Under the Hawthorn Tree (37 page)

Then one day, Granny Cao's family came to take her home, and beaming with joy, she left. Jingqiu had envied her on her mother's behalf, thinking that Granny Cao was the first on the ward to be cured and allowed to leave. Only later did she hear from another patient that Granny Cao had been ‘sent home to die'.

Old Third was still in hospital, so you could say he was being ‘kept to live'. If he was discharged then she would ask her mother if he could come and stay with them. Her mother did like Old Third after all, she was only afraid of what others might say, or that his family would not approve the match. But if people knew that Old Third only had three months to live then surely there'd be nothing for them to say, it wouldn't matter if his family didn't approve, and nothing could possibly happen between them, so her mother could not be worried.

She wanted to be with him, feed him whatever he wanted, let him wear whatever he wanted, take him wherever he wanted to go. The money that he had left for her last time amounted to nearly four hundred yuan, which was the equivalent of one year's wages. She had yet to use a cent, so it should be enough to satisfy his every desire.

She would wait until he had died, and then she would follow him. She knew that her death would devastate her mother, but if she carried on living she would only suffer, and that would be even worse for her mother. She would wait three months in this world with Old Third, and then accompany him to the next, where they could be together forever. It didn't matter where they were, as long as they were together.

This had to be the worst case, that Old Third only had three months to live. If he had six months left, then they would gain three months in this world. Or if the hospital had made a mistake, a whole lifetime. Thinking it through like this made Jingqiu feel calmer, like a general before a battle planning every attack and retreat. There was nothing to worry about.

The next day she got up even earlier than usual and told her mother that she had to return to the farm. Her mother was surprised, but Jingqiu stood her ground and said that that was how things were organised, she had only been sent to collect the money and then return the following day. ‘If you don't believe me, ask Mr Zheng.'

‘How could I not believe you?' her mother said. ‘I just thought . . . you'd stay another day.'

Jingqiu went to the bus station and bought a ticket. Then she went to the toilets and changed into her new outfit. She guessed that Old Third would be waiting for her at the bus station because she had told him when she was returning, so it would be better to change now. That way, when he caught his first glimpse of her, she would be wearing the clothes she had made from the material he had given her. She wanted to do everything in her power to please him, whether that meant letting him see her in her clothes or out of them.

Old Third was waiting at the station, just as she had expected, wearing his black woollen clothes, with an army jacket draped over his shoulders. If she hadn't known that he was sick she would never have guessed that he was dying. She was definitely not going to bring it up, to say that word. She would pretend she didn't know, so as not to break his heart.

He ran up to her, took her bag and said, ‘You're wearing it! How beautiful, you work so fast.'

She hadn't meant to let him take her bag in case it tired him out, but she realised that if she refused she would be treating him differently, like an invalid. They walked close, side by side. As they were passing a shop he pointed to her reflection in the window. ‘Beautiful, isn't it?' he said.

What she saw was the two of them. He was leaning in towards her, looking young and healthy, smiling broadly. People said that if you saw a skull floating above someone's reflection in a window that meant they were about to die. She looked carefully, but there was no skull above Old Third's head. She turned to look at him: he really did look young and full of life. Maybe the doctors at the county hospital were wrong. It's only a tiny hospital, did they know leukaemia from pneumonia?

‘Are you going back to the farm tomorrow?' She nodded. ‘Then you can stay tonight?'

She nodded again. ‘I had a feeling that you might, so I asked Nurse Gao if I could borrow her bedroom. You can sleep there.' He took her to the town's largest department store and bought a towel, toothbrush and plastic wash bowl, as if she was moving in permanently. They then went to buy some fruit and snacks. She didn't try to restrain him, but let him shop to his heart's content.

‘Let's take these things back to the hospital first,' he said, after they had finished their shopping spree, ‘and then I'll take you wherever you want. Do you want to see a film?'

She shook her head, she didn't want to go anywhere, she just wanted to be with him. She noticed that he was heavily wrapped up. He really must be sick. ‘Didn't you say you borrowed someone's room? Why don't we go there, it's cold outside.'

‘Do you . . . want to go and see the hawthorn tree?'

Again, she shook her head. ‘No, it's not flowering now, and it's such a long walk. Let's go another time.' He didn't say anything in response and it struck her: perhaps he knows he hasn't got long in this world, maybe he wants to keep his promise. She started to feel shaky, and looked at him intently. He was looking back at her.

‘You're right,' he said, tilting his head to one side, ‘let's go another time, we'll go when it's in bloom.'

They returned to the hospital and he took her to Nurse Gao's room. It was a very small room on the second floor, with a single bed made up with the hospital's white sheets and blankets. ‘Nurse Gao lives in town, so she only uses this room when she's on night shift. She hardly ever sleeps in here, and she changed the bedding yesterday, so it's clean.'

There was only one chair in the room, so she sat on the bed. He went to clean the fruit and collect some boiled water before sitting down on the chair to peel the fruit for her. She noticed the scar over an inch long on the back of his left hand. ‘Is that from when you cut yourself?'

He followed her gaze. ‘Mmm. Do you think it's ugly?'

‘No.?'

‘It's only because I cut myself that the hospital told me to get checked for . . .' He stopped, realising that he'd said too much. ‘To change my medicine. This scar marks me out, so you will always be able to find me. Do you have some kind of mark too? Tell me, that way I will always be able to find you.'

Find me where, she wanted to ask. But she was too scared, and instead she remembered a scene that she had often dreamt of in which the two of them were searching for each other through a dense veil of mist. She wanted to call out his name, but for some reason she couldn't. He was hidden from view, but she could hear him shouting ‘Jingqiu, Jingqiu'. She followed the sound of his voice until she caught sight of him from behind, enveloped in the fog. It occurred to her that this was the other world.

She sucked air deep into her lungs. ‘I've got a red birthmark on the back of my head, it's covered by my hair.'

‘Can I see it?'

She undid her plaits and pointed to the place on her scalp. He parted her hair and gazed at it for some time. She turned around, and saw that his eyes were bloodshot. ‘What's happened?' she asked, flustered.

‘Nothing. I've had so many dreams in which it's all hazy, and I can't see clearly. Then, I see someone that looks like you from behind, and I shout “Jingqiu, Jingqiu”, but someone else turns around and it's not you after all.' He smiled. ‘Now I know how to find you, I just need to look for this birthmark. I like the sound of your name. I may have one foot in the grave, but when I hear it I feel that I can take it out . . .' He was silent for a while, then contined, ‘Tell me about when you were little, or what you've been doing on the farm. Anything, everything, I want to hear it all.'

So, she started to tell him stories from when she was little, and from her life on the farm. She also wanted him to tell her his stories, stories from his home town. They gave the day over to talking, eating lunch at the hospital canteen and dinner in a local restaurant. It was already dusk by the time they finished eating, and everyone had gone home, so they took a walk around the town, holding hands. It was completely dark by the time they got back to Nurse Gao's room. He fetched a few bottles of hot water so that she could wash her face and feet.

He left the room and went to fetch a bed pan as there were no toilets on that floor. She blushed a deep shade of red.

A few minutes later he was back and closed the door behind him. ‘Why don't you get under the covers. If you stand here in your bare feet you'll freeze solid.' He unfolded the blanket, spread it across the bed, peeled back one corner and urged her to get in. I'll keep my clothes on and just sit on the end of the bed with the blanket over my legs and feet, she thought to herself.

He pulled the chair over to the bed and sat down. ‘Where are you going to sleep tonight?' she asked.

‘I'll go back to the ward.'

She hesitated before asking, ‘And what if you don't go back tonight?'

‘If you want me to stay, I will.'

She stripped down to her woollen jumper and long johns and dived under the blanket.

He tucked her in, and began stroking her through the blanket. ‘Sleep, I'll look after you.' He sat back on the chair and covered himself with his army jacket.

This was the first time she had spent the night alone with a boy, but she wasn't scared. Chairman Mao was right when he said, ‘The Chinese are not afraid of death itself, how can they be afraid of a bit of hardship?' She was prepared for anything, even death, so what could possibly scare her now? Whatever people wanted to say, that was their business. They could sprain their tongues talking, she wouldn't care.

There was one question, however, that she was afraid to ask, did he really have leukaemia? She had spent the whole day afraid of asking this one question. She kept her eyes closed but didn't sleep, her head spinning. When would she muster the courage to ask Old Third this question?

Furtively, she opened her eyes to check if he had fallen asleep. As soon as she opened them she saw him looking back at her, his eyes filled with tears. He quickly turned his head, and wiped his eyes with a towel. ‘I was just . . . remembering that scene from
The White-haired Girl
, where Yang Bailao watches Xi'er fall asleep and sings, “Xi'er, Xi'er, you're asleep, but you don't know that I'm in debt to your father . . .”'

He stopped. She scrambled out from under the blanket and took him in her arms. ‘Tell me . . . Do you have . . . . leukaemia?' she whispered.

‘Leukaemia? Who told you that?'

‘Fang.'

‘She . . . said that?'

‘I want you to tell me if it's true. If you lie to me then I'll feel even worse. Tell me the truth, I have to know . . .'

He said nothing before eventually nodding slowly, and tears streamed down his face. She wiped them for him. ‘I'm no real man, am I? You said men don't cry.'

‘I said . . . men don't like to cry in front of strangers. I'm not a stranger.'

‘I'm not afraid to die, I just . . . don't want to. I want to be with you, always.'

‘We will be together, I won't let you go on your own. I'll come with you. It doesn't matter which world we're in, we'll always be together. There's no need to be scared.'

‘What are you saying? Don't talk nonsense. I was too scared to tell you the truth because I was worried you'd talk rubbish like this. I don't want you to come with me. As long as you're alive, I'm not dead. Do you understand? Do you hear me? I want you to live, live for both of us. You've got to help me live. I'll use your eyes to see the world, use your heart to feel it. I want you to . . . marry, have children. We will live in your children, and they will have children, and that way we will live forever.'

‘Will we have children?'

‘You will, and if you do then so will I. You will live for a long, long time, you will marry, be a mother, be a grandmother, you will have children and grandchildren. Then, in many years' time, you will tell them about me. You don't need to tell them my name, just that I am someone you once loved, that's enough. Thinking of that day is what gives me the strength to face the present. I'm only going somewhere else, where I'll be watching you, living happily—'

He talked and talked, until he realised that she wasn't wearing much. ‘Quick, get back under the blankets, else you'll catch cold.'

She said, ‘Why don't you come under the blankets too.'

He thought for a moment before he stripped down to his underwear, and crept under the blankets. He stretched out his arm and let her lie on it. They were both shaking. ‘I never imagined I would ever get to sleep in a bed with you. I never thought I'd get the chance.' He turned on to his side and held her tightly. ‘I wish we could do this every day.'

‘Me too.'

‘Could you sleep if I held you like this?' She nodded. ‘Then you sleep, sleep sweetly.'

She tried to sleep but couldn't. She buried her head in his armpit and, using her hand, ‘read' his face.

‘Would you like to see what a man is like?' he asked suddenly. ‘I mean, would you like to see what I look like?'

‘Have you ever shown anyone else?' He shook his head. ‘Have you ever seen a woman?'

He shook his head again. ‘I might die without experiencing that pleasure,' he said. He started to wriggle out of his clothes under the blankets. ‘Don't be scared, I won't do anything. I just want to fulfil a . . . desire.'

He threw each item of clothing one by one on top of the blankets, and then grabbed hold of her hand and laid it on his chest. ‘Use your hand to look.' He held on to her hand and moved it across his chest. ‘I'm not too thin yet, am I?' Then he placed her hand on his stomach and let go. ‘Take a look for yourself.'