The Hangu Pass community consisted of a dozen or so households nestled between the high mountains. Farmers. Mostly illiterate. All worked the land to support themselves and feed the merchants who brought goods in and out of the gate. The few things that were considered luxuries by the inhabitants would have been laughed at by those who lived in the capital.

For Yin Su, there were no intellectuals to overhear talking philosophy with the Great Lord. No teachers instructing in reading, writing, philosophy, or history. No fine silks to admire on the Great Lord’s guests. No lavish feasts to prepare to celebrate holidays. No bustling kitchen staff preparing a variety of dishes. No mother to guide her.

Yin Su’s Husband was assigned a humble homestead. An earthen wall surrounded three structures and created a corral for pigs. Chickens roamed wherever they pleased. There was space for a garden. All structures had walls of baked clay with thatch roofs. The thick walls provided warmth in winter and the thatch provided shade in summer. One structure was divided into two rooms for sleeping. The second structure held three more rooms for sleeping, presumably to house sons and their wives in future years. An outside kitchen stood with oven and firepit near the corral. The structures would accommodate a growing family for years to come. Yin Su thought about children and set to work making the place livable.

Yin Su’s belly began to grow. Her Husband watched her work and smiled. “Soon my son will join us,” he said. Yin Su said, “We must have a birthing hut.”

The other village men joined him in constructing a small chamber where the birth would take place. It was located in the homestead compound, but away from the sleeping rooms. Makeshift supports were constructed within the hut so that Yin Su would be able to put one support under each arm and kneel in a proper position for easy birth. There was room to spread straw over the floor to catch the child as he entered this world.

Yin Su fashioned a clay figure of Guanyin, the goddess of fertility, and placed it in one corner of the hut. She fashioned another of Song Zi Niang Niang, the goddess who bestows children, in another corner. She beseeched the goddesses to give her a man-child to please her husband.

The child grew strong in Yin Su’s belly. He would enter the world in early summer along with new growth on the trees and flowers in the meadows. Yin Su made preparations.

The women of the community would help with the birth and assist after the birth while Yin Su had her traditional thirty days of confinement. She would recover from the pregnancy and birth and care for her child until they could celebrate his first month of life. She was looking forward to being with her child.

Yin Su noticed subtle changes in her husband. She could feel him watching her more closely as time for the birth drew near. He seldom raised his voice. He showed kindness and sometimes assisted her in feeding the animals. When preparing for sleep, he would stare at her body and even put a hand on her stomach to feel his son move.

“He will be a mighty warrior,” he said. His countenance was tender, loving.

Yin Su envisioned a small soldier growing up in their house. “He will bring honor to the family. His wife will care for us in our old age.”

Although their sleeping mats were side by side, her Husband had not touched her since her abdomen began to grow. To protect the child. It was tradition. He stayed at the gate longer than usual and many nights returned to the gate after the evening meal. Yin Su wondered what new duties had been given to her Husband that would keep him at the gate long into the night.

Her Husband’s absence did not weigh on her mind. She had much to do to prepare for the birth.

The women of the village all laughed when Yin Su had said her husband was building a birthing hut. “What for?” they asked. “We give birth in our homes and our children are just fine.”

“Because it is proscribed.” Yin Su was confused. She had attended births while living in the Great House. There was a birthing hut available even for the slaves. Without a hut, how could the proper rituals be performed? 

“Yin Su,” one village woman calmly explained, “we do not have the time for such as that. We give birth and return to our work.”

“You do not sit the month?”

“No. Maybe a day or two if there are problems. But not a full month to recover. There is work to be done. The crops in the fields do not wait. The other children must be fed. Husbands are impatient.”

“But ..”

“Do not worry. Your child will be fine. You are young and strong. We will help.”

“But…”

“We will come to your hut and assist. I will hold your waist when the time comes. Are you consuming the herbs for a slippery birth?”

Yin Su assured everyone she was eating the proper foods for a healthy child. She had found mallow in the fields and was preparing it to take after she entered the month of the birth. These women were so lax in their observance of the rites. Yin Su marveled that there were so many healthy children in the village. How could this be if the rituals were not followed?

They did not conform to the rules of society and the strict rules of relationships taught by the philosopher Kong Fuzi. Yet they seemed happy. The children laughed while doing chores. Crops were planted and harvested. No one questioned.

The birthing hut was made ready. A month before the birth, Yin Su began taking the herbs she had dried. She made teas that tasted terrible but would assure an easy birth. She followed proper behavior to please the gods. She was especially vigilant with her thoughts and did not let them offend any deity, lest that deity would come for her child after birth. She did not rearrange any feature of her house. No guests were allowed during the final month. Her husband observed each rule as Yin Su presented it. She wondered why he did not already know the proper rituals, but decided she had to educate him on what was expected. He complied.

As the birth drew closer, Yin Su felt her child turn in her womb. He was getting ready to enter the world. His weight bore down. Yin Su thought he might come at any moment. She was preparing the evening meal when the first pain hit. She cried out. Then it subsided.

She headed to the birthing hut and spread fresh straw to catch her son. The effigies she had placed in the corners of the room watched. She offered up homage and asked for a slippery birth and a healthy child.

A neighbor woman came by to check on her. She sat with Yin Su into the night. When the pains came closer together she gathered the other village women. The pains came and went. Yin Su paced the birthing hut in between.

In the early dawn, Yin Su squatted over the straw, a final effort to bring the child into the world. The pain sent the room spinning. The effigies danced. Yin Su leaned backward. A neighbor woman grasped her from behind, firmly about the waist, and held her as the child slipped onto the straw.

The cord was cut. The placenta was delivered and placed in a bowl to be buried later that day. The child was cleaned and wrapped in red cloth. The women attended to Yin Su. They chatted excitedly. A slippery birth. A good omen. They used fresh cloth to clean the birthing hut. They burned the birth straw. Yin Su lay on the bed to rest. The child was placed in her arms. She was exhausted. Her body needed rest. She dozed for a few minutes.

“You should feed the child.” A strong hand woke Yin Su.

The child whimpered softly and clasped on to Yin Su’s breast. He suckled as the milk began to flow.

© Copyright 2025 Writing_Cheri. All rights reserved.