Chapter Eleven: The Little White Pig That Can Eat

“Brother Li.”
Immersed in longing, Jiang Li was suddenly awakened by a call. He looked toward the sound and saw a small head peeking through the curtain, sparkling eyes blinking mischievously. The little figure darted into the room, carrying a wave of warmth that swept away all the chill.
“My sister is here.” Jiang Li hadn’t noticed the trace of joy in his own voice.
“Brother Li, are you hungry? I brought some pastries, Mother made them, they’re delicious.” The little one suddenly remembered something, turned and ran to the doorway, lifted the curtain, and called out, “Cuiyu, Cuiyu, come in!”
Cuiyu entered, carrying a food box. She took out four small plates: one with sesame cakes, one with peanut sweets, one with ginger sugar rolls, and one with assorted nuts, arranging them neatly on the small table beside the wooden couch by the window.
Seeing that the water was already boiled, she fetched a set of pale celadon tea ware from the table. Since children shouldn’t drink tea, the household had specially prepared osmanthus honey, aged with dried blossoms and wild honey, fragrant and sweet, perfect with pastries. While pouring the water, Cuiyu curiously asked, “Young Master, where are Erdan and Changsheng? Why is there no one here to attend you?”
“I wanted a moment alone. Changsheng took Changxing out, said he’d show him around the estate to get acquainted.”
Liu Qin wandered around the room, and when she saw Cuiyu had finished setting everything up, she quickly waved her hand, “Cuiyu, go play with Changsheng, I’ll stay with Brother Li.”
Cuiyu, ever playful, agreed and left. Liu Qin pulled Jiang Li onto the couch; both took off their shoes and settled in. She picked up her favorite sesame cake, broke off a piece and pressed it to Jiang Li’s lips, then broke another piece for herself, cheeks bulging as she asked, muffled, “Is it good?”
Jiang Li ate with quiet refinement, chewing slowly. After two bites, his lashes drooped, hiding the sorrow in his eyes, and he said softly, “My mother’s tasted just like this.”
The little boy missed his mother. Liu Qin sipped water, swallowed her mouthful as best she could, then blinked innocently, “Brother Li, do you miss your father and mother?”
Jiang Li dared not look up, afraid tears would spill uncontrollably. His father had said that a man should stand tall and not cry easily. How could he cry in front of his younger cousin? He forced his tears back and murmured, “I do.”
“I do too,” Liu Qin replied, thinking of her parents from her previous life. Though they hadn’t always been warm, sometimes they visited her dreams, expressing their longing. No matter what, the bond between parent and child can never be severed, even if it’s not always so apparent.

“Sister, you…”
“At night, when I can’t sleep, I think of Father and Mother.” Jiang Li, startled by this confession, forgot his own sorrow and stared wide-eyed. Liu Qin hastily continued, “My mother says the stars in the sky are people transformed, Brother Li, your father and mother must have become stars too. When you miss them, just look up at the stars. My mother also said, ‘Qin’er must be happy and blessed.’ Brother Li’s mother must also be up there, saying, ‘Li must be happy, Li must be blessed.’ Brother Li, don’t you think so?”
Jiang Li’s tears threatened to fall again, sadness and warmth mingling. He twisted his fingers, head bowed, and after a long moment, whispered, “Yes.”
“Brother Li, eat.”
“Eat this one, it’s delicious.” Little Liu Qin’s hands never stopped, feeding her cousin with one hand and herself with the other.
Only when they were full did they stop—who could blame them? Mother’s pastries were simply too delicious. Jiang Li handed his honeyed water to his little cousin, making sure she’d stopped hiccuping, then smiled, “Sister, you really can eat.”
“Mm, Mother says I eat so much, I’m like the little white pig the cook keeps—eat, sleep, sleep, eat, always growing. Brother Li, you should eat more too, grow bigger, then I’ll be the little white pig and you’ll be the big white pig.”
“How can you call yourself a pig?”
“Hehe, big white pig.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Haha, big white pig!”
Laughter filled the room, echoing joyously. Outside, a breeze stirred the camphor tree in the courtyard, its leaves rustling as if applauding the happiness within.

When the last blush of sunset faded, though the sky was still faintly bright, lanterns lit up the main courtyard of the Liu residence. The small banquet hall bustled like a festival. Though not an official banquet and with no outsiders present, the matron took it very seriously—it was Jiang Li’s welcoming feast, marking his first day formally joining the Liu family.

The matron had vowed to treat Jiang Li as her own child, so today’s ceremony was meant to show all the servants that Jiang Li was their master as well, that they should treat him as they would any son of the house. Servants always tend toward favoritism and hierarchy, so the matron’s declaration gave Jiang Li a foothold, ensuring he’d receive at least superficial respect.
The Liu family had few members and not much strict protocol, so there was only one table for the family, no separation by gender. As for the servants, the matron generously allowed them all to dine, except for those attending directly. The rest scattered off happily.
It was Jiang Li’s first time meeting Master Liu, so naturally he was a bit nervous. Fortunately, Liu Qin, ever the perfect go-between, smoothed things over. Master Liu was exceptionally kind, lacking any airs of authority. Before the meal, he called Jiang Li over alone, asked about his studies, and even tested his knowledge a little. Liu Qin, seeing her father’s approving nods, was delighted—prouder for Jiang Li than for herself when praised.
Jiang Li’s composure and gentle manners greatly pleased Master Liu. The child had been well taught. Though he’d heard his cousin’s husband was a failed scholar, Jiang Li’s every gesture showed that his father had true learning, only unlucky in life, confined to a poor village. Alas, the departed were gone; he could only hope their spirits would watch over the child.
After sighing inwardly, Master Liu encouraged Jiang Li, telling him that the Liu home was now his own, and he should feel no restraint or burden. If he erred, he’d be treated like any Liu child, according to the family rules. Finally, he said that once Jiang Li had settled in, after three or five days, he’d go to the family school with Hai to listen to Master Zhang’s lectures.
Hearing this, Jiang Li let go of his last worries. His mother had often spoken of her cousin, so though it was their first meeting, he felt close at heart. Forced by circumstance to seek refuge with the Liu family, Jiang Li had not wanted to leave; he’d wished to stay by his parents’ graves, honoring them. But his mother, before she died, said it was her last wish. She did not want her cherished son to suffer alone, but to live well after she was gone, trusting her cousin would give him warmth and a home.
Carrying his mother’s wish, Jiang Li left the only home he’d known for ten years, taking with him memories of a poor yet beautiful childhood. Anxious and uncertain, he journeyed to Wucheng, not knowing if his aunt would be as he imagined, nor if his uncle and the others would accept him. His heart was like a floating duckweed, unsure where to settle or what lay ahead—only a blank expanse before his eyes.
But now, his heart was at peace. This was his home, his uncle and aunt his family, and his sister too. Thinking this, he looked up: the little girl sat nestled in Master Liu’s arms, beaming at him, pulling a face when she caught his gaze.
Suppressing the sting in his eyes, Jiang Li silently told his parents in heaven: Father, Mother, rest assured. Li has found a home again, Li has a sister, Li is no longer alone.