Chapter 2: The Yun Family

Time passed swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, it was the fifteenth day of the twelfth lunar month. In Qingyang Town, heavy snow had been falling for several days, only gradually ceasing by this morning, when a ray of sunlight pierced through the window of Qiuhan’s home.

In this biting cold of late winter, nearly all the boys in the village spent their mornings nestled in the warmth of their beds, drifting in and out of dreams. Qiuhan was no exception—still fast asleep, likely lost in some sweet dream.

“Hanhang, it’s time to get up soon. We’re taking you to Uncle Yun’s house today,” called Qiuhan’s mother in a clear voice from outside his door.

“I know,” Qiuhan replied, eyes still closed. He turned over, rubbed his sleep-blurred eyes, and reluctantly left his blankets to dress. Clearly, being pulled from his dreams left him out of sorts.

After breakfast, the whole family set off for the Yun household. The path was blanketed in thick, pristine snow, with only a few footprints marking the white expanse. The road was nearly empty, lending an unusual tranquility to the village; such a snowscape added a touch of untouched beauty to their small world.

Qiuhan’s house was not far from the Yun residence, and before long, the Yun family’s home came into view—a large estate by village standards, with grounds spanning nearly two acres. The house was refurbished every few years, always looking fresh.

Despite their wealth, the Yun family conducted themselves without arrogance or haughtiness, never displaying the airs of those accustomed to privilege. They were amiable and unpretentious with all the villagers, which had earned them a sterling reputation not only in the village but throughout Qingyang Town.

The head of the family, Yun Tianhong, was now over forty-two. In his youth he had opened a tavern in town, which, after many years, had flourished. His eldest son, Yun Yi, just past twenty, now helped him run the business. Today, the Yun family was considered among the more prosperous in town.

Still a little way from the main gate, Qiuhan, unable to contain his excitement, darted ahead and knocked vigorously, calling out, “Uncle Yun, my parents and I are here! Please open the door, Uncle Yun!”

After two shouts, the door creaked open, pulled by a pair of strong, sturdy arms, revealing a middle-aged man of average stature and unremarkable appearance. Qiuhan immediately recognized his familiar Uncle Yun and, without hesitation, leapt into his arms. The man embraced him warmly, a kindly smile on his face. “Ah, little Han, what brings you to visit Uncle Yun today? And where are your parents?”

Before he finished speaking, Qiuhan’s father’s voice sounded from outside, “Tianhong, we’re here!” His parents soon arrived.

“Little Han was so eager, he couldn’t wait to see his Uncle Yun. Tianhong, today we’ve brought my wife and a few small gifts we picked up in town for Rou’er,” Qiuhan’s father said with a hearty laugh, stepping forward.

“Yuanshan, there’s no need for gifts between us—why be so formal? Come in, it’s cold outside. Your sister-in-law has been expecting you and even bought plenty of food in town. Today, let’s have a good drink together!” said Tianhong, beaming as he put Qiuhan down. He greeted Qiuhan’s parents warmly, and together they walked into the main hall.

In the sitting room, an eight-seater table was set, each place with a teacup and small plates of peanuts, sunflower seeds, and fruit shells. Qiuhan’s parents, Yun Tianhong and his wife Zhou Lihong, and Yun Yi—who had closed the tavern for the day—sat together, chatting and laughing, the sounds of their merriment drifting through the house. Clearly, they were sharing a happy topic.

Meanwhile, Qiuhan and Yun Rou were playing in her room, their friendship as lively as ever.

“Brother Qiuhan, is it really true—there are immortals in this world? What are they like? Can they turn into tigers?” asked Yun Rou, her clear, sweet voice filled with curiosity. Her bright eyes were fixed on Qiuhan, hoping her older, always-kind neighbor would satisfy her imagination.

“Rou’er, I only heard this from Er Pang, but he said it very seriously. His uncle supposedly saw one himself—he said immortals can fly through the sky. He didn’t say anything about one turning into a tiger, but I think immortals probably could,” Qiuhan replied solemnly, insisting that Er Pang would never lie.

“Brother Qiuhan, do you think we could become immortals? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could?” The girl was insatiably curious, clutching Qiuhan’s hand and pressing for answers.

“I don’t know either,” Qiuhan said wistfully. “I wish an immortal would appear and take us as disciples. Then we could become immortals together. And when we both become immortals, I’ll marry you, Rou’er—do you agree?” Before he finished, Qiuhan mischievously grabbed her face and planted a kiss on her cheek, then darted away with a triumphant grin.

“Brother Qiuhan, you’re so naughty! Stealing a kiss—well, I won’t marry you!” she cried, pouting and blushing as she fled toward the sitting room, though her heart felt secretly happy, not the least bit angry.

Qiuhan chased her out, laughing and pondering why, when he’d seen an uncle kiss his bride at a wedding, it had seemed so meaningful, but doing it himself just now felt rather ordinary.

After lunch, everyone retired to their rooms to rest. Qiuhan’s father, Qiu Yuanshan, and Yun Tianhong talked business in one chamber, while his mother, Chen Yuerong, was dragged off by Zhou Lihong for a long chat. The two women had always been close, but since arranging a childhood betrothal between their children, their bond had grown even stronger.

Outside, the snow-covered world glittered under the dazzling sunlight. In the distance, two small figures ran across the open expanse. Closer, it was clear—two children, about six or seven years old, were playing in the snow, their laughter echoing joyfully. Naturally, it was Qiuhan and Yun Rou. After lunch, they had quietly agreed to sneak out to play, and already a snowman, as tall as they were, stood beside them.

Suddenly, a shriek pierced the air, followed by Yun Rou’s urgent cry, “Brother Qiuhan, hurry! Pull me out!” She had stepped onto a deep patch of snow and was sinking fast, the snow already up to her neck, tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t be afraid, Rou’er, I’ll save you!” Qiuhan rushed over, grabbing her hands and pulling with all his might, but she was too heavy. No one else was in sight, and running for help would take too long—he had to do this himself.

Clever and decisive since childhood, Qiuhan didn’t panic. He quickly began digging away the snow around her with his hands, which soon turned red with cold, but he didn’t stop. Even as sweat broke out on his brow in the freezing air, he kept digging fiercely.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll get you out,” he reassured her, though exhaustion was setting in. Yun Rou, strangely calm now, gazed at him with an unfamiliar, deep emotion—a feeling she couldn’t yet name, but perhaps one day would understand.

At last, he cleared the snow below her waist, hugged her tightly, and pulled her out. By then, Yun Rou was shivering violently, her lips trembling. Qiuhan immediately took off his own coat and wrapped it around her, somehow finding the strength to carry her back to the Yun house.

Inside, Qiuhan and the freshly dressed Yun Rou sat by the heated kang, warming themselves. Their parents had already learned what had happened. Yun’s father praised Qiuhan’s courage, while Qiuhan’s parents, faces stern, scolded him for sneaking off to play in the snow with Yun Rou—though she herself defended him at every turn. For reasons she couldn’t explain, Yun Rou felt changed by the experience, suddenly unable to bear seeing Qiuhan scolded, going out of her way to protect him.

In Yun Tianhong’s bedroom, Qiu Yuanshan and Tianhong continued their talk. Suddenly, Yuanshan said, “Tianhong, there’s something I’m not sure I should tell you.” He hesitated anxiously, his demeanor so troubled that Tianhong sensed the gravity of what was to come.

They stepped outside to check for eavesdroppers, closed the doors and windows, and returned. “Yuanshan, we’ve known each other for years, and our children are betrothed—soon we’ll be family. If you trust me, tell me. If it’s something difficult, maybe I can help.”

Yuanshan’s worry deepened. After a long silence, he sighed heavily, as if recalling something weighty. “Half a year ago, I was delivering some custom-made ironwork to a client in the county. On my way back, passing Xiling Mountain, I saw someone lying on the road—a man who looked like an immortal, but at death’s door…”

—End of chapter—