Yingcai was teaching when his father left. He heard his father call out, "I'm off!" He waved from the door, then turned back to the lesson.
When class finished, Sun Sihai found him. "Your father asked me to tell you he's given the lard to Principal Yu. He was worried you would be cross so he didn't want to tell you himself. He said that there was no fat at all in the meal he ate at lunch."
It was a busy day: after the flag-lowering ceremony, a group of a dozen parents rushed over to school. They refused tea and divided into two groups, one to help Sun Sihai dig out the drainage ditch around his fuling mushrooms, the other to help Principal Yu harvest his sweet potato.
Yingcai took a stroll around the fuling field. Everyone was commenting that this was going to be a bumper harvest for Sun Sihai. The cracks in the soil were nearly half an inch wide in places, definite proof that the mushrooms beneath the surface were swelling up. Sun Sihai smiled, and said that as the last three fuling crops he had planted had all fled the scent, maybe this time would make up for the loss. Yingcai had no idea what he meant by "fled the scent" . Sun Sihai explained that fuling were mysterious things; three years ago they had planted the mushrooms under some scented wood and when they came to harvest them three years later all the wood had rotted properly, but they couldn't find a single fuling. The scent of the wood had driven them off—they eventually found an unexpected crop some distance away. Sometimes the fragrance would drive them over the top of the mountain and onto the back mountain. Yingcai didn't believe him and said it was all superstition, which upset everyone. They turned their attention to digging the ditches and ignored him.
Yingcai was bored, so he went over to Principal Yu's sweet potato field. Several parents were digging fiercely with hoes; behind them was a small group of pupils. When the adults unearthed a vegetable, the children snatched it up and put it in a large bamboo basket at the edge of the field. Their faces were covered in snot and soil, and their hair seemed to consist entirely of withered sweet potato leaves.
"Don't make such a mess, children—be more careful, think about your personal hygiene," he called out.
"Let them carry on," rebuked Principal Yu. "They don't have fun like this very often and they look sweet covered in mud."
He dug a sweet potato up with his bare hands, brushed off most of the mud and popped half of it into his mouth, declaring it to be fresh and tender. He told Yingcai to get himself one. Yingcai did, then started to walk towards the stream to rinse it off. "There's no need to wash it," the principal said. "It will taste of water, it won't be so fresh."
Yingcai pretended not to hear and carried on. He was reluctant to go back after that, and instead went back to his room and lit his stove.
When he got to the playground he heard Ye Biqiu calling his name.
"Why haven't you gone home yet?" he asked.
"My youngest aunt lives in the next village down the mountain. Dad told me to go and get some vegetables for you to cook." She passed him a basket half-filled with green leafy vegetables.
Biqiu was on the point of leaving when Yingcai took her hand. "Could you do me a favour and ask Yu Zhi if he knows who broke the strings on the Phoenix zither?"
Biqiu nodded.
Yingcai walked her to her aunt's home. When they got there he realised that her aunt lived next door to Deng Youmi. Deng Youmi invited him to have dinner with them. Yingcai refused, pretending that he had already eaten. On his way back, Yingcai remembered how slowly Biqiu had walked earlier. She reminded him of Yao Yan. He thought back, and seemed to remember that Biqiu's hand had trembled when he had taken it earlier.
It grew colder every day.
After a week, the school routine became familiar. Every day some reminder of old things made him lonely. The cut strings on the Phoenix zither bothered him more and more.
Several weeks later, Biqiu had still not said anything about the zither's strings. But she was also avoiding him, running home immediately after school. So, one afternoon, Yingcai asked Deng Youmi to announce in class that Biqiu should report to him when lessons ended. This time she had no excuse for heading home early.
"Have you spoken to Yu Zhi?" Yingcai asked.
"Yes. He said he did it. He wants you to know."
"So why have you taken so long to tell me?"
"He knows that you sent me to spy on him. If I said anything, then I really would be a double agent."
"So why are you telling me now?"
"You made me tell you, I didn't volunteer the information. The situation is entirely different."
Yingcai was floored by what she said; it was the most sophisticated reasoning he had heard since arriving in Jieling. Of course, his experience of culture was limited to his copy of A Small Town Youth, which he still flicked through daily. He nearly asked Biqiu if she had read it, or if she would like to, but pulled himself together.
"I don't believe that Yu Zhi cut those strings."
"Neither do I. Yu Zhi always likes to play the martyr."
"Ask him again."
"I don't dare. When we were in the third grade, he told me he had eaten earthworms. When I said I didn't believe him he actually did it, right in front of me."
Their conversation was becoming improper. Yingcai asked Biqiu to leave.
