This is the picturesque village of Mountain Grace.

“Have you heard? The Cao family from the neighboring village seems to be calling off their engagement,” said a woman clad in deep blue coarse linen, sitting cross-legged atop a millstone by her doorway, winking at the other village women beside her.

Another woman chimed in, “That’s right. My sister-in-law from the next village told me the Cao family is hoping to arrange a marriage with a wealthy household from the town—a good match, they say.”

“Didn't the Cao family already arrange a betrothal with the Ye family last year?” asked Liu, the second wife, as she stitched an insole.

The woman who started the gossip, Mrs. Lin, clicked her tongue and raised her brows, her voice sharp, “Well, just recently, something happened with the Ye family’s young lad…”

She got only halfway through before Liu nudged her with an elbow, stopping her in time.

The women looked up, spotting a frail young man with a basket full of pig grass approaching from the fields, passing right by their gathering.

Mrs. Lin forced a smile and greeted him, “Xi, out cutting pig grass, are you?”

Ye Xi nodded, the load of grass bending his slender back, sweat beading on his forehead. He glanced quickly at the women and said, “Aunties, enjoy your chat and cool shade. I must head home—the pigs are waiting to be fed.”

“Go on then,” Mrs. Lin replied with a smile. “We’ll be heading home soon to cook, too.”

Ye Xi didn’t linger, shouldering his burden as he walked away. Yet the naked stares from behind clung to his back, and the deliberately hushed whispers drifted to his ears.

“Ah, that Xi is truly unfortunate. He was supposed to marry into the Cao family next month, but then burned his face…”

“If you ask me, it’s not incurable. If he could see Doctor Zhang from town and get a few good prescriptions, maybe he wouldn’t be left with scars.”

“I doubt it. It’s been over a month, and Ye’s father has been frequenting the town pharmacy. The smell of medicine is so strong whenever I pass their house, but Xi’s face hasn’t improved—he still keeps it covered with gauze.”

“I fear the engagement with the Cao family will fall through. The Cao household is well-off, and their son, Bin, might even pass the scholar’s exam in a few months.”

“Some blessings are just too much for him to bear.”

Ye Xi had heard such talk often these days. Ever since last month, when he’d tripped over the threshold while boiling pig feed, spilling a pot of scalding slop and burning the left side of his face, word had spread throughout Mountain Village.

Some came to gawk, others made snide remarks, while a few offered sympathetic remedies. Yet after more than a month, though his burns had healed for the most part, the scar remained stubborn, rough as a toad’s skin, clinging to his left cheek and making others shy away from him.

He’d gone from despair and denial to gradual acceptance; what else could he do? He still had a loving father and mother, and a big brother who’d cherished him since childhood.

Pushing aside the idle chatter, Ye Xi opened the gate to his yard.

His father and brother had gone to the fields before dawn. The chickens and ducks wandered about the courtyard, a few pecking at the vegetable patch. Ye Xi chased them out, then dumped the pig grass at the sty door, tossed some into the chicken coop, chopped half a basin with a sickle under the eaves, mixed it with wheat bran, and poured it into the stone trough. He watched as pink snouts poked through the pen, snuffling and munching contentedly, before calling softly, “Mother, I’m home.”

Smoke curled from the kitchen chimney, and before long, a plump woman with an apron at her waist emerged. “Xi, you’re back.”

Seeing his sweat-soaked hair, she fretted, “I’ve told you, the sun’s too harsh. Wait for your father and brother to return; let them cut the pig grass. Why did you go again?”

Ye Xi ladled water from the tub with a pumpkin scoop, replying, “It’s nothing, Mother. I’ve done this since childhood—I’m not afraid of the sun.”

“But you…” Liu Xiufeng’s face was full of concern, yet she hesitated to say more, unwilling to wound him further. She sighed, her eyes glistening. “Never mind, do as you wish. It’s us who failed you, unable to protect you.”

She’d had this youngest son late in life, nearly thirty. When Ye Xi was born, he was fair and beautiful—bright eyes, delicate features, a face no bigger than a palm. Others envied them greatly. Ye Xi was frail as a child, and her husband doted on him, spending two coins a day for sheep’s milk to strengthen him.

In rural households, few children grew up on sheep’s milk, but Ye Xi did. Perhaps because of it, he remained pale even as a farm boy, never tanning despite working in the fields, his lips and teeth always bright and clean. His reputation spread—within ten miles, everyone knew the Ye family’s youngest was exceptionally handsome, and many tried to arrange matches. But Ye Xi’s parents, reluctant to let him marry young, turned down every proposal.

Last year, Ye Xi turned sixteen, and though they wished to keep him longer, it was time to find a spouse. The Cao family from the next village wanted a match for their only son, and sent a matchmaker. Ye’s father and Liu Xiufeng found the Cao family well-off and generous with gifts. When they met the son, Cao Bin, he was gentle and handsome, studying at the academy. They were pleased and agreed.

Ye Xi obeyed his parents, content to be betrothed to Cao Bin, awaiting his marriage. Who could have foreseen this misfortune?

The water in the basin reflected Ye Xi’s masked face. He gazed quietly, then told his mother, “Mother, you and Father have cherished me from the start. Now my face is scarred—it’s my fate, not your fault.”

Liu Xiufeng dabbed at her eyes. Her youngest was sensible and capable, managing the household well. The match with the Cao family was ideal, but now she worried the Cao family might break it off, wondering how Ye Xi would fare if abandoned.

Ye Xi gently removed his veil, revealing the ugly scar on his left cheek, so different from his right. He pressed his lips together, scooped water, and washed his face.

As dusk fell, Ye’s father and eldest brother, Ye Shan, returned from the fields, carrying hoes. They brushed the mud off before sitting under the eaves to repair tools—farmers never idle.

Ye Xi brought out a clay teapot, poured a bowl for each. “Father, Big Brother, have some water—there’s mugwort boiled in it.”

Ye’s father and Ye Shan each took a bowl, quickly drinking it down. As Ye Shan handed back his bowl, seeing his brother’s white gauze, he felt a pang.

“Xi, the rice is ripening well this year; the harvest will be better than usual. When we sell the new crop, we’ll take you to the provincial capital to see a renowned doctor. We’ll get you cured!”

Ye Xi smiled, reassuring his brother, “Big Brother, I’ve taken Doctor Li’s prescriptions for over a month now, but my face hasn’t improved. Most of our money has been spent on me. I doubt it can be cured. I’ll stay home with you all—it’s a happy life.”

Ye’s father declared, “The Cao family hasn’t said anything about breaking the engagement yet, Xi, don’t be upset. If they don’t want you, your father and brother will take up axes and storm their house!”

Liu Xiufeng, still wearing her coarse apron, emerged from the kitchen and scolded him, “What are you shouting about? Do you want the neighbors to hear and laugh at us? If Xi never marries, we’ll keep him ourselves—I can’t bear to let him go!”

Ye’s father, chastened by his wife, slumped back onto the stone slab under the eaves. “You’re right. If Xi wants to stay home, we’ll keep him. We’ll never let him go hungry!”

With his parents’ love, Ye Xi sniffed, his heart easing. Even with his ruined face, life could go on—he could stay with his family forever.

Farmers’ suppers were always simple—a clay pot of pumpkin and millet porridge, a plate of boiled loofah, and another of garlic-seasoned pumpkin vines. They set a small square table in the courtyard and ate together.

The next day.

Ye Xi covered his face with white gauze as usual and took his basket to the foot of the mountain to gather pig grass. With three pigs and a flock of chickens and ducks to feed, the demand for fresh grass was high. His father and brother were busy in the fields, his mother managed the household, so the livestock fell to him.

At the end of each year, this was an important source of income, allowing the family a better New Year and giving Ye Xi some private savings—he’d accumulated over an ounce of silver through the years.

By the creek at the mountain’s base, the grass grew lush. Ye Xi set down his basket and bent to cut with his sickle. He’d just filled half the basket when he met villagers heading to wash clothes.

Leading the group in a blue floral robe was the youngest from the Lin family at the east end, Lin Yao—everyone called him Yao. He was delicate and fair, one of the most attractive youths in the area, though still second to Ye Xi in reputation.

Since Ye Xi’s accident, Yao had taken every opportunity to mock him, both openly and behind his back.

Just as Ye Xi pressed the fresh grass into his basket, he heard Yao’s laughter drifting toward him.