Months pass. The biting north wind heralds the coming of the Dùshuò Festival, together with liquor permit days, so the tavern has been buzzing with guests for several days.
The front hall is warmed by a charcoal fire, creating a cozy and festive atmosphere.
In recent days, the town's celebrated Storyteller has taken the stage once again, spending several days narrating tales in the tavern.
Storyteller: It is said ...
The Storyteller's voice booms throughout the room. His tales are so captivating that they seize the ears of all present. Within a few sentences, even the most avid drinkers forget to raise their cups to their lips.
Storyteller: It is said there is a place haunted by miasma in the south of the land. The miasma there shifts its form into many Yāos, and they attack people.
Storyteller: Meanwhile, in the Central Plains, a monster originating from dryness dominates. Wherever it goes, drought follows, and people suffer famine.
Storyteller: The rivers and lakes are overrun with huge snakes called Gōushé. They are more than 20 meters long with hooks on their tails, hooking people and cows into the water to eat them.
Storyteller: To prevent these monsters from hurting people, Yāo hunters travel the world searching haunted places in order to expel them with their special power.
Storyteller: They are the sword against evil, protecting people with their lives.
Jiu Niangzi: Are they ... Xiángruì?
Storyteller: Not at all. A Yāo hunter is not a Xiángruì.
Poet: Jiǔ Niángzǐ, one more bowl of Great Mister!
Poet: Jiǔ Niángzǐ!
She is completely engrossed in the Storyteller's narrative, remaining oblivious to her surroundings until Ms. Xǔ comes over and tugs her sleeve.
Ms. Xu: Jiǔ Niángzǐ, quickly, a guest is calling you.
Jiu Niangzi: Oh, ok, one more bowl coming!
Ms. Xu: Forgive her; it's her first time listening to a professional Storyteller. She's been fascinated for the last few days.
Poet: Don't worry, I understand. He tells stories much better than we do. It's no wonder she's so absorbed.
Poet: It's too bad he only comes to the city during the Dùshuò Festival.
Ms. Xu: Speaking of which, it'll be a lot of work to decorate the tavern. Look at all these lanterns, candles, and ribbons!
Ms. Xu: Luckily, I have Jiǔ Niángzǐ to help me this year. What a busy year she's had. She ran errands, learned how to read, and delivered rice buns all around the city.
Ms. Xu: Though she still has a lot more to learn, she continues to impress me with her work ethic.
At this moment, a guest enters the tavern. Seeing the joyous festival celebrations, he smiles and finds a seat.
Lizheng: One bowl of Great Mister, please.
Ms. Xu: What a surprise it is to see you here, Lǐzhèng! Here, drinks are on me.
Ms. Xu: This is newly made. Have a try.
Lizheng: I don't usually drink, but we are in the countdown to the Dùshuò Festival, so I suppose I'll have a bowl or two. Besides, I have something I want to confirm with you.
Lizheng: Remember when we brought Jiǔ Niángzǐ here, you refused to take her in until we appointed you as supplier of the ceremonial liquor?
Lizheng: Well, the festival is near now, and I finally have some time to come by. I want to ask: How are the preparations going?
Ms. Xu: Already done. They're in the yard. Eight jars of liquor, all made with the best ingredients.
Ms. Xu: It was the request that I took most seriously all year! If anything goes wrong with them, people will lose their faith in me.
Lǐzhèng nods in satisfaction, knowing that Ms. Xǔ has taken her role to heart.
Lizheng: Relax. I'm just asking. The Zhílǐ is the one checking all the ceremonial supplies.
Lizheng: Dùshuò is the biggest festival of the year. The merchant's hub will be packed with people during this time. I need to make sure everything goes smoothly.
Ms. Xu: Oh, for a second, I thought this was a full inspection. You almost had me panicking.
Ms. Xu: I was thinking, "Zhílǐ has already checked the liquor; why is he checking again? Have I done something wrong?"
Hearing their lively conversation, Old Drinker joins them.
Old Drinker: Lǐzhèng, I heard the festoon race is rerunning this year. Do you know when, exactly?
Old Drinker: You see, most of us don't know much about divination, ancient articles, or singing ... But racing is nice and simple. Whoever runs fastest wins.
Lizheng: It'll be around the end of the year, but it's not decided yet. Some items, such as the festoons and flagpoles, are all prepared.
Lizheng: I wonder who'll win this year.
Jiu Niangzi: Festoons, flagpoles, winner ...
Jiu Niangzi: What's the festoon race?
Ms. Xu: It's just a few layabouts running around, really ... It's only ...
Old Drinker chuckles and waves his hand, taking over the conversation.
Old Drinker: Let me explain. The festoon race is a racing event. Five flagpoles are set up at five locations in the city, each with multiple festoons of the same color.
Old Drinker: There's no fixed route for the race. After it starts, the runners can collect five festoons in any order, as long as they finish with the red one.
Old Drinker: The first to get the red wins, and the Zhící will grant him a wish.
Jiu Niangzi: A wish ... Any wish?
Seeing Jiǔ Niángzǐ's enthusiasm, Lǐzhèng strokes his beard, a smile growing on his face.
Lizheng: Not if you're wishing for a star in the sky. Most people ask for some grains, clothes, or other daily necessities. Others ask for jade pendants, tea bricks, and the like.
Lizheng: Nothing worth more than a few loads of rice.
Jiu Niangzi: Can I wish to go to the county archive and read the books there?
Lizheng: Well ... Probably, yes. If you win the race, that is.
After a brief chat, Lǐzhèng takes his leave, and Ms. Xǔ hurries over to speak with Jiǔ Niángzǐ.
Ms. Xu: Jiǔ Niángzǐ, are you serious about joining the festoon race?
Ms. Xu: Every past winner has been a patroller! They're strong and, of course, know the city like the back of their hands.
Jiu Niangzi: I know the city well, too! I deliver buns all over the city all the time!
Jiu Niangzi: And I'm a fast runner! Much faster than before!
Ms. Xu: Well, you surely are ... But I'm worried you might get hurt during the race.
Ms. Xu: If something goes wrong, who'll take over the—
Ms. Xu: See me in the yard tonight. I have something to tell you.
As night falls, the courtyard is stripped of its daytime clamor, leaving only the liquor jars standing against the wall. There is no sound but the gurgling of water—a babbling particularly pronounced in the stillness of the night.
Jiǔ Niángzǐ, mimicking Ms. Xǔ, dips the liquor ladle into the vat, scooping out the lees to place in a wooden basin.
By the time she reaches the kitchen, an oil lamp has already been lit on the table, with wheat flour piled beside it.
Ms. Xu: The key is the ratio of ingredients.
Ms. Xu: Four cups of Jiǔniàng and one cup of wheat flour. No water.
Ms. Xu: Before you mix them together, you need to squeeze the liquor out of it, so the bun will be chewy.
Ms. Xu: Always use newly ground wheat flour. Inspect the flour for any large particles; it should be as fine as rouge powder.
Jiǔ Niángzǐ follows each step as Ms. Xǔ instructs her. She mixes the lees with the wheat flour and, using a special technique, patiently kneads them together.
Initially, the lees do not integrate with the wheat flour, but as she works it with her palms, they start to merge together, giving rise to a faint fragrance—milder than the lees but richer than the flour.
Jiu Niangzi: It's fun to make. The dough is soft and white. What's next?
Jiu Niangzi: Flatten it and put it in the earthen oven?
Ms. Xu: Not quite. There's one last step. Stay calm, alright? There's no need to be afraid.
Ms. Xǔ brings out a square wooden board and scatters a handful of wheat grain upon it. She then tilts a bowl of water, flicking her fingers to sprinkle water over the grain.
She mutters under her breath, and, in a matter of moments, the wheat grains begin to sprout open, growing upward as if devouring the air itself.
Jiǔ Niángzǐ watches the scene intently as the wheat sprouts on the table grow to the length of her palm before coming to a halt.
Jiu Niangzi: You—you know magic?
Ms. Xu: It's my arcane skill, nothing special. I can hasten the growth of malt. Actually, there are many others in the city who can do much more.
Ms. Xǔ slices the freshly sprouted malt, chops it finely, and blends it into the well-kneaded dough.
Ms. Xu: This is the secret to our rice buns. The malt. It takes days for it to grow naturally, but my skill saves a lot of time.
Ms. Xu: Have you had malt before?
Jiu Niangzi: No, but I know it can be made into candy.
Ms. Xu: It can make liquor, too. My father was the one who brought the recipe for ale to the city.
Ms. Xu: He was a merchant traveling the world. After he met my mother, he decided to stay here and opened this tavern.
Ms. Xu: When I was a little girl, my mother always said that, thanks to my arcane skill, we could make liquor faster than any other tavern.
Ms. Xu: And my father told me stories of his travels. Today, what the Storyteller said about ...
Ms. Xǔ's voice grows fainter, her mind drifting off, as though she were recalling some past event.
Ms. Xu: My yearning to travel the world gets stronger day by day, yet here I am, still at this tavern ...
Ms. Xu: There's always something that stops me from getting out of the city, or even out the front gate, for that matter.
Jiu Niangzi: Ms. Xǔ ...
Jiu Niangzi: Are you also trapped here?
Ms. Xǔ's gaze falls upon the flickering candlelight. The shadows of the room seem to have taken the shape of things from long ago. She simply shakes her head.
Ms. Xǔ looks at Jiǔ Niángzǐ and sees a reflection of her younger self. Suddenly, she feels a weariness enveloping her.
Ms. Xu: Forget it. Go to sleep, Jiǔ Niángzǐ. Go to sleep.
After returning to her room, Jiǔ Niángzǐ's thoughts linger on Ms. Xǔ. It seems the people of Pèi City all have their individual worries, be it Lǐzhèng, Ms. Xǔ, or the patrons.
A familiar rustling emanates from the corners of the room, starting as a soft whisper and gradually swelling into song as the wooden dolls once again appear atop her bed.
Wooden Dolls: Make buns, make buns!
Wooden Dolls: Rice buns! Grow malt!
A wooden doll climbs up Jiǔ Niángzǐ's sleeve.
Wooden Dolls: You have, personal feelings.
Wooden Dolls: You treat her as family. You will never be a Xiángruì.
Jiu Niangzi: Hey, stop! Shut up!
Jiu Niangzi: I don't have any personal feelings, okay?! So just stop talking!
Wooden Dolls: Can't be a Xiángruì! Can't go out of the city! Forever and ever.
Jiu Niangzi: I won't stay here forever ... I won't!
Jiǔ Niángzǐ turns her back, doing her best to ignore the encroaching chaos, yet her heart remains plunged into turmoil.
