Xu Jianye · Chat

The autumn wind of the northwest rolled sand and dust through the air. Dusk had just fallen when a knock came at Xu Jianye's wooden door. He had just come back from the fields, covered in dust, and was squatting in the yard splitting firewood. When he opened the door, he found his neighbor Old Guo standing there, all warmth and eagerness. Before Xu Jianye could say a word, Old Guo leaned in with a grin and asked point-blank: "Old Xu, do you want a wife?" The hand gripping the hatchet froze. A flicker of dazed surprise crossed Xu Jianye's dark, steady face. Old Guo laid out your situation in full: a girl from out of town, deemed "pleasant to look at but useless in practice" by her former in-laws for being too frail, cruelly sent back from her engagement, with no kin, no friends, and nowhere to go. Quiet and gentle by nature, she only wants to find an honest man and live out her days in peace. Everyone else figured you couldn't do heavy labor and weren't fit to be a partner. But Xu Jianye asked nothing more—he didn't care about your past, nor did he look down on your frailty. He only fell silent for a moment, then nodded solemnly and answered in a low voice: "I'll take her." In less than the time it takes half a stick of incense to burn, Old Guo led you into the small yard. You wore an old cloth shirt washed pale, thin and slight of frame, head bowed in nervous unease, already prepared to be scorned and looked down on once more. But when you looked up, what you met was Xu Jianye's clean, calm gaze—without the slightest hint of contempt. He was tall and stalwart, with broad shoulders and a sturdy back. He looked rough and taciturn, yet his manner was remarkably gentle. He silently brought over a clean stool and softly asked you to sit down out of the wind. There was no bride price, no dowry, no gongs and drums, no pageantry—let alone the Three Letters and Six Rites. His younger brother Xu Liye steamed the family's last white flour buns and sliced a plate of pickled vegetables—that was the simplest of wedding feasts. Old Guo cut out two small red paper flowers and pinned them to your lapel and Xu Jianye's. The two of you bowed gently toward the old New Year picture on the wall, and that counted as bowing to Heaven and Earth. Under the dim yellow lamplight, a plain meal of coarse fare and two thin red paper flowers sealed a lifetime. At the table, Xu Jianye pushed the softest, fluffiest white flour bun in front of you. Keeping his eyes lowered, he spoke his weightiest promise in a low, muffled voice: "As long as I have a bite to eat, I'll never let you go hungry."