In the end, Tang Yi spoke first. He looked earnestly at Wen Yan and asked, “If I am, would you be afraid?”
Wen Yan raised his head sharply and found himself looking at a clean, handsome face that seemed unfamiliar. His body trembled. Instead of answering, he asked again, “You… You really… aren't him?”
Tang Yi fell silent for a second, then nodded. “My name is Tang Yi too, but I'm not your husband. Today is my first day here.”
Wen Yan trembled violently. Then his legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the ground, covered his face with both hands, and sobbed uncontrollably.
Tang Yi had not expected this reaction. He stood stunned for a moment before rushing over and patting Wen Yan's back. “Why are you crying? I didn't take over his body deliberately. I want to bring your husband back too, but I don't know how!”
Wen Yan shook his head frantically, laughing and sobbing at once. He clutched the front of Tang Yi's clothes, tears and mucus streaking his face, and cried, “I don't want that! I don't want him to come back!”
“He's finally dead!”
“He hit me, cursed me, used sticks this thick…”
“And thorn-covered canes…”
“I wanted to die, but he said that if I did, he'd chop my mother to pieces. I didn't dare die…”
“He despised me because I'm of the third gender. I was glad he wouldn't touch me, but he said that if I ever disobeyed him, he'd sell me!”
“To a place like that!”
“I… I wished he'd die. I'd rather be a widow forever, with nobody wanting me…”
“Please, don't bring him back… Please don't…”
“…”
As he cried, Wen Yan leaned forward until his forehead rested against Tang Yi's chest. Tang Yi had nothing to say. He could only stroke the young man's thin back and listen quietly to his grief.
It was good that Wen Yan was crying. He had endured too much, and keeping it all bottled up could make him ill. Tang Yi's heart ached for him. Every word was filled with pain; every sob spoke of suffering no one his age should have had to bear. Tang Yi hated the body's previous owner more than ever. Silently, he resolved to give Wen Yan a better life, at least during the month the young man remained with him.
He, Tang Yi, was not the useless rich heir everyone mocked. He was an educated young man from a respectable family, with sound principles and no fear of hard work. He had two hands and two feet. Surely he could support a young man who weighed scarcely more than a cat.
Wen Yan cried until his voice gradually faded away. Tang Yi turned him to look and discovered he had fallen asleep. After so long living with exhaustion, terror, and suppressed emotion, releasing it all had evidently drained his strength.
Seeing that Wen Yan was breathing steadily, Tang Yi relaxed. He gently lifted the painfully light young man and laid him on the broken earthen bed, then covered him with the tattered quilt stuffed with straw.
As he moved him, Wen Yan's thin, pale arm slipped out. A small, bright-red birthmark was clearly visible, but the skin surrounding it was mottled with dark blue and purple bruises.
Some marks were from whips, others were bruises left by sticks, and still others looked as though someone had pinched him.
Tang Yi could hardly bear to look. He covered Wen Yan and left.
After all that, he had lost his appetite. He put the eggs on a shelf and went outside. He had to find food—not just for this meal, but for supper and the following day as well.
People said that those who lived near the mountains could live off the mountains, and there was truth in that. Spring planting had yet to begin, and most households had little grain left in storage. Plenty of villagers were out searching the mountains for food. Wild chickens and edible plants were not easy to find, and Tang Yi knew the area too poorly to risk going deep into the hills. After wandering about for a while, he decided to try his luck at the river.
The ice had only recently broken up on the mountain stream, and hungry fish were eager to emerge and feed. It was also midday, when most villagers were at home eating. Tang Yi had chosen an excellent time and did not have to compete with anyone.
He found some tough vines, twisted and knotted them into a simple, rough net, and stretched it across a relatively shallow section of the stream to form a small pocket. Then he ran a short distance upstream, found a stick, and stirred the water vigorously.
Two startled fish immediately leaped out of the water. Tang Yi was delighted. The local environment had been well preserved: there was no pollution and no overfishing, so the river held plenty of fish.
As he thrashed about upstream, the fish fled downstream. Tang Yi deliberately drove them toward his net. The February air was still bitterly cold, but despite wearing only a patched, coarse-cloth shirt, he worked until he was drenched in sweat and barely noticed the chill. In the end, he took off his shoes and endured the icy water to inspect his catch.
The net woven from coarse vines was crude, with gaps so large that the smaller fish slipped straight through. Only larger fish remained, struggling fiercely.
To his delight, Tang Yi discovered two good-sized fish. He hurriedly tightened the net and flung the fish, water and all, onto the bank, afraid they might escape at the last moment.
Once ashore, the two fish continued to thrash. Tang Yi picked up a stone and struck each once, stunning them, then bundled them into the net and carried them home.
He passed several villagers on the way. Seeing the dripping net in his hands, they realized he had been fishing. By now news of Tang Yi's transformation had spread throughout the village. Many had known him since childhood and recognized him easily. They gathered to discuss his catch, astonished that he had gone fishing for food.
One villager approached and asked curiously, “Tang Yi, you've been catching fish? How did it go? What did you get?”
Tang Yi readily opened the net to show them. The villagers crowded around, exclaiming at the sight of two large grass carp, both around three years old. They were impressive catches. Few villagers could afford meat; most relied on wild game or fish from the mountains and streams to satisfy their cravings. Fish might not taste as rich as pork, but it was meat all the same.
Someone immediately asked, “Tang Yi, are you selling those fish?”
Tang Yi thought for a moment. “I'll sell the larger one, but I'm keeping the smaller.”
Another villager asked, “How much do you want for it?”
“Two measures of bean flour,” Tang Yi replied. The former owner's general knowledge told him that the villagers were terribly poor. People rarely paid with copper coins here, preferring to barter. Grain was what Tang Yi needed most, and from the memories he had inherited, he reckoned the fish was worth roughly two measures of bean flour. In normal times he might have got more, but at the end of winter, with spring barely beginning, every family's stores were low. Two measures would be a good exchange.
Some thought the price too high. Others had a little grain to spare and could not resist the prospect of fish. One villager immediately ran home, fetched two measures of bean flour, and exchanged them for the fish. He carried his purchase away delightedly. Before leaving, he even helped Tang Yi thread the remaining fish onto a reed stalk so it would be easier to carry without soaking his clothes.
Tang Yi quietly made a note of this kindhearted villager. His name was Tang Dahu, and he lived at the eastern end of the village.
So Tang Yi returned home happily carrying two measures of bean flour and a grass carp weighing four or five catties. Never mind whether it tasted good. At least they would have enough to eat for the next couple of days.
When he arrived, Wen Yan was awake and tidying the vegetable patch in the courtyard. Their eyes met. This time, instead of shrinking away in fear, Wen Yan hesitated and offered a small smile.
It was like the first rays of the rising sun, filled with hope for a new life.
Tang Yi smiled back and shut the gate. He was surprised at how readily and calmly Wen Yan had accepted the idea of a ghost possessing his husband. He did not understand that, to Wen Yan, this apparently terrifying development was something wonderful, something he had scarcely dared hope for.
“You're back,” Wen Yan said, pausing in his work. Then he noticed the fish in Tang Yi's hand. “What a big fish! Did you catch it?”
Tang Yi nodded with a smile. “Do you know how to cook fish? Let's have it for supper.”
Wen Yan's stomach growled before he could help it. Heaven knew how long it had been since he had tasted meat. There were all sorts of rules governing third-gender men; he was not allowed to roll up his trousers and go into the river to catch fish. The previous Tang Yi had been strict, too. If Wen Yan did not respond to an order immediately, he was beaten. For the past year he had lived almost entirely on mixed-grain pancakes, thin porridge, and vegetables. There had scarcely been a trace of fat in his diet.
“I can cook it,” Wen Yan said, “but it might not taste very good.”
“I don't mind, so long as it's edible. Oh, and here's some bean flour. I traded the other fish for it. Make some flatbreads with this. We'll have flatbreads and fish tonight.”
