Chapter 107: The Flames of War

Chapter 107: Chapter 107: The Flames of War

The next day, the wind that had raged all night finally subsided.

Ji Huan gently pried away Dabao’s little hand, which had been clutching the inner tunic at her waist all night. She slipped off the kang quietly, walked to the window, lifted the oil felt, and looked outside. Sure enough, it was snowing—and heavily at that.

The ground, the rooftops, and the treetops were all covered in a thick, silvery blanket. Nothing but a vast, boundless white remained between heaven and earth.

Everyone had been waiting for this snow, but it certainly had a sense of timing. Today was New Year’s Eve, the moment the old year turned into the new. ’It would have been so much better if it had snowed after the New Year.’

But complaints were just complaints. No matter what, the New Year still had to be celebrated.

As the sky gradually brightened, the sound of firecrackers echoed from all corners of the village, an incessant CRACKLE and POP.

Dabao was startled awake. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes for a moment before starting to clumsily dress himself.

Ji Huan had now trained him to dress himself, but the padded winter clothes were too thick. He managed to get one leg in, but struggled to get the other one through. Ji Huan went over to help him.

After they washed up, they didn’t rush to eat breakfast. It was the custom in Dafeng Village to visit the graves on the morning of New Year’s Eve to pay respects to the ancestors.

Although Ji Huan couldn’t regard Ji Lianbai and Mrs. Wei as her own parents, she was, after all, occupying their daughter’s body. She had to shoulder the responsibilities that came with being their child.

She wrapped a scarf around Dabao, put on his gloves, and added a layer of old hide around his legs. Then she picked up the prepared basket of offerings, locked the door, and the two of them set off toward the burial hill.

In this era, arable land was scarce and therefore precious, so only a few people chose to bury their deceased relatives in the fields. Dafeng Village was surrounded by mountains, and one to the southwest—barren, with little vegetation and no dangerous beasts—had gradually become the top choice for burials. The villagers all called it the burial hill.

Only after they stepped outside did she realize the severity of this late snow. It had come down with a vengeance. The drifts were already nearly up to Ji Huan’s knees, and walking was exhausting. Each step left a deep pit behind.

As for Dabao, the little turnip, it was out of the question. If he accidentally stepped into a dip in the ground, he would likely vanish from sight.

Ji Huan was having second thoughts about bringing him, but Dabao refused to stay home alone. Ji Huan had no choice but to hand him the offering basket to hold, then carry him on her back, panting as she trudged forward at a snail’s pace.

The snow hadn’t stopped. Now and then, a few large flakes, like goose feathers, would drift down and land on Ji Huan’s head.

Dabao would use his free hand to pick them off for her, plucking away each flake as it landed.

Ji Huan, afraid his hand would get cold, told him to put his glove on, but Dabao seemed to have found a new game and completely ignored her.

It was a long way from the north end of the village to the south, and the path was dotted with people in twos and threes, all braving the wind and snow to visit the graves. Honoring the ancestors was a major event; never mind snow, it couldn’t be forgotten even if it were raining daggers.

Ji Huan found the Ji Family’s burial plot from memory, but when she arrived, she was left speechless.

The Ji Family had obviously come before her. In front of every grave lay the remains of joss paper, incompletely burned and now soaked with melted snow.

Ji Lianbai’s grave had some too, but compared to the large piles of black ash before the other graves, his portion was clearly less than a tenth of the size. It looked like they had simply tossed him some of the leftovers.

Mrs. Wei’s grave was even more desolate—there was nothing at all.

Ji Huan was fuming.

’The Ji Family and their constant, crooked schemes! They even find ways to be disgusting while paying respects to the dead!’

Even though she had separated from the Ji Family, Ji Lianbai and Mrs. Wei were, at the very least, a son and daughter-in-law of the family.

’What kind of grudge runs so deep that they’d treat two deceased people with such contempt?’

Ji Lianbai, their biological son, had spent his life catering to his younger brother, exploited by the whole family. Now, even in death, he was being dismissed like a beggar.

Since joining the Ji Family, Mrs. Wei had been diligent, responsible, and never complained. No matter how difficult Granny Kang made things for her, she never argued back. But she endured a lifetime of torment, and even in death, no one treated her as a member of the Ji Family.

If she hadn’t come today, there would have been no one to even burn a sheet of paper or sweep the grave for Mrs. Wei. How bleak it was in contrast to the liveliness of the plots nearby.

She personally found the whole business of burning paper offerings absurd. ’When a person dies, it’s like a lamp going out; no matter how much paper money you burn, they can’t spend it in the underworld.’ But it was a tradition passed down through generations. And if you weren’t going to fight for the meal, you at least had to fight for your pride.

She made up her mind then and there. After the New Year, when the weather turned warm and the flowers bloomed, she would find the right opportunity and move the couple’s graves.

After all, Ji Lianbai had already come to his senses while he was alive; it was Granny Kang who had refused to let them split from the family, no matter what. Moving them out of the Ji Family burial plot now would be, in a sense, fulfilling his wish.

Ji Huan picked up a broken branch and swept the small clump of black ash in front of Ji Lianbai’s grave to one side. She took the joss paper she’d prepared from her basket and, out of a somewhat childish impulse, took out an even larger stack than the Ji Family had used. She placed portions in front of both Ji Lianbai’s and Mrs. Wei’s graves and lit them.

After a moment’s pause, she separated another portion and placed it between the two graves.

This portion was for the other Ji Huan. ’If her spirit is out there somewhere, it has probably come to find its parents.’

Custom dictated that she also light firecrackers. Ji Huan was actually a little afraid of them, but she didn’t want Ji Lianbai and Mrs. Wei to have a poorer afterlife than the other Ji Family "ghosts," so she had to bite the bullet.

The firecrackers of this era weren’t as extravagant as the massive reels of later times. They were generally short, and the individual crackers were thin and small, a clear sign that the gunpowder inside was neither plentiful nor pure. This bolstered Ji Huan’s courage a little.

She had Dabao stand far away, then placed the string of firecrackers on the ground. She covered one ear with her hand and used a fire starter to light the fuse with the other. The instant she felt it touch, she bolted, only to realize after running a good distance that it hadn’t lit at all.

After two or three more failed attempts, she glanced at the still-burning joss paper and realized what a fool she’d been.

’Couldn’t I just toss it into the fire?’

The firecrackers finally went off, and Ji Huan wanted to cry at her own stupidity.

She squatted in front of the graves, using a stick to poke at the burning paper, making sure the layers underneath could also catch fire and burn through.

She actually wanted to say a few words from the heart to Ji Lianbai and Mrs. Wei, but for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

Toward the end, the bottom layer of paper had grown damp with melted snow. Ji Huan watched the last flame slowly die out, then she took Dabao and left.

They walked a while longer and rounded the back of the hill. This area was a chaotic mess of earthen mounds, buried with no rhyme or reason. They were the graves of the village’s widowers, widows, and those who had died without descendants.

Some of the graves still had wooden plaques with names written on them, but after so many years, many of the characters were no longer legible.

Most graves had nothing in front of them, the mounds themselves nearly trampled flat.

Every other burial plot they had passed had signs of smoke and the sound of firecrackers. Only here was it utterly silent, without a single spark to be seen.

Dabao’s grandfather was buried here.

Ji Huan had asked around beforehand, so she found the grave without much trouble.

She burned a pile of joss paper, and with some left over, she distributed it among the other graves.

Dabao probably didn’t understand the significance of visiting graves yet. He might not even have known what was buried beneath these mounds of earth.

The whole time, he did as she did, walking when she walked and stopping when she stopped. He was patiently waiting for her to finish her business so she could take him home.

"Dabao, in here is... is your grandfather."

Dabao glanced at the mound she was pointing at, then turned his head away, his face impassive.

"Your grandfather... do you remember him?"

Dabao just listened, not nodding or shaking his head.

Ji Huan didn’t know how to explain it to him. ’Perhaps it’s still too early to talk to him about these things?’

But he should at least kowtow.

However, no matter what she said, Dabao refused to kneel—even though she had specifically pointed out others who were kneeling and kowtowing on their way here...

Ji Huan was at a loss. She couldn’t very well force his head down and make him kneel.

"You stubborn child," Ji Huan muttered. "If you won’t even kneel for your own grandfather, who will you kneel for?"

Ji Huan grumbled to herself. Seeing it was getting late, she hoisted Dabao onto her back and started down the hill.

Just as they reached the entrance to the village, she sensed that something was amiss.

The village, which had been calm apart from the sound of firecrackers, was now filled with people dashing about like headless flies. ’Even if it’s the New Year, they don’t need to be *this* excited, do they?’

Just as she was puzzling over the scene, she saw Hu Liang hurrying toward them.

"I... I finally found you!" Hu Liang stopped in front of them, bent over with his hands on his knees, panting for breath.

"What are you looking for us for? It’s so early. Is something wrong?"

"No time for that now." Hu Liang caught his breath, took Dabao off her back, and started running with the boy in his arms despite his protests. As he ran, he yelled for Ji Huan to keep up.

Though she had no idea what was happening, Ji Huan could only run after him.

It wasn’t until they entered the village that she finally learned what had happened from the shouts of the frantic villagers.