Chapter 163: Hospitable Sister Tong

The post office stood on the right side of the village gate, housed in a blue-stone and tiled building constructed in the 1950s or 1960s. Behind it was a three-story annex built of red bricks, though its roof eaves retained a distinctly local ethnic style.

Passing through a wind-and-rain covered corridor bridge spanning more than ten meters led directly to the village entrance. Flanking the gate were two tall, tapering four-story structures. Each lower level featured four windows, while the topmost tier resembled a battlement. According to local lore, these were the village's ancient watchtowers, once used exclusively for sentry duty. Three similar towers stood at the other three sides of the settlement, with the central one being slightly shorter and primarily used for summoning the community to urgent meetings.

Fortified watchtowers of this kind were most famously associated with the ethnic architecture of Chen Xin’s hometown. Every village of that ethnic group boasted several such keeps capable of housing the entire local population, serving as vital military installations during wartime and as lookout posts in peacetime.

Upon arriving at the post office, Chen Xin exchanged greetings with the staff, took the address of the guesthouse recommended by the proprietress, and followed the directions into the village.

The settlement was long and narrow, bisected by a stream and featuring a specially excavated pond. This pond served as a reservoir for irrigation and acted as an essential flood-diversion facility during high-water seasons.

Many ethnic groups shared the tradition of building covered corridor bridges, as well as rows of stone laundry platforms constructed exclusively for women along the riverbanks.

The lodging where Chen Xin was to stay was located in the three-story stilted house directly behind the third laundry platform.

The owner, known as Sister Tong, was a woman in her forties. Though remarkably lean, short, and tanned, her exceptional capability was renowned throughout the village. The proprietress had recounted how Sister Tong’s husband had abandoned the family more than a decade ago and never returned. Over the years, Sister Tong had single-handedly raised her three children while caring for four elderly dependents. Her husband’s siblings were in poor financial circumstances and could only contribute meager living allowances as they were able; all other expenses were borne entirely by Sister Tong alone.

Such a feat was rare not only among ethnic minorities but even in major cities. While being an only child left one no choice in supporting aging parents, households with multiple siblings seldom shared caregiving responsibilities without haggling over gains and losses. Particularly in Sister Tong’s predicament—where her husband had vanished without a trace—she could easily have washed her hands of her parents-in-law. Instead, she chose to do her utmost to bring joy to all four elders.

"When her mother-in-law passed away the year before last, she held Sister Tong’s hand with tear-swollen eyes on her deathbed, apologizing for failing this daughter-in-law and vowing to repay her kindness in the next life by serving as an ox or a horse," the villagers held Sister Tong in deep admiration. Regardless of whether their praise was genuine or mere social courtesy, everyone had to concede that she was truly filial and exceptionally capable.

"Sister Tong’s eldest child failed to pass the college entrance examination this year and went away to work. He keeps only a third of his earnings and sends the rest back for his younger siblings' tuition and living expenses. Furthermore, Sister Tong’s father and father-in-law, as long as their health permits, still go up the mountain to chop firewood and hunt, racking their brains to improve the family's diet. Their household is universally acknowledged in our village as harmonious and loving. When the county government announced evaluations for exemplary families last time, theirs was the only household in our village to pass."

Although the title of exemplary family was merely honorary, the county government still provided certain material rewards, and the village committee issued a small cash bonus. Though others looked on with envy, they knew they could find no fault with the selection.

Chen Xin pulled her luggage into Sister Tong’s main hall. Sister Tong was absent, having gone to tend the fields, so her youngest daughter came out to receive Chen Xin.

Having inquired beforehand with the proprietress, Chen Xin knew the cost of living here was low. Boarding with Sister Tong’s family cost a flat rate of thirty yuan per day. For those opting to order dishes separately, the lodging fee was twenty yuan, and the prices of dishes were discounted by a third compared to standard restaurants.

Chen Xin had come specifically to experience the local ethnic lifestyle, which naturally included the local cuisine. Consequently, she paid for ten days upfront, with the understanding that adjustments would be made later based on actual consumption.

That evening's dinner far exceeded Chen Xin’s expectations. The staple was ordinary rice cooked with a generous amount of taro, but the accompanying dishes were remarkably abundant. There was pickled chili stir-fried with cured pork, long beans stir-fried with pig's cheek meat, a platter of wild vegetables whose name she did not know, and a large basin of bone and salted-mustard green soup.

The dishes were served in basins, and three dishes plus one soup filled the entire table.

Chen Xin ate with the family and found the flavors quite agreeable. Aside from the pickled greens, which tasted slightly different from the ones she was accustomed to, everything else was delicious and spicy enough to make her sweat after just a few bites.

A bowl of taro rice, a few mouthfuls of pickled chili with cured pork, and the home-dried long beans rehydrated and stir-fried with pig's cheek meat left Chen Xin comfortably full. She finished the meal with a bowl of soup; despite the salted greens looking somewhat shriveled and dry, once boiled into broth, they yielded an extraordinarily savory flavor.

Night fell early in the village, and by seven or eight o'clock, no one remained walking about outside. Chen Xin stayed in the attic on the third floor. Looking out into the distance, she noticed a lively commotion at the far end of the village.

"They're preparing for a wedding over there. Tomorrow night we'll have a celebration party. Such a banquet must be held before a bride leaves her home, and all the food is sent over by the groom's family. How lavish the feast is represents the financial strength of the groom's household, so everyone in the village attends. Of course, we also send food contributions over, though the primary meats are provided by the groom."

Understandably so—the village numbered anywhere from several hundred to nearly a thousand residents, even with many young and middle-aged people away working in cities. During the Lunar New Year, the local population swelled to nearly two thousand, making the village streets bustling wherever one walked.

Fascinated by the wedding rituals, Chen Xin asked Sister Tong if she might attend as a spectator. Sister Tong promised to inquire the following day and give her an answer.

The next morning, Sister Tong had to help out and rushed over with her eldest daughter. Half an hour later, the daughter ran back to fetch Chen Xin, bringing word that permission had been granted for her to observe the ceremony.

The local ethnic group was remarkably hospitable; provided visitors harbored no malicious intent, the villagers were always eager to welcome outsiders.

When Chen Xin arrived, she saw the bride trying on her attire. Even without her complete headdress, she looked stunning.

The bridal gown was predominantly black, with the waistband, collar, cuffs, and hem pieced together from vibrantly colored geometric patterns. The lower garment was a pleated black skirt, while the waistband and skirt edges were edged in red. Numerous silver beads strung into chains adorned the waistband, with tiny silver bells dangling from the end of each strand. As the young woman walked, the bells emitted a crisp, melodious chime.

The cloth shoes featured traditional multi-layered soles and were embroidered with auspicious mythical beast motifs, a pattern reserved exclusively for weddings that supposedly brought blessings and descendants, serving as the totem animal of their ethnic group.

Chen Xin watched for a while, and after obtaining permission, raised her camera to begin capturing the moments.