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  It was only after calling a few times and seeing that Old Quan still hadn’t moved that I realized it was over. Old Quan had been hit. I quickly climbed out of the tunnel and ran toward him. When I got to him I saw that his back was soaked in blood. My vision went blank, and I cried out in tears to Chunsheng. After Chunsheng ran over, the two of us carried Old Quan back to the tunnel. On the way back, bullets whizzed by, brushing past us.

  We laid Old Quan down, and I used my hand to stop the pool of blood on his back. His back was wet and hot, and the blood, still flowing, oozed out from the cracks between my fingers. Old Quan’s eyes blinked slowly as if he wanted to see us for a moment, and then his lips quivered. His voice sounded hoarse as he asked us, “What’s the name of this place?”

  Chunsheng and I raised our heads to look around. How were we supposed to know what this place was? We could only go back to looking at Old Quan. He closed his eyes tightly for a while before slowly opening them. As they opened they got larger and larger, and his mouth was crooked as if he was forcing a smile. We heard his raspy voice say, “I don’t even know the name of the place where I’ll die.”

  Not long after finishing that sentence, Old Quan died. As he took his last breath, Old Quan’s head tilted to one side. Chunsheng and I both knew that he was gone; we stared at each other for a long time. Chunsheng cried first, and as soon as he began to weep, I, too, could no longer hold back my tears.

  Later we saw the company commander, who had changed into civilian clothes. With paper banknotes tied to his waist and carrying a bag, he was heading west. We knew he wanted to escape with his life. With the banknotes stuffed under his clothes, he walked with a rolling gait, making him look like a fat old woman. A young soldier called out to him, “Commander, isn’t the Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek going to save us?”

  The commander turned around and said, “You idiot, at a time like this not even your own mother would save you! Why don’t you save yourself?” Another soldier took a shot at him but missed. As soon as he heard the sound of bullets coming at him, the commander started to run like mad, and his former air of authority completely disappeared. A whole bunch of guys extended their guns to shoot him, and the commander cried out as he jumped back and forth in the snow, running farther away.

  The sounds of cannon and gunfire were right under our noses. We could see the shadows of the soldiers shooting on the front, and through the veil of gunpowder smoke we could see the bodies, one after another, sway and fall to the ground. I estimated that I wouldn’t make it past noon—sometime before then it should be my turn to die. After making it through a month amid the gun blasts and bomb explosions, I wasn’t really afraid of death. I just felt that dying in the dark like this was really an injustice. Not even my mother or Jiazhen would know where I had died.

  I looked at Chunsheng, and he looked back at me with a long face, his hand still on Old Quan’s body. We had eaten uncooked rice for a few days until Chunsheng’s face became swollen. He stuck out his tongue to lick his lips and said to me, “I want some flatbread.”

  It had gotten to the point where life or death wasn’t important anymore. As long as we could taste some flatbread before we died we’d be satisfied. Chunsheng stood up, and I didn’t bother to tell him to watch out for bullets. He looked around for a while and said, “Perhaps there’s some flatbread outside. I’m going to go look.”

  As Chunsheng crawled out of the tunnel I didn’t stop him. No matter what, we were both going to be dead before noon anyway, and if he could really get his hands on some flatbread before then, well, good for him. He looked exhausted as he crossed over the field of corpses. After taking a few steps, he turned around to say to me, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back as soon as I get my hands on some flatbread.”

  With his hands at his sides and his head lowered, he entered the cloud of thick smoke in front of him. The air was dense, filled with the burning scent of gunpowder. The smoke-filled air made my throat itch, and small grains of charred ash got caught in my eyes.

  Before noon all those still alive in the tunnels had been taken prisoner. When the Liberation Army, guns in hand, came charging forward, an old soldier told us to put our hands up. His anxious face turned blue as he ordered us not to touch the guns on our waists. He was just as scared as we were. One communist soldier, not much older than Chunsheng, pointed the dark barrel of his pistol at me. My heart stopped and I thought, this time I’m really dead. But he didn’t shoot. He just shouted an order at me. As soon as I heard him command me to crawl out, my heart started beating wildly, and my wish to live returned. I crawled out of the cave and he said to me, “Put your hands down.”

  Immediately I relaxed my hands, as well as my anxious heart. All by himself, the soldier marched us twenty-odd prisoners south. Before getting too far we met up with an even larger group of captives. All around us thick smoke twisted and turned as it rose toward the heavens, moving as if it were heading toward the same place in the sky. The ground was bumpy and rough, littered with dead bodies and the blasted remains of firearms and shells. A military truck blackened by flames still made a rustling sound. After we walked for a while, twenty Liberation soldiers came toward us from the north, carrying large white steamed buns. The buns were still hot, and just looking at them made my mouth water. The official escorting us said, “Line yourselves up!”

  I had never imagined they would feed us. How wonderful it would have been if only Chunsheng had been there. I gazed off into the distance, not knowing if he was dead or alive. We huddled up close together in more than twenty different lines. Each of us got two steamed buns, and I had never before heard the sound of so many people eating at the same time. It was even louder than the sound of a couple hundred pigs devouring their feed. Everyone ate too fast, and a few even started coughing their guts out, each one seeming to cough louder than the next. The guy beside me coughed louder than anyone—he coughed so hard that he was in tears and had to hold his waist. Even more people got the buns stuck in their throats. They lifted their heads and stared up at the sky without moving.

  The next morning we were all summoned over to an empty field. We sat in neat rows on the ground in front of two tables. A guy who looked like a top official spoke to us. First he gave us a barrel of stuff about liberating all of China and then he said, “Whoever is willing to join the Liberation Army, stay where you are; if you want to go home, stand up and go pick up your travel allowances.”

  As soon as I heard I could go home, my heart began to race violently. But when I saw the pistol on that official’s waist I began to get scared—it seemed too good to be true. Most people stayed where they were without moving, but a few actually did get up to leave. They walked up to the table and picked up their travel allowances. The official kept staring at them. After they got their travel money they picked up a travel certificate and went on their way. In my heart I was convinced that that official was going to take out his gun and shoot them, just like our company commander had done. But as they walked into the distance the official still didn’t take out his gun. I started to get nervous, realizing that the Liberation Army was really willing to let us go home. After fighting this battle, I knew what this thing called war was. I promised myself never to fight again. I wanted to go home. I stood up and walked over to the official. I dropped to my knees and began to wail like a baby. I had originally planned on telling him that I wanted to go home, but when the words got to my lips they changed. I called out over and over, “Company commander, commander, commander . . .”

  Nothing else would come out. The official helped me up and asked me what I wanted to say. But I just kept calling him company commander; I kept crying. One of the Liberation troops standing beside me corrected me, “He’s the regimental commander.”

  As soon as he said this I was scared to death. I thought, I’m fucked. But I heard the roaring laughter of the prisoners sitting on the ground, and I saw the regimental commander laughing as he asked me, “What was it that you wanted to say?”<
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  It was only then that I finally relaxed and said to the commander, “I want to go home.”

  The Liberation Army let me go home, and they even paid my travel expenses. Heading south I rushed the whole way home. When I got hungry I just used some of the travel money the Liberation Army had given me to buy something to eat. When I was tired, I just looked for a plot of flat ground and went to sleep. I couldn’t bear how much I missed home. Just thinking about being able to reunite in this life with my mom, Jiazhen and my two kids filled me with laughter and tears. Overcome by home-sickness, I ran south.

  As I got to the Yangtze River, I realized that the south had yet to be liberated. The Liberation Army was just getting ready to cross the river. I couldn’t pass and was delayed there a couple of months. I had to go all over looking for work to do so I wouldn’t starve to death. I knew the Liberation Army needed boat rowers, and back when I had money I had learned how to row a boat just for the fun of it. On a number of occasions I almost joined the Liberation Army to help it row across the Yangtze. I figured that since they had been so good to me, I ought to do something to repay their kindness. But I was really terrified of war and afraid I’d never see my family again. For the sake of Jiazhen and my family I said to myself, I won’t repay them, I’ll just remember that the Liberation Army was good to me.

  Keeping behind the Liberation Army as it fought its way south, I made it home. Altogether I’d been gone almost two years. When I left it was mid-autumn; when I came back it was the beginning of autumn. Covered in mud, I walked the road home. When I got to my village I found it hadn’t changed a bit. As soon as I saw it, I began to rush forward. I saw my family’s old brick house, and then I saw our thatched hut. As soon as I laid eyes on the thatched hut I couldn’t help but break into a run.

  Not far from the edge of the village I saw a girl around seven or eight with a boy around three cutting grass. The second I saw that girl in her raggedy clothes I recognized her—she was my Fengxia. Fengxia held Youqing’s hand as he stumbled along. I called out to them, “Fengxia, Youqing!”

  Fengxia didn’t hear me, but Youqing turned around to see me. Fengxia kept pulling him as his head turned around crookedly to look at me. I yelled again, “Fengxia, Youqing!”

  This time Youqing pulled his sister to a stop and Fengxia turned around to see me. I ran over to them and, kneeling down, asked Fengxia, “Fengxia, do you still remember me?”

  Fengxia opened her eyes wide and looked me over. Her lips moved but she didn’t say anything. I said to Fengxia, “I’m your daddy.”

  Fengxia smiled, and her mouth opened wide, but she still didn’t make a sound. At that moment I sensed that something wasn’t quite right, but I didn’t think much of it. I knew that Fengxia recognized me. When she smiled at me I saw she had lost all her teeth. As I reached out my hand to touch her face, her eyes lit up and she brought her face closer to my hand. Then I turned to Youqing. He of course didn’t recognize me. Youqing was so scared that he cuddled up close to his sister. I tried to pull him, but he ran away. I said to him, “Son, I’m your dad.”

  Youqing hid behind his sister. Tugging on her, he said, “Let’s go.”

  It was then that a woman started running toward us, crying out my name. I recognized that it was Jiazhen, stumbling as she ran. When she got to me she called out, “Fugui!”

  She then fell to the ground and began to bawl. I said to Jiazhen, “Why are you crying? What’s there to cry about?”

  Yet, before I could finish my sentence, I had also started to weep.

  I was finally home and, seeing that Jiazhen and the kids were doing well, I felt at peace.

  Hugging, we all walked back to the hut. As soon as we got close, I started calling out, “Mom, Mom.”

  I called out to her as I ran into the hut, but after one look I saw she wasn’t there. My vision went blurry for a moment, and I turned around and asked Jiazhen, “Where’s Mom?”

  Jiazhen didn’t say a word. She just looked at me, her eyes glistening with tears. I knew where Mom had gone. I stood in the doorway with my head lowered, and the tears began to fall.

  Mom had died just over two months after I’d left. Jiazhen told me that before Mom died she kept telling Jiazhen over and over, “I’m sure that Fugui didn’t go gambling.”

  Heaven knows how many times Jiazhen went into town to see what she could find out about me, but in the end not a soul told her I was forced into the army. And my poor mom—even though she had tried to console Jiazhen, when she died she didn’t even know where I was. Fengxia also had had it hard. A year before, after running a high fever, she had lost her voice. She hadn’t been able to speak since. Jiazhen cried as she told me this. Fengxia, sitting across from us, knew we were talking about her. Fengxia smiled softly at me; seeing her smile was like a needle piercing my heart. Youqing also recognized me as his dad, but he was still a little bit afraid of me. As soon as I’d pick him up, he’d instantly struggle to go see Jiazhen and Fengxia. But no matter what, I was back home. The first night, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t get to sleep. I was squeezed together between Jiazhen and the two kids, listening to the sound of the wind blowing the straw on the roof and gazing at the glittering moonlight beaming in through the crack between the door and its frame. I felt both fulfillment and warmth. After a while I caressed Jiazhen and the children. I said to myself over and over again, “I’m home.”

  After I got home, the village began land reform, and I was given five mu of land, the same five mu that I had originally rented from Long Er. Long Er was really in deep trouble—he was labeled a landlord, and after not even four years of putting on airs, Liberation came and he was finished. The Communist Party confiscated his land and divided it among his tenants. But Long Er would rather die than admit he was finished. He tried to intimidate some of his tenants, and when they wouldn’t give in to his threats, he even tried to beat them. Long Er screwed himself. The people’s government had him arrested, calling him a despotic landlord. Even after being taken to the city prison, Long Er still showed no understanding of the times. He was as stubborn as a mule. In the end he was executed.

  The day they executed Long Er, I went to watch. Only at the last minute before he died did Long Er start to break down. Someone said that as he was dragged out of town on his way to the execution ground, tears and drool ran down his face and he said to a friend, “Even in my dreams I never imagined I’d be executed!”

  Long Er really was extremely foolish. He thought that they’d lock him up for a few days and that would be that. Never for a second did he believe they’d execute him. It was during the afternoon in a neighboring village that they shot Long Er. They began by digging a hole. A crowd of people from all the neighboring villages came to watch. When Long Er came by he was all tied up—they practically had to drag him. His mouth was half-open as he huffed and heaved, trying to catch his breath. Long Er glanced at me as he passed by. I didn’t think he had recognized me, but after a few steps he forced his head around. Sniveling, he yelled, “Fugui, I’m dying for you!”

  After hearing him yell that, I was flustered. I thought it would perhaps be best if I left and did not see how he died. I squeezed my way out of the crowd and walked away in the opposite direction. After taking about ten steps I heard the “bang” sound of a gunshot and thought, Long Er is really done for. I never imagined that it would be followed by a second “bang,” and then three more—all together there were five shots. I wondered if they were executing someone else. On the way back I asked someone from my village, “How many people did they execute?”

  “Just Long Er,” he replied.

  Long Er really got dealt a bad hand. He took five shots—I’m afraid all five of his lives, if he had that many, were wiped out.

  After Long Er was executed, cold chills ran up and down my neck the whole way home. The more I thought about it, the more I realized just how close I had come to being in Long Er’s shoes. If it hadn’t been for my father and me, the two prodi
gal sons, I would have been the one to be executed. I rubbed my face and arms—they were all okay. I thought, I should have died but didn’t. I escaped with my life from the battlefield, and when I came home Long Er took my place as the fall guy. The graves of my ancestors must have been in the right place.

  “This time,” I said to myself, “I’ve got to keep on living.”

  When I got home, Jiazhen was stitching the soles of my shoes. She took one look at how pale my face was and got scared nearly to death. She thought I was sick. But when I told her what I had been thinking, her face turned white, too, and then blue.

  “That was really close,” she whispered.

  Later, I didn’t take it so much to heart. I figured there was no reason to scare myself like this; it was all fate. As the saying goes, “If you escape a calamity with your life, there is bound to be good fortune to follow.” I figured the second half would just get better and better. I told this to Jiazhen. She broke a strand of thread with her teeth and looked at me.

  “I don’t want any kind of good fortune,” she said. “I’ll be happy if I’m able to sew you a new pair of shoes each year.”

  I understood what Jiazhen meant: My wife just wished that from now on we would never again be apart. Seeing how much older her face looked, my heart began to ache. Jiazhen was right. As long as our family could be together every day, who really cared about good fortune?

  Fugui’s narration stopped here. I realized we were both sitting right in the sun. The changing path of the sunlight had caused the shadow of the tree to gradually leave us and turn in another direction. Fugui’s body shook a bit before he could stand up. As he patted his knees he said to me, “My whole body keeps getting stiffer and stiffer. Only one part keeps getting softer.”