Chapter 127: A Chance Encounter with Yan Bu Gui

In Four Nine City, the locust blossoms are in full bloom, white flower clusters hanging on both sides of the Alley, their fragrance drifting two li away. In front of Li Ping'an's Braised Meat Stall a long queue still lines up as usual, and the new sign glistens with oily shine under the sun.

Two jin of pork head meat, please! The first regular customer handed over oil paper, saying, "My spouse only likes the taste from your place."

Li Ping'an's knife was just about to descend when a sudden shout came from the back of the line: "Li Ping'an? Is that really you?"

He is a middle‑aged man wearing round glasses, his Zhongshan suit faded to white, with a patch on his elbow. He pushes forward forcefully, and the people in line protest: "Get in line!"

The man ignores them, staring intently at Li Ping'an: "I thought you had been taken by the Japanese Soldiers! I never expected to see you selling Braised Meat here!"

The knife pauses on the cutting board. Li Ping'an looks up, scanning for a moment, a faint smile curling his mouth: "Teacher Yan? This place isn't close to Nanluoguxiang."

"Here to see a friend." Yan Bu Gui pushes his glasses, his gaze flickering over the stall, "What are you…"

At that moment Ping Le sticks her head out from the inner room: "Brother, who is this…"

Yan Bu Gui's eyes brighten: "Who is this girl?"

"My sister, Ping Le." Li Ping'an waves to his sister, "She met Teacher Yan before; she was a neighbor when we rented a house."

Ping Le cheerfully shouts: "Hello, Grandpa Yan!"

"Oh dear! You're already so grown!" Yan Bu Gui clicks his tongue in amazement, "I never heard you mention a sister before. And weren't you the one who fled alone from Henan and pulled a Rickshaw? Why the career change?"

The cleaver resumes its up‑and‑down motion, thin, translucent slices of meat flying out: "The rickshaw was seized by the Japanese Soldiers; I still have to earn a living."

The people in line grow impatient: "Are you still buying or not?"

Yan Bu Gui hurriedly says: "Buy! Of course I'll buy!" He leans close to the board, lowering his voice: "Li Ping'an, given our past as neighbors, could you spare a bit of meat? You know my family's circumstances…"

The back of the knife taps the board with a measured rhythm: "Teacher Yan still has the same temper. You run a bookshop; can you really be short of this little money?"

"If you're not the one running the house, you don't know how dear firewood and rice are!" Yan Bu Gui thumps his chest, stamps his feet—he's never hungry nor poorly clothed, but miscalculates and ends up poor. "How about… you lower the price?"

The older woman at the back protests: "The ones at the front! We're still waiting!"

Li Ping'an smiles helplessly: "You see, everyone's waiting. This is a small‑scale trade; I don't bargain."

Yan Bu Gui sulks away to the side, orders half a jin of the cheapest pork head meat. As he leaves with the oil‑paper wrapper, he glances back. Ping Le is wiping sweat from her brother; the little girl's red cord on her wrist glitters.

On the way back to the Siheyuan, Yan Bu Gui grows increasingly puzzled. That year of war and chaos, Li Ping'an vanished suddenly. The courtyard folk said his fate was grim; how could…

"Lao Yan!" Yi Zhonghai is at the courtyard gate rolling coal balls, holding something that smells so good—how can you be willing to buy meat? Is this a good omen?

Yan Bu Gui, looking mysterious, drags him under the locust tree: "Guess who I ran into? Li Ping'an! He's selling Braised Meat in West City!"

The coal ball clacks onto the ground. Yi Zhonghai stares wide‑eyed: "The one who pulled the Rickshaw? No way… It was such chaos back then…"

"I'm puzzled too!" Yan Bu Gui slaps his thigh, "He even has a sister, Ping Le. Isn't that odd? I never heard him mention a sister before."

At that moment, Old Lady Long, leaning on her cane, passes by: "What are you muttering about?"

The three sit around a stone bench in the courtyard, Yan Bu Gui recounts the whole story. When he mentions Li Ping'an's hands, thick with old calluses, Yi Zhonghai interjects: "That winter, weren't there a group of Japanese Soldiers who drowned in the moat?"

Old Lady Long squints: "The eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, seven of them. They say they slipped and fell into the water."

The air suddenly quiets. Locust blossoms flutter down onto the stone table, as if a layer of salt were sprinkled.

At the West City stall, Ping Le is counting copper coins: "Brother, that Grandpa Yan's gaze when he looks at people is oddly unsettling."

Li Ping'an wipes his knife: "Over‑refined."

"He says you used to pull a Rickshaw?"

Old memories. Li Ping'an sticks the knife back into the board, closes the stall, and says, "Today I'll take you to eat fried tripe."

That night, Yan Bu Gui sips Scattered Wine with the Braised Meat, murmuring to his wife: "Isn't it strange? Li Ping'an suddenly shows up with a sister?"

His wife, holding the sole of her shoe, replies: "Maybe he fled to relatives back then? In chaotic times, every family has a story."

"Not so." Yan Bu Gui shakes his head, "I always feel that kid isn't ordinary. Do you remember? In the year 43, around midnight there were always dark shadows wandering outside our courtyard wall…"

"Eat yours quickly!" the wife pushes a bowl of porridge over, salty radish, barely any fuss.

Early the next day, Yan Bu Gui strolls to Yi Zhonghai's house: "Old Yi, what exactly did Li Ping'an do back then?"

Yi Zhonghai, sipping tea, replies: "Whatever he did, isn't he now happily selling Braised Meat?"

Yan Bu Gui lowers his voice: "I've been pondering all night… you think how an eleven‑year‑old Henan kid could flee alone to Beiping? On that journey…"

At that moment, Old Lady Long, leaning on her cane, comes over: "You two are whispering about Li Ping'an?"

"Lady, you say—" Yan Bu Gui steps forward—"Is that kid a bit uncanny?"

Old Lady Long taps her cane: "I've long said that child isn't ordinary. Think about it—on the famine‑stricken roads, corpses of the starving everywhere, and a boy barely a teenager managed to make it to Beiping whole."

Yi Zhonghai stops his work: "You mean…"

Old Lady Long squints: "A wolf cub that has seen blood has a gaze different from a domesticated one."

This remark sends a chill down Yan Bu Gui's nape. He recalls earlier at Li Ping'an's stall, those eyes sweeping over him, indeed gave a sudden shiver.

Meanwhile, Li Ping'an is serving dishes to Ping Le: "Eat slowly, no one is snatching them."

"Brother," Ping Le puffs her cheeks and asks, "Grandpa Yan, could he be talking nonsense?"

"Let him speak as he wishes." Li Ping'an looks toward the window. In the dusk, over the Siheyuan, a flock of pigeons circles.

Two days later, Yan Bu Gui stands in line at the grain shop buying rice, hearing two elderly women ahead chat casually:

"I heard Li Ping'an fled from Henan to Four Nine City looking for his sister?"

"Exactly! And he's bringing a sister… If you ask me, she was probably rescued from a human trafficker back then!"

Yan Bu Gui perches his ears, the more he thinks the more it seems reasonable. That night he murmurs to his wife again: "Maybe I'm finally getting it right? Wasn't that year always full of picking up prostitutes?"

His wife shoots him a glance: "Can't you hope for something good?"

A few more days pass, Yan Bu Gui can't resist returning to the Braised Meat Stall. This time he deliberately lines up at the very end, covertly watching Li Ping'an.

"One jin of braised beef, please." When his turn arrives, he tentatively asks, "Li Ping'an, has your sister… been betrothed yet?"

Li Ping'an lifts his knife and says, "She's still young. Why are you trying to set up a match for my sister? Your family's usual style is all stingy."

Yan Bu Gui shuffles away. As he walks far away, he looks back and sees Ping Le smiling, giving change to customers; the siblings stand together, their brows and eyes bearing a striking resemblance.

That evening, Old Lady Long cools herself in the courtyard, sees Yan Bu Gui looking absent‑minded, hums: "Some people just can't stand seeing others enjoy a peaceful life."

Yan Bu Gui's face reddens, he says nothing.

At closing time, Li Pingle wiped the counter and asked, "Brother, Uncle Yan is here again today."

Hm. Li Ping'an counted the copper coins and went with him.

Li Pingle: Why does he keep coming over here, even though it's quite far?

Li Ping'an: He just wants to take advantage. Ever since I rented a room in that Siheyuan, he's been thinking all day about scheming against me, trying to get a cut!

Li Pingle laughed, eyes curving like a crescent: "So tomorrow are we still having fried tripe?"

Eat. Li Ping'an clattered the copper coins into the cash box, as much as needed.

Under the moonlight, the brother and sister pushed the stall cart home. From the direction of the Siheyuan behind them, Old Lady Long's cough could be heard faintly.

The scent of locust blossoms grew stronger, as if saying, "Peaceful times, how wonderful."