvertently touched the calluses on the old woman's palm, which warmed her heart.

She bent down to examine the damaged area carefully, and with each swift stitch, the fine lines of her needle flowed like a winding stream, quietly mending the hole.

The old woman sat to one side, rambling on about everyday matters. Occasionally, she would look up at Yunshan, only to see her gaze pass over the needle and thread in her hands, fixed on the stream outside the courtyard.

The stream rushed forward tirelessly, reflecting the ever-changing clouds in the sky, and also the lonely figure of Yun Shan. She often stood there in a daze, her thoughts drifting into the distance.

The old woman observed this and gradually came to a conclusion. This seemingly calm girl must be hiding something unseen in her heart.

The next morning, the old woman came to the door again. This time, instead of tattered clothes, she brought a roll of light gauze.

"Yun girl, I've got you a job."

The old woman gently placed the fabric on the table. "The Wang family next door needs to make gauze curtains and drapes. I saw that you have good craftsmanship, so I agreed to do it for you."

Yun Shan was somewhat surprised and was about to decline, but seeing the old woman's earnest and concerned gaze, she had no choice but to nod in agreement.

Meanwhile, Zhan Qian still went out early every day, shuttling between villages and neighboring towns, inquiring about Lin Xiao and his group. He walked hurriedly, his figure appearing somewhat thin under the scorching sun. At each place, he inquired carefully, not letting go of any clue, but he always received disappointment.

On this day, the cicadas chirped in a dense net on the sycamore tree at noon. Yunshan's fingertips, which were holding the embroidery hoop, were damp with sweat. The twin lotus flowers on the gauze curtain were only half-finished.

Suddenly, a cool breeze swept past the windowsill, carrying locust leaves with it, startling her as she looked up. The once clear sky had been swallowed up by leaden-gray clouds, and layers of dark clouds were churning at a visible speed, much like spilled ink spreading wantonly on rice paper.

"The weather is going to change!" the old woman said.

Yunshan hurriedly put the embroidery into the wooden box. Just as she closed the window, large raindrops began to pound on the green tiles, making the windowpanes vibrate with a loud pattering sound.

A fierce wind swept across the area, carrying a curtain of rain. The yarn drying in the corner of the yard fluttered wildly, and the distant mountains were instantly obscured by the white rain. This downpour came unexpectedly, with the unique ferocity and exhilaration of summer, leaving only a chaotic blur between heaven and earth.

As the rain subsided, damp air, carrying the sweet, earthy scent of grass, drifted into the house. Yunshan opened the window and saw wisps of white mist rising from the stream. The bamboo grove on the opposite bank swayed gently in the wind, and lingering raindrops dripped from the tips of the leaves, creating ripples on the water's surface. Water droplets from the eaves formed a glistening curtain, falling onto the bluestone slabs and splashing up tiny droplets.

However, the tranquility after the rain did not last long. At dusk, urgent knocking on the door broke the village's peace.

"Miss Yun! Miss Yun!" The little girl's mother cried out in a voice filled with fear.

"Tiger's in trouble!" Yun Shan's heart tightened, and she grabbed her silver needle pouch and rushed out the door. Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, a little boy, soaking wet, was curled up in his mother's arms. The coarse cloth trousers at the knees were soaked with blood and mud, and the wounds around them were abnormally red and swollen.

It turned out that after the rain stopped in the afternoon, Tiger and his friends ran to the stream to catch fish, but he slipped and fell into the shallows, his knee hitting the moss-covered pebbles hard.

The wound, soaked by rain and rubbed in the mud, had begun to fester. As night fell, the situation deteriorated rapidly.

Tiger's burning forehead pressed against his mother's chest, his little face as red as a ripe persimmon, and large beads of sweat slid down his temples.

He suddenly began to convulse violently, his eyes tightly closed, but he kept muttering, "Dead people. There are dead people."

The voice was broken and intermittent, hoarse and filled with fear that was not in a child's voice. The mother, panicked, burst into tears, her hand holding her child's cold, trembling hand: "Miss Yun, what should we do?"

Yun Shan stared at the child's face, contorted with fever, her brow furrowed. She carefully sterilized a silver needle over a candle flame; as the cool needle tip touched the acupoint, Hu Zi suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils dilated but staring straight at the dark stream outside the window, crying out in terror, "There! In the mountains!"

The people inside followed his gaze and saw only the cold light shimmering on the stream under the moonlight and the deep mountains on the opposite bank, which sent chills down their spines.

"I'm afraid it might have damaged his brain!" Tiger's mother cried.

After the acupuncture, Tiger calmed down and was able to take his medicine. After drinking the medicine, his fever subsided a bit.

Night fell, and the village fell silent. Yunshan returned home and lay wearily on her bed.

Moonlight streamed through the window and fell on her face as Yunshan gradually drifted off to sleep.

In the dream, far away, Lin Xiao stood on the opposite bank, a gentle smile on his lips, but he never approached. The two gazed at each other silently across the flowing water.

As dawn broke in the dream, Lin Xiao's figure became clearer. He looked at Yun Shan and said softly, "Long time no see." His voice drifted on the wind, yet it reached Yun Shan's ears clearly. She wanted to respond, but found herself unable to utter a sound, and could only watch helplessly as Lin Xiao's figure gradually blurred.

When I woke up, my pillow was soaked with tears again.

Two days later, the child's fever subsided, but his eyes were still somewhat dazed, and he kept muttering "dead person".

The adults found the matter strange. After discussing it, several men picked up farm tools and headed towards the mountain on the other side of the river.

The mountain was covered in lush vegetation, with vines entwining it, and a damp, rotten smell filled the air. The group carefully parted the weeds, and suddenly, someone exclaimed, "There really is a dead body!"

They found a corpse lying in the grass, already lifeless. They hurriedly sent someone down the mountain to report to the authorities.

This place wasn't too far from Nanzhou Prefecture, and before long, the constables arrived and carried the body away.

That night, Yunshan and Zhanqian were resting at home when they suddenly heard a series of noisy footsteps outside. Be alert, Zhanqian quietly climbed onto the roof to investigate.

Under the moonlight, a procession of nearly a hundred yamen runners carrying torches passed over the stone bridge beside the courtyard and headed up the mountain.

The torchlight illuminated the night sky and also Yun Shan's pale face.

She stood in the courtyard, watching the departing procession, and murmured, "It seems that the corpse from earlier that day was not simple."

The firelight reflected in the stream, shimmering like dancing flames.

The figures of the constables gradually disappeared into the night, the torchlight spreading up the mountaintop and then disappearing behind it. Everything returned to calm, except for the babbling brook, tirelessly telling the story of this summer night.