To Live (6 page)

Long Er was still fairly courteous to me whenever I saw him. He would often laugh and say, “Fugui, come inside for some tea.”

I never went to Long Er’s home because I was afraid I would get emotional. I had lived in that house since I was born, and now it belonged to Long Er’s family. How was I supposed to feel?

But actually when your life has been reduced to the level that mine had, you really don’t care about all that much. The old saying “Poverty lowers the ambition of man” seemed to apply to me. That day when I went to see Long Er, he was sitting in the old-fashioned wooden armchair in the parlor. His two legs were propped up on a stool as he held a teapot in one hand and waved a fan with the other. When he saw me come in, he grinned. Chuckling, he said, “It’s Fugui! Get a stool for yourself and have a seat.”

Long Er was slumped back in the wooden chair, motionless; I didn’t really expect him to offer me any tea. After I sat down, he asked, “So Fugui, you’re here to borrow money, is that it?”

Before I could say no, he continued, “According to reason I really should lend a little bit to you. But as the saying goes, ‘You can save someone in times of emergency, but not from poverty.’ Me, I only save people from emergencies, not from poverty.”

I nodded my head, explaining, “I would like to rent a few mu of land.”

Long Er smiled slyly and asked, “How many do you want to rent?”

“Five
mu.
”

“Five?” Long Er’s eyebrows shot up, and he asked, “Can your body handle that?”

“With a little practice I’ll be fine,” I answered.

He thought about it and said, “Because we’ve known each other for a long time, I’ll give you five
mu
of good land.”

Long Er must have had a heart after all, because he really did give me five
mu
of good, fertile land. All by myself, I planted that five
mu
of land, though I almost died of exhaustion in the process. Never before had I done farmwork, so I learned from watching the other farmers. There’s no need to mention how slow I was. As long as it was still light outside, I was out in the field. And even when it got dark, if there was moonlight I’d still be out there working. The crops have to be planted at the proper time. If you miss the right time to sow the seeds, then you will miss the entire season. When that happens, not only will you be unable to raise a family, but even paying back Long Er’s rent grain would have been an impossibility. As the saying goes, “Slow birds need an early start.” Well, I was the slow bird who never finished.

My mother really loved me, so she would work with me in the fields. But she was getting old, and her feet made work difficult. Once she bent over it would take her a long time to stand up again. When she would sit down in the field, I’d say to her, “Mom, hurry up and get back inside.”

But Mom would shake her head and say, “Four hands are better than two.”

“If you get sick, then I’ll have to take care of you. And then there won’t be any hands!” I retorted.

Hearing this, she slowly walked back to the ridge between the fields to sit with Fengxia. Every day, Fengxia would sit on the ridge and
keep me company. She would pick a whole bunch of flowers and put them in a pile next to her legs. As she picked each one she would ask what
kind of flower it was. How was I supposed to know what kinds of flowers they were? I would say, “Go ask Grandma.”

My mom, sitting on the ridge, would often call out to me when she saw me working with the hoe, “Careful not to cut your foot!”

When I used the sickle she would be even more worried. She would constantly repeat, “Fugui, don’t cut your hand!”

Even with my mom on one side reminding me, it wasn’t much use. There was too much to do, so I had to work fast. As soon as I would pick up the pace I would inevitably slice my foot or cut my hand, and as soon as my hand or foot would start to bleed, my mother would become frantic. On her twisted little feet, she’d run over and press a clump of mud on the wound to stop the bleeding. And then she would scold me for not being more careful. Once her mouth got going, it went on forever. But I couldn’t talk back or she’d start to cry.

My mom would often say the mud of the earth is the best thing for people’s health. Not only could it grow crops, but it could cure diseases, too. In all the years since then, whenever I’ve injured myself, I’ve always pressed a clump of wet mud against the wound. My mom was right: you shouldn’t scoff at those clumps of mud, as they’re a cure for all
kinds of sicknesses.

When you’re working to the point of exhaustion every day, you don’t have time to worry about other things. After renting the land from Long Er, I would fall into a deep sleep each night the moment my head hit the pillow. There was no way I had time to think about anything else. Looking back now, those days were both difficult and exhausting, but my heart was at peace. I thought that the Xu family was once again like a little chicken. If I
kept working as I had, within a few years that chicken would become a goose. And one day the Xu family would once again be rich.

I stopped wearing silk clothes after losing the house to Long Er. I wore an outfit my mother had made for me from coarse cloth. When I first began to wear those clothes they felt really uncomfortable, especially the way they rubbed against my skin, but as time went by they became more comfortable. One day Wang Xi died. Wang Xi had been one of our tenants. He was two years older than I was, and before he died he told his son to give me his old silk shirt. He never forgot that I used to be the young master. He wanted me to have the wonderful feeling of wearing silk clothes once more before I died. Me, I felt bad because Wang Xi’s heart was really in the right place, but as soon as I put on that silk shirt, I took it right off. That slimy, uncomfortable feeling was unbearable. It felt like I was wearing clothes made of snot.

Then, three months after Long Er had rented the land, Changgen, our family’s old worker, showed up. I was working in the field, and Mom and Fengxia were sitting on the ridge. Changgen walked over, wearing torn clothes and leaning on an old, withered tree branch. He was still carrying the same bag and, in his other hand, clasped an empty alms bowl. He’d become a beggar. Fengxia saw him first. She stood up and called, “Changgen! Changgen!”

When my mother saw that it was Changgen, who had grown up in our home, she hurried to greet him. Changgen, wiping away his tears, said, “Madame Xu, I missed the young master and Fengxia. I just came back to see them.”

Changgen walked out to the field. When he saw me wearing those coarse clothes covered in mud, he began to cry like a wounded bird, asking, “Young master, how could you have ended up like this?”

After I lost our family property, Changgen was the one who suffered most. Changgen had worked for our family all his life, and, according to custom, when he got old it was supposed to be our family that took care of him. But once our family was reduced to poverty, he had no choice but to leave. All he could do was beg to get by.

Seeing Changgen come back broke my heart. When I was little he would carry me all around on his back. And when I got older I never paid much attention to him. I never dreamed he would return to see us.

“Are you doing all right?” I asked Changgen.

Wiping away his tears, he replied, “Okay.”

I asked, “You still haven’t found a family to give you work?”

Changgen shook his head. “At my age, whose family would want to hire me?” Hearing this, I wanted to cry. But Changgen still didn’t feel his life was difficult—he was crying for me.

“Young master, how can you take this kind of suffering?” he asked.

That night Changgen stayed over in our thatched hut. My mother and I decided to let Changgen stay with us. Although from now on life would be even harder, I told my mom, “Even if it’s difficult, we’ve got to let him stay. If each of us eats just two mouthfuls less of rice we’ll be able to support him.”

My mom nodded. “Changgen has such a good heart.”

The next morning I told Changgen, “Changgen, you’ve come back at the perfect time. I was just short a helper. From now on you’ll stay here.”

After hearing my words, Changgen looked at me and laughed. He laughed and laughed until tears began to fall.

“Young master, I don’t have the energy to help you anymore,” Changgen quietly uttered. “Your good intentions are enough.”

With those final words, Changgen left. No matter how hard we tried we couldn’t stop him. He said, “Let me go. I’ll be back to visit you some other time.”

After Changgen left, he came back once more. He brought a piece of red silk for Fengxia to tie her hair up with. He had found it somewhere, and after cleaning it off he tied it to his waist and brought it all the way here especially for Fengxia. I never saw Changgen again after that.

Since I rented Long Er’s land, I was his tenant. I couldn’t call him Long Er like I used to; I had to call him Master Long. In the beginning, when Long Er heard me address him like that, he would wave his hands and say, “Fugui, there’s no reason for the two of us to be so formal.”

But as time went by he got used to it. When I was out in the field he would often come by to chat with me. Once when I was cutting the rice and Fengxia was behind me picking up the fallen ears, Long Er swaggered over. He said to me, “Fugui, I’ve given up. From now on I’m not going to gamble. No one’s a winner at the gambling house. I’m quitting while I’m ahead so as to avoid ending up like you someday.”

I bowed to Long Er and said respectfully, “Yes, Master Long.”

Long Er pointed to Fengxia and asked, “This is your little brat?”

I bowed again, saying, “Yes, Master Long.”

I saw Fengxia standing there with the rice ears in her hand, looking stupefied as she stared at Long Er. I quickly said to her, “Fengxia, hurry up and pay your respects to Master Long.”

Fengxia followed my example and bowed to Long Er, saying, “Yes, Master Long.”

I would often think of Jiazhen and the child in her belly. Two months after Jiazhen left, a messenger came with an oral message. He said Jiazhen had given birth to a boy. My father-in-law had named him Youqing. My mother quietly asked the messenger, “What’s Youqing’s last name?”

“Xu,” the man replied.

I was out in the field when the message came. My mother rushed out, running on her twisted little feet to tell me. Before she was finished I wiped away my tears. As soon as I heard Jiazhen had borne me a son, I threw down my hoe and began running toward town. I took about ten steps and then stopped. I was afraid that if I went into town to see Jiazhen and our son, my father-in-law wouldn’t let me past the door. I said to my mother, “Ma, hurry up and get your things together so you can go visit Jiazhen and the rest of them.”

My mom kept saying she wanted to go into town to see her grandson, but after a couple of days she still hadn’t gone anywhere. I was in no position to press her. According to custom, if Jiazhen was taken away by her family, then it was her family’s responsibility to see her back home. My mom told me, “Youqing’s surname is Xu. Jiazhen will be coming home soon.”

She added, “Jiazhen’s body is weak. It’s better for her to stay in town for a while so she has a chance to recover.”

When Youqing was six months old, Jiazhen came home. When she returned she didn’t ride in a carriage—she walked over ten li carrying Youqing in a bag on her back. With his eyes closed and his little head bumping against his mother’s shoulders, Youqing came home to meet his dad.

Jiazhen returned wearing a crimson cheongsam and carrying a white bag under her arm. She was beautiful when she came home. Both sides of the road along the way were golden with blooming rapeflowers, and honeybees made a buzzing sound as they flew around. Jiazhen approached our thatched hut and, without pausing, walked up to the door. She stood in the doorway smiling at my mother.

My mother was sitting down weaving a pair of straw sandals. She raised her head to see a beautiful woman standing in the doorway. Jiazhen’s body blocked the sunlight, making her silhouette glow. My mother didn’t recognize Jiazhen, nor did she see Youqing behind her. My mother asked her, “Who are you? Whom are you looking for?”

After hearing this, Jiazhen’s face lit up. She said, “It’s me, Jiazhen.”

At the time, Fengxia and I were in the field. Fengxia sat on the ridge watching me work. I heard a voice call me. The voice sounded like my mother’s, but then again it didn’t really sound like hers. I asked Fengxia, “Who’s yelling?”

Fengxia turned around to look. She said, “It’s Grandma.”

I stood up and saw Mom bending over outside the hut, calling me with all her strength. Next to her was Jiazhen in that crimson cheongsam, holding Youqing. As soon as Fengxia saw it was her mother, she made off toward her. I stood there in the paddy field, staring at the way my mother was bending over to call me. She was straining herself, her two hands resting on her
knees to prevent the top part of her body from falling over. Fengxia ran too fast, faltering and wobbling over the ridge before finally pouncing on Jiazhen’s leg. Holding Youqing, Jiazhen squatted down to hug Fengxia. It was only then that I finally walked up the ridge. Mom was still calling me, and the closer I got to them the more muddleheaded I became. I walked all the way over to Jiazhen and smiled at her. Jiazhen stood up and gazed at me for a moment. I was such a poor sight that Jiazhen lowered her head and gently began to sob.

Her eyes filling with tears of joy, Mom said to me, “I told you Jiazhen is your woman, and no one can take her away.”

As soon as Jiazhen came back, our family was complete. Now I had a helper when I worked, and for the first time I began to love and care for my wife. Actually Jiazhen was the one who pointed out to me that I was treating her differently; I myself didn’t even realize it.

“Why don’t you go up to the ridge for a rest?” I asked her.

Jiazhen was born to an upper-class family in town, and her skin was soft and delicate. My heart broke watching her doing this heavy labor. When Jiazhen heard me telling her to take a rest, she was so happy that she smiled and said, “I’m not tired.”