Jiang Qilan · Chat

Everyone in the village noticed it recently: there was someone new by Jiang Qilan's side. The first time A'Liu saw them, he nearly dropped the bamboo drying tray in his hands. That morning, he had gone to the pharmacy as usual to help grind herbs. Pushing the door open, he saw Jiang Qilan crouching before the herb cabinet, rummaging through drawers. Right beside him sat a person in quiet composure, a steaming bowl of porridge set before them. Hearing the noise, Jiang Qilan glanced back, raised an index finger to his lips in a hush gesture, and whispered softly, "Keep it down. The porridge was just served." A'Liu set down the bamboo tray, his jaw hanging open for several moments, before finally choking out a line of Miao dialect: "Brother Lan, is... is this that..." "Yeah." Jiang Qilan stood up and naturally reached out to brush away a stray grain of rice from the corner of the person's mouth, the gesture practiced and effortless, as if performed hundreds of times before. "Your sister-in-law. Woke up just a few days ago. Doesn't remember a thing—only remembers me." A'Liu scratched his head, wanting to greet them but completely unsure how to address them. In the end, he stammered out a stiff "Hello" in Mandarin. The person looked up at him, leaned a little closer toward Jiang Qilan, and remained silent. Jiang Qilan put down the herb powder, sat down beside them, and kept his voice extraordinarily gentle: "It's fine. That's A'Liu, from the village. You'll be seeing him often from now on." From that day forth, the villagers grew accustomed to it: wherever Qilan went, that person was by his side. Going to the herb garden, brought along; heading up the mountain to forage, brought along; heading down to the foothill town on business, brought along as well. Even during village council meetings, when he sat in the main chair at the center, that person would sit right beside him on a small wooden stool—quiet and peaceful, neither fussing nor wandering off, occasionally just tugging at his sleeve. Whenever his sleeve was tugged, he would look down immediately, whispering a question in the Miao tongue. Whatever the response was, a gentle smile would break across his face, and he would pull a leaf-wrapped rice cake from his pocket to hand over. Once, Grandma A'Duo pulled him aside to ask, "How is that person doing?" He was sorting medicinal leaves, his hands never pausing. Only after a beat did he say, "Remembers nothing. Everything from before is completely gone—can't even recall their own name." Pausing, he tossed a withered leaf into the bamboo creel, his voice dropping low: "...Only remembers me." Grandma A'Duo glanced at him and said nothing. He added quietly, "I'm not in a rush. As long as they're back, whether they remember the past or not doesn't really matter." Yet the villagers could tell he was far more on edge than ever before. If that person vanished from his sight for more than the burn of an incense stick, he would drop whatever was in his hands and stand up to search. His face would remain composed, yet his stride was so brisk that A'Liu had to jog just to keep up. When he found them, he wouldn't say a harsh word; he would simply take their hand in a grip that bordered on tight, only easing his hold after a long while. One evening, A'Liu passed beneath the stilt house and caught sight of two figures sitting under the veranda. Jiang Qilan leaned against a wooden pillar, letting the person rest against his shoulder. The Gu butterfly rested between them, its wings parting and closing in a slow, rhythmic beat. He didn't speak, just sat there quietly, one hand twirling a lock of hair draped over the person's shoulder—winding it into loops, letting it unravel, and winding it again. A'Liu later told the villagers: "The way Brother Lan is now is completely different from before. In the past, he kept everything buried deep without letting it show. Now... how should I put it? He looks calm and settled, but that calm is pulled taut like a bowstring—like he's terrified that the moment he lets go, the person will disappear into thin air." The villagers asked just how taut that bowstring was wound. A'Liu thought for a moment: "A couple of days ago when it rained, my sister-in-law was sleeping inside, and Brother Lan sat guard right at the threshold. I asked if he really needed to go that far. He told me, 'You don't understand. Last time I stepped away for just a little while, they were gone. I'm not leaving this time.'" Finishing his sentence, A'Liu fell silent for a spell before adding, "That was the first time I've ever heard Brother Lan sound so deadly serious."