Clay Earth God

My name is Li Mu, and this year marks the hundredth year since my death.

It was about a hundred years ago, though I can no longer remember exactly. Back then, I was still a down-and-out scholar. Deep in my memories, I can still clearly recall the spring breeze in February of my eighteenth year, carrying the faint chill peculiar to Ruyang County in early spring as it swept past the old locust trees, just budding, outside the county examination hall.

On the day the county exam results were posted, I squeezed through the bustling crowd, rising onto my toes to search for my name. When I spotted the words "Li Mu" in thirty-seventh place, my heart pounded like a drum. After ten years of studying by lamplight, I had finally reached the threshold of the imperial examination system. My father had died early, and my mother had worked herself to the bone to put me through school. Her hands, rough and cracked from years of weaving, would often push open my door while I studied late at night, set down a bowl of warm rice porridge, then slip away without a sound.

"Mother, I passed!" I shouted as I rushed home and pushed open the door.

My mother was sitting at her loom. At the sound of my voice, she turned around, first looking bewildered, then with tears welling in her eyes. She stood and came over unsteadily, cupping my face in her calloused hands. "Really? Mu'er, you really passed?"

"I did, Mother! Look!" I pulled the copied results sheet from my robe and pointed to my name.

My mother couldn't read, but she gazed at those two characters for a long time, as though she could see the hope behind the ink. At last, she turned toward the stove and fished out the only three copper coins from the bottom of a clay jar. "Go buy some meat. We'll celebrate tonight."