024 Red Coral Essence

Xie Yihuang raised her eyebrows slightly, then opened the box. Inside lay a string of red coral beads. Judging by the length, she could currently wrap them around her wrist three times.

“Red coral beads—where did you get these?” She could tell by the color that this was a rare treasure.

Qi Jianshe smiled. “A-Yi, do you remember when you went to the shore with me recently and found some red coral?”

“I remember. Why?” Xie Yihuang’s heart skipped. “Don’t tell me it’s this one. I recall the coral was bright red, but not as vivid as it is now. Even after polishing, it shouldn’t be this red.”

Qi Jianshe chuckled. “When you found the coral, your grandfather and I intended to sell it to someone we knew. There are two ways to sell coral nowadays: as a whole piece or divided up. I originally thought we’d sell it whole, since the coral you found was perfectly intact and would fetch a high price.”

“But when I took it out, I accidentally dropped it. That’s when we discovered it contained coral marrow. That means such a small piece of coral has already survived tens of thousands of years.”

“Coral marrow is incredibly valuable. If someone falls gravely ill, biting into the marrow can buy precious time until help arrives. Worn as beads, it nurtures the body, and it’s said that famous medicinal pills double in effect if coral marrow is added.”

“So, I decided to make this bracelet for you from the marrow. All these beads are the very essence. The remainder, not as pure, I’ve collected here.” With that, he produced another small box and opened it, revealing crimson powder.

Grandfather Qi added, “A-Yi, you’re healthy now, but coral marrow is a once-in-a-millennium treasure. Wearing it will do you good.”

Xie Yihuang looked at the box of powder and the bracelet, slipped the beads onto her wrist, and found it wound four times. “When I grow, it’ll be only three.”

Her grandfather suppressed a laugh. “You’re a bit smaller than your peers. Eat more and you’ll catch up. Then it’ll only circle three, maybe even two times.”

Xie Yihuang pouted and shot him a glare. “Grandpa, you’re not even trying to sound sincere.” Still, knowing the benefits, she did not refuse and wore the beads, which fit perfectly without risk of slipping off.

With the bracelet on, the box was empty. Xie Yihuang placed a sheet of white paper inside, poured in about half the coral marrow, and handed the remaining half to her grandfather. “You see patients all the time. You know how valuable this is. Take this half for yourself.”

Grandfather Qi didn’t question why she kept half. He accepted it with one hand. “Very well. Anyone who can use coral marrow isn’t ordinary. I won’t use it now—I’ll save it for your dowry one day.”

Xie Yihuang pressed her hand to her forehead. “Grandpa, I’m only eight. It’s not appropriate to talk about dowries to an eight-year-old.”

He laughed heartily. “All right, I’ll put it away. I tell you because I know you understand my meaning.”

Xie Yihuang waved dismissively. Who could say what the future held? Coral marrow would be rare even then—a true treasure.

As she gazed at the box of coral marrow, an idea sprang to mind: she’d search the nearby glass factory’s waste heap for thumb-sized bottles, clean them up herself, and divide the powder into seven portions—keeping one, and sharing the rest with her friends from the group.

Her daily schedule was busy, mostly with studying, but not from dawn to dusk. Usually, after 3 p.m., her grandfather let her do as she pleased.

This day, during her free time, she told him, “Grandpa, I’m heading to the glass factory to look for bottles.”

He glanced at her and nodded. “Be careful—there are many kids there. Don’t let them bully you.”

“I’m not after the thermometers like they are.” The discarded heap from the glass factory was full of faulty thermometers that children loved to play with.

Kids these days lacked an awareness of danger, but they listened to adults enough to know that mercury inside thermometers was poisonous. Still, they’d search for intact ones to sell to peddlers, who would repurpose them into toys or other goods.

Xie Yihuang had no interest in mercury thermometers. She was looking for thumb-sized bottles.

When she arrived, she saw a crowd of children rummaging through the factory’s rubbish.

“A-Yi!” Gui Di spotted her and called out.

Liu Gui Di lived in a narrow alley near the Qi family. Her mother worked at the hardware factory too—brought in by Xie’s mother. Though they now called each other sisters, they’d once had a teacher-student relationship.

Liu Gui Di was her parents’ only child. Rumor had it her mother had once been pregnant a second time, but before the birth, trouble befell the family—her father had fallen into gambling debt. Her mother, angry and stressed, went into premature labor and lost the baby. She couldn’t have any more children after that. The incident sobered her father, who then mended his ways and worked hard beside his wife. He was now a temp in the soy sauce workshop at the food factory, with a chance for a permanent position this year.

Gui Di was their only daughter—a delicate, pretty girl two years older than Xie Yihuang.

“Gui Di, didn’t you have class today? What brings you here looking for thermometers?” Xie Yihuang asked curiously.

Gui Di shook her head. “We had class this morning, but this afternoon some officials are coming to inspect the school, so everyone’s off except a few class monitors.”

Xie Yihuang nodded in understanding. In this era, such visits were taken very seriously.

“Well, you’re lucky—you get to rest this afternoon,” she teased.

Gui Di laughed. “Yes! With nothing else to do, I came with Jianxiong to look for thermometers.” Jianxiong, full name Liu Jianxiong, was Gui Di’s cousin and Xie Yihuang’s peer.

Jianxiong and Gui Di attended Tianhua Primary School. They knew Xie Yihuang through the Qi family.