As soon as she heard this, Lin Wu raised her hands and gave a light round of applause. “Wonderful. Then A Wu will wait for A Jing’s grand courtyard.”
Praised so warmly, Lin Jing bashfully scratched his little head again before sitting down and lowering his gaze to fiddle with his small purse.
After his bold declaration, he seemed filled with energy. He hopped down from his chair and went over to inspect the leaf-vein pieces carefully once more. After all, they concerned his future sales business at school, so he couldn’t afford to be careless.
“A Wu, are they completely dry?” He badly wanted to touch them, but was afraid of damaging the delicate leaf veins. His little hand reached halfway out before retreating, leaving him to stare at them longingly.
“They’re dry already, but we still need to soak the peach gum.” As she spoke, Lin Wu submerged the peach gum in clean water. It had to be soaked overnight so that it would dissolve more easily when boiled the next day. Now that peach trees were widely cultivated, peach gum was no longer particularly precious. It was mostly used medicinally, though some people also mixed it into ink to thicken it. Few people, however, likely used it to coat bookmarks as they did.
While the peach gum soaked, Lin Wu carried a wooden basin to the well to wash clothes. Fortunately, there was a well in their courtyard, so they didn’t have to go to the river or queue at the communal well to draw water. It saved them considerable time going back and forth. Every time she did this, she felt that renting this courtyard had been well worth the money.
The well water was icy cold against her hands. The weather grew colder by the day, yet the clothes she was scrubbing were still thin, and they could only ward off the chill by layering several garments. They also needed to start preparing winter clothes and bedding as soon as possible, but that would mean another considerable expense.
Cotton existed in this era, though people generally called it jibei. It had yet to become widespread, however, and was grown only in small quantities around Nan Ya. It was expensive and hard to obtain, well beyond the means of ordinary families.
Although cotton was unavailable to most people, there were plenty of other choices for stuffing winter clothes, but those were also astonishingly costly. Wealthy families naturally favored furs—fox, mink, leopard, or rabbit—which were both light and warm, as well as a display of status.
The somewhat better-off townspeople generally used silk floss. This was made from the double-cocoon silkworms that could not be spun into thread during the reeling process—in other words, the leftover scraps of silk. A liang of ordinary floss cost one hundred wen, while the inferior variety, known as loose floss, cost seventy wen per liang. To prepare two winter outfits for herself and Lin Jing, along with one thick quilt, would likely consume more than half the copper coins they had on hand.
There were naturally cheaper methods. In the countryside, people often stuffed quilted garments with hemp fibers, reed fluff, or even dried grass. But those materials were neither warm enough nor resistant to moisture. They became cold and stiff against the body, and a moment’s carelessness could lead to illness. In the end, such savings could cost more than they were worth.
No wonder winter was hardest on the poor. People might freeze to death, or catch cold and die from a winter illness. The histories and local records were filled with accounts of “the common people dying in great numbers from the cold.” Every winter, it seemed, there were frozen corpses by the roadside.
Cold found its way through every crack. This was an expense they ultimately could not cut.
At that moment, Lin Jing was wearing a fine-cloth undershirt, a hemp tunic over it, and a half-worn short outer jacket. Though he had three layers on, all of them were unpadded garments without any cotton or other filling.
He was dragging a broom considerably taller than himself around the courtyard, swinging it with all his might. The broom was too heavy for him, and he had to use both little hands to move it. His body swayed back and forth with every sweep, sending the few scattered vine leaves skittering and drifting around.
Perhaps because he had been moving and working without pause, his little face was flushed, and he showed no sign of feeling cold.
When he saw Lin Wu wringing clothes, he came over and insisted on wringing his own little tunic. His small hands struggled to twist the wet cloth, and his face grew bright red with the effort.
“Careful not to get your clothes wet. You’ll catch cold easily.” Lin Wu took the crumpled tunic from him and, as she did so, felt his little hands. The fingertips were indeed somewhat cold.
Lin Jing, however, paid no attention. He squatted down, rolled his sleeves up a little farther, and reached into the basin for another one of his garments. “I’m not cold at all. Moving around keeps me nice and warm.”
“Our A Jing is so capable. If you keep this up, A Wu will have nothing left to do.” Smiling, Lin Wu took the wet garment from him, wrung out the water, and handed it back.
Lin Jing took the wrung-out clothes and scampered to the clothesline on the other side of the courtyard. First, he gave them a practiced snap to shake them out. Then he rose onto his toes and carefully draped them over the line, smoothing the hem with his hands. He looked very much the part.
Once the clothes were hung, Lin Wu took his hand and led him into the kitchen. “Come on. Help A Wu keep an eye on the fire for a while. It’s warm in here.”
For their afternoon meal, she was making yam-and-broad-bean meatballs, along with a dish of simply stir-fried blanched cabbage. This was a common home-style dish at the time: the Chinese cabbage was blanched until half-cooked, wrung dry, chopped, and quickly stir-fried in a little oil. Some people liked to add vinegar, fennel, shredded ginger, and dried orange peel for extra flavor, but Lin Wu didn’t care for such a complicated taste, so she added only salt and oil.
Since the meal called for yam, she broke off a few small pieces and had Lin Jing bury them in the charcoal ash beneath the stove fire to roast.
She remembered that when she was a child, tending the stove fire in winter had been a wonderful job. It kept her warm, and she could roast sweet potatoes or taro in the ashes. Food cooked that way carried the fragrance of charcoal and tasted especially sweet. Unfortunately, they had no sweet potatoes now.
Lin Jing seemed to feel the same way. He carefully buried the yam pieces in the ash and kept poking his head over to check on them from time to time. The yam ended up a little overcooked, its skin scorched black and hard, and peeling it left his fingers covered in soot. But the moment he took a bite, his eyes curved into delighted crescents.
“This is so fragrant, so fragrant.” He had a black ring around his mouth, but didn’t mind in the slightest. “It tastes even better than the one we roasted in the mountains the first time.”
“Maybe because that one was roasted together with fish and picked up a fishy smell.” Lin Wu couldn’t help laughing.
Lin Jing still seemed to remember those days in the mountains. From time to time, he brought them up. Yet he appeared to have forgotten the hardships of traveling back and forth, and even the times he had waited alone in the cave for her return. He remembered only the cool mint, the wild mugwort and fleeceflower root they could dry and sell, and the yam and fish they had roasted in their earthen oven.
Lin Wu couldn’t help patting his little head.
He was lowering his head to peel a piece of yam that had not been scorched quite so badly. Carefully stripping away the skin, he held it out to her. “Here, A Wu. You eat it.”
“Thank you, A Jing. It seems our A Jing isn’t just good at keeping accounts—he may have the makings of a fine chef too.” Lin Wu accepted the yam and teased him.
At once, Lin Jing clapped the ash from his hands with great seriousness. “I remember how long I roasted it this time. Next time I definitely won’t let it get so charred.”
By nightfall, the chill had grown more intense, and the room had turned colder as well. Lin Wu felt her hands and feet beginning to grow cold. When she reached over to touch Lin Jing’s little hands, they were icy too.
“Are you cold?” Lin Wu asked softly as Lin Jing curled up beneath the quilt.
Lin Jing cupped his warm cheeks in both hands and shook his head. “I’m not cold.”
“Your little hands are cold already, and you still say you’re not cold.” Lin Wu tucked the quilt more securely around him, then took the last old short jacket from the clothes chest, shook it out, and spread it over the quilt.
“If you feel cold, you must tell A Wu. If you catch a chill and fall ill, you’ll feel awful.” She thought for a moment, then added, “And we’d have to spend money on a physician and medicine. You’d have to drink bitter herbal broth too.”
At once, Lin Jing’s little brows drew together.
Lin Wu continued, “If you’re sick, you won’t have any strength. You won’t be able to make pastries or set up your stall, and you won’t be able to earn money. Just think how frightening that would be.”
“How frightening!” He pulled the quilt up higher, revealing only a pair of round, bright eyes. “It costs money, and you can’t earn any while you’re sick!”
“Exactly.” Lin Wu let out a long sigh and shook her head. “So we absolutely mustn’t fall ill.”
“I understand. If I get cold, I’ll tell A Wu.” Lin Jing looked solemn.
After frightening little Lin Jing, Lin Wu thought for a moment, then went to the kitchen and fetched an old earthenware jar. She dug a few dark-red embers, no longer bearing open flames, from the stove and put them inside, covering them with a thin layer of ash. Then she returned to the room and placed the jar beneath the bed.
To prevent the room from becoming stuffy, she pushed the window open a crack and left the door ajar as well.
Hopefully, the charcoal in the jar would provide enough warmth to get them through the night. She had no idea how much a bed warmer cost. If she couldn’t afford winter clothes and quilts all at once, having a bed warmer to heat the bedding would be a good alternative.
Besides, the weather was growing colder by the day. She didn’t know whether the chilled jade cakes would still sell well. But winter clothes and bedding had to come first for now. The money for buying a pushcart would have to wait.
Then again, over the past few days at the market, she had noticed some tea stalls using portable clay charcoal stoves to boil water. Firewood was also available for sale at the market. Perhaps she could buy a clay stove first and sell some hot food alongside the jade cakes?
The next day, Lin Wu made the usual seventy-two jade cakes. The cold outside was biting that morning, and her clothes were still far too thin. She didn’t want Lin Jing to suffer in the cold with her, but she was even less comfortable leaving him home alone. In the end, she filled his little gourd with hot water and had him hold it against his chest to keep warm on the way.
Winter clothes had become an urgent necessity.
When they arrived at the market, business for the jade cakes was still fairly decent, but the cold weather had clearly taken its toll. It took them longer than the day before to sell everything.
After standing in the chilly wind all morning, Lin Wu’s hands and face felt stiff. Fortunately, hot water was sold at the market. Whenever the water in their gourd cooled, she could refill it, which was just enough to keep them going.
After packing up, Lin Wu took Lin Jing by the hand and headed straight for a general store.
As soon as they entered, they saw several gleaming bed warmers displayed on the shelves. They were evidently a popular item that season.
Lin Wu took one down for a closer look. Its rounded body was smooth and lustrous, made of tin. Several earthenware versions sat beside it, more crudely shaped.
To prevent the private minting of copper coins, the current dynasty had imposed a ban on copper. As a result, copper bed warmers were not found on the market; most were made of tin or earthenware. Tin ones were expensive but retained heat well, while earthenware ones were cheaper but cooled quickly.
“Shopkeeper, how much are these bed warmers?” Lin Wu called toward the counter.
The shopkeeper, who had been lowering his head and working an abacus, looked up. “The tin ones are two hundred and sixty copper coins each.”
Just as she’d expected, they weren’t cheap. Lin Wu asked again, “Do you have any smaller ones? One for a child?”
“They’re all this size. Bigger means warmer, and adults and children use the same size.” The shopkeeper waved his hand. “Since you’re sincerely interested, I’ll let you have one for two hundred and fifty.”
Lin Wu understood what he meant. She had assumed that a smaller one would be cheaper. But tin itself wasn’t particularly expensive, and making a smaller warmer would require nearly as much labor. At most, it would save a little material. Even if it were smaller, the price probably wouldn’t be much lower.
She ran her fingers over the smooth, rounded tin, but in the end, she put it back.
They still had neither winter clothes nor bedding. She needed to think carefully before spending that much.
She turned and walked out of the shop. A gust of cold wind struck her in the face, making her shiver. She quickly drew Lin Jing behind her.
Lin Jing obediently stayed close by her side. Then his little hand suddenly slipped from her fingers. Lowering his head, he pulled the warm little gourd from inside his clothes and pushed it into Lin Wu’s hands without a word.
“For you to warm your hands.”
He looked up at Lin Wu, a hint of pride on his face. “I don’t want a bed warmer. The gourd is better than a bed warmer. It doesn’t cost anything, and it’s light.”
The warmth suddenly spreading through her palm made Lin Wu pause. She lowered her head and looked at his little face, reddened by the wind. Then she thought of his hands and feet, which took so long to warm at night beneath the quilts.
Remembering that there was a tinsmith’s shop on the main street, she changed direction and led Lin Jing toward it.
“Come on.” Lin Wu pushed the gourd back into his arms. “Let’s go see what they have at the tinsmith’s.”
Inside the shop, a craftsman was seated, hammering away at something. Lin Wu glanced at the shelves and saw several bed warmers there as well. Their designs were nearly identical to those in the general store.
“Master, how much do you charge for a bed warmer?” Lin Wu asked as she approached.
“The ones I make use solid materials. If you accidentally knock one against something later, you can bring it back here and I’ll repair it.” The craftsman looked up and wiped his face. “Two hundred and sixty copper coins apiece.”
The price was the same as at the general store. That made sense—if the ones here were cheaper, the general store would have no business selling them.
But Lin Wu had caught on to what the tinsmith had said about repairs. After a moment’s thought, she asked, “Then… do you have any pieces with minor flaws? To be honest, I’m rather short on money. I only need something that can keep us warm. I don’t mind whether it’s new or used, as long as it works.”
The craftsman paused and carefully examined the woman and child before him.
The woman was dressed simply, with a bamboo basket strapped to her back. The child stood neatly at her side. Though his several layers of clothing made his outfit look somewhat mismatched, everything was clean and tidy. It was clear that she took good care of him.
A bed warmer was a considerable expense for an ordinary family. Those who were willing to buy one were usually gritting their teeth to add it to a daughter’s dowry. Who would want a flawed piece? Wealthy families, meanwhile, wouldn’t even look at imperfect goods. They would complain that the carved patterns weren’t fine enough.
Yet this woman, clearly living under such difficult circumstances, was still thinking of getting her child something to keep him warm. That was rare.
“These things can be used for many years. Even if they’re damaged, they can usually still be repaired and used. We don’t normally keep flawed pieces in stock,” the craftsman explained. Then he changed his tone. “Still, you came at just the right time. I happen to have one solid piece here.”
As he spoke, he rose and pulled a bed warmer from the bottom of an old wooden chest in the corner.
“It was brought in by Master Wang a few days ago. His young son accidentally smashed it before they ever got a chance to use it. The impact loosened the rim around the lid. I rethreaded it, and now the lid seals tightly again. Look at the thickness of this tin—not like those flimsy ones made from thin sheets.”
Lin Wu took it from him. It was indeed heavy and sturdy, with a warm luster to the tin. But one side had been badly dented, making it decidedly unattractive.
“It is a bit caved in, but once it’s tucked beneath the bedding, the shape won’t matter. If I can’t sell it in the next few days, I was planning to melt it down and remake it. I could sell it for three hundred copper coins. But for you, I’ll only charge for the material. How about one hundred and sixty?” the craftsman offered.
Lin Wu pointed to the dent. “Master, let’s be honest. With a dent like this, an ordinary family wouldn’t want it. It doesn’t sound auspicious, either. And if you melt it down and remake it, you’ll still have to spend quite a bit of time and effort. How about this: one hundred and twenty copper coins. You’ll recover your costs immediately, and I’ll be able to get my child something warm. What do you say?”
“Madam, at that price…” The craftsman shook his head repeatedly. “I’d barely recover the cost of the metal.”
After a lengthy round of haggling, Lin Wu finally bought it for one hundred and thirty-five copper coins.
When she walked out of the tinsmith’s shop, even the cold wind outside seemed less biting.
To test whether it leaked, the craftsman had poured a little hot water into it. The bed warmer was now clutched tightly in Lin Jing’s arms, and he walked along with quick, happy little steps.
“Mom, look,” he said, raising the hot-water bottle a little higher as if showing off a prized treasure. He ran his fingers over the dent. “There’s a little hollow here—just the right size for my chin.”
Then he really did rest his chin in the dip, grinning. “I like this hot-water bottle.”
Lin Wu couldn’t help laughing and teased him, “It really was made to fit A Jing. But didn’t A Jing just say the gourd was better than the hot-water bottle?”
At once, Lin Jing freed one little hand and pulled Lin Wu’s hand over to the bottle’s belly. “The gourd is good, and the hot-water bottle is good too. The hot-water bottle is big, so Mom can use it. A Jing is little, so I’ll use the gourd.”
As he spoke, he offered the heavy hot-water bottle back to Lin Wu, then picked up his own little gourd, which was nearly cold.
Lin Wu handed the hot-water bottle back to him and gave the folding stool in her other hand a little shake. “My hands are full—I still have to carry this. I’ll have to trouble A Jing to hold the hot-water bottle for me a little longer. It’s so big and warm that one person can’t use all of it; it’s just right for two. Then A Jing can stay warm too.”
In truth, the hot-water bottle could hardly be called big. It was probably the fact that it hadn’t been cheap that made him think it was enormous.
Lin Jing seemed to weigh the matter carefully before blinking his eyes. “If it’s for two people… then the hot-water bottle is just a tiny bit better than the gourd.”
