After Sunrise — Willow-Bend Courtyard 🔍

Just after sunrise, in the packed-earth courtyard of our house in Willow-Bend Village, I rinsed my face from a brass basin while magpies quarreled on the persimmon tree. Since it is the fifteenth day of the eighth month, Mother laid newly gathered fruit and grain on clean wooden dishes for the ancestors, and I wiped each dish with a hemp cloth. We could spare only a little rice, so I mixed it with millet while my younger brother carried split pinewood to the kitchen. The steaming cakes stuck warmly to my fingertips, and the sesame filling smelled rich enough to make him hover beside me until Mother laughed. I am sixteen now, old enough to bow carefully with the elders and young enough that my knees still ache from holding the posture too long. When the rites ended, Father wrapped a small portion of food in cloth for Grandmother’s grave, and we set out beneath a sky washed blue by last night’s rain.

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When the Sun Stood High — Reed-Bank Market Road 🔍

When the sun stood high, on the Reed-Bank market road outside Indong, I walked home from the family graves with my straw shoes darkened by wet grass. Farmers rested beneath willow shade, their sickles tucked safely into woven belts, while a salt seller’s pack ox shook its wooden bell. Near the stone bridge, frightened talk passed from mouth to mouth that men had caused a disturbance somewhere in Indong today, though no traveler agreed on what had happened. Father told us not to repeat names or guesses and drew me closer to the cart track as two local runners hurried by with bamboo staffs. The holiday brightness suddenly felt thin, like paper held before a flame, yet the cicadas kept screaming and children still chased one another between the paddies. I gripped the cloth bundle of leftover cakes and wished every household could close its gate tonight with all its people safely inside.

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At First Watch — Persimmon-Tree Yard 🔍

At first watch, in our Persimmon-Tree Yard, the full moon climbed above the tiled roof of the headman’s distant house and silvered the straw stacks. Our neighbors gathered quietly, and the younger children played at being magistrates and attendants until an elder hushed their noisy judgments. Mother poured cool well water into earthen bowls, while Father counted the remaining copper cash by touch and decided against visiting the market tomorrow. I sat beside my cousin on a reed mat, mending the frayed tie of my pale ramie jacket as she whispered that rumors grow larger each time they cross a hill. We did not dance far into the night; instead, we shared fruit, listened for hoofbeats on the road, and watched cloud shadows drift across the moon. Before going in, I placed the repaired jacket by my bedding and promised myself I would rise early to help Mother check the bean field.

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A Disturbance Reported in Indong ↗

Travelers said that a disturbance involving several men had occurred in Indong on this very day. I heard only uncertain roadside talk, so I kept close to my family and refused to turn rumor into certainty.

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The Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month ↗

Our household marked the great seasonal holiday with ancestral rites, grave visiting, and food made from the new harvest. Even with little rice to spare, sharing the work and meal made the house feel full.

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