Chapter Forty-Seven: New Year's Ancestral Rite

The New Year's Eve dinner was suffocatingly tense; none of the four members of the Hu family uttered a word. Li Yanqing hurriedly finished a bowl of rice and ate two pieces of cured meat before picking up a bag of bones and saying, “Uncle, I’ll head back first.”

Hu Sheng nodded. “I probably won’t be able to run with you tomorrow morning. You’ll have to run on your own.”

“I will!”

Madam Hu quickly served him another bowl of rice and vegetables, telling him to eat if he got hungry that night.

“Thank you, Madam!”

“Qing’er!” Madam Hu called after him.

“What is it, Madam?” Li Yanqing stopped and asked.

Madam Hu spoke calmly, “I know you’re a sensible boy, but there are some worldly matters you don’t understand. What you saw today must not be spoken of to anyone, not even your father. Remember what I told you.”

“Don’t worry, Madam. Qing’er understands.”

Li Yanqing grabbed his bowl and dashed home. After tossing the bones to Big Black, Li Er and Li San came to find him to set off firecrackers. Bored alone at home, Li Yanqing followed them.

That night, every household in Li Wencun was filled with laughter and the crackling of firecrackers. Li Yanqing was especially welcomed; each family insisted he come in to eat some cured meat or gnaw on a bone. Even Li Er and Li San benefited, their pockets stuffed with candy.

But the Hu household was utterly silent. As soon as night fell, their lights went out.

Li Yanqing stood on a haystack, staring at the Hu home, filled with profound emotions. The Hu family was a small microcosm—one leaf reveals the arrival of autumn. The turbulent times of the Song Dynasty were approaching.

...

At the fifth watch, Li Yanqing rose to run again. He passed through the woods, running south along the Yongji Canal. The canal was completely frozen over, with boats of all sizes trapped in the ice. Many boat-dwellers who usually lived on the water had temporarily moved ashore, erecting makeshift shelters to await spring’s arrival.

It was the first day of the lunar year, and according to custom, every household must honor their ancestors. Even these poor boat-dwellers were no exception. They placed incense, candles, and small offerings at the entrances to their shelters, along with ancestral tablets. Nearly every shelter bustled with ancestor worship.

Li Yanqing ran twenty li south in one breath. Ahead was another small town called Zhangjiaji, also known as Zhangji Town, with only twenty or thirty households—much smaller than Lushan Town. There was only one dilapidated inn, surrounded by vast woods and grasslands.

Running alone today felt strange. Li Yanqing glanced around as he ran. It was about five o'clock in winter’s dawn, before sunrise, with stars shining brilliantly in the clear air, sprinkling the earth with a faint silver glow.

A few sparse pedestrians were already on the official road, far fewer than usual, as it was New Year’s Day.

Suddenly, by a bush at the roadside, Li Yanqing spotted a pole with a wine gourd hanging from it. He hesitated, then walked cautiously. On the grass, he saw a man—the same one from yesterday—sleeping here, resting his head on a small bundle, his Fanyang hat covering his face.

This man wasn’t without money. A li south was Zhangji Town where he could stay, yet he chose to sleep outdoors...

Li Yanqing saw the man’s foot twitch and dared not linger, quickening his pace northward.

There was no school today, of course, but at the hour of Mao—six o’clock in the morning—the Li family would begin their ancestral rites. His father had repeatedly warned him not to be late. Li Yanqing calculated by the starlight that Mao hour was less than fifteen minutes away. Without time to return to the village, he headed straight for Lushan Town.

The newly rebuilt ancestral hall was much larger than before, though its layout remained unchanged—everything was exactly as before, except the courtyard was bigger.

Hundreds of Li clan members from Lushan, Qianshan, Wencun, and Songhe had gathered, along with relatives from the county and even some who had traveled from afar.

The Li family had flourished. In just over a hundred years, the four original male lines had expanded to more than three hundred people, reflecting the stability and economic prosperity of the Song Dynasty. Nearly half the villages in Xiaoxiang had only appeared in the past fifty years.

The ceremony had not yet begun. Clan members chatted in small groups, while a dozen or so organizing the event busied themselves with endless comings and goings.

Li Yanqing spotted his father, Li Daqi, sitting at the entrance, overseeing registration. Surrounded by a dozen clan members, his father looked tired but flushed with excitement. After years of neglect within the family, he was finally being recognized this year—naturally, he felt elated.

Li Daqi saw his son, motioning with his pen for Li Yanqing to enter the courtyard to play. He was too busy to greet him properly.

Li Yanqing stepped into the courtyard, where lanterns hung brightly like daylight. The courtyard was as crowded as outside. Beneath an old locust tree sat a man in his thirties, surrounded by a crowd of youths.

“You don’t know,” the man said, “money is everywhere in the capital. Ten strings of cash might take us two or three years to save, but for people in the capital, it’s just the price of a meal.”

Gasps of admiration rippled through the crowd. Li Yanqing recognized the man as Li Dongdong from Qianshan Village. According to his fourth uncle Li Daguang, Li Dongdong had opened a teahouse in the capital and was one of the more successful members of the Li clan. He had just returned from the capital for the ancestral rites.

Curious, Li Yanqing squeezed into the circle to hear the news from the capital.

“During Qingming, when melons first come to market, how much do we sell a pair for here?”

“Ten wen at most!” a young boy answered.

“But do you know how much they sell for in the capital? Thirty taels of silver a pair when they first arrive.”

The crowd erupted again. Li Feng waved his hand excitedly. “Then let’s ship melons to the capital and get rich!”

Li Yanqing sneered quietly, “In two or three days, ten wen won’t even be worth that.”

Li Feng blushed, recognizing Li Yanqing, and quickly turned away, pretending not to see him.

Li Dongdong laughed, “This young fellow is right. Capital folks just care about appearances. Few can afford thirty taels for melons. Wealthy families buy them only to hang on their gates with red strings, showing off their wealth. When melons flood the market a few days later, the price drops to six or seven wen a pair.”

At that moment, Li Wengui stormed out from the main hall with a dark face, shouting, “The time has come. Line up!”

With two or three hundred people, not all could enter the main hall for the rites. Only the eldest clan members could enter; others worshipped in the courtyard. Children under twelve weren’t even allowed inside and had to stand outside.

The courtyard was chaotic, with everyone searching for their family groups. Li Yanqing prepared to slip away. Since children under twelve couldn’t enter, he naturally planned to leave.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Turning around, Li Yanqing saw Li Dongdong. Li Yanqing bowed quickly.

Li Dongdong smiled warmly, “I must thank you, Qing’er, for your couplets—they’re truly excellent! Not even the capital has better ones. It’s a pity I learned about them too late; I could have made some money this year.”

Li Yanqing understood his meaning and smiled. “I wrote around seventy or eighty this year. If you copy them, you can make money next year.”

Li Dongdong’s eyes narrowed in a smile. That was a clever idea. This kid’s mind was sharper than his own—definitely business savvy.

He thought a moment and said, “On the fifth day of the first lunar month, I’m hosting a few tables of wine. Qing’er, you must come! I’ll reserve a seat for you at the main table.”

“How can I sit at the main table?”

“Don’t worry about seats—you just have to come!”

Li Yanqing had some ideas of his own and was glad to discuss them with Uncle Dong. He agreed with a smile.

Just then, Li Wenyu squeezed through the crowd. “Qing’er, where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Li Dongdong promptly saluted the clan leader, but Li Wenyu ignored him, pulling Li Yanqing aside. “You’ll enter the main hall to worship later. If the clan keeper says anything unpleasant, just ignore him. I’ll handle everything.”

Li Yanqing realized the clan leader and the keeper had clashed again on his behalf.

He said, “Clan leader, remember what I said. Matters concerning the great ancestor must not be publicized. With so many gossipers in the clan, if rumors reach the officials, it could cause trouble. I’d rather stay outside—no break of clan rules and no worries about whispers.”

Li Yanqing’s words were reasonable, leaving Li Wenyu somewhat troubled. He feared displeasing the great ancestor’s spirit.

Li Yanqing then took out the copper plum medal from the Boys’ Association leader and handed it to him. “Place this on the altar, and the great ancestor won’t blame the keeper.”

Li Wenyu was delighted and appreciated Li Yanqing’s thoughtfulness. He hurriedly accepted the medal. “As you say. You stay in the courtyard to worship—don’t leave.”

“Clan leader, go take care of things. I understand.”

After a few instructions, Li Wenyu hurried away. Li Yanqing turned and walked out of the courtyard. He disliked bowing and kowtowing inside—the outside was far more comfortable.

More importantly, he was anxious to return to the village. The man he had seen on the road troubled him deeply. He had to warn Uncle Hu; that man had not left Tangyin County.

“Dong!” A bell tolled inside the ancestral hall. Mao hour had arrived, and the ancestral ceremony began. Li Yanqing seized the moment to leave the hall and sprinted toward Li Wencun.