Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

Xingbao quickly turned his head to glance into the main room and saw Guixiang sitting at the table with her mother, mending clothes. Her mother held the needle and thread in her hands, her expression peaceful, her fingertips gently caressing the fabric. The two of them seemed unaware of the strange happening outside. He breathed a sigh of relief and quickly lowered his voice, saying in a heavy tone, "Father, I'm afraid we can't hide Uncle's matter from you today! The people crying in front are probably from the families who went to join the army with Uncle! Father, do you think we should brew the calming medicine that Master prescribed before and have Mother and Grandmother drink it as a precaution? Otherwise, they might not be able to handle the shock of hearing the news and it could affect their pregnancy."

Following Xingbao's gaze, Dad looked towards the direction of the crowd gathering in the distance. Just then, another heart-wrenching cry rang out. His face instantly turned deathly pale, his eyes filled with anxiety and panic. He immediately said, "Leave the medicine-making to me and your older brother! Xingbao, quickly ride Black Charcoal and fetch your master down from the mountain! These families all have elderly members; they might not be able to withstand the blow of parents burying their children. If something happens, it will be terrible!"

"Dad, what about Sister?" Xingbao asked hurriedly. He had just promised Guixiang that he would take her with him wherever he went. It had only been two days. If he left her alone, she would definitely throw a tantrum, and she wouldn't be easy to appease.

Father frowned, pondered for a moment, and seeing Xingbao's anxious eyes, said helplessly, "Let her go with you; it'll be good to have someone to look after her on the way! Eldest son, quickly go to the backyard and lead Heitan out. Carefully help them onto the donkey; the mountain road is slippery, don't let them fall!"

Upon hearing her father tell her and Xingbao to go find their master, Guixiang, who was in the main room, immediately dropped her needlework, ran to her mother, and whispered with her little face upturned, "Mother, my brother and I are going to the mountain to fetch our master. We'll be back soon," before hurrying off to the backyard. Her eldest brother had already led Heitan to the door. Heitan seemed to sense the urgency of the situation, nervously pawing at his hooves. Seeing the two approach, her eldest brother steadily lifted them onto the donkey's back, carefully securing the reins, and instructed, "Be careful on the road. The mountain path is difficult. Try to bring our master back as quickly as possible, don't delay!"

Xingbao nodded heavily, gently squeezing the donkey's belly with his small hand. Black Charcoal, seemingly sensing the urgency, strode steadily towards the mountains. When he and Guixiang brought their master down the mountain, just as they rounded a bend, they saw several uncles from the village rushing anxiously up the mountain, their faces filled with worry and beads of sweat on their foreheads. Seeing Xingbao and their master coming down, the uncles were like they'd seen saviors, quickly rushing to greet them, saying urgently, "Doctor Yang, we've been waiting for you! Four families in the village received death notices this time. One old lady fainted on the spot, and the other elderly people are crying uncontrollably, their breaths are weak, and they're about to collapse!"

Master's face instantly darkened, his brows furrowing as he urged urgently, "Quick, take me to see! We can't delay!" Xingbao quickly tightened the reins, urging Heitan to speed up. By the time they arrived at the scene, the crowd had gradually dispersed, and white cloth strips were hung in front of all four houses—an old custom in the village for funerals. The white cloth strips fluttered gently in the wind, like banners summoning the soul, particularly dazzling in the setting sun. The eldest brother stood beside the eight-immortal table in one of the houses, rapidly cutting white paper with scissors, preparing to write elegiac couplets. His movements were swift, but his expression was extremely solemn. People on the street busied themselves, those with the ability helping to care for the elderly, and those with the strength helping to set up the mourning tent and move tables and chairs. Everyone's face was heavy with emotion, and no one uttered a word; only suppressed sobs echoed in the air.

Wang Jiazhang was directing several people to arrange the deceased's clothes, memorial tablets, and offerings in front of the four houses. His face was grim, his eyes red, clearly also affected by the somber atmosphere. Xingbao saw his maternal grandfather, his eldest uncle, Uncle Youcai, and the other two families from afar. They stood blankly by the roadside, their eyes empty like dry wells, their lips moving slightly, unsure of who to ask for details or what to say. They seemed utterly lost, as if their souls had been ripped away. His father stood beside them, his brow furrowed, speaking softly, presumably offering gentle comfort, but his own expression was somber, his voice filled with helplessness.

Xingbao and Guixiang quickly jumped off the donkey, handed the reins to their father who was coming to greet them, and then hurried to their maternal grandfather, uncle, and several other uncles, greeting them in hushed tones before turning to help their master. Fortunately, their master had brought emergency medicines with him, neatly categorizing and labeling them in cloth bags, so they wouldn't have to search for them later. Xingbao helped his master busily, starting a fire, boiling water, gathering herbs, and decocting them, his movements so skillful they were beyond a child's comprehension, each step performed meticulously. While the medicine was decocting, he secretly took a small porcelain bottle from his pocket when no one was looking and dripped a drop of spiritual spring water into each pot. He didn't know if what he was doing was right; in this chaotic world, survival wasn't always a good thing, but he couldn't bear to see the elderly suffer such a heavy blow. Perhaps this was what people often called "out of sight, out of mind," helping in any way he could, just to put his mind at ease.

The three masters and their apprentices bustled between the four households, administering acupuncture to the unconscious elderly, feeding medicine to the grief-stricken, and patiently comforting the families. They worked until it was completely dark, when oil lamps were lit in every household, their dim light flickering in the night. Only then did they settle the elderly in all the homes before returning to the shop with their father and eldest brother. Upon entering, Xingbao was stunned—his maternal grandfather's entire family was sitting in the shop's main room, the atmosphere oppressively heavy. His grandmother and mother had red eyes and tear tracks on their faces, clearly having just cried. They were now huddled together, occasionally wiping away tears, traces of medicine still visible at the corners of their mouths. Seeing their master enter, everyone struggled to their feet, their eyes filled with gratitude and helplessness.

Seeing this, the master quickly stepped forward and took the grandfather's arm, gently comforting him, "Old brother, don't be too sad. Your health is the most important thing. Excessive sadness will damage your vital energy, which is counterproductive." He then turned to the others and added, "I'll prescribe two more doses of calming medicine for you. Rest well tonight, don't think too much about those sad things, and focus on getting better first."

After everyone sat down again, the main room fell into a deathly silence once more, with only Grandma and Mother's suppressed sobs echoing clearly. After a long while, Grandpa slowly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Dad, his voice trembling uncontrollably: "Dawei, did you already know that Youming and the others were in Shanghai, and that he was on the front lines?" The question sounded like an inquiry, but his tone concealed an undisguised reproach, and a hint of resentment at being kept in the dark by his closest relatives, like a fine needle piercing his heart.