A couple of kids wearing red armbands rushed over to him. Kicking and hitting him, they cursed, “Was that you who yelled? You fucking capitalist roader!”
Chunsheng was knocked partly to the ground, his body resting on the wooden sign that hung from his neck. One of the
kids kicked his head, making a “bong” sound; it sounded like a hole had been knocked in his head. His whole body collapsed to the ground. Chunsheng was beaten until he couldn’t make a sound—never in my whole life had I seen a person beaten like that. Lying on the ground, enduring relentless kicking, Chunsheng looked like a dead carcass. If they
kept on like that, Chunsheng would be beaten to death. I went over and pulled two of them by the sleeve, saying, “I beg you, don’t beat him.”
They pushed me away with so much force I nearly fell to the ground.
“Who the hell are you?” they demanded.
“Please, stop hitting him,” I repeated.
One of them pointed to Chunsheng and said, “Do you know who he is? He’s the old magistrate, a capitalist roader!”
“I don’t know anything about that,” I said. “All I
know is that he’s Chunsheng.”
Once they started talking, they stopped beating Chunsheng and ordered him to get up. After being beaten like that, how was Chunsheng supposed to get up? Just as I approached to help him up, Chunsheng recognized me. He said, “Fugui, get out of here.”
That day when I got home I sat on the edge of the bed and told Jiazhen what I had seen. After hearing what had happened, Jiazhen lowered her head and said, “I shouldn’t have
kept Chunsheng from coming in that time.”
Although Jiazhen didn’t say anything else, I knew that we were thinking the same thing.
Over a month later, Chunsheng made a secret visit to our house. It was the middle of the night, and Jiazhen and I were both asleep when we were awakened by a knock at the door. I opened the door and by the light of the moon saw that it was Chunsheng, his face so swollen that it was round and inflamed.
“Chunsheng, hurry up and come in,” I said.
Chunsheng stood at the door, unwilling to come inside.
“Is it okay with your wife?” he asked.
“Jiazhen, it’s Chunsheng,” I called over to her in a hushed tone.
Jiazhen sat up in bed without answering. I asked Chunsheng in again, but without Jiazhen’s invitation Chunsheng wouldn’t budge.
“Fugui, can you come out for a second?” he asked.
I turned to Jiazhen and repeated, “Jiazhen, Chunsheng’s here.”
Jiazhen still didn’t answer, leaving me no choice but to drape a jacket over my shoulders and go out. Chunsheng walked over by the tree in front of our house and said to me, “Fugui, I came to say good-bye.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
He bit his teeth trying to hold back his emotions as he uttered, “I don’t want to live anymore.”
His words shocked me. I quickly grabbed hold of his arms and said, “Chunsheng, don’t be ridiculous. You’ve got a wife and son.”
As soon as he heard this, Chunsheng started to cry.
“Fugui, every day they tie me up and beat me,” he said. As he spoke he stretched out his hands. “Feel my hands.”
The second I touched them I realized his hands felt as if they had been boiled. They were so hot it scared the hell out of me. I asked him, “Does it hurt?”
He shook his head. “I can’t feel them anymore.”
I gently pushed his shoulders and said, “Chunsheng, sit down.
“No matter what, you have got to think straight,” I told him. “The dead all want to
keep on living. Here you are alive and kicking; you can’t die.”
I went on, “Your life is given to you by your parents. If you don’t want to live, you have to ask them first.”
Wiping his tears, Chunsheng said, “My parents passed away a long time ago.”
“Then that’s all the more reason to keep on living,” I said. “Think about it: from north to south you were in so many battles during the war. Staying alive wasn’t easy, was it?”
That night Chunsheng and I talked endlessly. Sitting inside in bed, Jiazhen heard everything. By the time dawn was approaching it seemed like Chunsheng had come around. When he stood up to leave, Jiazhen called from inside, “Chunsheng!”
For a moment the two of us were caught off guard. Only after Jiazhen called a second time did Chunsheng answer. We walked over to the door, and Jiazhen called out from bed, “Chunsheng, you’ve got to hang in there. You’ve got to
keep on living.”
Chunsheng nodded his head, and Jiazhen began to cry.
“You still owe us a life,” she told him. “Hold on to your life to repay us.”
Chunsheng stood there for a moment.
“I know,” he finally said.
I saw Chunsheng off. But when we got to the edge of the village, Chunsheng made me stop; he wouldn’t let me see him off any farther. I stood at the edge of the village, watching Chunsheng hobble off toward town. He had been beaten so badly that he walked with a limp. He lowered his head, and it looked like those steps were consuming his last bit of energy. I felt uneasy.
“Chunsheng,” I called out to him. “Promise me you’ll
keep on living!”
Chunsheng took a few more steps and turned around to say, “I promise you.”
But in the end Chunsheng didn’t keep his promise. Just over one month later I heard the news that Magistrate Liu had hung himself. No matter how lucky a person is, the moment he decides he wants to die, there’s nothing that will
keep him alive. I told Jiazhen what had happened, and she was depressed for the whole day. That night she said to me, “We shouldn’t have blamed Chunsheng for Youqing’s death.”
When work in the fields started to pick up, I wasn’t able to go into town to visit Fengxia as often as I would have liked. It was a good thing there was the people’s commune at the time so I could work with the other villagers—that way I didn’t have to worry about not carrying my weight. But Jiazhen still couldn’t get out of bed. I had to work from dawn till dusk, rushing home several times during the day to mak sure Jiazhen wasn’t hungry. I was really exhausted. I was getting older, too. If it had been twenty years earlier, it would have been a different story. Back then I would have been okay with just a bit of sleep, but once I got older, sleep didn’t seem to do much to replenish my strength. While I was working, I barely had the energy to raise my arms. Every day I’d hide among the other villagers, pretending to be working. They understood that I was in a difficult situation, and not one of them said anything bad about me.
During the busy season, Fengxia came back to stay a few days with us. She boiled water, cooked and took care of Jiazhen, making things a lot easier for me. But when I thought about it, I
knew that a daughter married off was just like a pail of water that had been dumped out. Fengxia already belonged to Erxi, and I
knew she wouldn’t be able to stay too long. Jiazhen and I discussed it and decided that, no matter what, we couldn’t let her stay, so we sent Fengxia away. I literally had to push her all the way to the edge of the village. The villagers laughed when they saw us, saying they’d never seen a father like me. When I heard that, I also giggled—I figured that there probably wasn’t a single daughter in the entire village who was as good to her father as my Fengxia.
“Fengxia’s only one person. If she spends all her time taking care of Jiazhen and me, who’s gonna take care of my crooked-headed son-in-law?” I said.
Not long after I forced Fengxia to leave she came back, only this time my crooked-headed son-in-law came with her. From far away I saw a couple holding hands, and I
knew it was them. I didn’t even need to see Erxi’s crooked head; the second I saw them walking hand in hand I
knew it was them. Erxi was carrying a bottle of yellow rice wine and couldn’t stop smiling. Fengxia had a basket under her arm and was smiling in the same way as Erxi. I wondered what had happened for them to be so happy.
When they got to the house, Erxi closed the door and said, “Mom, Dad, Fengxia’s pregnant.”
As soon as Jiazhen and I heard this, our faces lit up with happiness. Only after the four of us had smiled for what seemed like an eternity did Erxi remember the bottle of wine in his hand. He went over to the bed and put the bottle down on a small table while Fengxia took a bowl of peas out of her basket.
“Let’s all go over to the bed,” I suggested.
Fengxia sat down beside Jiazhen, while I brought back four bowls and sat down next to Erxi at the other end of the bed. Erxi poured me a full glass of wine, gave Jiazhen one, too, and then he went to pour some for Fengxia. Fengxia grabbed hold of the bottle and
kept shaking her head.
“Today you get to drink, too,” Erxi told her.
It seemed that Fengxia understood what he had said because she stopped shaking her head. We raised our bowls to drink, and after taking a sip Fengxia looked at her mother with furrowed brows. Jiazhen was also frowning, but then she smiled through her closed lips. Erxi and I both finished off our bowls with one chug, sending a whole bowl of wine right into our stomachs. Tears came to Erxi’s eyes as he said, “Dad, Mom, I never dreamed that a day like this would come.”
As soon as she heard this Jiazhen became teary. Seeing Jiazhen like that, tears also fell from my eyes.
“I also never thought things would turn out like this,” I said. “Our biggest worry used to be what Fengxia would do after Jiazhen and I passed away. Once you married Fengxia we could finally rest at ease. Now that you’re going to have a child, that’s even better. Fengxia will have someone to bury her after she dies.”
Seeing us in tears, Fengxia also began to weep. Through her tears Jiazhen said, “If only Youqing were still alive. Fengxia practically raised him; they were so close. But he can’t be here to share today with us.”
Erxi started to wail, his crying even more violent than before. He said, “If only my parents were still alive. When my mom died she was squeezing my hand and wouldn’t let go.”
The more the four of us cried, the more depressed we became. After crying for a while, Erxi smiled and pointed to the bowl of peas, saying, “Mom, Dad, try some. Fengxia made them herself.”
“Okay, I’ll have some,” I said. “Jiazhen, you try some, too.”
Jiazhen and I looked at each other and laughed—we were about to become grandparents. That day the four of us laughed and cried until dusk, when Erxi and Fengxia left.
Once Fengxia was pregnant, Erxi seemed to love her even more. When summer came, their house was filled with mosquitoes, and they didn’t have a mosquito net. As soon as it got dark, Erxi would have Fengxia sit outside in the cool night air while he lay down in bed to let the mosquitoes feed on him. Only after all the mosquitoes had had their fill would he let Fengxia come in to sleep. A couple of times Fengxia went in to check on him, and he’d get all anxious and carry her back out. Erxi’s neighbors told me all this. They’d say to Erxi, “You should buy a mosquito net.”
Erxi laughed but didn’t say anything. Only later did he tell me, “It wouldn’t be right, considering I still haven’t finished paying off the debt.”
I felt bad seeing Erxi covered from head to toe with little red spots where he’d been bitten. I told him, “Don’t be like that.”
Erxi said, “I’m just one person—it doesn’t matter if they take a few extra bites. But Fengxia’s different—she counts for two people now.”
Fengxia gave birth on a winter day. The snow was falling so heavily that we couldn’t even see out our window. Fengxia went into the delivery room and didn’t come out all night. Waiting outside, Erxi and I became increasingly anxious and worried. Each time a doctor came out we’d rush up to ask how Fengxia was doing. We’d relax as soon as we found out she was still in labor. As dawn neared Erxi said, “Dad, why don’t you get some rest.”
I shook my head, saying, “I’m too anxious to sleep.”
Erxi urged me, “The two of us can’t both stay up like this. After Fengxia gives birth, someone is going to have to take care of her and the baby.”
I realized that what Erxi said made sense, so I told him, “Erxi, you get some sleep first.”
The two of us kept going back and forth, and in the end neither one of us got any sleep. By the time the sun had come out there was still no sign of Fengxia, and we began to get scared again. All the women who had come in after Fengxia had given birth and gone home already. How were Erxi and I supposed to sit still? We pressed up against the door to listen to what was going on inside. Only after I heard a woman’s voice screaming did I relax.
“Poor Fengxia,” said Erxi.
But after a while I realized something was wrong: Fengxia was mute—she couldn’t scream. I mentioned this to Erxi, and his face instantly turned pale. He ran up to the delivery room door, yelling, “Fengxia, Fengxia!”
Two doctors came out and, glaring angrily at Erxi, yelled, “What the hell are you screaming about? Get out!”
Erxi was wailing like a baby.
“How come my wife still hasn’t come out?” he asked.
Someone else in the waiting room told us, “Some deliveries are fast, and some are slow.”
Erxi and I looked at each other, thinking maybe this guy was right. We sat back down, but my heart was still pounding. Before long a doctor came out to ask us, “Do you want the big one or the little one?”
Her question left us both utterly stupefied.
“Hello, I’m talking to you,” she said.
Erxi fell at her feet. Kneeling before her, he pleaded through his tears, “Doctor, please save Fengxia. I want Fengxia.”
Erxi was on the ground crying uncontrollably. I helped him up and tried to get him to calm down, telling him to take it easy or he was going to hurt himself.
“Just as long as Fengxia pulls through everything will be okay,” I told him. “You
know there’s a saying: ‘As long as the green mountain remains, there’s no reason to worry about firewood.’ ”
Erxi was still crying as he said, “My son’s gone.”
So was my grandson. I lowered my head and began crying uncontrollably. But around noon a doctor came out and said, “She delivered. It’s a boy!”