Chapter 15: The Girl at the Well

He slept deeply and woke to daylight and the sound of his mother chopping firewood in the kitchen.

He scrambled up, rubbing his eyes. The window was bright, but small enough to leave the room dim. Kneeling, he folded the quilts, climbed down and opened the door into the hall.

The kitchen fire was already blazing. Madam Liang crouched beside it, splitting wood.

He hurried in. “Mother, let me!”

“Out, out! What’s a man doing in the kitchen? Have some ambition! Go and fetch water, sweep the floor and open the shop. Clear the snow from the entrance too. We don’t want patients slipping.”

“All right.”

He opened the shop doors and stepped outside. Silver-white snow covered the street, already churned by early feet. Icicles hung from the eaves opposite and from their own roof.

He stretched luxuriously. The air of the past seemed wonderfully fresh. After moving his arms and legs a little, he was about to fetch the buckets when several men came along the street.

Their clothes reminded him of yamen runners and constables in historical dramas. They were carrying something on a door and calling for people to move aside.

He peered over, hands tucked into his sleeves, and recoiled.

A frozen man lay on the door. Raggedly dressed, probably a beggar, he stared with wide-open eyes, his hands curled against his chest. He was as motionless as an ice sculpture.

The posture alone told Zuo Shaoyang he was dead.

The runner in front saw him.

“Morning, young doctor. Open already?”

The man evidently knew him. That made sense: his brother-in-law worked at the yamen. Hou Pu might be only an unranked clerk, but the other men there would probably know the family.

“Yes,” he replied with a polite smile. “What happened to him? Is he dead?”

“He is. A beggar. Froze in last night’s snow, in the alley just ahead. Seventh one we’ve found this morning. Damn it, if this wretched weather keeps up, not a beggar in the streets will survive. Well, we’re off.”

Zuo Shaoyang watched them carry the body away. His pleasant mood vanished.

So many homeless people frozen in a single morning. Life in the past was hard indeed.

And if they could not pay on New Year’s Eve? If his own family were turned out into the street, might this be their fate too?

A chill passed through him.

He went back to the kitchen, took up the buckets and left without a word. Following Huixiang’s directions, he turned right and trudged through ankle-deep snow, looking for the river. The well, she had said, stood on its bank.

Beyond two streets, the view opened. A quiet little river wound between banks softened with snow. Grass and reeds bent beneath it. Stone steps led down to the water. Near the bank was an arched stone covering over the well. Several young women stood beside it, their buckets at their feet, chattering.

A round-faced young married woman looked up.

“Oh, it’s the young doctor! What are you staring at?”

She nudged the woman beside her, who had a slender waist and rounded hips.

“Sneaking a look at our Xiaomei? Come down and have a proper look!”

“Are you tired of living?” Xiaomei pummelled her shoulder with little fists. “Make fun of me again and I’ll throw you in the river!”

They dissolved into laughter and play.

Their good spirits reached him, clearing some of the gloom. He stood with the buckets, grinning foolishly. Girls of the early Tang were certainly less inhibited than those of the Song or Ming. They were almost a match for modern girls.

He started down the steps.

The two stopped teasing. The women ahead had finished drawing water and were carrying their loads up. As they passed, they cast sidelong looks at him and giggled, leaving a faint fragrance in their wake.

Why were all the water carriers women?

Then he understood. This was the beginning of the Tang, after decades of war at the end of the Sui. Many young men had died, and many survivors were still in the army. Women and children made up much of the households left behind.

It was Xiaomei’s turn. Gourd ladle in hand, her cheeks pink, she smiled at him.

“Come over. You go first. I’ll fill your buckets.”

“How thoughtful!” her companion laughed, glancing at him. “Did you hear? Xiaomei can’t bear to keep you waiting. Come along! This water will be your love token.”

“You really don’t want to live!”

Xiaomei swung the ladle at her, and the two collapsed into laughter again.

Zuo Shaoyang had been rather reserved even in the modern world and rarely joked with girls. He had never faced anything like this. His face flamed.

“No, no, you go first. I’m in no hurry.”

“Oh, he’s shy!”

That set them laughing harder. Still laughing, they quickly filled their buckets and lifted the carrying poles to their shoulders. As they passed him, the teasing woman said, “Young doctor! Xiaomei’s chest hurts. Perhaps she could come and have you examine her properly one of these days?”

“Of course!” he replied with his habitual awkward laugh.

Then the thought of examining a young woman’s chest struck him as rather troubling.

“I… I can’t treat patients. Father won’t let me.”

The two stared at each other. He had taken it seriously.

A peal of laughter rang out, and they swayed up the steps with their buckets.

Afraid of further teasing, he dared not look back. He hurriedly filled his own buckets and carried them home.

After emptying them, he set out again with mixed feelings. He dreaded another encounter with the pair and their jokes; at the same time, he rather hoped to see them and talk again.

They were no longer at the well. He felt a little disappointed. Several trips later he still had not met them. Perhaps they had finished fetching water, or perhaps their routes had kept them apart.

By the time the jar was full, he was tired. There was no resting yet. He took a long-handled broom from behind the door and cleared the snow around the entrance, then swept the street snow to either side. While he was at it, he cleared his neighbours’ doorsteps too.

Across the road, a general shop opened. An old man emerged with a broom and stared at his already cleared frontage.

“Well, young Zuo! What’s come over you? You used to be too lazy to sweep your own doorstep. What’s made you so industrious today? You’ve even done ours!”

The encounter by the river had left Zuo Shaoyang in good spirits.

“Isn’t being industrious a good thing? If you think I’m meddling, I’ll leave it next time. You can take your time and enjoy sweeping it yourself.”

The old man laughed.

“You really have changed! Teasing your Uncle Cai now, are you? Thank you!”

Once the entrance was clear, Zuo Shaoyang went inside, exchanged the broom for a smaller one and swept the hall. Then he took a cloth and began dusting.

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