Qin's Moon: Yang Shi's Long Song

It was just dawn when Yang Hui went out.

He walked along the base of the city wall for a while, without a specific destination, just "taking a walk." This was a habit he had developed in Guigu—when encountering things he couldn't understand, he would walk, walk a bit, and then come back; sometimes the answer would just appear on the way. Last night, Han Fei's "waiting for an answer" and Zi Nu's "you are the first" were like two pebbles thrown into the water; he hadn't even waited for the ripples to spread. This morning, he wanted them to disperse first.

As he approached the Xicheng vegetable market, he saw an old farmer squatting under a locust tree by the roadside, a bamboo basket filled with persimmons in front of him. The persimmons were small, flat and round, with a thin layer of white frost on their skin. Yang Hui glanced at them as he passed by, and the old farmer looked up at him and said, "Want to try some? If they're not sweet, they're free."

Yang Hui stopped. Not because of the basket of persimmons. It was because he had thought of something—Yan Lingji had never eaten anything from "autumn." She had woken up in autumn, but in the days since she emerged from the ice, she had only had hot porridge. She probably hadn't seen persimmons, a seasonal fruit, in ten years.

How much?

"Three coins and four pieces."

Yang Hui took out a copper coin and bought four persimmons. The old farmer wrapped them in clean lotus leaves and handed them to him. He carried the bag of persimmons back, his pace quickening slightly compared to the way there. When he reached the back gate of Zilan Pavilion, he saw Yan Lingji sitting on a stone stool in the courtyard. Today she was wearing a light-colored old dress, her hair tied up with a cloth ribbon, and she was bent over rubbing a blade of grass. Hearing footsteps, she looked up and saw the lotus leaf bag in his hand, her gaze falling on it. "What did you bring?"

Yang Hui walked over, squatted down beside the stone pier, placed the lotus leaf package on the stone between them, and lifted a corner. Four persimmons were revealed, their orange-red skins gleaming warmly in the morning light. He looked at her and said, "I bought them from a roadside vendor on Xicheng Road. The old farmer selling the persimmons said they were free if they weren't sweet."

Yan Lingji looked at the persimmons. Her gaze lingered on them for a moment, then she reached out and picked one up. Her fingers paused for a second as they touched the skin, as if savoring the texture—not cool, but slightly soft, still warm from the sun. She picked up the persimmon, turning it over and over to examine it, then spoke: "There was a persimmon tree in my yard when I was little."

Yang Hui didn't reply. He sat on the ground next to the stone stool, his hands on his knees, looking at her.

Yan Lingji placed the persimmon in her palm. "That tree wasn't big. It didn't bear many fruits each autumn, maybe seven or eight. One year it had a lot, and I climbed up to pick them, but I fell. I scraped my knee. Later, that tree was cut down—it was cut down before I left. I don't know who cut it down."

Her voice was flat, as if she were talking about someone else's story. But her fingers, holding the persimmon, tightened slightly. Yang Hui noticed. He didn't say anything like, "That's in the past," or "Don't think about it." He sat beside her, waiting quietly. She looked down at the persimmon in her palm, and after a while, said softly, "The orange-red skin is exactly the same as this one."

Yang Hui said, "Try it."

Yan Lingji paused for a moment. She brought the persimmon to her mouth and took a small bite. The skin broke, and juice seeped out slightly from the crack, glistening moistly. She chewed a few times and swallowed. Then she took another bite.

"Is it sweet?"

Yan Lingji looked at the persimmon in her hand, then at him. "Sweet."

Yang Hui sat beside the stone stool, the morning light shining on the lotus leaf bundle between them. Three of the four persimmons remained. He reached for one, peeled it, and took a bite. Sweet. Definitely sweet. He finished the persimmon, placed the pit on the stone steps beside him, then stood up and went back to the kitchen to wash his hands. Yan Lingji sat on the stone stool, finished her persimmon, and quietly placed the pit next to Yang Hui's. The two pits were side by side, one slightly larger, the other slightly smaller. A breeze blew from the direction of the locust tree, ruffling a few stray hairs on her forehead. She stood up, carefully wrapped the three persimmons on the lotus leaf, held them in her arms, and went back to her room.

When Yang Hui came out of the kitchen, the two persimmon pits on the stone steps were gone. Whether they had been blown away by the wind or taken by her, he didn't ask. But before he went inside, he saw a clean lotus leaf on the windowsill of the side room, with three persimmons lying on it, neatly arranged.

It's like someone left an autumn on that windowsill.