“What is it then?”

“You’ve reassured us. You’re the only one in the village who has done that.”

“Thank you, I’m flattered.”

“It isn’t flattery. It’s the truth.”

“Thank you for telling me this. I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

Walking outside the fence, Mrs. Yi knew that inside the courtyard the Ma couple were watching her through the mirror. Her heart was still with them.

Uncle Ma died that night. No one knew the exact time because his wife happened to fall asleep, and their daughter was sleeping in the next room with her baby.

“Daddy left joyfully,” his daughter said to Mrs. Yi. “Before going to bed, he drank the herbal concoction that you brought him. He said he was lucky because he wasn’t in much pain.”

Mrs. Yi’s eyes moistened, but her heart felt very warm. He wasn’t in much pain; it was probably the herbs that got him through . . .

Though his stomach had grown large, his body had shrunk into a small one—the viruses had finally come to terms with him. What a generous man he had been! His face, now serene, revealed the secret of his heart: he had said good-bye to everyone. Aunt Ma did not cry; she bathed him and dressed him in his favorite flannel pajamas, the ones with the cherry pattern.

“I don’t feel he’s gone,” said Aunt Ma. “He’s talking everywhere in the house and the yard. He told me that even after he died I would have to boil herbal medicine for him once a month and pour it on his grave. He loved the smell. Mrs. Yi, will you grant his wish?”

Seeing Aunt Ma’s earnest expression, Mrs. Yi nodded at once. “Of course! Don’t you worry, I’ll write a prescription for him every month!”

Uncle Ma was buried at the edge of the mountain cave—the place he had chosen. It was at the entrance to the cave where Mrs. Yi had found the mountain cypress. Mrs. Yi remembered this and said to herself, “Uncle Ma had a very good memory.”

Sometimes Mrs. Yi was too busy, so she asked Gray to deliver the prescription to Aunt Ma. Gray was happy to accept this special mission. The holiday-like glow on his face made Mrs. Yi wonder. At last she couldn’t help asking him, “Why are you so happy about this?”

“It is the noblest task in the world. Every time I hand your prescription to Mrs. Ma, I hear folksongs coming from the mountain, and the ground beneath my feet trembles slightly. Then I see the image of myself as a newborn. They say I was born in a woodshed . . . Mrs. Yi, why? Why was I born in the woodshed?”

“Because you couldn’t wait, because you were so eager to come out to play with others. How is Mrs. Ma feeling these days?”

“She’s fine emotionally. She said, ‘I brewed his herbal medicine while he was alive, and I brew it now after his death, though less often. He’s a thoughtful old man.’ I saw her take her granddaughter to the grave.”