Chapter 14: A Walk Through the Snow

The sudden cold made Zuo Shaoyang shudder. He closed the door, waited a moment, then slowly eased it open again.

A narrow alley ran past the back of the shop. Both ends disappeared into darkness. Snow lay white on the ground, reflecting just enough light for him to make out what was nearby. Opposite stood a grey-brick wall some two zhang high. He had no idea whose property lay behind it.

He set the lamp on the hearth and carefully opened the door wider. Despite his efforts, the wood gave a teeth-grating creak. He listened. Nothing stirred in the inner rooms. Reassured, he slipped outside and drew the door shut.

Something cold touched his face. He brushed it away: a snowflake. So it was still snowing. Looking up, he could make out flakes drifting through the murky sky.

He tucked his hands into his sleeves, hunched his shoulders and turned right.

Footsteps had packed the snow into ice. It was slippery enough that he had to steady himself against the freezing brickwork as he went.

Before long, the high wall gave way to wooden planks and lower houses. A little farther on, a stink of excrement and urine came from a recessed corner. Peering in, he thought he could make out a privy. He waved a hand before his nose and hurried past.

Soon he reached a crossroads in the alleys. In the pitch dark, there was no knowing which way to go. Everything was quiet. The second watch must be near; he dared not stray far.

He turned back, passed the shop’s rear door and continued the other way. Houses rose and dipped along the lane. A few still showed lights. Now and then he heard a child crying or voices inside, with a dog barking somewhere farther off.

At a T-junction he stopped and looked both ways. The two dark openings resembled a monster’s eyes. Uneasy, he retraced his steps with a hand against the wall, let himself into the shop and slid the bolt home.

He was chilled through. His nose tickled and he sneezed several times, covering his mouth lest he wake his parents. That only made it more uncomfortable.

Arms wrapped around himself, he stamped the packed snow from his shoes. His shoulders felt icy too. He touched them and found a coating of snow. It had accumulated in so short a walk; the fall must be heavy.

He felt his way back to his room and climbed the ladder.

Nights in the past were dull indeed. Up with the sun, down with the sun, and scarcely any nightlife between. No internet, no computer, no television or films. In a household this poor, even lamp oil had to be spared. Reading was hardly an option.

Nothing for it but sleep.

Kneeling on the bed, he took off his lined robe. Beneath it he wore only his underclothes. Shivering, he spread the robe over the quilt. A draught came through the window at the far end of the bed, so he decided to lie the other way round to keep it off his head.

He blew out the lamp, crawled beneath the covers and curled into a trembling ball.

Surely he would warm up soon.

A long while passed. The bed remained as cold as an icehouse. His nose began to run, then itch. He sneezed again and again.

The sneezing set his stomach aching. Perhaps the cold had got into him during his walk. He tried lying still, but the pain worsened. He would have to use the privy.

He reluctantly got up and put on his kudzu-and-hemp jacket. At least he knew where the privy was. Just as he was about to climb down, another problem occurred to him.

What would he wipe himself with?

Toilet paper was out of the question. Twigs? Little sticks? The thought turned his stomach.

He groped about and touched one of his father’s handwritten medical books on the shelf.

Perfect. The thing was riddled with errors, and what he carried in his own head was a hundred times better. It was no use to him anyway. The soft xuan paper would do nicely.

He took a book, tore out a few sheets and crumpled them together. Then he felt his way down the ladder, through the kitchen and along the alley to the privy.

Inside, he shut and bolted the wooden door. Only when he tried to undo his clothes did he discover how awkward a long robe made the business. After a considerable struggle, he managed it.

Now he understood why people called going to the privy “changing clothes”. Long robes and skirts were a nuisance. A short jacket would have served much better.

Relieving himself in a draughty privy on a bitter winter night, with the wind howling through every gap, was thoroughly miserable.

At last he finished, straightened his jacket and stumbled home through the dark. Having his bare backside exposed to that cold had done him no good. A succession of sneezes rang out in the silent night. He clapped a hand over his mouth, climbed to his bed, took off the jacket and crawled beneath the quilt.

His teeth chattered. Clear mucus streamed from his nose. The sneezing went on.

Wave after wave of cold swept through him, and now his nose was blocked. He took his own pulse. It floated under his fingers like wood on water.

He had caught a cold.

He considered getting up for medicine, but medicines here generally had to be decocted. Shivering like this, how could he possibly move?

The door below creaked open.

Madam Liang stood in the doorway with an oil lamp.

“Zhong, what’s the matter? Have you caught a chill? It must be from wandering about in the snow!”

She began climbing the ladder.

“I’m fine… ah-choo! Ah-choo!”

His nose and mouth were streaming.

“Is there any paper? I need to wipe my nose!”

“Who uses paper for that?”

She took a handkerchief from beneath her arm and held it out.

“Here.”

He sat up, bare-chested and shaking, to take it and blow his nose.

She cried out at the sight of him.

“Oh, you’ve taken your jacket off! No wonder you’re freezing. Put it back on this instant. I’ll make you some ginger broth.”

She climbed down with the lamp.

Only then did he realise his mistake. There was no cotton here in the Tang, and poor families could not afford quilts padded with silk floss. In winter they slept in their clothes beneath their bedding. He had undressed as he would in the modern world. No wonder he could not get warm.

He hurriedly put his jacket back on and curled beneath the quilt. Still cold, but a little better.

Zuo Gui’s voice came from the hall.

“He’s caught too severe a chill. Ginger broth won’t do. Give him Ephedra Decoction (Ma Huang Tang).”

Zuo Shaoyang poked out his head.

“My nose is badly blocked and running. Add some cocklebur fruit (cang er zi) and magnolia flower buds (xin yi)!”

“What do you know?” his father snapped. “Keep yourself covered!”

“Should I add the cocklebur fruit and magnolia buds, then?” Madam Liang asked.

A pause.

“Yes,” Zuo Gui said quietly.

“All right.”

Before long, lamplight returned. His mother set the lamp on the medicine-processing stove and carefully climbed the ladder with a large bowl.

“Here, Zhong. Drink this. Your father prescribed it. Take the medicine, have a sleep and you’ll be better.”

Shaking all over, he sat up, took the steaming bowl and drank it down.

From below, near the door, came Zuo Gui’s voice.

“Put this quilt over him as well. Keep him warm and let him sweat.”

Zuo Shaoyang looked down. His father stood slightly stooped, a quilt in his arms, gazing up. A stray draught stirred his grizzled goatee. In the flickering lamplight, it floated and faded like the beard of an old immortal in a painting.

Their anxious faces brought back his own childhood. When he had been ill, his parents too had sat by his bed and watched him take his medicine.

His nose stung. Tears filled his eyes.

“Father! Mother!” he said thickly. “I’m all right.”

Madam Liang smiled, taking the empty bowl.

“Lie down. Keep warm, sweat a little and get some sleep.”

“All right.”

He curled up again. A weight settled over him as she spread the second quilt. Warmth reached him at once. He could not tell whether it came from the extra bedding or from their care.

He heard her descend. A little while passed, but the door did not close. He peered out.

Both were still looking up, concern written on their faces.

“Go to bed,” he said hoarsely. “You’ll catch cold yourselves. I’m all right now.”

“Yes, yes,” his mother said. “Call us if you feel worse.”

“I will.”

The door closed and darkness returned.

With his jacket on, the extra quilt over him and the ginger broth soon taking effect, he began to feel comfortable. He had had an exhausting day. Listening to the wind outside, he quickly fell asleep.

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