Letter to LP about small pox
Little Plum,
Your last letter arrived with the tea merchant who travels between our towns, and I was grateful beyond words to see your handwriting again. These are uneasy weeks, and every message from home feels like a small lantern in the dark.
I must ask you plainly: have you heard of the illness people are whispering about—the one they call “Heavenly Flowers?”
In the houses where I have been called to treat women, the mothers speak of it in low voices. They say it begins with a sudden fever. Soon after, small red marks appear on the skin like pinpricks. In a few days the face and body can look as though tiny blossoms have opened everywhere. That is why the people have given it that gentle name, though the suffering it brings is anything but gentle.
I fear most for the children. They suffer the most. And the ones that survive are left with scars that remain on their faces for the rest of their lives.
Because of this, families behave with great caution. The lucky ones have the money or jewelry to hire a “pox healer” when they first learn its scourge arrived.
Now, I see homes with the windows kept open to the air. Visitors are turned away if illness has appeared in their household. Mothers watch their children’s skin each morning as carefully as a gardener watches young plants after a storm.
Little Plum, you must promise me that if anyone near your home shows signs of **it, you will keep your distance. You will not **share bedding, cups, or clothing with those who are ill. Wash your hands often and keep your room aired with fresh wind when the weather allows it.
I know you will say that I worry too much. An older sister always does. But when I hear of this illness spreading from town to town, I cannot help imagining your bright face among those small red blossoms, and the thought troubles my sleep.
Write to me soon and tell me truthfully how things are in your village. Is everyone well? Have the children remained free of its terror?
Until I hear from you, I will keep you in my thoughts each morning.
Your loving sister,
Li Zhenyan
