Under the Hawthorn Tree (20 page)

Every time Old Third bought things it made her feel uncomfortable. She felt selfish, guzzling and slurping at restaurants behind her family's back. If I ever have lots of money I'll take my whole family out to eat at a restaurant. I won't spare any expense, and get them whatever they want. Not only was the family short of cash, they were also running out of rice. Her mother had asked someone to get them some special tickets for the leftover broken rice so that she could fill them up; each grain was as small as a granule of sand. The factory used to sell it to the farmers to feed their pigs, but now people ate anything and everything. For a half-kilo rice ticket you could buy a kilo of broken rice, so all the families that were running short bought that instead.

Broken rice was disgusting. It slid around your mouth as you chewed. Worst of all it was so dirty and mixed with little stones and husks, it took half an hour, or even an hour, to wash it properly: using a large basin and a small bowl, you had to pour in a scoop of rice and then add a bit of water. You then shook it slowly until you had skimmed off the floating husks, and then you poured the rice into another bowl, and added another bowl of water, before shaking it again.

Jingqiu always washed the rice herself; her mother was too busy and her sister too young to clean it thoroughly enough. Swallowing any of the stones or husks would give you instant tummy aches. What was more, during the middle of winter her sister's hands couldn't endure being submerged in freezing water for the hour or so necessary to get the job done. Jingqiu painfully missed her time in West Village. They didn't need tickets to collect rice, nor did they worry about the amount of vegetables they had to eat; there was always something to put on the table.

When they had finished Old Third hesitated a moment before saying carefully, ‘I want to say something, but don't be angry, okay?' He waited for her to nod and then reached into his jacket pocket and took out some rice ration tickets. ‘I have some of these going spare, I can't use them. Don't get upset, just take them, okay?'

‘If you can't use them up, send them back to your family.'

‘These are distributed here in Hubei, I'm from Anhui, there's no point in sending them. You take them. If you can't use them then pass them on to someone else.'

‘How come you've got so many left over?'

‘My unit buys our rice directly from West Village, we don't need ration tickets.'

Satisfied with his explanation she took them. ‘Then thank you.' His face lit up, and anyone would have thought he had been the one to receive the tickets.

They walked back in single file to the pavilion. I've done it again, Jingqiu thought, taken his presents, eaten his food. How come I'm always doing this?

They sat down again, no longer feeling as cold as before their meal. ‘Do you remember this day last year?' Old Third asked.

Her heart missed a beat. So this is why he came. But she didn't answer his question, instead asking coldly, ‘You said you had something to say to me. What is it? The ferry will close soon.'

‘It stops at ten, it's only eight now.' He looked at her, and asked quietly, ‘Has anyone spoken to you about me having a girlfriend?'

‘A fiancée,' she corrected him.

He smiled. ‘Okay, fiancée. But it's all in the past, we haven't . . . been together for a long time.'

‘Rubbish, you told Yumin that you had a fiancée, and you showed her a picture.'

‘I only told her that because she wanted to set me up with Fen. That family has been so good to me, how could I just say no? But we split up two years ago, and she's married now. If you don't believe me, I can show you the letter she sent me.'

‘Why would I want to read her letter? And anyway, you could easily just fake one.' Yet she reached out her hand so that he could pass it to her.

He fished out the letter and she ran to the nearest streetlamp to read. The light was dim but she could still make out the words. It accused Old Third of purposefully avoiding her and staying away from home. She had waited too long and her heart was already broken, she wouldn't wait any longer, and so it went on. It was well written, much better than the previous break-up letters Jingqiu had read. She didn't rely on Mao's poetry or maxims, you could see she was cultured, that she had been educated before the Cultural Revolution.

Jingqiu looked at the signature, Zoya. ‘Isn't Zoya the name of a Soviet heroine?'

‘Back then that was a popular girl's name,' Old Third explained. ‘She's a bit older than me and born in the Soviet Union.'

Born in the Soviet Union! Jingqiu was speechless with admiration, and instantly imagined her to be the girl from the song, who went to ask the hawthorn tree for advice. In fact she felt rather inferior. ‘Is she beautiful? Fang and Yumin both said she's beautiful.'

He smiled. ‘Beauty, well, that depends on who's looking. In my opinion, she's not as beautiful as you.'

Jingqiu felt goosebumps rise on her skin. Did he just say that? He had spoiled the image she had been forming of him. I mean, would any decent person say someone was beautiful to their face? And wasn't this evidence of liberalism? Say one thing to your face, another behind your back, say one thing in a meeting and another thing outside the meeting, wasn't this what Chairman Mao had identified as liberal leanings?

Jingqiu knew she wasn't beautiful, so she knew he was lying. He must be sweet-talking me. But what are his motives? With all this to-ing and fro-ing they'd get right back to the problem of whether or not he was ‘getting' his prey. She looked left and right, confirming that there was no one within a hundred metre radius. She'd led him out here for her own peace of mind, and now she realised she might have just thrown herself into his trap. She must be more vigilant. She had taken his gifts but she shouldn't be weak, and just because he had bought her food didn't mean she had to go along with whatever he said.

She gave him his letter. ‘The fact that you showed me her letter means you can't keep a secret. How can I trust you with my own letters?'

He smiled bitterly. ‘I didn't have a choice. Normally, I'm very good at keeping secrets, but, if I hadn't shown you, you wouldn't have believed me. Tell me, what should I have done?'

This made her feel good, he was recognising her power over him. ‘As I've been saying all along, if you can toy with her, then you could do the same to someone else.'

‘Why do you draw that conclusion?' he asked anxiously. ‘Chairman Mao says that you can't beat someone to death with one stick. It was all our parents' idea, not mine.'

‘This is the modern world, who has their parents arrange their marriage?'

‘I'm not saying it was an arranged marriage, I didn't get married after all. Our parents merely encouraged it. Maybe you don't believe me, but lots of cadre families do it like that, they won't say it straight out, but they let their children know their intentions by arranging who they come into contact with, so that when it comes to it, most marriages are at least partially arranged by the parents.'

‘Do you like this way of doing things?'

‘Of course not.'

‘So why did you agree to it?'

He was silent for a while, before answering. ‘The situation at the time was rather peculiar, and it was going to have an impact on my parents' political future . . . their whole future. It's a long story, but I want you to believe me, it was over a long time ago. She and I, well, it was what you might call a political alliance. That's why I always stayed at my unit, and rarely went home.'

‘How heartless,' Jingqiu said, shaking her head. ‘You should have either broken it off like a decent human being, or else married her. How could you just mess her around?'

‘I wanted to break it off but she wouldn't let me, and neither would our families.' He lowered his head, and stuttered, ‘But it's over now, say whatever you like, but you must believe me, I'm serious about you. I will never betray you.'

That's not what the characters from the books he lent me would have said, she thought, disappointed. He sounds like Lin. Why doesn't he sound like the young men in those books? The books may well be politically poisonous, but they do describe how love ought to be, at least.

‘Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?' she asked. ‘Can I go back home now?'

He raised his head and looked at her, shocked by her coldness. It took him a long time to reply. ‘You still don't believe me?'

‘Believe what? All I know is that people who break their promises are not worth trusting.'

He sighed deeply. ‘I really wish I could show you what's in my heart.'

‘No one believes in all that. Chairman Mao says you can't beat someone to death with one stick, so sure, I won't. But Chairman Mao also said, “You can see someone's present from their past, and you can see someone's future from their present.”'

Her words seemed to knock his voice out of him. She looked at him, feeling a little bit proud.

He looked back at her without saying anything. Finally, he replied in a whisper, ‘Jingqiu, Jingqiu, maybe you've never been in love before so you don't believe that love can last forever. Wait until you fall in love, when you find that person, then you'll understand that you'd rather die than betray them.'

She trembled upon hearing him whisper her name so intensely, her whole body started to shake. The tone of his voice and his imploring facial expression made her shiver. Why do I believe him, believe that he isn't lying? Unable to reply, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself, and yet she could not stop herself from trembling more violently.

He took off his military jacket and draped it over her shoulders. ‘You must be cold? Let's go back. We don't want you to catch a cold.'

She refused to leave, hiding instead under his coat until eventually she stuttered, ‘You must be cold too? Why don't you wear the coat?'

‘I'm not cold.' He was wearing his woollen tank top over a shirt, and watched as she shivered despite the many layers she was wearing.

‘If you're cold why don't you come under the coat too,' she said softly.

He hesitated as if trying to work out if she was testing him. He looked at her with a steady gaze before shuffling closer to her and lifting one side of the coat. It covered half of his body. They shared the jacket as if it were a rain coat, but they might as well not have had anything over their shoulders, so ineffective was it at keeping out the cold.

‘Are you still cold?' he asked.

‘Well, not really cold. Why don't you . . . wear the coat. I don't . . . need it.'

He gripped her hand tentatively but she didn't react. He added more pressure and continued to hold tight, seemingly wanting to squeeze out her trembles. After holding her hand for a while he noticed that she was no longer shivering. ‘Let me think of something. I'll just try it, and if you don't like it, just tell me.' He stood up and put on his coat, then facing her, pulled her towards him and wrapped her tightly inside.

She sat there, her head leaning up against his stomach, and thought it must look as if he is pregnant, his belly protruding from under his coat. She couldn't stop herself from laughing. He hung his head and looked down at her inside his jacket. ‘Are you laughing because I look as if I am with child?'

He had guessed correctly, and used such an ‘aerodite' expression, ‘with child', making her laugh even harder. He pulled her up by the lapels of her jacket, and wrapped his arms around her firmly. ‘Now I don't look like I'm with child,' but he started trembling himself. ‘Did you give me your shivers?'

She leant up against his chest, and again her head felt faint from the smell of him. She desperately hoped that he would hold her harder, that he would squeeze the air out from inside her. Embarrassed, she told him, but she didn't have the courage to put her arms around his waist. She left them hanging by her side, as if standing to attention, pressing closer to his chest.

‘Are you still cold?' he asked. He held her tighter still, and she felt even better, closing her eyes and hiding in the folds of his clothes. She could sleep like this, and would never want to wake up.

He shook a little longer and then said quietly, ‘Jingqiu, Jingqiu, I thought . . . I would never be able to do this again, I thought I frightened you too much last time. Could you pinch me, just so I can check this isn't a dream?'

She lifted her head. ‘Pinch you where?'

‘Wherever you want,' he laughed. ‘But you don't need to do it now, I can't be dreaming because in my dreams you don't talk like this.'

‘How do I talk in your dreams?'

‘In my dreams you're always avoiding me and telling me not to follow you, to take my hands off you and that you don't like me touching you. Have you ever dreamt of me?'

‘Yes, I have.' She told him about the dream in which he had betrayed her to the authorities.

‘Why did you dream that?' he asked, hurt. ‘I would never do that to you, I'm not that kind of person. I know you're worried, and frightened, but I would never get you into trouble. I only want to protect you, look after you, make you happy. But you're always confusing me. Tell me, tell me now, what do you want me to do? I'm afraid of upsetting you and not knowing why. Just tell me, I'll do anything, I can do anything for you.'

She really liked hearing him say these things, but she also warned herself, do you believe him? He's cheating you, anyone can say these things. ‘I want you to promise not to come to see me until after I graduate. Can you do that?'

‘Yes.'

But she couldn't help thinking of what would happen after graduation. ‘After I finish senior high school I will be sent down to the countryside, and once I go I won't get called back.'

‘I know you will be called back. I'm not saying that I won't love you if you don't get called back, I just believe that you will definitely be called back. And if you aren't, it doesn't matter, I can follow you to wherever you get sent.'