Once the village headmen had passed on word about dredging the ditches and building irrigation channels, the villages, just as expected, erupted in complaint and uproar.
The village meeting had not even concluded in the ancestral hall before people began shouting.
“Never mind everyone else—our family can’t spare any more labor! We’ve only got so many hands. We have to tend the fields and do work for the town, and now this? Now you want us to clear ditches and dig canals too!
“We’re people, not tools that can be worked without breaking. If this keeps up, the crops won’t die of thirst first—we’ll die of exhaustion! Hah, that would certainly make things easier!”
The village headman’s face hardened. “Stop talking such nonsense!”
A villager, red-faced and thick-necked, retorted, “I reckon the officials are trying to do exactly that. What kind of place is Yan Town? When has it ever truly lacked rain? A few rats scurrying around the village and everyone gets scared out of their wits, rushing to dig canals to fend off drought. If they’re that afraid of trouble, what’s the point of living at all?”
“Once a canal cuts through, how many seedlings will be ruined? How much land will it take? Whose land will be occupied, then? If it runs past my front door, I won’t agree to it!”
At that, the clamor grew even louder. One household claimed it would encroach upon their ancestral graves; another insisted it would ruin their feng shui.
An elderly woman said earnestly, “This year’s weather has indeed been strange. The gentlemen at the yamen mean well in wanting to repair the ditches.
“But why make such a massive project of it? If summer comes and there’s still no rain, the township head can simply hold a few rain-prayer ceremonies. Once the Rain God has accepted our offerings, he’ll have no choice but to send rain down upon us.”
It should have been laughable, yet the villagers unexpectedly echoed her one after another.
“That’s exactly right! Praying for rain works. Digging canals and building waterwheels might not even do any good.”
“When the time comes, every household can contribute some offerings, and we’ll hire someone to perform a spirit dance. If we do it sincerely enough, surely it’ll work.”
By the end of the meeting, only a handful of people supported the yamen’s plans. They had meant to sign up for the work, but seeing that the overwhelming majority had no such intention, they did not dare make themselves stand out and kept silent.
In the end, nothing was settled regarding the irrigation canals. Instead, the villagers gathered together and decided when to hold their rain-prayer ceremony.
When the village headman reported the matter to Duan Yan, Duan Yan did not lose his temper. Still, his face was as dark as the bottom of a pot.
He had known from the start that the villagers would not cooperate easily. Yet they would rather place their hopes in something as impractical as spirit dancing than roll up their sleeves and do the work that might truly solve the problem.
“Performing spirit dances and praying for rain is easy. It takes only a few hours, half a day at most. Naturally, it is far easier than an irrigation project that would take two or three months of hard labor.”
Song Fengsui tried to console Duan Yan. “These farming families have spent their whole lives in the fields, shut away in this remote little place. Their understanding extends no farther than this small patch of the world, so it is only natural that they should be somewhat ignorant. But it is not true ignorance, either. People are simply inclined by nature to seek advantage and avoid harm.”
Duan Yan let out a slow breath. The reasoning was sound, but there was no use merely sighing over it. Ordinary people would not change their minds just because he was angry.
“We still need to find a way—to make the farmers see the danger for themselves.”
Song Fengsui fell silent as well, carefully following the thread of his thoughts.
“The farming households were willing enough to hold a rain-prayer ceremony, and the idea met with an immediate, enthusiastic response. They settled on a date right away. With no rain for several days now, I suppose everyone is growing anxious.”
Song Fengsui nodded. “They’re not only worried about the weather—they’re rather superstitious as well.”
The two sat in silence for a while. Then, all at once, they looked at each other. Apparently, they had arrived at the same thought; a sly gleam shone in both their eyes.
“If we really do this, Father and Grandfather will surely give us a good scolding.”
Duan Yan said, “It may not be the most honorable method, but unless we provoke them a little, they won’t be willing to act.”
Song Fengsui pressed his lips together. “Let’s do it!”
A few days later, the village held a rain-prayer ceremony with great fanfare.
Several villages had joined forces to organize it, making the occasion especially lively. On the day itself, households from all the surrounding villages came to witness the rites.
A tall altar had been erected and piled high with fruit, wine, water, and a pig’s head. The ritual masters wore ceremonial robes and divine officials’ hats, their faces painted in solemn expressions.
The elderly spirit medium presiding over the ceremony gravely placed incense into the burner. Then he began chanting in a cadence of Sanskrit words no one could understand. The ritual masters surrounded him and launched into a vigorous dance, their movements broad and sweeping.
Duan Yan and Song Fengsui had also come to watch. All they could hear from the old medium was a stream of “Ahh~ ooh~” sounds. Neither of them believed in such things. If prayers were truly useful, there would be no wars beyond these lands. Everyone could simply kneel and beg Heaven not to let the world remain so unjust—what need would there be for fighting?
In ordinary times, worshipping the gods to pray for blessings was harmless enough. It offered peace of mind, after all, and could be called a holiday custom, adding a touch of festivity and merriment.
But when a real problem had arisen, and people still had the leisure to carry on like this instead of doing something practical—that was truly putting the cart before the horse.
After roughly a quarter of an hour of commotion, the ritual masters finished their dance. The elderly spirit medium opened his eyes and cast a furtive glance in Duan Yan’s direction. He said nothing, however, and continued officiating over the rain-prayer rite.
He took out a ritual implement, pointed it at the sky, and shouted, “The heavens are dry and the earth is parched; we beg for gracious rain. Today, we have prepared fine fruits and offerings. May the Rain God partake of them!”
When he had finished, he dipped the implement in wine and scattered droplets into the air. The villagers who had come to observe seemed as though they had received an order: all at once, they dropped to their knees and began kowtowing. “Rain God, grant us rain! Rain God, grant us rain!”
The ritual masters, having paused to catch their breath, resumed their chanting. Shaking bells in their hands, they began to dance once more.
Before long, the old spirit medium’s eyes suddenly lit up. The flames in the burning brazier abruptly surged, visibly growing larger.
His face filled with delight, the old medium fell to his knees and addressed the heavens with utmost reverence. “We respectfully welcome the Rain God, who has come to partake of the offerings.”
The farmers below, still kneeling and not yet risen, froze for a moment. Then, with delighted expressions, they began whispering among themselves.
“The Rain God has come? He’s come to eat the offerings?!”
“Since he’s come, he surely won’t refuse to send rain. The Rain God lives in the Jade Tower up in our Qianzhou—how could he possibly ignore us?”
“Yes, yes. The past few years have had favorable weather and good harvests, so we never really set out offerings or burned incense especially for the gods. That must be why they’re displeased. It’s only been dry for a few days.”
“Quiet down, all of you. Don’t disturb the Rain God while he’s drinking and eating, or he may get angry.”
The farmers immediately fell silent, mouths shut as they turned to look toward the altar.
At that moment, however, the elderly immortal presiding over the rite suddenly tensed. The pride and delight he had shown moments ago at having invited the Rain God to partake of the offerings vanished, replaced by utter alarm.
The farmers attending the ceremony sensed that something was wrong. They watched as the old immortal repeatedly kowtowed, saying, “I beg the Rain God to continue watching over the lands of Qianzhou. We offer these fruits and tributes with the utmost sincerity.”
“The world is in turmoil, and the common folk are uneasy. We cannot bear to lose the Rain God’s protection!”
The farmers did not fully understand, but from the few words spoken by the old immortal, who served as their medium, they gathered that the Rain God might no longer be protecting this region. They hastily joined him in bowing and pleading, “Rain God, please bless and protect us!”
Duan Yan and Song Fengsui exchanged a glance. Both relaxed slightly. Fortunately, Old Immortal Liu had not caused any trouble at the last moment and had followed the plan.
The rain-prayer ceremony ended with the old immortal looking as though his soul had left his body. The farmers hurried to their feet, and the two village heads who were most superstitious led the crowd forward to question Old Immortal Liu, who was so drained he could barely remain standing.
“Old Immortal Liu, what happened? What did the Rain God say?”
“That’s right, that’s right! Have we served her poorly? Is the Rain God angered and going to punish us?”
The people surged around him in a swarm, anxiously chattering over one another like ants on a hot griddle.
As though his ability to commune with spirits had been completely exhausted, the old immortal weakly raised a hand. His face was shadowed, and his eyes had begun to lose focus.
“Trouble has arisen in Heaven. The immortals of the Central Plains, the south, and the east have fallen into dispute. The Rain God went to mediate, but the conflict has yet to be resolved. To prevent even greater turmoil from engulfing the world, she has returned only to prepare for a journey to Penglai, where she will ask the reclusive immortal masters to intervene.”
“The reason the Rain God came when we set up the altar and presented the offerings today was because she was about to depart. She ate the offerings so that she could set off on her long journey.”
An elderly woman’s eyes widened. She let out an ah, her mouth open wide enough to fit an egg.
“If the Rain God leaves, what are we supposed to do? Did she say when she would return?”
“One day in Heaven is a year on earth. If the Rain God goes to Penglai, even if she is gone only three to five days, that would mean three to five years in the mortal world! How could our crops endure that?”
The crowd erupted. With the sun breaking through the clouds, their agitation boiled over all the more fiercely.
Many of the farmers were terribly frightened and uneasy, growing more afraid the more they spoke of it. Yet there were also a few stubborn souls, shaking their heads and insisting they did not believe it.
Duan Yan and Song Fengsui did not step forward then to urge the villagers to take the opportunity to dig irrigation channels and build waterworks. They quietly left instead.
The village remained in an uproar for several days before things gradually settled down. Though the sight of the unsetting sun hanging in the sky continued to unsettle everyone, nothing further happened for the time being.
Yet before many peaceful days had passed, someone in the village cried out in alarm that the water in a well had begun to flow backward. He shouted that the Rain God had gone to Penglai, and the Well God had taken back the water as well!
Before that commotion had even subsided, word spread that the roar of a waterfall in the mountains had weakened. It no longer thundered with its former force. The Water Dragon, they said, had returned to Heaven, and the river had fallen mute in farewell...
“The people of every village told the tale with such vivid detail—they said they had seen ghostly flames drifting among the graves, and that the clouds in the daytime sky resembled fish scales, a sign that vast shoals of fish knew their end was near and were sending a warning to the heavens.”
At first, the rumors spread only among the villages. But as they grew more and more extravagant, they reached the city as well, eventually landing in the ears of several officials in the yamen.
Tax Officer Qin was deeply troubled. He said to Lord Song, “How can the immortals in Heaven be so muddle-headed? It would be bad enough if they failed to perform their proper duties and caused wars to break out everywhere, but now the immortals of other realms aren’t staying in their assigned places either. They’re roaming about and bringing fresh calamities upon us!”
Song Wushen frowned darkly. How could he possibly believe such things? Sensing that something was amiss, he went looking for that young couple with the most devious minds before he had even finished work for the day.
Duan Yan confessed honestly, “We did indeed use the old immortal as part of the story beforehand for the rain-prayer gathering. The Rain God was only a pretext. Afterward, we did tamper with the wells, and we also made a few arrangements upstream of the waterfall. That was how we created those so-called ominous signs.”
“But the later stories about the clouds and the flames were not deliberately arranged. With the heat and the severe drought, underground gases catching fire naturally is normal enough. As for the clouds, people simply made up their own strange interpretations.”
“You two truly are something, inventing all these supernatural spectacles! If this were peacetime, and this got out, you’d be thrown into prison for it.”
Song Wushen had guessed that this was the handiwork of the two youths. Earlier, when they had proposed digging irrigation channels, no one had responded to the plans. Yet they had shown neither impatience nor anger; instead, they had worked their magic here.
Song Fengsui blinked guiltily and stepped forward to pat Song Wushen’s chest soothingly. “Special times call for special measures.”
“This method may be a little improper, but it works. These past days, we deliberately stopped pressing the matter of waterworks. Yet in the last day or two, village heads have begun coming one after another, urging the yamen to put the irrigation project into effect as soon as possible.”
Duan Yan was quite good at putting on an act. He had shown the village heads a troubled expression and told them that the earlier plan for waterworks had not been thought through carefully enough and needed further consideration. This time, however, it was the village heads who grew anxious, telling him about the ominous signs appearing everywhere and insisting that the matter could not be delayed.
“The villagers are all anxious now. They have enough hands to spare, and no longer fear that the canals will disrupt the feng shui or take up their land.”
Song Wushen let out a breath. “You two are clever indeed.”
He had always harbored doubts about the drought. But no one could truly speak with certainty about the workings of heaven and weather. Since they had already gone to such great lengths to bring matters to this point, there was no turning back once the bow had been drawn. He said nothing more that would serve no purpose, and instead instructed the two of them to handle the work properly.
Duan Yan agreed. Two days later, he brought along several militiamen, gathered the villagers, and, under Song Xuemu’s guidance, set the irrigation works in motion.
By then, it was already June. The blazing sun was like fire, strangely similar to the weather during last autumn’s harvest. In truth, the changing climate had shown signs of itself as early as the previous year.
Song Fengsui took out the heat-relief medicine he had prepared the year before and had medicinal soup brewed every day, distributing it free of charge to the villagers working on the waterworks.
With so many people, supplies were being used up fast. More than half of the heat-relieving medicinal herbs they had stored earlier had already been consumed. If they simply kept living off their reserves, they would soon run out. They might be able to scrape through this year, but next year would be a real headache.
Fortunately, Duan Yan had begun leasing fields to grow medicinal herbs as early as last year. This year, they had harvested some fresh herbs, dried them, and sent them to the pharmacies under their family’s control. Otherwise, they would truly have had yet another worry to contend with.
By late June, the sun was scorching. From April until now, one could count the rainy days on one hand.
The crops in the fields were suffering terribly. The drought had left the seedlings weak, and then pests had struck. Compared with previous years, at least ten percent fewer crops had survived to maturity.
Duan Yan went out almost every day, taking the lead in matters concerning irrigation. Work often ran late. It was far too hot during the day, sweat streaming down in rivulets; after sunset, it was not exactly cool, but at least the sun was no longer beating down on them. Everyone wanted to make the most of the early mornings and evenings and get more done then.
With things like this, going back and forth to town became rather inconvenient, so Song Fengsui simply came to stay at the estate. It spared him some travel, and he could also tend to the medicinal fields.
Night had fallen. The moon hung high overhead, round and bright.
Song Fengsui lit two coils of mugwort rope in the room. The estate was cooler than town, but the mosquitoes were much worse. At times they came in swarms, each one huge—mountain mosquitoes nearly as long as his little finger.
He was not especially afraid of heat, but he was terribly afraid of mosquitoes. With his fair, delicate skin, he was particularly irresistible to them.
In winter, a room needed two or three braziers of charcoal. In summer, that same room required two or three coils of mugwort rope.
And even that was not enough. After bathing, he still had to apply a thin layer of peppermint salve to his body before he could feel comfortable.
He had only just lit the mugwort when Duan Yan emerged straight from the inner room after his bath, bare-chested.
When they had first married, the weather had still been cool. Duan Yan knew that Song Fengsui was fond of cleanliness, so every time before they did anything, he would wash himself thoroughly. After a while, Song Fengsui could tell exactly what he had in mind just by seeing him bathe—and by how long he spent doing it.
At first, he had not minded the trouble at all. Even though he would only have to take them off again shortly afterward, he would still put on his nightclothes properly before coming out.
Later, as the weather grew hotter, although they did not do it every day, he still bathed every day. And as his skin darkened from the sun, his face seemed to grow thicker as well. At night, Song Fengsui almost never saw Duan Yan wearing clothes in the room anymore.
...Trousers, at least, he still wore.
“Put some of that peppermint salve on me too. Everything about this estate is fine, except there are too many mosquitoes. I got bitten twice while bathing just now.”
Song Fengsui took the salve over and applied it for him. “Who told you to rush straight into the inner room? I didn’t even have time to tell you I was lighting the mugwort.”
Duan Yan said, “We were digging channels to bring water down from the mountains today. There were too many rocks underground, and breaking them took a lot of effort. After working for most of the day, I was unbearably hot. I just wanted to hurry up and take a bath.”
After saying that, he lowered his brows, sounding somewhat aggrieved. “When I asked you inside to light some and bring it in for me, you refused.”
Song Fengsui pinched his arm. “I was busy.”
Duan Yan’s eyes shifted. He leaned in close and sniffed at Song Fengsui’s neck. The mint herbal salve smelled so strongly that it had completely covered Song Fengsui’s usual cool, subtle fragrance.
Though they had both applied the same salve, he still thought it smelled better on Song Fengsui.
Song Fengsui’s hair brushed against his skin, making it itch slightly. He lightly pushed Duan Yan’s head aside, then continued rubbing the salve into his arm. After exerting himself all day, the muscles in Duan Yan’s arm were a little firmer than usual. Song Fengsui followed their lines, gently working them loose.
“Look how much darker you’ve gotten. It’ll probably take until winter for your complexion to recover. Getting tanned is one thing, but don’t be so careless that you end up sunburned. A summer sunburn is even more troublesome than frostbite in winter.”
Unable to help feeling concerned for him, he finished his reminders and told Duan Yan to lie still so he could ease his muscles.
But Duan Yan did not move. Instead, he caught Song Fengsui’s hand. “You mean to put me through all that?”
“I’m kindly helping you loosen your muscles, and you call it putting you through something. If you only work yourself strong without stretching them out afterward, one day all your muscles will knot up until you look like some bullfrog. Don’t expect me to care then.”
Duan Yan could not help laughing at that. He kissed the small mole beside Song Fengsui’s nose. “Don’t I recall someone once telling me that judging people and things by appearances was the lowest sort of judgment?”
Song Fengsui pressed his lips together. “I never said looking like that meant one had poor character. It’s just not very pleasing to the eye.”
Duan Yan stroked Song Fengsui’s earlobe. “Then shouldn’t you properly inspect whether it’s still pleasing to the eye now?”
Song Fengsui thought to himself that he had inspected it only the night before last. How could it possibly have changed in just a day or two?
He did not want to indulge him. While seeing patients earlier that day, his lower back had still been faintly sore; he had nearly lost patience with his consultations.
“Just once.”
Duan Yan wrapped himself around Song Fengsui’s narrow waist beneath his thin sleeping robe, looking at him with a thoroughly insincere expression.
Song Fengsui glanced at him, then turned his eyes away. It would have been fine if Duan Yan had not brought it up, but now that he had, Song Fengsui could not help recalling the feeling of it.
The tips of his ears grew a little warm. Though he had doubts about how trustworthy Duan Yan’s words were—over the past two months, it had never gone quite as he claimed it would—still… it was early yet, and there was nothing particularly urgent that he had to do tomorrow...
Before he could sort out his thoughts, he was already on the bed.
Song Fengsui bit Duan Yan’s shoulder, making a rather halfhearted display of how he had not truly intended for this to happen.
Then he learned just how reliable Duan Yan could be. This man really did mean what he said: once, and only once.
After washing himself again, Song Fengsui lay with his lips pursed, both eyes fixed quietly on the canopy overhead.
Duan Yan adjusted the quilt, intending to hold him as they slept. Seeing Song Fengsui’s expression, he could not make sense of it, and followed his gaze up at the canopy—but there was nothing there at all.
“You’re still upset?”
Duan Yan had thought Song Fengsui was unhappy because he had made the decision himself without receiving a clear agreement first.
Song Fengsui said nothing, only gave Duan Yan a light kick.
Duan Yan let him do as he pleased. After all, he had gotten what he wanted, so he coaxed him, “Then next time, I’ll definitely listen to you.”
Song Fengsui grew even more irritated. “Now I have to bathe all over again!”
Duan Yan froze for a moment. Hadn't they just bathed? He hadn't gone anywhere or worked up another sweat, so what was this new way of tormenting him?
Doubtful as he was, he moved quickly, swinging his legs off the bed to get up and fetch more water. Song Fengsui, thoroughly exasperated, rose with him and bit down hard on his back again.
The pain made Duan Yan wince, but it also cleared his head.
He gave a dry cough, then turned to kiss him. “You should have said so earlier. Then there would have been no need to stop and go through all that trouble just now.”
In the end, they bathed for the third time.
