Dried persimmon

The twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month.

On this day, every household takes advantage of the midday sun to call upon their younger generations to paste couplets and the character for "fortune" on their front doors. A thick layer of creamy, transparent paste is applied to the brown door panels; the freshly dyed paper of the couplets leaves red powder on one's hands at the slightest touch.

It was time for Grandma Ye’s couplets to be replaced. As the youngest member of the family, that task naturally fell to Ye Mian. Dressed in a white padded jacket, she wrapped a towel around herself to avoid getting paste on her new clothes, then brought a small stool to the front door.

This year’s couplets had been bought by Ye Haisheng. The paper was thick and beautiful, with the characters dusted in a heavy layer of gold powder that shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight. When the wind blew, the gold powder would drift off. Ye Mian, standing at the base, found some of the powder dusting her hair. With every slight tilt of her head, her hair would catch the light, creating a dazzling, golden glow.

Tomorrow would be New Year’s Eve. The streets were livelier than they had been in days, bustling with pedestrians moving along the small bridge. The residents of Qiao Town used this day to sell their surplus produce. Grandma Ye, joining in the spirit of things, had set up a stall at the bridgehead to sell persimmon cakes. Occasionally, when she returned home to use the restroom, she would never forget to bring two back for Ye Mian to eat.

Persimmon trees were everywhere in Qiao Town, and the cakes were one of the town’s specialties. The bright orange cakes, coated in a fine white sugar frost, were chewy and filled with a flowing, nectar-like fruit center. They were perfectly sweet and had a wonderful texture, which Ye Mian loved.

She sat in her room, munching on a persimmon cake while laying out a dozen red envelopes, carefully tucking banknotes into them. Two of them were stuffed with thick stacks of cash—prepared for her father and Grandma Ye. The rest were for the children who would come to offer New Year greetings. She had intended to help her grandmother sell persimmons today, but the space at the bridgehead was too cramped, and Grandma Ye had adamantly refused to let her near it. There simply wasn't any room for her. Thus, she was left to idle in her room, sending out digital New Year red envelopes to her employees who were on holiday.

As a studio owner, Ye Mian was very thorough. She sent a personal message of blessing to each employee, accompanied by a WeChat transfer of 520 yuan. It wasn't part of their annual bonus; just a small, private token of her appreciation. She hadn't even finished sending them all when—

Suddenly, her courtyard gate was pounded upon with great force. The people of the town valued traditional etiquette; such chaotic knocking could only mean something had happened. Startled, Ye Mian ran out of her room. Upon opening the gate, she found two children holding sugar-coated haws and persimmon cakes. Their faces were flushed red, and they were sniffing, looking as if they had run there in a frenzy.

Ye Mian froze for a moment, then gave a gentle smile, crouching down to ask softly, "What’s wrong? Is something the matter?"

The two children stared blankly at the beautiful older sister before them. After a long pause, they stammered, "Your grandma is fighting with someone at the bridgehead. You’d better go look." Having said that, they turned and scurried away on their short legs, seemingly shy.

Ye Mian: "???"

If she hadn't misheard, they meant Grandma Ye, right? Fighting? A wave of panic washed over her. She didn't even have time to close the door before she rushed toward the bridgehead.

Outside, a light snow was falling. The water level in the canal had dropped, revealing the dark, stained waterline; in this season, even the moss dared not grow wantonly. Ye Mian merged into the crowd, moving against the flow toward the bridge. Grandma Ye was generally quite healthy, though she had recently caught a cold and would cough occasionally. But she was elderly, and her bones were brittle; a fight was bound to lead to trouble. Moreover, Ye Mian couldn't imagine who her grandmother would fight. A customer? Or one of the burly vendors? Every thought led to the conclusion that her grandmother would surely suffer.

She was frantic. As she ran, the wind bit at her face like sharp, curved knives. Tiny snowflakes landed on her eyelashes and melted into droplets, but she had no time to wipe them away. Her eyes darted around until she finally spotted Grandma Ye under a porch.

Grandma Ye, with her hair white as frost, stood in the biting wind leaning on her cane. Her expression was grim, and her voice, though not loud, was sharp and resonant. "You really are a scoundrel. I’ve always been too lazy to argue with an unreasonable person like you."

Ye Mian stopped in her tracks, her gaze landing on the person being scolded. Her intensity instantly faded by more than half. The woman arguing with her grandmother was another old lady, also leaning on a cane, with a spirit and a dark scowl that matched Grandma Ye's perfectly.

"Where am I a scoundrel? I just knocked over one of your persimmons; I'll pay you two yuan, big deal."

"You did it on purpose! There's a perfectly good path, but you just had to walk right over my display, you mangy dog," Grandma Ye retorted.

"Who are you calling a dog?"

"..."

Seeing the two elderly women about to clash their canes together, Ye Mian hurried over to intervene. However, she was stopped by their neighbor, Auntie Mei, who whispered, "Don't try to mediate. Just find an excuse to pull your grandma away. Your grandma and this Auntie Xu have been at odds since they were young. They've been bickering like this for decades; it’ll pass if you just ignore it, but don't let it turn into a real fight."

Clearly speaking from experience, Ye Mian blinked and thanked her, "Okay, thank you, Auntie Mei."

Well, that explained it. She had wondered how her grandmother, who wasn't a petty person, could possibly start a fight over a single persimmon. It turned out to be a long-standing grudge.

In February, a low-temperature climate blanketed the ancient town of Qiao. The wind and snow continued to rage. In this freezing weather, Ye Mian couldn't bear for her grandmother to stay out in the cold any longer. She stepped forward, picked up the basket of persimmon cakes, and said, "Grandma, I have a classmate who wants to buy some persimmons. Could you come back with me and see how many we have left?"

Grandma Ye turned and looked at her granddaughter, and in the end, she turned and followed her. Ye Mian blinked, finally relieved, and helped her grandmother walk away.

However, after only a few steps, she heard Grandma Ye say in a cold voice, "I have never encountered such misfortune in my life. A person like her existing is a provocation to me."

The words drifted on the shivering wind into everyone's ears, clear and dripping with scorn. The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Ye Mian: "???"

Her grandmother’s fighting spirit was truly... legendary. She didn't even dare to look back at the expression on that other old lady's face, which she was certain must be darker than burning charcoal. Fearing the other woman might get angry and retaliate, Ye Mian hurried her grandmother along.

Whether Grandma Ye was still angry or not, she didn't speak for the rest of the way, though her expression softened slightly. As midday passed, the streets grew quiet, and smoke began to rise from the chimneys of the small courtyards.

Ye Mian broke the silence first. "Grandma, how much are you selling the persimmon cakes for per jin?"

Grandma Ye frowned. "Do you really want to buy them?"

Ye Mian nodded earnestly. It wasn't just an excuse; she really did want to bring some local specialties back with her. Grandma Ye’s persimmon cakes tasted exceptionally good—the fruit was as soft and chewy as mochi, and even she couldn't stop eating them. Of course, she had to buy some.