At the first moment of the hour of the Rabbit, a faint blue light began to spread across the sky. Little Mallet pushed open the wooden door, and the first thing she did was glance toward the wooden house on the east side— the cloth strip tied to the door hadn’t been disturbed, indicating that Master had once again spent the night away, perhaps drinking and gambling somewhere.
She sighed and shook her head, heading to the back of the yard to draw water from the earthen well.
In summer, dawn breaks early, and before long, sunlight penetrated the white mist in the forest, scattering across the small courtyard. The yard wasn’t large, with three wooden houses side by side, surrounded by a fence, and a few small patches of land at the back haphazardly planted with radishes and greens. Next to it was an earthen well, with two wooden buckets tied to the wheel, upon which a few larks perched, chirping non-stop.
Little Mallet, small and weak, took a long time to lift a bucket of water, wobbling several times before managing to fill the water jar. In the past, this task was always done by Master. One day, he took her to the well and measured her height against it, saying, “Little Mallet, you’re taller than this well now, so you’ll take on the task of fetching water from now on.”
Sigh, was she six or seven years old then? Never mind; anyway, Master had always been a disrespectful old man, and she had long gotten used to it.
There wasn’t much food at home. Little Mallet rummaged through the kitchen for a long time before she found two nearly withered sweet potatoes. She moved a bamboo chair outside and sat down to peel and nibble on them.
As the sky gradually brightened, the birds in the forest began to sing joyfully, chirping back and forth. The breeze in the woods was cool and damp; it was a pleasant morning. If only she could forget about that messy, carefree Master, perhaps it would be even more enjoyable.
Even if she thought about it, she could guess that the little bit of silver they had earned last month was probably all lost to Master’s gambling. He had always been incredibly unlucky and had a particular addiction to gambling. They spent more than half the year traveling to distant places, playing tricks and deceiving others. After all the hard work of making some money, he would squander it away, leaving them perpetually strapped for cash. New clothes and good meals were always out of reach. Now that she was ten, she still wore the robe that Master had altered for her when she was younger, which was covered in patches— if it got any more worn, she wouldn’t know how to mend it.
Master liked to call himself a living immortal. He had learned some miscellaneous skills from somewhere and often used the pretense of exorcising demons to swindle others, randomly drawing a few talismans to claim they would cleanse away misfortunes. When she was younger, he didn’t take her out, but by the time she was five and could speak quite fluently, he began to take her along to deceive others. He pretended to be a celestial being, and she played the role of his little herbalist apprentice; he acted like a highly skilled sage, and she was the little Taoist boy beside him. Over the years, their travels had been so numerous that the days they spent at home were truly few.
After finishing the two sweet potatoes, Little Mallet felt she wasn’t full yet. Lately, she didn’t know if she was about to grow again, but she always felt unsatisfied after eating. With no cooked food at home, she could only touch her half-full belly as she went to water the radishes and greens, loosening the soil in the process.
Just as her hoe hit the ground, a large black centipede scurried out of the soil in a panic. Little Mallet couldn’t help but recall the centipede demon they had subdued last month in Cloud City. That was indeed a monster, hundreds of times larger than an ordinary centipede, standing taller than a person and able to spew black smoke. Master had to throw out ten pieces of cinnabar talisman paper to drive it away.
Speaking of which, Master did have some genuine skills. Occasionally, he could subdue some mischievous little demons, like the centipede demon last month. But there weren’t that many demons causing trouble in the world; to make a living, deception was still the primary means.
Little Mallet took out a few yellow talisman papers from her pocket, already inscribed with talismans drawn in cinnabar. Imitating Master’s posture, she focused her mind and swiftly threw the talisman paper, but as soon as it left her hand, the wind blew it far away— still not working, she shook her head.
Over the years, she had also been learning these skills from Master. It was said that one needed to harness the five elements’ spiritual energy from heaven and earth to effectively send out the talisman paper and stick it onto the demons to subdue them. She had never felt any spiritual energy, no matter how much she meditated or focused. She could never grasp what it truly felt like to have the energy enter her body.
Perhaps, as Master said, she had no talent for this trade and couldn’t make a living from it.
But if she couldn’t learn the skills, what would she do in the future? Master was getting older, and they weren’t like others who lived together in bustling towns. Because they spent their time deceiving others and playing tricks, the two of them had always lived in this secluded mountain house to avoid trouble. Once Master was gone, how would she survive? Would she really have to grow vegetables in this deep mountain forest and live alone?
Sigh, though there are many people in the world, it was just the two of them who depended on each other.
So early in the morning, it was not suitable to dwell on such gloomy thoughts. Little Mallet rolled up her sleeves; still hungry, she decided to dig up a few radishes to cook and eat.
Just as she turned around, she heard slow footsteps coming from outside the yard, followed by a strong smell of tobacco leaves. Master, his face glowing, returned with a smile and a pipe in his mouth.
“…Master, you’re back,” Little Mallet said flatly, her voice cold.
“Ah, the moment I come back, I see your little zombie face,” Master exclaimed, looking particularly pleased. He leaned back in his old rattan chair with a smile, his mouth unable to close: “A little girl who doesn’t laugh or make noise, always wearing a stern face— it’s annoying to see. Forget it, today my luck is good; I won a lot, so I won’t hold it against you.”
As he spoke, he fished out an oiled paper bundle from his oversized patched sleeves and tossed it over: “I bought you a new outfit. Hurry up and change so I can have a look.”
Little Mallet was finally stunned. Master bought new clothes? For her? Even the stones in the yard knew how stingy Master was. He never acknowledged winning; let alone buying new clothes, he hadn’t even bought her a piece of candy in the past ten years.
Could it be a dream? She quietly pinched herself.
“You get new clothes, and you don’t even react? Can’t you at least say thank you, Master?” He was tapping his pipe on a stone, clearly dissatisfied.
“This… this…” She hesitated, looking down at her dress and then back up at Master. After going back and forth for a while, she finally asked suspiciously, “Are you sure it’s for me? Master, are you drunk? Do you still remember my name?”
“Little Mallet.” Master exhaled a puff of smoke, rather impatiently. “Just put it on, why are you rambling?”
The oiled paper bundle felt surprisingly heavy in her hands. She slowly unwrapped it, and inside was a beautifully folded pink silk dress, with embroidered orchids at the hem. It was exquisite and lovely— a dress she could only glance at from afar before now lay in her hands.
A silk dress… and it’s pink… She hadn’t worn a girl’s dress since she turned ten, let alone something so beautiful and delicate. Holding the dress, she turned it over in her hands, unsure how to wear it, feeling that while it was beautiful, it completely didn’t suit her.
“Put it on, put it on!” Master urged impatiently.
Little Mallet let out a long breath, and without saying a word, she began to take off her ragged patched old clothes. Master hit her on the forehead with his pipe: “You’re a girl! You’re ten years old, and yet you look like a wild boy? Go change in the house!”
Wearing the dress made her feel entirely different, as if she was no longer Little Mallet. She didn’t know if she had turned into Medium Mallet or Big Mallet. Little Mallet struggled to lift the long skirt, finding it hard to walk. The new clothes were oversized, and the skirt covered her feet. She cautiously lifted it and pushed open the wooden door to step outside.
“I’m dressed,” Little Mallet said. The skirt was light and fluttery; how was she supposed to work or do anything in it? Wouldn’t it get dirty?
Master looked at her intently and then burst into laughter: “Wearing a dress but still looking like a wild boy! With thick skin, bushy eyebrows, and a dark face, when will you ever look like a proper girl?”
Little Mallet touched her head. Her hair was tied up like a boy’s to make it easier to work, but with the silk dress, she probably looked quite ridiculous. She recalled the pretty, delicate little girls she had seen in town before, adorned with flowers in their hair, colorful beads hanging from their ears, and their wooden shoes filled with perfume. They walked gracefully, each step like a blooming lotus, so different from her.
“Why did you think to buy me a dress?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Master chuckled, “I thought about how you’re already ten years old. It’s time to buy you some things for girls. Ah, how time flies; in the blink of an eye, it’s been ten years. I still remember when I picked you up from the river; your little face was not even half the size of my palm, and now you’re all lively and jumping around.”
Huh? Little Mallet paused, staring at Master’s animated face in surprise. This was the first time he had talked about her origins. Before, he only mentioned that she was found; so she was abandoned in the river?
Master seemed particularly talkative today, puffing out clouds of smoke and speaking freely: “It was that river at the foot of the mountain. Early in the morning, I was rushing to get talisman paper and cinnabar when I saw you drifting down from upstream, wrapped in a swaddle. There was neither a letter nor any token with you, and your umbilical cord seemed just freshly cut. I thought to myself, which heartless family upstream has abandoned their own child? I carried you along, asking as I went, but I never found out anything. You were so small then, and even when you were hungry, you didn’t cry or fuss. In those first few days, you were so delicate and charming, but as time passed and you stayed with me, your features started to resemble mine more and more. I thought maybe it was fate, so I decided to keep you and raise you myself.”
As he spoke, he observed Little Mallet’s expression. She showed no reaction, as if listening to someone else’s story, completely still. This child always behaved like this at home; when she was out playing the little Taoist boy, she was lively and talkative. Why did she turn into such a mute at home? Did she only laugh and speak when she was deceiving others?
“Well, Little Mallet…” Master cleared his throat, “don’t you have any questions about your origins?”
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