Song in the Peach Blossoms - Chapter 24.2

Zhu Yina asked weakly, “How… is my baby?”

I had no time to answer, continuing with the resuscitation.

The child lay motionless, as though all my efforts meant nothing to her.

Sweat stung my eyes. GuLi Auntie tugged at me. “Enough, this is its fate.”

I shook off her hand and bent once more to breathe into the baby’s mouth.

Zhu Yina gave a sob, and at that very moment, the child in my arms gave a faint wail. Her tiny chest rose and fell; she was breathing.

Relief swept through me.

“She’s alive! The baby’s alive!” Guli Auntie cried in delight.

Zhu Yina struggled to sit up. “Let me see her!”

I wrapped the baby and placed her in her mother’s arms.

One glance, and Zhu Yina’s tears streamed down; she murmured something in her own tongue.

Guli Auntie flung herself at me, weeping. “A’Min, you’re sent by the heavens themselves…”

I wiped my brow, suddenly aware of the aching heaviness in my hands, feet, back and waist. Dropping onto the felt mat, I turned and saw Zhu Yina’s blissful smile. I could not help smiling as well.

“It’s a girl.”

Zhu Yina gazed at her daughter with deep affection. “A girl is good. You Han people have a saying, daughters are their mothers’ little cotton-padded jackets.”

Sensing the joy in the air, the baby finally let out a full-throated cry. I took her back for another check; her heartbeat and breathing were both steady.

Outside, Zhu Yina’s husband, impatient from waiting, shouted her name. The women, beaming, carried the child out to him.

I had worried he might look down on a girl, but the moment he saw his daughter, tears streamed down his face.

Old Man Duolunke came up to me and gave a deep, formal bow.

Startled, I hurried to help him up. “Old Man, what are you doing?”

“A’Min,” he said, “you saved two of my grandsons, and now you’ve saved my daughter. You are a great benefactor of our clan, our honoured guest for all time. How could we ever repay such a debt?”

I smiled. “Saving the dying and helping the injured is a healer’s duty. I only did what I should. There’s no debt, and no need for repayment.”

Zhu Yina’s husband stepped forward and, in halting Chinese, said, “Miss Min, you saved the child, please give her a name.”

“Me?” I was both surprised and flustered. “But I don’t know your naming customs.”

Old Man Duolunke chuckled. “Then give her a Han name.”

I looked at the little one, her face scrunched as she cried, then glanced at the brilliant sunset on the horizon. “Though she was born at dusk, she came through great peril, as if remade. The setting sun is beautiful, even at day’s end. Let her be called Chaoyun, Morning Cloud.”

Zhu Yina’s husband thanked me repeatedly, beaming.

Old Man Duolunke turned to the clan. “Slaughter a sheep. We’ll celebrate tonight!” Then to me, “A’Min, stay and eat with us.”

I laughed heartily. “Of course. I’ll treat this like home, then no need for formality.”

Before the sun had set, the bonfire was already lit. Not far away, the children kicked a ball around. I, a pretender at football, had earlier taught them a new set of rules and a few shallow tricks, which they treated as sacred knowledge, much to my embarrassment.

As I watched, I noticed a shadow fall near my feet. Looking up, I saw the Han doctor from earlier, the one who had been so indignant. His clothes were worn and ill-fitting, his hair dishevelled, his beard unshaven for days. Yet even so, his manner retained a certain scholarly grace.

I greeted him with a smile. “Good evening, brother.”

The pale-faced scholar was equally straightforward, grinning in return. “Good evening, miss.”

“You’re Han as well, aren’t you? May I ask your name?”

He ruffled his messy hair. “The surname is Cheng.”

“Brother Cheng,” I said, “you can just call me A’Min. Are you passing through?”

“More or less,” he replied. “I’ve been travelling in the north, but I’m tired of it and wanted to head south. Met Old Man and the others ten days ago, so I came along. We were going to West Yao City today. You’re from the city?”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s why I haven’t seen you before. Where are you headed?”

“Further south. I’ve been away for many years and want to see home again.”

I smiled, though a faint melancholy touched me. “It’s good… to be able to go home.”

“Miss Min,” Cheng said, sitting down beside me as though we were already old acquaintances, “since we’re fellow travellers, may I ask how you saved that mother and child?”

I felt at ease with him, so I told him honestly about the acupuncture.

He listened with great interest, then peered at me. “May I ask who your teacher was?”

The truth was, I’d studied from Master Zhang, but I didn’t dare brazenly call myself his disciple. So I smiled. “I have no famous master.”

Cheng looked at me with doubt. Unkempt as he was, with stubble and messy hair, his eyes were as clear and penetrating as a mountain spring. That steady gaze seemed to bore a path into my thoughts, as though to uncover the truth. Guilt thundered in my chest like a great bell.

I tensed. Cheng was just opening his mouth when Azhi called out, “Sister Min, come drink milk tea!”

I sprang to my feet like a coiled spring released and bolted. Behind me came Cheng’s faint “You…” but I was already far away.

The sun had set, and bonfires roared. Whole lambs roasted on racks, their fat sizzling, sending waves of aroma through the night air, mingling with the fragrance of strong wine. Laughter and singing spiraled into the sky. Young men and women clasped hands, singing and dancing around the flames.

Not far from me stood young brother Cheng, grinning as he held a young woman’s hand,
“Judging from your palm, you’ll surely marry a husband with herds of cattle, and then have two fine sons.”

The girl looked both delighted and shy.