Chapter Forty-Eight: A Love Story from the Northeast

Page 1 of 3

With the arrival of spring, the snows of the snowy village gradually melted away, revealing the true hue of the black earth, while the streams in the mountains and forests began to sing once more. All things revived, and the village was brewing a joyous event.

On this particular day, Brother Sun, the village chief, burst into my clinic in high spirits, his face glowing and his voice booming several octaves higher than usual.

“Doctor Jiang! Wonderful news! My boy is finally getting married!”

He plopped himself down on the edge of the kang, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. Just as he was about to light it, he remembered my rule against smoking in the clinic, chuckled, and put it away again. His barely contained excitement made him restless.

“Is Sun Lei getting married?” I smiled as I poured him a cup of hot tea. Sun Lei, Brother Sun’s only son, worked at the timber mill in town—a robust and capable young man, whom I’d met a few times. He wasn’t much of a talker, but he was hardworking, with a straightforwardness shining in his eyes.

“That’s right!” Brother Sun slapped his thigh. “He’s marrying the daughter of old Li from the neighboring village’s forestry station, Xiaoyan. The kids have been seeing each other for nearly two years. Let me tell you, she’s a wonderful girl! Diligent, filial, and pretty, too!”

I couldn’t recall much about “Xiaoyan,” but from Brother Sun’s satisfied expression, I could sketch a rough image of her in my mind.

Yiyi, who had been reading nearby, looked up with curiosity at the news. “Uncle Sun, when’s the wedding?”

“Very soon! It’s set for the eighth of next month, an auspicious day!” Brother Sun’s face was a mixture of joy and anxiety. “But first, we need to weather the ‘crossing-the-threshold wind’ these next few days.”

“‘Crossing-the-threshold wind’?” Yiyi asked, puzzled.

He explained, “That’s when the two families meet and lay everything out on the table—betrothal gifts, dowry, the wedding banquet. It’s the most important part, even more so than the banquet itself. If negotiations go smoothly, everyone’s happy; if not, there could be trouble.”

I nodded. This was the central drama of any wedding, but in the Northeast, the term “crossing-the-threshold wind” was especially vivid.

Over the next few days, the entire village seemed to feel the tense yet hopeful atmosphere in Brother Sun’s home. Sister Sun was busier than ever—one moment consulting with Carpenter Li about new furniture, the next gathering the village aunties to cut red paper window decorations.

Yiyi became fascinated by the art of papercutting and joined in. The women were deft-handed; a plain red sheet, snipped a few times, would become a pair of lifelike dragons and phoenixes, or a large “Double Happiness” character surrounded by pomegranates and peonies, symbols of fertility and prosperity.

Yiyi worked earnestly, but her creations always carried a delicate, Jiangnan elegance. Her magpies had especially long tails; her lotus blossoms, with their layered petals, were intricate and refined, yet lacked the fullness and boldness of northeastern window art.

Page 2 of 3

“Silly girl,” Sister Sun laughed, guiding her. “Our window decorations here must be full to the brim, with no empty spaces. That’s called ‘a house brimming with blessings’—only then will life be solid, with no gaps for luck to leak away.”

Yiyi gazed thoughtfully at the red paper in her hands. She recalled the fan Lin Mo had given her in Andu Town, where the art valued blank spaces and subtlety. Here, happiness was defined as a weighty, unbroken fullness.

She began to adapt, making her cuts bolder and her designs more compact. When she finally managed a chubby, well-shaped “Fortune” character, Sister Sun patted her head in approval.

“That’s it! Around here, a happy occasion must be vibrant and bustling!”

Yiyi held her red “Fortune” character up to the sunlight. The light filtered through the cutouts, casting mottled shadows across her face. Suddenly, she felt that this kind of fullness was perhaps the most direct and reassuring sense of security. Unlike the misty, fleeting rains of the south, it resembled the black earth itself—solid, warm, and bearing the simplest hopes.

The “crossing-the-threshold wind” went off without a hitch. It was said that, on that day, Brother Sun and his future in-law drank themselves into a brotherly bond, pounding the table and settling every detail of the wedding.

A few days later, Sun Lei returned from town, accompanied by his fiancée, Lin Xiaoyan.

They had come to be formally introduced to the villagers.

I met Lin Xiaoyan for the first time in Brother Sun’s courtyard. Contrary to my expectations of a quiet girl, she exuded a brisk, lively energy. Tall and slim, she wore a neat blue jacket and a simple ponytail, her skin a healthy shade of wheat. She lacked the shyness of city girls; upon seeing us, she greeted us cheerfully, “Hello, Doctor Jiang! Hello, Yiyi!”—her voice clear as mountain spring water.

Sun Lei stood beside her, the usually reticent young man unable to hide a sheepish grin. The way he looked at Xiaoyan was not the lingering, poetic gaze of southern scholars, but more like the straightforward, warming sun of winter—open, sincere, with a pride and certainty that said, “This is my wife.”

Their interactions held little in the way of sweet nothings. When Xiaoyan saw Sister Sun fetching water at the well, she immediately took over, “Let me, Auntie!” Effortlessly, she hoisted two buckets and walked with steady steps. Sun Lei simply went over, took the buckets from her hands without a word, and carried them into the house, grumbling, “Showing off, are you?” Though he sounded annoyed, the smile at his lips gave him away.

Yiyi tugged at my sleeve and whispered, “Papa, they… don’t seem like the couples in the books.”

I understood her. In the tales she’d read, love was about moonlit nights and poetry, lingering glances and unspoken words. But these two—love was two buckets of water, a teasing remark, a silent understanding blended into daily life.

That afternoon, Sun Lei brought Xiaoyan to see me. She’d strained her wrist working at the forestry station and he wanted me to take a look.

While I examined her wrist, Sun Lei hovered anxiously, his brows furrowed tighter than Xiaoyan’s.

Page 3 of 3

“Doctor, is it serious? Will it leave a lasting problem?” he asked, a string of worried questions.

“It’s nothing, just a bit of fascia strain. I’ll prescribe a plaster; apply it for a few days and go easy on that hand,” I reassured him.

Xiaoyan rolled her eyes at him. “You worry too much! I’ve already said it’s fine. Doctor Jiang, don’t listen to him. I’m sturdy as an ox.”

“You still can’t treat it lightly!” Sun Lei retorted, his tone sharp but his movements gentle as he carefully took the plaster from me, asking in detail about its use, frequency, and what to avoid. His clumsy concern was more genuine than any flowery words.

Xiaoyan, watching his anxious face, called him “annoying,” but the sweetness in her eyes was about to overflow.

After they left, Yiyi sat silently for a long time.

“Papa,” she finally said, “I think I understand something now.”

“What is it you understand?”

“Sister Sun said blessings must be ‘full’. The feelings between Brother Sun Lei and Sister Xiaoyan—they’re ‘full’ too.” She analyzed it seriously. “There’s no blank space, no guessing. Care is just care, affection is just affection—everything’s out in the open, spoken aloud. It may sound noisy, but… I think it must feel very safe inside.”

I looked at her, my heart softened.

Yes, this was a “solid” love—not the pursuit of elusive romance, but one rooted in the firmest earth. Its aim was not poetic longing, but building a home brick by brick, sharing steaming meals day by day, living out a vibrant life together.

For Yiyi, who once only knew distant, poetic solace, perhaps this tangible, ordinary happiness would help her understand the true meaning of “life” and “love” more than any romantic ideal ever could.