Mother, Hit Me Once More

Jin Yulian instructed her secretary, Xiaohé, to check the goods with Manager Lu and his team, while she herself took Sister Li and me to Maple Forest Village.

Since Sister Li wanted to pay her respects to her mother, we stopped on the street to buy incense, candles, tin paper, and other offerings. We also picked up apples, bananas, common fruits, biscuits, pastries, and bought some meat, fish, seafood, vegetables, condiments, and a few bottles of glutinous rice wine. Seeing Sister Li's preparations, it was clear she intended to stay overnight in Maple Forest Village.

I couldn't help but remind her, "Sis, our house doesn't have a gas stove; cooking these vegetables with the old earthen stove will be troublesome."

Sister Li smiled, "It's fine, we can use the earthen stove—after all, we have time." Still, before leaving, we bought a gas stove, a gas cylinder, a rice cooker, an electric kettle, and a bag of rice.

The trunk of Sister Li's car was packed full. We took two cars: Jin Yulian drove her own Mercedes C-Class, and I rode with Sister Li in her big G-Class, sitting in the passenger seat to help guide the way.

Once prepared, we set off. When the car entered the winding mountain road, Sister Li sighed softly, "Feng, seeing these mountains and rivers, I feel more and more familiar—the taste of my childhood hometown. I often dream of these landscapes."

When Sister Li was taken by traffickers, she was already seven years old, so she retained some memories of her childhood home. Seeing those familiar mountains and waters again, her childhood recollections were instantly stirred.

We stopped at the village entrance, facing the ancient stone arch bridge, the towering camphor trees, and the dilapidated earth temple. Sister Li, overcome with emotion, hugged me, choking back tears, "Brother, this is my childhood home. Seeing all this, memories buried deep in my mind are being drawn out."

I patted her shoulder, "Sis, do you still remember where our house is?"

She calmed herself, "Don't rush—let me think." While she pondered, I unloaded the things from the car.

After a moment, Sister Li said, "I remember—it should be that way." Carrying some vegetables, she led the way ahead. I followed with the gas cylinder on my back, winding past the bamboo grove beside the village entrance. Sister Li exclaimed in delight, "I see it—that's our home!" She quickened her pace.

Our laughter startled the village dogs, whose barking echoed through the secluded mountain village; villagers, hearing the commotion, came out to see what was happening.

Seeing two elegant and refined women in the village, they whispered among themselves, wondering whose daughters had returned.

The sight of the rundown tile-roofed house and the familiar scent of home overwhelmed Sister Li. "Mother, your daughter has finally found the homeland of her dreams—your daughter has returned." I opened the door for Sister Li and Jin Yulian to enter.

Because Mrs. Li's family had been poor in the past, many things hadn't been replaced for decades. Sister Li gazed at the ancient wardrobe, "I remember—the wardrobe has a fish engraving. I even scratched it with a knife when I was young."

She walked over and indeed found the fish design, marked with old scratches, though dust and time had faded them, leaving only faint traces of years gone by.

Suddenly, Sister Li spotted a jar missing a corner. She rushed over and cradled it in her hands, murmuring, "When I was little, Mother kept glutinous rice wine in here. I sneaked a sip and accidentally knocked the jar over—not only spilling the wine but breaking the jar. Mother wanted to scold me when she came back. I wanted to run away, but now I wish Mother could scold me just one more time."

Jin Yulian and I were moved to tears. A child’s desire to honor their parent, but the parent is no longer here; we would never see Mrs. Li again.

I hugged Sister Li, gently patting her shoulder to comfort her. Jin Yulian told me to stay with Sister Li while she went to bring in the rest of the things from the car.

Since there was so much, after Sister Li regained her composure, I went out to help Jin Yulian carry everything home.

Once the things were brought in, Sister Li said, "Brother, Yulian, let’s go to the gravesite to pay respects to Mother."

I nodded, and together with Jin Yulian, accompanied Sister Li to Mrs. Li's grave. Seeing the inscription on the headstone, Sister Li couldn’t hold back anymore. She pressed herself against the tombstone, crying bitterly, "Mother, your daughter has returned. She’s come to see you—do you know? Mother, I know you miss me; I think of you every moment."

Jin Yulian and I quietly arranged the fruits, pastries, biscuits, and other offerings, and of course, the glutinous rice wine.

Lighting incense and candles, the three of us stood in a line—I in the middle, Sister Li on one side, Jin Yulian on the other—and together knelt before Mrs. Li’s grave.

We were the people closest to Mrs. Li: I, whom she had raised for over ten years; Sister Li, her biological daughter; and Jin Yulian, whose life Mrs. Li had saved. When Mrs. Li passed away, Jin Yulian cared for her for three days and managed the funeral, fulfilling the filial duty that Sister Li and I could not.

After kneeling in respect, the three of us couldn’t help but embrace each other and weep.

According to our Mingzhou customs, offerings are made by pouring wine three times. I poured the first, Sister Li the second, and Jin Yulian the third. After three rounds of wine, we burned tin foil and spirit money.

Fruits and pastries were just the initial offerings. Once home, we planned to cook chicken, pork, fish, shrimp, bean sprouts, tofu, and rice to offer again.

Knowing it would be inconvenient to cook everything from scratch, we had bought ready-made beef, roast chicken, and sesame oil duck. We prepared red meat, yellow croaker, stir-fried several bowls of bean sprouts and green vegetables.

The three of us worked for about two hours, preparing the dishes for the ritual.

Night had fallen by then, and we began the home offering. According to Mingzhou tradition, there are two ways to honor departed elders: at the gravesite, where only two bowls of rice are required, or at home, where six bowls of rice, six cups of wine, and ten assorted dishes must be laid out.

We came in a hurry and didn’t have enough bowls and chopsticks, but thankfully we had brought disposable cups and containers, so we used those instead.

The battered table was laden with a sumptuous spread, and beneath the flickering candlelight, we lined up and knelt in respect once more.

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72—Mother, Please Scold Me One More Time—Free Reading.