352: 341 352: 341 “Ah?” Ms.
Qian had only made an excuse to co see Mr.
Zhuang, she didn’t think Mr.
Zhuang would change Manbao’s na, but what would her style na be?
Mr.
Zhuang then smiled and said, “A person has not only a surna and an appellation, but also a given na and a style na.
It’s just that ordinary families don’t pay much attention to this, having only a given na.
If Manbao makes progress in her studies, she can be given a style na in the future, as a token of the expectations I hold for her as her tutor.”
Ms.
Qian listened to the earlier part with confusion, but she understood the last sentence and faintly felt that this was sothing very positive.
Therefore, she quickly thanked Mr.
Zhuang and then pushed the basket toward him again, laughing and saying, “These are eggs laid by chickens at ho.
Mr.
Zhuang, eating a stead egg every day is very good for your health.”
Mr.
Zhuang was quite accustod to receiving gifts from students, especially agricultural produce, and, all the more because Manbao was his entry-level disciple.
The tutor is like a father; just as it seed normal for the Zhou family when he gave Manbao books and writing materials, it was equally normal for him to accept these gifts from the Zhou family.
Because of this teacher-student relationship, he would be influential in Manbao’s future marriage, and likewise, she could have a say in his funeral arrangents.
Ms.
Qian naturally picked out so candies from the basket and, smiling at Mr.
Zhuang, said, “Manbao ntioned that you love sweets.
These are so we have at ho.
They might not compare to what you have here, but they are ant to sweeten your mouth.”
Mr.
Zhuang recognized the candy that Manbao often brought him as tributes, and with a smile responded, “Old Madam is too modest.
This candy is sweeter than ordinary candies; I’ve only tasted it from Manbao.”
Ms.
Qian paused with her hand, then laughed and said, “If Mr.
Zhuang likes it, later I’ll have Manbao bring so more over.”
“When you’re old, you can’t eat too many sweets,” Mr.
Zhuang said with a laugh.
“Let her keep them and eat them slowly instead.”
Ms.
Qian stayed and chatted for a good while before leaving.
She walked slowly toward ho, and now, the sun was almost hidden behind the mountain, yet the sky was still bright, filled with the light of the sunset.
The cool wind of late autumn blew, but Ms.
Qian didn’t feel cold.
On the contrary, her hands and feet still felt warm.
She ambled ho at a leisurely pace as usual, but she knew it was different.
Because all along the way she didn’t pause for a breath, nor did she feel out of breath.
This would have been impossible before today.
Old Zhou was worried about her and was lingering near the ho entrance.
Seeing her walking from afar, he stopped loitering and waited for her to approach before asking, “What did Mr.
Zhuang say?”
“Mr.
Zhuang said that when Manbao is a little older, he’ll give her a style na.”
“What style na?”
Ms.
Qian knew what he was asking and replied, “The style na that goes with a given na.”
“That won’t do, Manbao’s na is Man, given by…
our whole family.
Besides, why don’t I know about seven being a critical age?
I didn’t see you fussing over the Eldest and the others back then?”
At dinner earlier, he had been shocked by his old wife’s good appetite and hadn’t thought much of it, but then the more he thought about it, the more he felt sothing was amiss.
With an unchanged expression, Ms.
Qian leaned against the door fra and sat on the threshold, saying, “You’ve forgotten, I took Manbao to the Daoist temple before to ask about this.
The Daoist priest said there was a critical age for Manbao when she turned seven.
Right, I was thinking that Manbao is almost seven, and to help her pass this age safely, I’ll take her up to the temple tomorrow to pay our respect.”
“Isn’t she going to school tomorrow?”
“I’ve just asked Mr.
Zhuang for leave,” Ms.
Qian paused before saying, “I had a dream the latter half of last night, and I need to go up to the temple to inquire about it, and take Manbao with .”
Old Zhou perked up and imdiately asked, “What kind of dream?”
Ms.
Qian glanced at him slightly and replied, “A good dream.”
The dream was so good that Ms.
Qian didn’t take the dicine brought back by Dalang from the village doctor, deciding to save it for the next ti she fell ill.
Facing Old Zhou’s skeptical gaze, Ms.
Qian responded as calmly as ever, “Don’t worry, I want to see Manbao grow up and get married too.
I’m not intentionally neglecting to take the dicine; I feel much better.”
Old Zhou then rembered her unusually good appetite that day and quickly whispered, “Does it have sothing to do with your dream?”
Ms.
Qian nodded slightly.
The next day, Ms.
Qian took a dium-sized basket, which was half-filled with rice, looking to be about three to four jin, and carefully placed eighteen uniform eggs on top.
The ho’s usually ample supply of eggs was suddenly reduced to just eight or nine.
But Ms.
Qian, without even blinking, placed the basket on the cart and then, taking Manbao with her, sat on the cart herself.
Zhou Sanlang was responsible for pushing the cart.
Dalang watched as Third pushed the cart carrying his old mother and youngest sister away, frowning in puzzlent and quietly asked Junior Ms.
Qian, “Strange, mother usually calls to push her to the Daoist temple.
Why did she specifically na Third this ti?”
Junior Ms.
Qian casually replied, “Didn’t mother tell you to go clean the irrigation ditches in the Dawan fields?
It’ll be convenient for next year, whether for irrigating the rice or draining.
”
Couldn’t Third have done that job as well?
Dalang felt sothing was off, suspecting that his mother had deliberately sent him away, but of course, he could only share these thoughts quietly with Junior Ms.
Qian.
Junior Ms.
Qian, however, gave him a sideways glance and said, “You’re so dense.
Didn’t you see Third’s wife with her big belly?
It’s only right that Third goes to the temple at this ti, isn’t it?”
Dalang suddenly ca to a realization.
But Ms.
Qian, deeply preoccupied and on her way, hadn’t thought about this at all.
She was only gently patting Manbao’s head and whispering instructions, “Once we’re at the temple, you must be well-behaved.
Kowtow a few extra tis to the Heaven Master to ask for his blessing for your life to be safe and smooth.”
Manbao nodded excitedly.
She went to the Daoist temple almost every year, and in her opinion, the temple was even more fun than the county town.
The Daoist temple was on the mountain behind Dali Village; no one knew when it was first built, but in the villagers’ minds, it had always been there.
Shabby and rundown, whenever a generous visitor from the county town donated extravagantly, the Daoists could renovate an old part into sothing new.
In this manner, new beca old, and old was refurbished into new, passing down through generations.
Currently, there were only six Daoists in the temple, tilling a few thin plots of land at the mountain’s foot to support themselves, occasionally assisted by the faithful villagers during the busy farming tis.
They also grew their own vegetables behind the temple, mostly self-sufficient.
Apart from an annual temple fair, worshipers who ca to pray and make vows were usually just the nearby villagers.
The villagers didn’t care to give money offerings; they would bring a bundle of vegetables, a handful of rice, a couple of eggs, half a chicken…
The truly indigent would burn a stick of incense and then descend the mountain; the poorest would go up empty-handed, plead their case to the Heaven Master on a straw mat, then kowtow and leave.
The latter often scored a bundle of vegetables, a handful of rice, a couple of eggs, or a chicken from the Daoists…
So the Daoists on the mountain weren’t rich.
Ms.
Qian was a regular visitor to the temple.
The Daoist on duty recognized her as soon as she arrived and instinctively smiled, which broadened upon seeing the full basket of eggs she carried.
Manbao looked up to see his radiant, fold-like smile and couldn’t help but feel happy, then she too grinned broadly right back at him.
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