Chapter 21: The Gentle Spirit Departs
Changliu was woken by the commotion in the house. Dressed in nothing but a thin inner robe, he stood anxiously at Madam Li’s bedside. Just last night, his mother had still been gently speaking to him, smiling and tender–yet now her eyes were tightly shut, her face as pale as paper, gaunt and withered like a dried leaf that would crumble to dust with the slightest wind.
Physician Hu came out from the inner room and gestured to Li Wei. “First brew a bowl of medicine and have furen drink it. Let her rest well tonight, we’ll see how she is in the morning.”
The two walked to a quiet corner, where Physician Hu lowered his voice and said, “Li-xiong, you know this already. Furen has long suffered from qi stagnation and blood stasis. She lost much strength after childbirth, and now the blood clots have invaded her five viscera. Her heart’s yang is depleted, her liver and lungs are deteriorating. My medical skills are shallow, I’m afraid I can do nothing.” He shook his head. “They say physicians bring the dying back from the brink and heal the wounded, but all we can do is exhaust our efforts and leave the rest to fate.”
Li Wei’s expression was grim. He thanked the physician and stood for a long while in the courtyard. When he looked up, the cold night sky was ink-dark, vast and boundless. The stars hung like frozen beads of light, distant and faint. He felt like a speck of dust, powerless and insignificant.
From that night on, Madam Li never rose again. She could hardly swallow even soup or water. In the following days, Li Wei summoned many doctors,Han and Hu alike, all of whom came, examined her, and shook their heads. Their diagnoses were much the same as Physician Hu’s. Though Madam Li had taken countless rare and precious tonics, her deterioration outpaced any attempt at remedy. Having come to this point, there was no medicine that could turn things around.
Changliu had always been an obedient and thoughtful child. Since Madam Li had fallen ill, he hadn’t left the house for even a moment–bringing tea, handing over medicine, watching over her as she drank her decoctions and slept, afraid that anything might go wrong. Though Li Wei had never told him directly how serious her illness was, Changliu had grown up watching his mother’s condition and understood all too clearly. At times, Madam Li would awaken from her half-conscious state, see him quietly keeping watch by her side, and call out “Mother” in a timid voice. Her heart would ache unbearably with sorrow.
When Lu Mingyue heard about what had happened to Madam Li during the Lantern Festival, she hurried over at once. As soon as she entered the Li household, she noticed that everyone looked grim and worried. Aunt Zhao, seeing her arrive, discreetly lifted the spittoon in her hands to let Lu Mingyue take a glance. One look at the dark red blood in the basin and Lu Mingyue’s heart tightened. She hadn’t expected the illness to be this severe.
She entered the room and saw Madam Li lying weakly on the bed, her complexion alarmingly pale. At once, Lu Mingyue’s heart clenched with pain, and her eyes welled with tears. “It’s only been a few days, how did it get this bad?”
Madam Li shakily extended a hand from beneath the quilt covers, smiling with all her might. Her voice was hoarse: “All these years, I’ve never seen you shed a single tea and now even you’re crying.”
Lu Mingyue wiped the corners of her eyes and gave a small laugh: “What nonsense. I’m not crying. I heard you were ill and rushed over in a panic. I just happened to bump into your doorframe on the way in, and the wind blew a bit of dust into my face, that’s all.”
She held Madam Li’s hand, “Was it the New Year that wore you out? I’ve told you time and again, but you never listen. There are plenty of people in the household to handle all the chores inside and out. Yet you insist on worrying over everything. Even if you are the mistress of the house, you should at least show yourself some mercy. Why bother keeping up appearances in everything, only to exhaust yourself in the end?”
“That is not the case.”
They talked a little longer, but Lu Mingyue could see Madam Li was struggling to stay alert. After countless reminders and reassurances, she finally stepped out of the room. Outside the door, she saw Jiayan with his arm draped over Changliu’s shoulders, the two boys standing quietly with their heads down, leaning against the doorway. She walked over and pulled Changliu into her arms, comforting him.
Word spread among neighbors, distant relatives, and close friends that Madam Li’s condition wasn’t good. People came in droves to visit, all simple, kind-hearted folk. They couldn’t afford rare medicines or lavish gifts, but anything good in their homes–nutritious foods, folk remedies, charms said to ward off evil, even talismans blessed in temples–they brought with them.
Though the family didn’t raise any chickens or ducks, the coops were soon full. The table overflowed with food believed to nourish and restore blood and energy. One herdsman from the countryside even brought a milk-producing ewe, which Aunt Zhao had to refuse, laughing and crying at the same time.
Chun Tian had long recovered from her injuries, and she had originally planned to leave the Li household after the Lantern Festival, setting off alone toward Yumen Pass and then to Yiwu. But unexpectedly, Madam Li fell gravely ill. Grateful for the deep kindness shown to her by the Li family and holding great respect for Madam Li’s character, Chun Tian decided to delay her departure. She stayed by Madam Li’s side day and night, hoping to offer even the smallest comfort and care.
Though Aunt Zhao was quick and capable, her work tended to be rough around the edges. Xianxian and Changliu were still children; when it came to attentiveness, sensitivity, and reading the unspoken needs of others, no one could compare to Chun Tian.
The New Year had passed, and spring had technically returned, but in Hexi, the bitter cold still lingered, the wind sharp as blades and water freezing the instant it touched the air. As if to mock the changing seasons, heaven sent down another heavy snowfall. Madam Li had just taken her medicine and fallen into a deep sleep. Chun Tian and Changliu kept watch beside the small brazier used for boiling her next dose. Gazing out the window at the swirling snow, Changliu murmured softly, as if to himself:
“When will A’ Die (Papa) come home?”
Chun Tian gently ruffled Changliu’s hair, “Didn’t Master say before he left that he’d be back in three or four days? Let’s wait just a little longer.”
Li Wei had been gone for several days. Some 190 li northeast of Ganzhou lay the Juyan Lake. Beyond the lake, there was a vast expanse of white salt flats, and between the lake and the salt beds grew a medicinal herb known as bodijin1. This rhizome plant grew underground, sprouting no leaves, with slender, pure white roots said to have miraculous effects for stopping bleeding and protecting the heart. It could only be found during early spring, when the ground was still frozen but the surface of Juyan Lake had just begun to thaw. Once the weather warmed even slightly and the ice melted, the entire flat turned into an alkaline wasteland where no grass could grow, making the herb exceedingly rare. Li Wei had gone out in search of it.
Late at night, when all was silent, Chun Tian kept vigil by Madam Li’s bedside, unable to sleep. The thick scent of medicine clung heavily to the air. Madam Li often said she felt as though bitterness had filled her entire being. To help, Chun Tian had gone to the apothecary and bought a few qian of borneol, which she combined with alum, rush pith, cork tree bark, and aoki wood. She ground them carefully into fine powder and shaped them into small pellets using water, then set them on the brazier to roast gently over low heat. The fragrance drifted slowly, calming the spirit and soothing the nerves, while the cool, faintly minty aroma of the borneol helped cut through the oppressive smell of medicine in the room.
She was seated under the lamplight grinding medicine when she heard Ah Huang barking, followed by the creak of the gate and the neigh of Li Wei’s horse. Her thoughts stirred, suddenly, a line of poetry came to mind: “At the thatched gate, the dog barks; a man returns on a snowy night.”
Perhaps among ordinary couples, those who could be like Li Wei and Madam Li were already few and far between–acquainted since youth, supporting each other through life. He could live with her in quiet companionship, and he could also go to great lengths on her behalf. In her heart, Chun Tian held a deep respect for Li Wei. Aside from her own father, of all the men she had encountered in her sixteen years–regardless of their rank, talent, or wealth–none matched him in character, in how he handled affairs, in how he treated his home and wife.
Even if they were to search the world for miracle doctors and rare medicines, it would likely be no match for fate. Madam Li had moments of improvement, followed by downturns. Each day she drifted between wakefulness and sleep. When her mind was clear, and she saw her husband and son by her side–a rare moment of peace for the little family–her heart clung more and more to Changliu. While she still had clarity, she tried to entrust every last detail, one by one, without leaving anything undone.
“When the weather turns cold, you must put on more clothes. When it warms, don’t be too quick to take them off, it is easy to catch a chill with the wind. Eat more at meals, don’t be picky. Listen to your teacher at school, and at home, you must follow your father’s guidance.” Madam Li left out nothing. The sort of reminders others might not even think to say, she carefully considered them all–days, years, even decades ahead. Any scene she could envision, she laid out word by word for Changliu, afraid he might one day stray or be led astray.
Ah, the heart of a loving mother, what mother does not worry for her child? What mother does not love with all her being, feel with all her soul?
Chun Tian often found herself moved when she heard Madam Li’s parting words to Changliu. In such moments, she would inevitably think of her own mother, Xue furen–gentle, kind, and always so sorrowful. Listening to Changliu sobbing in his mother’s arms, tearfully calling out “Mama” again and again, Chun Tian’s own eyes would sting with unshed tears.
It had been many years since she herself had called Xue furen “mother.” For the sake of appearances, her aunt always insisted on bringing along several other sisters whenever she visited, so it was always a noisy affair. She never had a chance to say much. Only when they parted would Xue furen reach out and take her hand, pressing into her palm, in secret, a small token. Sometimes it was a finely crafted hairpin. Sometimes it was an amulet she had woven herself. Little things, but they reminded Chun Tian that she was different from the others, that this was her real mother.
By now, it had been over a year since Chun Tian had last seen Xue furen, not even before she left Chang’an had they managed to say farewell.
On the fifteenth of the second lunar month, common folk lit firecrackers to greet the first spring thunder. It was also the Festival of a Hundred Flowers. In the south, spring had arrived, and flowers had begun to bloom, while in the north it remained cold and frozen; the river outside the city was still locked in icy glaciers, and the old jujube tree in the courtyard showed no sign of waking. After days of unconsciousness, Madam Li was startled awake by the crackle of firecrackers. In a daze, she asked those at her bedside, “What day of the lunar month is it today?”
“Madam, today is already the fifteenth of the second month.”
Madam Li gave a faint nod, coughed with difficulty, and said, “We should go to the temple to offer incense to the Buddha, Changliu’s longevity locket should also be replaced.”
Changliu clutched her hand, crying out in anguish, “Mama.” But she did not hear him, she had already drifted back into sleep.
By the end of the second month, the weather had begun to warm slightly. Icicles hanging from the eaves had started to drip meltwater. After more than a month bedridden and several days without even a drop of nourishment, Madam Li suddenly awoke, sitting up on her own.
Her frame was gaunt and skeletal. Her waxy yellow complexion had lost all its sheen, and she looked nothing like a woman in her thirties. And yet, her eyes remained gentle, still youthful, still brimming with a glimmer of life.
“Unkempt and disheveled, letting Master see such a joke,” she said, rising from bed on her own. “Troubling Master to bring over my trousseau, I’d like to freshen up a little.”
Li Wei looked at her closely and said with a soft smile, “Mingyue’s hands are the most skillful. I’ll ask her to come and do your hair.”
He asked Chun Tian to invite Lu Mingyue. Though his tone remained calm, his voice was weary and low: “Go call Madam Lu. I fear there won’t be many chances left for her to see Yun-jie again.”
At the news, Lu Mingyue staggered and had to be caught by Helian Guang. She had known this day would eventually come, Madam Li’s illness had long foretold it. And yet, they had endured day by day, year by year, and she had begun to hope that perhaps Madam Li would survive this spring, maybe even another year or two.
Madam Li sat propped up on the heated kang bed, holding Changliu in her arms as she spoke to him. Though her body showed all the signs of long illness, her cheeks were faintly flushed. When she saw Lu Mingyue come in, she even made the effort to rise slightly and greet her.
That day, she drank a few cups of tea and ate several small pastries. Whether long or short, she made sure to say a few words to everyone. It was only after night had fallen that she returned to her room to lie down.
“The weather is warming, the brazier’s burning too hot. Let’s put it away early,” she said. “I’m tired. I’d like to rest well for once.”
That night, no one dared sleep. An air of dread hung over the household. Deep into the night, Madam Li fell into a coma, murmuring incoherently, a jumbled mess no one could make out. Her breathing grew erratic, sometimes shallow, sometimes long, and an unnatural flush spread across her face. Changliu, too young to understand the signs, had believed his mother was better after seeming so improved during the day. Now, she felt unwell again.
Li Wei brought over the medicinal broth, trying to spoon it into her mouth. Changliu gripped her hand tightly. “Mothee, mother, mother, please wake up.”
After a long struggle, she slowly opened her eyes, looking at Changliu. A soft, drawn-out sigh left her lips. “Mother may not be able to watch you grow up. ” She then turned her gaze to Li Wei, tears spilling as she clutched his hand. “Wei’er, take care.”
“Take good care of Changliu for me.” Her voice faded, weaker and weaker, until only shallow breaths escaped her lips. Her mouth and eyelids quivered slightly, unable to form another word.
Li Wei had witnessed life and death many times before. He knew this moment would come. His voice remained steady: “I will.”
A few coarse, choking noises gurgled in Madam Li’s throat. Aunt Zhao rushed in, flustered, and quickly ushered Changliu out of the room, calling repeatedly for Lu Mingyue in a near shout.
Changliu stood just outside the door, shoulders slumped. Inside, grown-ups moved hurriedly, spooning more medicine, fetching cloths to wipe away the blood. He listened, lips trembling, his eyes unfocused like a fledgling fallen from its nest when it had not yet fully grown into its wings.
Chun Tian came to stand beside him, silently gripping his shaking hand.
Then, after what might have been a long time, or only the length of a half or a single stick of incense, Aunt Zhao’s long, keening wail pierced the night.
And from Changliu came a broken sob.
Footnotes:
- Bodijin, also known as dijin grass. Rhizome of a plant in the Celosia species recognized for its medicinal value. It has a pungent and astringent taste with a neutral nature. Its main effects include clearing heat and detoxification, promoting blood circulation, dissolving statis, hemostatic, resting dysentery and gastrointestinal inflammation as well as dispelling wind and dampness. ↩︎
TN: Hope everyone is doing well! Bless Madam’s Li soul, she was such a kind spirit and plagued by chronic illness since young. I was shedding tears as I translated this chapter 😦
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