To Live Page 4

  “Yes, master,” said Wang Xi.

  My dad chuckled for a moment before closing his eyes. His neck went crooked as his head slid from against the manure vat onto the ground.

  That day we had just moved into our thatched hut. My mother and I were inside cleaning. Fengxia happily helped us straighten up. She still didn’t know that from now on we were going to suffer. Jiazhen was walking from the pond with a bundle of clothes in both arms when Wang Xi ran up to her, saying, “Madame, the master’s had an accident. I’m afraid he’s not going to make it.”

  From the hut we heard Jiazhen screaming, “Mom! Fugui, Mom . . .”

  Before she could say any more, Jiazhen began to cry. I immediately figured that something must have happened to Dad. I ran out of the hut to see Jiazhen standing there with the whole bucket-load of clothes on the ground before her. When Jiazhen saw me she called out, “Fugui, your father . . .”

  My head began to buzz and, as fast as I could, I ran to the other side of the family plot. When I got to the manure vat, Dad had already stopped breathing. I pushed him and yelled, but he didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to do. I stood up and turned around to see Mom running toward me on her bound little feet, crying and screaming. Jiazhen was right behind with Fengxia in her arms.

  After Dad died my whole body felt utterly drained, as if I had contracted some disease. All day I sat on the floor of our thatched hut. All I could do was heave deep sighs and let the tears run down my face. Fengxia would often sit on the floor and keep me company. As she played with my hands she asked, “Did Grandpa fall down?”

  When she saw me nod she continued, “Was it the wind that blew him over?”

  My mom and Jiazhen didn’t dare cry too loudly. They were afraid I wouldn’t be able to take it and would end up the same way as my father. Sometimes I would clumsily bump into something, and the two of them would be taken aback. Only after they saw I didn’t collapse on the ground like Dad would they ease up and ask, “Are you all right?”

  Those days my mother would often say to me, “As long as you are happy, being poor is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She was trying to comfort me. She still thought it was poverty that was causing my suffering, but actually, in my heart, all I was thinking about was my father. In one sense Dad died by my hand, and now my mom, Jiazhen and even Fengxia had to stay with me and suffer.

  Ten days after my dad passed away, my father-in-law came. He held his long gown with his right hand, and his face was ghostly pale as he made his way out to the country. Following him was a carriage covered with flowers and draped in red silk, with more than ten young men crowded around on either side beating bells and gongs. When the country folk noticed, they all rushed to look. They thought it was someone’s wedding but couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t heard any such news. Then someone asked my father-in-law, “Whose family has met with such good fortune?”

  Keeping a straight face, my father-in-law said loudly, “ My family!”

  At the time I was at my father’s grave. I heard the ringing of the bells and the gongs and saw my father-in-law rushing furiously to our thatched hut. He turned around and motioned to the sedan bearers to place the carriage on the ground and to stop the ringing of the bells and gongs. I knew he wanted to take Jiazhen away. My heart raced and pounded, but I didn’t know what to do.

  Hearing the noise, my mom and Jiazhen went outside.

  “Dad!” Jiazhen exclaimed.

  Looking at Jiazhen, my father-in-law asked my mother, “And the animal?”

  My mother kept a smiling face and asked, “Do you mean Fugui?”

  “Who else?”

  My father-in-law turned around and saw me. He took two steps toward me and shouted, “Beast! Come here!”

  I stood there without moving—how could I dare move? My father-in-law waved his fist at me, shouting, “Come over here, you animal! Why don’t you come over here and wish me ‘good morning’? Listen to me, you bastard. Do you remember what it was like when you married Jiazhen? Well that’s what it is going to be like today when I take her away. Look, this is a wedding carriage, these are bells and gongs. I’m going to make today even more memorable than the day you married her!”

  After shouting, my father-in-law turned around and said to Jiazhen, “Hurry up and go inside to get your things ready.”

  Jiazhen stood there without moving and called out, “Daddy.”

  My father-in-law stamped his foot in fury. “Hurry up!”

  Seeing me standing in the distance, Jiazhen turned around and went inside. It was then that my mother’s tears started up and she said to my father-in-law, “Please, allow Jiazhen to stay.”

  He looked at my mother and waved his hand, then he turned around and yelled to me, “Animal, from now on you’ll have nothing to do with Jiazhen! The Chen family will never again have any dealings with you Xus!”

  My mother bent over to plead with him. “I beg of you, for the sake of Fugui’s father, let Jiazhen stay.”

  My father-in-law rushed at my mother, barking, “He even drove his own father to the grave!”

  After shouting, even my father-in-law himself thought he was a bit out of line. Softening his voice a bit, he said, “Don’t blame me for being cruel. It’s all because of that animal’s wild behavior that things have gotten to this stage.”

  After he finished, he turned toward me again and yelled, “I’m leaving Fengxia for your family. The child in Jiazhen’s stomach will belong to the Chen family!”

  My mother stood to one side crying. Wiping away her tears, she said, “How am I supposed to make this up to the Xu family ancestors?”

  Carrying a bag, Jiazhen emerged from the hut.

  “Get in the carriage,” my father-in-law ordered.

  Jiazhen turned her head to look at me. When she got to the carriage she turned around to look at me once more, and then to look at my mother before getting into the sedan. It was then that Fengxia came running from out of nowhere. As soon as she saw her mother in the wedding carriage, she wanted to go along. She was halfway in when Jiazhen’s hand pushed her out.

  My father-in-law waved his hand to the sedan-chair carriers, and the carriage was lifted up. Inside, Jiazhen began to wail with grief.

  “Sound the drums!” my father-in-law ordered.

  More than ten young men began beating and banging on drums and gongs with all their might, drowning out the sound of Jiazhen’s crying. As the carriage took to the road, my father-in-law, holding his long gown, walked just as quickly as the carriage bearers. My mom with her twisted little bound feet followed pathetically behind; only when she reached the edge of the village did she stop.

  And then Fengxia ran over to me. Opening her eyes wide she said, “Dad, Mom went away in a sedan chair.”

  Seeing how excited Fengxia was, I could barely take it. I said to her, “Fengxia, come here.”

  Fengxia walked over beside me. Caressing her face I said, “Fengxia, don’t you ever forget I’m your daddy.”

  Upon hearing this, Fengxia was all smiles and replied, “And don’t you forget I’m Fengxia.”

  When Fugui’s story got to this point, I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. This scoundrel of forty years ago was today sitting bare-chested on the grass, the sunlight filtering through gaps between the tree leaves and into his squinting eyes. His legs were covered with mud, and patches of white hair sprouted from his shaven head. Sweat trickled down over the wrinkles on his chest. At that moment his old ox was in the golden water of the pond, with only its head and back exposed. I saw the water slapping against the ox’s long black back, just as water crashes on the shore.

  This old man was the first person I had bumped into after beginning my life of carefree travel. I was young and without troubles or worries. Every new face filled me with excitement and joy, and I was deeply attracted by anything I didn’t know. It was just at this time in my life that I came upon Fugui. Never before had anyone so completely confided in me the way he did when
he vividly recounted his story. For as long as I was willing to listen, he was willing to talk.

  My chance meeting with Fugui filled my later days of collecting folk songs with happiness and anticipation. I imagined that this rich, flourishing land was full of people like Fugui. And in later years I did meet a lot of old men like him. They wore their pants just like he did, with the crotch area drooping down near their knees. The wrinkles on their faces were filled with sunlight and dirt. When they smiled at me, I noticed only a handful of teeth left in their empty mouths. Although they would often cry, it was not because they were unusually sad. Sometimes they would cry even when they were happy and perfectly at peace. Their hands were as coarse as a dirt road. Raising their hands to wipe away the tears from their eyes was as common a gesture as flicking a piece of straw off one’s clothes.

  But I never again met anyone as unforgettable as Fugui. Never did I meet anyone who was not only so clear about his life experiences, but also able to recount them so brilliantly. He was the kind of person who could see his entire past. He could clearly see himself walking as a young man, and he could even see himself growing old. It’s very rare to meet this kind of old man in the country. Perhaps the difficulties and hardships of life destroy the others’ memories. They often face the past with a kind of numbness. Not knowing what to do, they simply dismiss the past with an awkward smile. They lack interest in their own experiences. Just like gossip or hearsay, they remember only fragments— which often are not even related to their own experience. One or two sentences is enough to express everything they stand for. I often hear the younger generation mocking them: “Once they hit old age, they start living like dogs.”

  But Fugui was completely di ferent. He liked thinking about the past. He liked talking about his life. It seemed that in this way he could relive his life again and again. His story grabbed me in the same way the talons of an eagle clutch the branches of a tree.

  After Jiazhen left, my mother would often sit off to one side, secretly wiping her tears. At first I tried to think of something to say to comfort her, but as soon as I saw her expression, the words just wouldn’t come out. In the end, she was the one who often tried to cheer me up. “Jiazhen doesn’t belong to anyone but you. No one can take her away.”

  Hearing this I could only swallow a sigh. What could I say? A strong and healthy family had been smashed apart like a clay jar. When night came, I would often lie in bed unable to sleep. I carried inside of me hatred for so many things, but when it came down to it I hated myself most. At night I worried too much, and during the day my head ached. All day I had no energy to harvest the crops. Thank god there was Fengxia. Fengxia would often pull me by the hand and ask, “Dad, a table has four corners. If you chop off one corner, how many are left?”

  I didn’t know where Fengxia had heard this, but when I said three corners, Fengxia would smile ear to ear and laugh uncontrollably. She would say, “Wrong! There are five corners left.”

  Listening to Fengxia, I wanted to laugh but couldn’t. I thought of our original four-person family. When Jiazhen left it was like cutting off a corner, not to mention the child she was carrying. I told Fengxia, “Wait until your mom gets back and there’ll be five corners.”

  After we sold everything of value in the house, my mother would take Fengxia out to dig up wild vegetables. Carrying a basket on her arm, Mom would be off, unable with her twisted little feet to walk as fast as Fengxia. Her hair was completely gray, yet she had to learn to do hard physical labor for the first time in her life. Mom would hold Fengxia by the hand and watch her every step. My mother’s careful manner almost brought me to tears.

  I knew that I could never again live the kind of life I once had. I had to support Mom and Fengxia. I talked to Mom about borrowing some money from some friends and relatives in town to open a small shop. After hearing my idea, Mom didn’t utter a sound; she didn’t want to leave. When people get old they’re like that, unwilling to move. I said to Mom, “The house and land all belong to Long Er now. Setting up our home here is just the same as anywhere else.”

  After hearing this, Mom was silent for a long time before saying, “Your father’s grave is still here.”

  That one sentence made me stop thinking of any new ideas. After going through all of my options, I decided my only choice was to approach Long Er.

  Long Er had become the landlord here. Holding a teapot in his right hand, he would stroll the fields in his silk shirt. He was so cocky, always laughing, exposing his two big gold teeth. I originally thought he was quite cordial to people, but sometimes he’d open his mouth to yell at the more offensive farmers. Slowly I realized he only wanted people to notice his gold teeth.

  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 we
re? 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.