Little Lian, engrossed in eating persimmons, suddenly remembered something and let out a thoughtful "Hmm!"
"What’s up? Did you swallow a persimmon seed?" Dubian Che asked with concern.
"It’s okay," Kiyono Lin said. "Indigestible things will pass through the intestines and be expelled from the body without much impact."
"You even know that? It seems the title ’Dora A Lin’ can no longer describe you," Dubian Che said, looking at her with some surprise.
"That title, I have never acknowledged it, have I? If you must give me a nickname, please think of something cuter and cooler and report back to me."
"That’s going to be difficult; ’Dora A Lin’ is the cutest and coolest I could think of."
"It looks like you’ve thought of quite a few unpleasant nicknames," Kiyono Lin said, looking at Dubian Che with a gentle smile. "Remember to show me your notebook when we get back to Tokyo."
"That’s absolutely not happening," Dubian Che flatly refused.
"Did you start off the first page with bad things about me?"
Little Lian looked up at the two of them, blinked, and finally seized the opportunity to speak while Dubian Che was caught in a bind.
"Che, I remembered, I’m here to call you guys to make mochi."
"Why didn’t you say so earlier?" Dubian Che rubbed her head.
"It’s all its fault, nothing to do with me!" Little Lian pointed at the persimmon tree and loudly declared earnestly.
"Yes, yes, it’s all the persimmon’s fault."
The three left the riverbank and walked back to the courtyard.
Everyone was working together to make mochi, one person swinging the mallet, another turning the mochi, and taking turns when tired.
Such activities are said to receive the divine’s blessing, so when possible, everyone participates.
"Che, you give it a couple of hits too, you’re a person with good fortune!"
"Alright," Dubian Che stepped up and took the mallet.
The mallet was lifted high against the deep blue sky of a winter morning, then smashed down hard onto the steaming white glutinous rice ball.
Kiyono Lin took photos with her phone nearby, at times resting her chin in her hand, pondering in front of the camera like a special correspondent from Tokyo.
"Eating this will make you smarter, and everyone will get into Tokyo University," chanted the auntie flipping the mochi with her blessing.
"Chizuko, Mr. Che hasn’t even gotten into Tokyo University yet!" Mr. Honma laughed heartily nearby.
And everyone chatting over sweet tea joined in the laughter.
Little Lian was grabbed by her mother, who vigorously wiped her mouth as if she were scraping wool from a sheep; her small body kept trying to run over here to see what the mochi looked like now.
"Mr. Dubian, can I try it?" Kiyono Lin suddenly asked.
"This?" Dubian Che held up the mallet in his hand.
Dubian Che hesitated, but eventually agreed, though he replaced the aunt turning the mochi.
He squatted by the stone mortar and said to Kiyono Lin, "Kiyono, watch carefully, the place where you should hit with the mallet is here."
"I know," Kiyono Lin replied with a hint of dissatisfaction at his suggestion.
"And this nice, round beauty is my head, so please don’t mistake it."
Kiyono Lin hit once with the mallet, Dubian Che flipped the mochi, and after confirming his hand was out of the way, she hit again.
After a few tries, she was satisfied and returned the mallet to the villagers, not wanting to waste their time, as the coordination of the uncle and auntie was not something amateurs like Dubian Che and Kiyono Lin could match—it looked terrifying, worrying about hitting the mochi flipper’s hand, but never actually doing so.
"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"
The men pounding the mochi were all sweating profusely from their heads, shouting out their calls.
The rice grains turned sticky and after a hundred or two hundred hits, the glutinous rice in the stone mortar was put into a prepared bowl.
Now it was the women’s turn.
The bowl was quickly moved inside the house, where they placed the glutinous rice on the table, flattened it, and cut it into pieces, mold by mold of mochi was made.
The house was steamed up, windows turned white.
Through the foggy windows outside, the men’s voices hitting the next batch of mochi came through.
The scene was bustling, driving away the chill of the winter morning.
Returning home, Kiyono Lin sat in the living room by the stove, warming herself, eating mochi, eating oranges, reading a book;
Dubian Che took a plate and brought it upstairs to the still-sleeping Jiutiao Meijie.
Just like last time, he let Jiutiao Meijie snuggle into his arms, covering her with a blanket, revealing only her delicate and beautiful little face.
He whispered into her elegantly contoured ear with a gentle voice,
"Meijie, the freshly made mochi is delicious."
"...Hmm," Jiutiao Meijie murmured drowsily.
Jiutiao Meijie opened her sleepy eyes.
Dubian Che’s chopsticks held a piece of white and steaming mochi.
She closed her eyes again.
"There’s salty soybean flour, sweet sugar, and soy sauce, which do you want?"
"Try a bit of each?" Dubian Che dipped a corner of the mochi in soybean flour, "Ah—"
Hearing his ’Ah—’, Jiutiao Meijie opened her mouth and took a bite.
The warm mochi wrapped in soybean flour was fragrant and delicious.
"Another bite with sugar?"
Jiutiao Meijie nodded, her eyes finally fully opened.
But she had no intention of eating by herself, still shrinking like a baby into Dubian Che’s embrace.
If it were under normal circumstances upon waking, had Dubian Che dared to call her that, she would’ve stuffed a knee-high sock into his "ah—" mouth.
But now... just awoken, lacking the strength, she didn’t bother with him.
She bit into the sugar-coated mochi.
Sticky, sweet, it offered a different flavor compared to the salty one.