My heart sank. As I went to caress her face, I realized that her cheeks were covered with tears. Jiazhen continued, “You’ve got to take good care of Fengxia. I’m worried most about her.”
Jiazhen didn’t mention Youqing, and I immediately started to worry. I couldn’t even think of anything to say to console her.
The next night, as usual, I told Jiazhen that I was going into town to see Youqing, but Jiazhen told me not to go. Instead, she asked me to carry her around the village for a walk. I had Fengxia pick up her mother and put her on my back. Jiazhen was getting lighter and lighter—she was so skinny it felt like there was nothing but bones left. As soon as we got outside, Jiazhen said, “I want to go to the western part of the village to look around.”
That was where Youqing was buried. I said all right, but no matter what, my feet didn’t want to go in that direction. After trudging along, we ended up at the eastern end of the village. Jiazhen whispered to me, “Fugui, don’t lie to me. I
know Youqing’s dead.”
The moment she uttered those words I stopped walking, and suddenly my legs began to feel weak. I felt liquid dripping on my neck, and I
knew that it was Jiazhen’s tears.
“Take me to see Youqing,” she said.
I knew I couldn’t go on deceiving her. As I carried her to the western side of the village, Jiazhen whispered to me, “Each night I heard you returning from the west, so I
knew that Youqing was dead.”
When we got to Youqing’s grave, Jiazhen wanted me to put her down. With tears streaming down her face, she climbed atop Youqing’s burial mound. She placed both her hands upon the earth above his grave as if she wanted to caress Youqing, but she had so little energy that all she could do was move a few fingers. Seeing Jiazhen like this, my heart hurt so much it felt like it was all blocked up. I really shouldn’t have buried Youqing—I should have let Jiazhen see him one last time.
Jiazhen stayed there until dark. I was afraid the night dew would make her sick, so I picked her up and put her on my back. Jiazhen had me take her over to the edge of the village. By the time we got there my collar was soaked.
“Youqing won’t be able to run down this trail to school anymore,” Jiazhen said, crying.
I gazed at that narrow, twisting trail that led to town and heard the sound of my son running barefoot. The moonlight was shining on the trail, giving the illusion that a layer of salt had been sprinkled along it.
I spent that entire afternoon with the old man. Even after he and
that old ox of his had gotten enough rest and gone back to plowing the field, I didn’t think of leaving. I was like a sentinel watching over them from under the tree.
The farmers’ voices from down in the fields carried in all directions. The most enthusiastic of the voices came from a ridge just
beyond the adjacent field, where two well-built men guzzled
down bucketfuls of water in a drinking contest. The young folks
beside them were yelling and screaming—although they wouldn’t
have been nearly as excited if they’d been the ones drinking.
Fugui looked kind of lonely being so far away from all the excitement. Transplanting rice seedlings in the irrigated field next to
him were two women wearing scarves. They were talking about
someone I didn’t know. It seemed the guy they were talking about
was strong, and he probably made more money than anyone else
in the village. From what they said, I gathered that he often
worked in town as a porter. As one of the women stretched her
torso and massaged her back, I heard her say, “He spends half his
money on his wife and the other half on other men’s wives.”
It was then that, leaning on his plough, Fugui approached them.
“There are four rules people should remember,” announced
Fugui as he made his way over to them. “Don’t say the wrong
thing, don’t sleep in the wrong bed, don’t enter the wrong house
and don’t rub the wrong pocket.”
Once Fugui got close to them he turned and said, “That guy,
he forgot the second rule. He slept in the wrong bed.”
The two women giggled, and I saw a proud expression light up
Fugui’s face. After calling out to his ox, he saw that I was laughing, too.
“These are the rules of life,” he told me.
Later he sat back down with me in the shade, and I asked him
to continue his story.
He looked at me with a thankful expression, as if I was doing
him some kind of favor. He felt a deep happiness because someone had expressed interest in his life experience.
At first I thought that as soon as Youqing died, Jiazhen wouldn’t be able to carry on much longer. And there was a period when it really didn’t seem like she’d make it. She’d lie in bed all day gasping for breath, her eyes barely open. She didn’t have an appetite, either; at every meal, Fengxia and I would have to lift her up and force porridge and soup down her throat. Jiazhen didn’t have any meat left on her bones. Picking her up was like lifting a piece of firewood.
The team leader had come over to the house twice, and each time, after seeing Jiazhen, he would just shake his head. He pulled me aside and whispered, “I’m afraid she’s not going to make it.”
As soon as I heard this my heart sank. It had been less than two weeks since Youqing had died, and now, right before my eyes, Jiazhen was going to leave, too. How were we supposed to get by if we suddenly lost half our family? It’s the same as if you smash a pot in two—it’s no longer a pot. Our family would no longer be a family.
The team leader said he’d go to the commune hospital and get a doctor to come look at Jiazhen. He was a man of his word. When he came back from a meeting at the commune headquarters, he really did bring a doctor back with him. That doctor was very slight and wore a pair of glasses. He asked me what
kind of sickness Jiazhen had.
“She’s got soft bone disease,” I said.
The doctor nodded and sat down on the bed to take Jiazhen’s pulse. As he took her pulse he talked to her. Hearing someone talking to her, all Jiazhen could do was open her eyes; she couldn’t say anything. The doctor didn’t
know why, but for some reason he couldn’t find Jiazhen’s pulse. He looked disturbed and extended his arm to lift her eyelid. Then, holding her wrist with one hand and feeling for a pulse with the other, he tilted his head to one side, as if straining to hear. After a while, the doctor stood up and said to me, “Her pulse is so weak I can barely feel it.”
After a pause he added, “You’d better make arrangements for her funeral.”
The doctor virtually killed me with that one sentence. I almost collapsed on the floor that very moment. I walked the doctor outside and asked him, “How much longer can my wife live?”
“She won’t make it another month,” the doctor replied. “People who have your wife’s illness usually don’t last long once the paralysis sets in.”
That night, after Jiazhen and Fengxia had gone to sleep, I went outside and sat down by myself until daybreak. At first all I did was cry like a baby, and then I started to think about the past. The more I thought, the more tears fell. Time really flies—it seemed like ever since Jiazhen and I were married we’d been through nothing but hard times. And now, in the blink of an eye, it was time for her to leave me. I decided that just crying and feeling upset was no use. When it came to times like these, a man had to be practical. I decided to make sure Jiazhen would have a decent burial.
The team leader had a good heart. Seeing how depressed I was, he said, “Fugui, don’t take it too hard. Everyone’s got to go sometime. Right now don’t worry about anything, just try to let Jiazhen feel at ease during her last days. You can have any plot of land in the village you want for her burial.”
But by then I had already decided. I said to the team leader, “Jiazhen wants to be buried with Youqing. They should be buried together.”
Poor Youqing, buried with only a layer of clothes to protect him. I wouldn’t let Jiazhen be buried like that. No matter how poor we were, I had to buy her a coffin. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. If Jiazhen had married someone else, she would have never had to suffer with me, and she would never have ended up working herself to the point of illness. I went from house to house around the village borrowing money. I’m not sure what was wrong with me, but as soon as I said the money was to buy Jiazhen a casket, I couldn’t help but cry. Everyone in the village was poor, and all the borrowed money put together still wasn’t enough to buy a coffin. It was only after the team leader gathered together some public funds that I was finally able to go to the neighboring village to hire a carpenter.
At first Fengxia didn’t know her mother was dying, but she noticed that every chance I got I
kept running off to the neighboring village’s lamb pen, which is where the carpenter worked. Every time I went down there I would stay half the day, even forgetting to come home to eat. Fengxia would come to get me, and after a few trips she saw the coffin gradually starting to take shape. It was only then that she began to realize what was happening. Her eyes opened wide as she made a sign with her hands to ask me. I thought Fengxia should
know, so I told her.
Fengxia just kept shaking her head. I knew what she was thinking, so I used my hands to tell her it was for Jiazhen. I told her Jiazhen would use it after she was gone. Fengxia
kept shaking her head and pulled me home. Even after we got home Fengxia still wouldn’t let go of my sleeve. She nudged Jiazhen, and Jiazhen opened her eyes. Then she forcefully shook my shoulders to show me that Jiazhen was still alive and well. Finally, she extended her right hand and made a downward chopping motion—she wanted me to get rid of the coffin.
Fengxia had never even dreamed her mother would die, and even if I had told her she wouldn’t have believed it. Seeing Fengxia like that, I could only lower my head. I didn’t even attempt to gesture to her at all.
Once Jiazhen took to her bed, she didn’t get up for over twenty days. Sometimes it seemed like she was getting better and she might pull through after all. Then one night as I lay down next to her and was about to turn out the light, Jiazhen suddenly reached out her arm and pulled me toward her—she told me not to turn out the light. Her voice was weaker than the buzz of a mosquito. She had me turn her on her side. That night my wife couldn’t stop staring at me. She
kept calling out to me, “Fugui.”
She smiled at me and closed her eyes. After a while Jiazhen opened her eyes and asked, “Is Fengxia asleep?”
I propped myself up to look at Fengxia and said, “She’s asleep.”
Although she kept pausing between her words, Jiazhen talked quite a bit that night, and only after she was utterly exhausted did she finally go to sleep. I, on the other hand, was terrified and couldn’t get to sleep no matter how hard I tried. Jiazhen seemed so much better, but I was afraid it was that “last radiance of the setting sun” that everyone talks about. I caressed Jiazhen’s body, and only after I realized she was still warm did I begin to relax a bit.
The next morning when I got up, Jiazhen was still asleep. She had been up late the previous night so I didn’t wake her. Fengxia and I had some porridge before heading out to work. We finished early that day, and when Fengxia and I got home I was shocked to find Jiazhen sitting up in bed. She had sat up all by herself. Seeing us come in, she said quietly, “Fugui, I’m hungry. Would you cook me some porridge?”
I just stood there in shock for a long time. I had never imagined that Jiazhen would get better. Only after Jiazhen called me a second time did I snap out of my daze. Tears rushed down my face, and forgetting that Fengxia couldn’t hear, I said to her, “You did it. It’s all because in your heart you wouldn’t let your mom die.”
As soon as she got her appetite back, I knew that Jiazhen was going to be okay. Before long Jiazhen was well enough to do some needlework from her bed. If she
keeps improving at this rate, I thought, she might even be able to get out of bed and walk again. I could finally rest at ease.
The moment I got some peace of mind, however, I myself became ill. I had actually gotten sick a long time before, but after Youqing died and with Jiazhen on the verge of following him, I couldn’t worry about my own illness—I just didn’t let it get to me. But while Jiazhen had defied her doctor and gradually started getting better, I began to feel increasingly lightheaded and dizzy. This dizziness continued until I passed out one day while transplanting rice seeds. Only after someone carried me home did I realize I was sick.
As soon as I fell ill, things became terrible for Fengxia. With both Jiazhen and me bedridden, Fengxia had both of us to take care of, and at the same time she still had to go out to the fields to earn work points. After a few days I realized that Fengxia was beyond the point of exhaustion. I told Jiazhen I was feeling a lot better and dragged my sick body out to the fields to work. When the other villagers saw me they were taken aback. They said, “Fugui, your hair’s all gray.”
“It’s been gray for a long time,” I laughed.
“No, you used to have a lot of black hair left,” they said. “How could it all turn gray in just a few days?”
In just a matter of days, I had really grown old. The strength I had had was gone. My shoulders and lower back would get sore when I worked, and if I pushed myself too hard sweat would stream from every pore in my body.
Just over a month after Youqing died, Chunsheng arrived. He was no longer called Chunsheng—he was called Liberation Liu. When other people saw him they’d all address him as Magistrate Liu, but I still called him Chunsheng. He told me that after he was taken prisoner he joined the Liberation Army. He fought all the way down to Fujian and later went to war in
korea. Chunsheng was lucky to have come back in one piece after all those battles he had fought in. After the
korean War he was transferred to civilian work and moved to a nearby county. He didn’t come to our county until the year Youqing died.