Song in the Peach Blossoms - Chapter 24.1

About ten Li north of the gates of Xiyao City lies the mother of the grasslands- the Jisang River. The Jisang River was a tributary of the Hong River, nourishing and irrigating this vast expanse of land. The nomads on the grasslands also lived by the water, setting up their camps along the riverbanks.

The people I was most familiar with were the family of Old Man Duolunke. Last month, when I went out to gather medicinal herbs, I came across a young boy who had fallen from his horse and twisted his ankle. He turned out to be Old Man’s eldest grandson, A’Zi. I took him home and treated his leg injury. It was nothing more than a small favour on my part, yet they repaid it as though it were a great act of kindness. Old Man’s son sent several whole roasted lambs to my residence and welcomed me to visit at any time.

They could speak Mandarin, were warm-hearted, hospitable, and generous. I was a lively person by nature, and when I learned that Old Man’s family had a secret medicinal recipe passed down in their clan, I went to visit them often, harbouring a slightly unscrupulous intention.

The autumn air was crisp and refreshing. In the northern lands, autumn arrived much earlier, and the cool breeze carried the fragrance of fresh grass. The thick growth of grass reached above the horses’ knees. Bathed in gentle sunlight, I felt much more at ease and let my horse wander leisurely into the depths of the grasslands. Liu and Zhang followed me nervously a short distance behind.

I rode north for over an hour, crossed a high slope, and in the distance saw a sparkling, emerald-blue river. This was it.

On the riverbank stood over a dozen white tents, like white flowers blooming across the grassland. Pleased, I nudged my horse forward towards them.

But before I was within several dozen metres, I realised something was wrong. In front of a tent hung with a red flag, a crowd had gathered. According to grassland custom, a red flag was only hung when a tribesperson was gravely ill or when a woman was giving birth.

I quickly approached. A tall, thin boy with large eyes had already spotted me and came to meet me.

“A’Zi!” I jumped off my horse. “What’s happened?”

Seeing me, A’Zi was overjoyed. He ran forward and grabbed my hand. “Sister Min, you came just in time! My third sister is about to give birth!”

Old Man’s third daughter, Zhu Yina, was a famed beauty on these grasslands. She had married last year’s champion of the Horse Racing Festival, and when I first met her, she had already been heavily pregnant, nearing her ninth month.

“I thought she wasn’t due for another half a month?” I asked.

“Yesterday, Third Sister accidentally fell, and her belly started hurting.”

I grew anxious at once. “How is she now?”

“She’s been in pain ever since, but there’s still no sign of the baby coming. A travelling Han doctor passed by, but he’s a man, and Grandfather and Brother-in-law wouldn’t let him examine her.”

He pointed towards the crowd, where a young man was shouting angrily, “And you still care about that at a time like this? What could be more important than a life?”

From the way he was carrying on, you’d think it was his own wife in labour.

I walked over and patted his shoulder. He spun around sharply. He was in his twenties, pale and thin, a delicate-looking scholar with an unkempt appearance. At that moment, he was so agitated that his eyes were round and bulging, almost popping out.

I smiled. “Don’t get worked up, big brother. I’m here. I’ll take you to save her.”

“Huh? And who are you?” he asked in surprise. But I was already heading for the tent.

As soon as I stepped inside, a strange, fishy stench hit me, making my head spin. The interior was unbearably hot and stuffy, with barely any light. Zhu Yina lay on the bedding, groaning weakly, surrounded by several women and children who looked helpless. The worst of it was an odd-looking shaman woman, who was circling the tent, chanting and hopping about.

“A’Min!” Old Man’s wife, Aunt Guli, rushed at me with tears and snot streaming down her face. “Thank goodness you’re here! Please, quickly, take a look at Zhu Yina!”

I took her hand to reassure her. “Auntie, don’t worry. I’ll check on her right away.”

Although I wasn’t trained in obstetrics, I knew the basic procedures and wouldn’t be at a total loss.

I called out loudly, “Prepare clean clothes and boil water. The shaman and the children must leave!”

The women froze. Aunt Guli repeated my words in their own tongue, and only then did they, still sceptical, begin to follow instructions.

I examined Zhu Yina. Her face was pale, drenched in sweat, and her eyes were dull. She was clearly exhausted, yet her body was tense and rigid.

I lifted the heavy blankets covering her and began wiping her down with warm water while checking her condition. She stirred slightly, murmuring, “A’Min?”

“Yes,” I said gently. “Don’t worry, you and the baby will be fine. I intend to be the godmother, remember?”

A contraction came, and Zhu Yina’s face twisted in pain. She gripped my hand tightly. I endured the pain and waited patiently until it passed. After a long moment, she exhaled and said, “I trust you.”

I nodded and began inserting the needles. Old Master Zhang’s acupuncture method was originally meant to ease spasms, but I made slight adjustments to suit her specific condition.

“You’ve dilated eight fingers already,” I told her. “The baby’s coming soon. Hold on.”

She nodded between breaths.

Even with the tent ventilated, sweat soon soaked my clothes. After acupuncture and massage, Zhu Yina’s condition gradually improved, her rigid body loosened, and her breathing became easier. She even managed to sip down a bowl of tonic soup, regaining some strength to face the contractions.

The most direct way to resolve a difficult labour was surgery, but I refused to take that step, partly because my surgical skills were poor, and partly because the hygiene here was abysmal. Unless it became absolutely necessary, I wouldn’t risk it.

Aunt Guli fretted. “At this rate… never mind the mother, what about the baby?”

My hands didn’t stop moving. Sweat trickled down my face, but I had no time to wipe it away. Relying on half-forgotten knowledge from elective courses I’d taken before, I forced my way through each step.