Leaving Kanazawa Castle Street, it started to rain lightly in the sky, and dark clouds enveloped the Kaga Domain like a big pot lid.
The advantage of a rainy day is that there are no ronin to trouble the Catholics.
Chiyoko was walking on the path with a bamboo hat on her head. Occasionally, three or two passers-by would run past her while trying to escape the heavy rain.
Everyone was in a hurry, and no one paid attention to the mulatto woman who fled and the cross on her raincoat.
"Brother will definitely survive. Go to Baishan Mountain to drink a cup of hot tea. You will catch a cold while traveling in the rain."
If you catch a cold, you will die. Chiyoko's mother died of a recurrence of typhoid fever.
"Old Mrs. Iori from Hakusan should still be alive, right? Mother said that you can find this old woman when you get to Kaga in the future."
The road became twists and turns, and we were about to reach the mountainside. The volcanic ash under our feet was thick and sticky, and Chiyoko's brisk steps became heavy.
The rain shower turned the dense cedar forest into a field of white flowers, chasing Chiyoko from the foot of the mountain at an alarming speed.
Chiyoko was carrying a wicker box and stepped on the layers of volcanic ash. She stopped. The gray sky and the carefully cultivated rice fields in the valley were now covered with dust and lifeless.
I heard that a volcanic eruption had just occurred in Hakusan half a month ago. Gray haze covered the sky and the sun. Hundreds of people in the Kaga Domain were killed or injured.
This seems to be a place abandoned by the gods.
She climbed hard along the ridgeline.
Finally arrived at Baishan Village.
Chiyoko's mother grew up here. According to what she said during her lifetime, her hometown was a bright, comfortable and convenient place in her mind.
But now, the village in front of Chiyoko looks so dark, so narrow, and so dirty.
The thatched cottages stand haphazardly on the edge of the cliff, with no walls around them. The entire small village is quiet and contemplative, with branches of willow, elder, and mountain pear trees sticking out from the yards.
In this small village with only a hundred or so households, Chiyoko met Iori, an old woman.
Iori is sixty years old this year, but she looks energetic. Her messy hair covers her forehead, and there aren't even a few wrinkles underneath.
"You really don't look old at all. You are younger than the ladies in Osaka Castle."
Chiyoko said with sincere admiration.
In the early years of Kan'ei, Iori's husband served as a village official in Hakusan Village. Village officials have great power in rural Japan. They are responsible for collecting more than half of the annual tribute and rice (Japanese old taxes) from the villagers. In the process, they often You can raise and lower your hands to leave two bags of rice straw (straw bags woven with rice straw) for your home.
However, the old village official was sick now. He sat slumped by the stove and opened a pair of cloudy eyes to look at the mixed-race girl who suddenly broke in.
"She's Axun's daughter. She has a daughter with that red-haired barbarian! We have to rush to Miyako Pier and take a boat out to sea!"
Iori almost leaned into her wife's ear and roared with all her strength.
After a while, the old village official nodded with difficulty, stretched his hand to the stove again, and returned to his own world.
I heard that Mrs. Iori has a son who is about the same age as Chiyoko. He became a monk early and he is currently practicing in a famous mountain temple.
"What a kind and kind family."
Chiyoko held a bowl of steaming vegetable porridge and couldn't help but sigh.
Chiyoko heard her mother say that everyone in the world is born happy like the people of Osaka.
Most of the people my mother knew—more than 84% of Japan’s population were farmers during the shogunate period—had never eaten rice more than once in their lives.
In mountainous areas such as Hiyin (mountainous area in western Japan), only landowners and village officials sometimes had access to rice.
Peasants below the middle peasant level mainly feed on mixed vegetable porridge - a kind of food cooked with wheat, corn, barnyard millet and chopped dry leaves and radish.
For most farmers across the country, bran rice made from barnyard grass is considered a delicacy. The only food farmers can usually eat is dumplings made from acorn powder or poisonous mistletoe.
Chiyoko carefully licked the mixed vegetable porridge. Although this food was not delicious, it was the best food that Mrs. Iori and her family could provide.
"Thank you so much! Thank you so much!"
Chiyoko finished her mixed vegetable porridge in one go, then knelt on the worn straw mat and bowed frequently to the old woman.
"Thank you for what? Axun and I are good friends. He took me to Osaka back then and we ate white rice!"
Iori said while looking at her husband sitting by the stove.
"Miss Chiyoko, if you had come to Hakusan this time last year, you might have been able to eat delicious rice!"
Chiyoko stood up and looked out the window. The beautiful mountain pass was so deep that she couldn't see the bottom.
Whether it was fear of heights or the cold, goosebumps appeared on her skin, she was trembling all over, and her teeth were chattering.
At this time, the old woman brought a cup of hot tea, and Chiyoko said it was so cold.
The old woman quickly took her hand and walked towards the stove.
"The raincoat is soaked. Come over here and warm yourself by the fire. Come on, dry your clothes."
Sitting cross-legged next to the stove was Iori's husband. Chiyoko came closer and saw clearly that this was an old man who was covered in bruises and looked like a drowned ghost.
Even the eyeballs of his eyes were yellow, as if they were rotten.
He looked sadly towards Chiyoko.
There were piles of paper bags and medicinal herbs around him, and it was almost as if he was buried among them.
Chiyoko stood there blankly when she saw the monster in the mountain, unable to imagine that it was a living person.
Iori explained with a embarrassed look:
"It didn't scare you, did it? Miss Chiyoko, it's been like this since last year. It looks so ugly, but he can't move. Please be patient."
Before Chiyoko could react, she heard the old woman continue:
"The medical officers of the Kaga Domain refused to treat him. I found a monk and prescribed medicine, and he is alive until now..."
Chiyoko nodded politely and hesitantly stretched her cold hand towards the stove.
"Miss Chiyoko must have also heard that the general is going to conquer the Ming Dynasty in the west. Our Kaga Domain is going to send 3,000 armored soldiers. The feudal lord has passed the burden on to the common people (1)."
Iori sighed heavily, his thin body coiled on the straw mat, looking like a mountain spirit under the firelight.
"In the past two months, taxes have been getting higher and higher, and many new taxes have appeared. 80% of the food in Baishan Village this year has been handed over to village officials!"
Chiyoko put down her tea cup, feeling dizzy. She didn't expect her mother to live in such a difficult place.
"When I was climbing a mountain just now, I saw a lot of rice covered with dust. The volcano erupted. Can't the feudal lord reduce the amount?"
Iori stared at the stoneware cup in Chiyoko's hand and smiled coldly:
"Reduction or exemption? If the tax cannot be paid, the villagers' wives will be taken hostage, put to sleep, or put on raincoats - like the one worn by Miss Chiyoko - and burned to death."
"The feudal lord and the family elders like to watch the villagers rolling around in coir raincoats as they are burned on the ground. They call this "coir raincoat dance"."
The figure of Iori's wife in the firelight in front of her became increasingly blurry, and the old woman could only be heard continuing to speak.
"Fortunately, our village is next to a volcano. The villagers will sift out the fine volcanic mud and give it to the monks in exchange for rewards."
Chiyoko suppressed her dizziness and echoed the old woman.
"Monk, what does the monk want from the volcanic mud?"
"It is said that it can make their appearance last forever, and a face that is hundreds of years old can be as charming as a young man who is twenty years old..."
Chiyoko could no longer see Mrs. Iori's face clearly, and her mother's urgent urging appeared in front of her eyes.
"Hurry! Go to Miyako Port, your brother is still waiting for you."
Chiyoko struggled to stand up from the straw mat, stammering like a drunken man:
"I, I'm leaving..."
Suddenly, her head was pressed by a pair of calloused hands, and her body fell limply to the ground.
"Iori..."
"Miss Chiyoko."
Next to the stove came the nightmarish whispers of Mrs. Iori:
"Do you know why those old monks on the volcano are always so young? They rely not only on volcanic mud, but also on thousands of girls like you. This is their secret to eternal life."
The old village official who had been silent opened his cloudy eyes, reached out and groped among the straw mats, and finally touched Chiyoko's body.
"Is it really just fifteen years old? A hybrid giant from Osaka City. Old woman, you said you would dedicate her to Master Huiran. How many gold coins will the old monk give us this time?"
Note:
1. Honkaimin: During the Edo period, small farmers who had land holding rights and paid annual tribute to their lords were called honkaimin.
