Chapter Thirty-One: Using Old-Fashioned Methods

The two elderly women were sitting on a long slab of bluestone beneath the kapok trees, discussing the matter. Lei was not fond of the topic, so she steered the conversation elsewhere, expressing her deep gratitude to Wu Xiaofeng, the general manager and son of Ma, for arranging for her daughter-in-law to work at a construction site cooking meals for the laborers, earning a decent wage of 1,500 yuan a month. However, there was a problem at home: her grandson was unable to nurse from his mother and had to drink cow’s milk every day. It was said that children who drank cow’s milk were not as intelligent as those who drank breast milk, and this worried her.

Though Ma agreed with the concern, she responded with a more idealistic view: where was the proof of that? Wasn’t a child who drank cow’s milk just as smart?

At that moment, a sweet scent of flowers and grass wafted through the air. Lei flared her nostrils, finding the fragrance pleasant.

Suddenly, Ma stood up, scratching at her neck. Each scratch left a red stripe, and soon a crisscross pattern of red marks appeared. Muttering about the unbearable itch, she quickly rose, and Lei rose to support her, but Ma shook her head, signaling she didn’t need help, and walked straight out of the kapok grove.

Lei accompanied her, saying, “This is an allergic reaction to the floral scent. Let me take you to the hospital.”

Ma waved her hand dismissively, “No need, no need. I’ll wait until the itching subsides.”

Lei suggested, “Then rest at home for a while. I’ll go to the riverbank and pick some willow leaves to boil into a wash for you. It’ll be even better than hospital medicine or injections.”

Ma was skeptical but agreed to try it, moved by Lei’s kindness. She said, “Alright, let’s try your method.”

Ma took a path through the fields, heading east toward her house in the village.

True to her word, Lei went to the riverbank, gathered a large bundle of willow leaves, and returned home. She placed them in a ceramic pot, added water, and brought it to a boil over a fierce flame before simmering it slowly. The water reduced from a full pot to about half, thick with herbal essence, filling the entire house with a medicinal aroma.

At home, Xu Sigui was rhythmically rocking the cradle shaped like a colorful dragon boat with his foot. The gentle swaying helped lull the child inside to sleep.

Upon smelling the herbal scent, Xu Sigui coughed softly to avoid waking the child and whispered, “Mother, no one in our family is sick. Why are you boiling medicine?”

Lei wrapped the pot’s metal handle with a damp cloth until it was cool enough to hold, then said, “Sigui, this isn’t your concern.” She carried the pot out and added, “I’m going to the east side of the village to Wu Xiaofeng’s house. His mother has skin allergies and a red neck. I’m bringing some willow leaf water for her to wash with. You shouldn’t always let the child sleep; when she wakes, pick her up and take her around for fresh air. It’s better for her.”

Xu Sigui bristled inwardly. He didn’t mean to argue with his mother but felt embarrassed as a grown man taking care of the child. He rarely carried the baby beyond the doorstep, let alone around the village. When he saw someone approaching, he hurriedly retreated indoors.

Ma’s house sat at the eastern edge of the village, nestled against a mountain behind and a river in front — a picturesque spot favored for its natural beauty.

Such geographical advantages often went unnoticed by common folk but were prized by feng shui masters. Once, a feng shui expert visited and declared the house’s orientation perfect: water in front, mountain behind. According to the principles of yin and yang and the Five Elements, water nourishes wood, wood generates fire; water symbolizes income, wood represents wealth, and fire signifies prosperity. The family was destined for great fortune and flourishing careers.

Many villagers linked these predictions to Wu Xiaofeng’s success as a prominent construction magnate and credited the feng shui with his rise.

Although Ma’s house resembled the old Ming and Qing architectural style like many others, they had renovated it thoroughly, preserving the traditional layout and auspicious symbolism.

Take, for instance, the wooden carving of two dragons playing with a pearl on the roof ridge. Two years ago, the colors had faded, and the pearl was half missing. Now, the dragons were freshly painted—red where red was due, green where green was right—and the scales gleamed with high-quality golden lacquer, making the entire sculpture dazzling and imbued with auspiciousness.

The spacious courtyard before Ma’s house had been paved with cement, keeping it dust-free on sunny days and mud-free in rain—a feature the villagers envied.

At that moment, Lei approached Ma’s doorstep carrying the nearly half-full pot of willow leaf infusion. Ma was just stepping out, her face etched with discomfort.

Upon seeing Lei and smelling the herbal aroma, Ma understood immediately and was about to ask something when Lei gently shook the pot and said, “Ma, I’ve prepared this medicinal wash for you. Try washing your neck and see if the itching subsides.”

Ma lowered the hand she had raised to cover her neck, revealing a large patch of purplish-red scratch marks, like a cloud of heat and irritation.

She waved her hand, “Thank you, but no need. I’m going to the city hospital’s dermatology department right away.”

At that moment, her daughter-in-law, Gong Yawen, who was carrying the child, stepped forward. She glanced gratefully at Lei, then turned to Ma and said, “Mother, why not wash your neck with the medicine Lei made? If it stops the itching, there’s no need for the hospital. Besides, if you must go, your son Xiaofeng will drive you there. I’ve already spoken with him; he’ll be back in a few hours.”

“All right,” Ma nodded, finally persuaded.

She invited Lei inside to rest.

Gong Yawen, holding the child in one arm, poured tea and offered it to Lei.

Lei declined to drink but instructed Ma to sit down. She took a small white cloth, dipped it in boiled water that had cooled, wrung it out, then repeatedly applied, rubbed, and massaged the reddish patches on Ma’s neck with the willow leaf infusion.

Ma felt as if tiny itchy insects writhing on her skin were instantly killed. She was visibly moved and said, “Ah, this medicine works well—it really stops the itch!”

Lei promised, “If it helps, I’ll bring more willow leaves to boil for you to kill any bacteria.”

“Thank you so much,” Ma said, thinking to herself that she already knew this remedy but had never tried it. Now that she did, there was no need to burden others, especially someone of Lei’s similar age. Asking her to move about to serve her seemed unreasonable.

Lei, encouraged by Ma’s approval, replied sincerely, “What’s there to thank me for? Your son’s success arranged work for my daughter-in-law at the construction site—I’m already very grateful to you. Even though it’s your son helping my family, first we must thank you for raising such an outstanding son. Without him, none of this would be possible.”

Ma felt deeply comforted by Lei’s words and subconsciously believed Lei’s assistance was only right, though she kept this thought unspoken.

She changed the topic gently, “My son’s company is mainly in construction. Aside from blueprint design, which requires skill, most jobs are dangerous and heavy, needing strength. That’s why they generally don’t hire women.”

Lei nodded repeatedly, murmuring her thanks.

By now, the pot of willow leaf water was almost used up, and the cloth had turned a dark red from the infusion.

Ma’s itching had subsided, and the scratch marks on her neck had faded, resembling the dark red stains left after applying iodine at the hospital—but the willow leaf water’s herbal scent was far more pleasant and healthful than iodine.

Just then, the sound of a car horn came from afar. Everyone looked up to see a silver-gray sedan slowly approaching the eastern village, driving past Ma’s cement courtyard.

Lei wanted to continue rubbing the remaining medicine on Ma’s neck to avoid waste.

Ma, seeing the approaching car, grew excited and said to Lei, “That’s enough for now. We can continue next time.”

Lei held the nearly empty pot and turned to see Wu Xiaofeng stepping out of the parked car. He politely greeted her before approaching Ma.

“Mother, Yawen called and said you’re unwell. I drove here specially to take you to the hospital. Where do you feel uncomfortable?”

Ma lifted her left hand to touch the patch on her neck where the willow leaf water had been applied, then waved her right hand dismissively. “No need to see a doctor anymore. The itching has stopped.”

Looking at Lei beside her, she told her son, “Xiaofeng, your Aunt Lei cured me with this folk remedy. Why waste money on the hospital?”

Wu Xiaofeng smiled and thanked Lei but inwardly doubted the reliability of such traditional cures. “Mom, let’s combine both approaches. We should still see a doctor.”

“No need,” Ma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said thoughtfully, “Xiaofeng, if the itch returns in a few days, then we can go to the hospital.”

Seeing his mother looking healthy, without any sign of illness except for the faded mark on her neck, Wu Xiaofeng felt reassured. He glanced at Lei, still holding the pot, and asked her, “How should I thank you, Aunt Lei?”

“Oh, it’s nothing to thank me for,” Lei replied quickly.

Ma said firmly, “I want to thank her.”

Wu Xiaofeng immediately took out a hundred-yuan note and handed it to his mother, saying, “I’ve been busy outside and haven’t had time to take care of you.”

Ma refused, but her son insisted until she accepted.

Lei praised, “You’re a truly filial son. Actually, since you’re busy, your wife Yawen has been taking very good care of your mother.”

Yawen stood aside, smiling wryly. She felt a pang of frustration. Her husband had been away for days and nights, rushed back only to speak with her mother, leaving her neglected.

Seizing the moment, Yawen said, “I haven’t taken good care of her. I can barely manage the child.” She shot her husband an accusing glance, as if silently reproaching him.

Wu Xiaofeng understood immediately. To soothe his wife, he gently tugged her sleeve and led her into the bedroom. Without counting, he pulled out a thick wad of bills—about ten hundred-yuan notes—and handed them to her. “I’ve been busy these days, so I haven’t been home much.”

Yawen pushed the money away, frowning. “Busy doesn’t mean you don’t come home at all.”

Wu Xiaofeng placed the money on the dressing table with a smile. “I’m home now, aren’t I?”

Yawen snorted in dissatisfaction. “Yes, you’re back, but is this a family or a hotel? Even guests stay a night before leaving. You’re worse than a guest—coming and going so fast you leave me a widow. Oh, you think a few dirty bills will fix everything? This can’t go on.”