Wei had chosen to sit toward the middle of the car, where several rows of seats in front and behind him remained empty. Cigarette butts and spittle littered the floor. The seats were hard and thinly cushioned but they would do. With his satchel secure in the rack above, Wei sat by the window and watched engrossed as the train moved slowly out of the station. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the crowded city streets flickered before him as the train picked up speed at the outskirts of Guangzhou. Soon the landscape changed to that of open land and trees. Wei sat back, but not before he quickly observed all the other passengers who were on their way to Shaoguan or Chenzhou, or any of the many small cities along the way to Luoyang. Besides the two older women who sat up front, a thin man in his thirties sat deep in thought across the aisle from him, smoking one cigarette after another. There were a handful of middle-aged women traveling with each other, and a large, boisterous group of men toward the back of the car, all dressed in the casual work clothes of day laborers. They had talked and laughed continuously since the train had left the station; their boxes and bags tied together with twine were stuffed up in the racks. Wei wondered if they lived in Shaoguan and worked in Guangzhou, or vice versa. If they worked the night shift, they would be going home right about now. He imagined every day was like a small party for them during these train rides, this kind of camaraderie a good part of their lives. He’d had few close friends in his life; Song and his family made up his small world and even that he’d managed to destroy.
Wei looked out the window and closed his eyes for a moment. He’d slept even less the past week leading up to the trip, a mix of nerves and anticipation, and opened his eyes again only when he realized someone was speaking to him. Wei turned from the window and caught the last word of the question meant for him. “… Luoyang?”
“I’m sorry?” he said.
The thin man across the aisle leaned toward him. He cleared his throat and asked Wei again, “Are you traveling all the way to Luoyang?”
Wei nodded.
“Your first time?” A cigarette burned between his fingers as he watched Wei.
“Yes. Is it that obvious?” he asked.
“Just the way you’re watching everything like you haven’t seen it before.”
Wei cleared his throat. “I haven’t.”
The train clattered on with an occasional shriek of the wheels grinding against the rails, and the constant rumbling of the cars whose swaying motions made Wei’s stomach upset. The man turned and sat sideways so that he now faced Wei. He wore a loose-fitting blue tunic and a pair of cotton pants and sandals. His hair was neatly cut and just beginning to gray. He was a handsome man, his face younger than Wei first thought. He wasn’t much older than Sheng, and he didn’t appear like a day laborer or a retiree who had the time to ride a long-distance train across China. The man crossed his legs in the aisle and offered him a cigarette. When Wei declined, he inhaled deeply, the smoke drifting out his mouth and nose.
“I know Luoyang well,” he said. “I used to travel back and forth from Guangzhou to Luoyang all the time. This is my first trip back in many years.”
Wei watched the cigarette burn between the man’s long, tapered fingers and knew he wanted to strike up a conversation. He supposed it did make the hours pass faster. Still, Wei simply nodded, hoping to be left alone. The train rattled on and the laborers in the back of the car had quieted down.
“My name is Tian,” the man said, and reached over to extend his hand.
“Lee Wei,” he said, taking the man’s hand. There was little chance he’d be left alone now.
“Are you visiting someone in Luoyang, or are you going to see the sights?” Tian asked.
Wei weighed the question. It made the actual trip real to him now. Up until that moment, it was still something distant and imagined to him. He had never entertained the thought of sightseeing in Luoyang. “There’s someone I hope to see there,” he finally answered.
“A friend?” Tian asked, and smiled.
Wei shook his head.
“My son,” he answered.
The train suddenly slowed, lurched forward, and then picked up speed again as they passed small farms in the distance, water buffalo peppering the fields. Tian smiled thoughtfully and sucked on his cigarette. “Does your son live in Luoyang?”
“Temporarily,” Wei answered.
Tian nodded. “I lived there for a short time, but Guangzhou will always be my home. For one thing, the climate is much more agreeable to me.”
“You said you used to travel to Luoyang and back all the time. Do you have family there?” Wei asked. He hoped to steer the conversation away from Sheng.
“Oh no, my family’s from the southern Fukien area. I was raised in Guangzhou.” Tian dropped the butt of his cigarette onto the floor, carefully putting it out with the heel of his sandal. “Before, my trips to Luoyang had to do with a girl I was seeing at the time. This trip is more of a pilgrimage.”
He watched the man’s simple, graceful movements. There was something about him that inspired curiosity. Luoyang was a long way to travel if there wasn’t someone, or something, waiting on the other end.
“Does she still live there?” Wei said. “I hope you don’t mind my asking.”
Tian looked directly into his eyes, and Wei saw a hint of sadness, something that was long settled deep within him. “I wish I knew,” Tian finally said.
Wei sat back. There were worse things that could happen during a long trip than to listen to a man’s tale of love. “You moved there to be with her?”
Tian lit another cigarette, letting it burn between his fingers. The smoke rose toward the roof of the car and lingered.
“It wasn’t more than a few months,” he said regretfully. “We were young then.”
Wei watched Tian with interest. Why was this man returning to Luoyang after so many years if he was no longer with this woman? And why did his words still feel edged with urgency? “What happened?” he asked.
Tian shook his head. “It’s a long story,” he answered.
Before he said anything else, the train abruptly braked; wheels shrieking against the rails as the car jerked roughly to a stop, throwing Wei forward. His shoulder hit the seat in front of him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tian’s cigarette fly out of his hand as he grabbed on to his seat’s armrest to avoid falling into the aisle. A passenger screamed and the raised voices of the others filled the car as the train slowed down to a crawl.
“Are you all right?” Tian asked.
“I’m fine,” Wei answered, rubbing his shoulder.
The truth was he hadn’t thought about all the unforeseen accidents that could happen at his age on such a long trip. Still, Wei couldn’t remember when he’d felt so alive. By the time he looked out the window for the cause of their abrupt stop, the train had picked up speed and was on its way again.
Wei
The train slowed down as they entered the outskirts of Shaoguan. The noise from the men at the back of the car picked up again in anticipation of their arrival, a hum of activity filling the car as possessions were put away and bags retrieved. On the outskirts of the city, plain two-story, whitewashed brick buildings lined the streets. People lingered in front of small businesses selling everything from vegetables to clothing to bicycle tires, while scattered groups of bicyclists rode toward the city center.
“The train stops here for half an hour. I suggest we get off and buy something to eat and drink,” Tian said. “We won’t reach Chenzhou until late afternoon.”
When the train came to a full stop, Wei stood up, his shoulder sore, his back already stiff as he stretched and reached for his satchel. He followed Tian off the train and down a dusty, narrow street near the train station that opened up to a crowded, bustling marketplace. Wei felt fortunate to have been befriended by Tian, who knew exactly what to do, and in whose guidance he felt safe. For the first time since leaving Guangzhou that morning, he faced the cold reality of having left behind everything sec
ure and comfortable. With each stop, Wei was moving farther away from those he loved and closer to place he knew nothing about.
* * *
They bought noodles and dumplings from a market stall and quickly ate standing, the bowl hot in his hands, the soup scalding his tongue. Wei had forgotten how hungry he was and would have bought another bowl of noodles if they hadn’t had to rush back to the train. Tian stopped at another stall and bought two bottles of rice liquor while Wei waited. Before he knew what was happening, Wei was pushed from behind and fell hard to the ground. A young man helped him up, muttering apologies as he patted away the dust from his jacket. Wei stood shakily, rubbing his elbow, the sleeve of his new mein po torn.
“Are you all right?” Tian asked, rushing over.
The man who had knocked him down had quickly disappeared into the crowd. Wei nodded, fiddling with the small rip in his sleeve, which hurt more than his elbow.
“This will help to make you feel better,” Tian said, and smiled, holding up his bottles.
Wei nodded again. “I imagine it will,” he said.
He’d never been much of a drinking man and couldn’t recall the last time he’d had the fermented rice liquor. Sheng, on the other hand, often returned from seeing friends or from school meetings when he was young, flushed, and smelling of the sharp, cheap liquor. Before he married Kai Ying, Wei was afraid he’d taken to drinking a bit too much, but after settling down and the birth of Tao, Sheng drank only on special occasions.
* * *
When they boarded the train again, the group of laborers who sat in the back had disembarked in Shaoguan. Without their boisterous voices, their already empty car felt even more so. Wei noticed all the women who had boarded in Guangzhou had remained, while a younger man and woman boarded just ahead of them for the next leg of the trip. Wei sat down and closely examined the tear on his sleeve. He felt better knowing Song or Kai Ying could mend it when he returned. Only then did he realize something else was wrong. He checked the inner pocket of his jacket, his heart pounding against his chest, only to confirm what he already knew: his envelope of money was gone. Wei stood up, but the train was already moving at full speed and the man at the marketplace was long gone.
The alcohol burned going down Wei’s throat but he liked the immediate warmth that spread through his body with each swallow. It even dulled the sting of being pickpocketed. Wei was down to half of his money and he hadn’t even reached Luoyang. Thankfully, he had bought his train ticket and kept the other half in his satchel. There was nothing he could do now, and so Wei focused on what was right in front of him. It felt colder since they left Shaoguan, the air clear and brisk as he buttoned up his mein po. His feet were cold and he wished he’d brought more socks than the two extra pairs tucked in his satchel.
Outside the window he saw more farmers working the land. Everything appeared to be moving in slow motion as they sped by. Wei glanced at his watch, nearly three in the afternoon, and he suddenly realized Tao would be getting out of school just about then. Was Kai Ying or Song there to greet him? What was he doing on this train heading to who knows where when he would normally be waiting for Tao and walking him home? His heart ached to recall his grandson’s unhappiness and to know that he was the cause of it. Of everything that had happened, it was losing Tao’s love and respect that stung the most.
“Another drink,” Tian said, thrusting the bottle of liquor his way. “It warms the heart.”
Wei swallowed another mouthful, wincing as it went down his throat. He hoped it would numb the heart too.
Tian laughed. “I see it’s already working.”
“I’m afraid I’m not much of a drinker,” he said. Wei handed the bottle back to him.
“You will be by the time this train arrives in Luoyang,” Tian said.
* * *
Wei woke with a start, frightened. It took him a moment to realize where he was, the sharp pain in his back and neck reminding him of the hard train seat and the awkward way his head was slumped against the window. His elbow ached with a dull throb. He remembered Tian had been saying something to him when he felt suddenly dizzy from the rice liquor and needed to close his eyes. Now Wei awoke slowly, not allowing the hollow rattle of the car or the stale air to intrude, not ready to step back into the real world of the train just yet. He glanced down at his watch, surprised to see he’d been asleep for almost two hours.
Across the aisle, Tian was reading a newspaper, the half-filled bottle of rice wine lying in the seat next to him. Outside, the sky had darkened with low, gray clouds. Slowly Wei was rocked back into the enclosed world of the train car. In another hour they would reach Chenzhou so he closed his eyes again until then.
* * *
The train had stopped for a shorter time in Chenzhou, only enough time for Tian to dash off to buy them something to eat from the vendors at the station. As he watched Tian bargaining with the food vendors from the train window, he thought again of how swiftly they’d developed an alliance. While it was something that came naturally to Liang, it was the first time he’d warmed up to a stranger so quickly. There was something about the man that gave the impression of both calm and intelligence. And something more, a sadness that Wei could identify with, as if they were two lost souls traveling to an unknown landscape. Or so it would be if it were a story he were telling to Tao.
Tian bought two bottles of beer and some zong, the fist-sized sticky rice filled with salted pork, cooked peanuts, and a bit of salted duck eggs, all wrapped in bamboo leaves. There were many variations and costs; Wei’s favorite was made every year by Song during the Dragon Boat Festival, which always included Chinese sausage or dried shrimp and Chinese black mushrooms for added flavors. For dessert, Tian bought coconut milk and shredded coconut gelatin. As simple as it was, he hadn’t enjoyed a meal so much in a long time. Wei turned to thank Tian again. He had refused to accept his money, so it was agreed Wei would buy their next meal.
By the time they’d finished eating, it was dark outside and a weak yellowish light filled the car, the dark window reflecting a tired old man back at Wei. Ironically, it was the first time he had felt so energetic in the past year. The rumbling sounds of the train deepened with the night. The rest of the passengers had already begun to prepare for the night ahead, extracting pillows and blankets from their bags. Only then did Wei realize how unprepared he was for the long trip. The next handful of stations would be quick stops as the train continued on through the night until they reached Linxiang early in the morning. By Wei’s calculations, they would have traveled over five hundred miles by then.
Kai Ying
Kai Ying couldn’t sleep. In the dark, all of her anger had now turned to concern for Wei. She imagined his equally sleepless nights on the train. His back must be bothering him, as it always did when he sat for too long without moving. She wondered if he’d brought the bottle of ginger and sesame oil liniment she’d made for him, and if he had enough clothes to keep warm. Kai Ying thought about checking Wei’s room to see what he had brought with him, but it somehow felt like an intrusion and so she told herself tomorrow, tomorrow she would check.
Since her father-in-law had retired, his room had become his office and library and sanctuary where she usually found him sitting at his desk, head down, reading some book. As soon as Kai Ying entered, she immediately felt hesitant and unsure of herself, as if she’d somehow become small and insignificant among his things. Even Sheng and Tao always knocked before they entered.
The house creaked and Kai Ying thought she heard footsteps. Before Tao was born, one of the first stories Wei had told her was about the two ghosts roaming the villa. “You needn’t be afraid of them,” he said. “Who are they?” she had asked. Wei explained that when he was a boy, his family had three full-time servants who lived at the villa. His amah, Ching, was his nursemaid who slept in the small alcove off of his room. Their cook, Sun, and their housekeeper, Moon, lived in the back rooms which now belonged to Auntie Song.
Kai
Ying tried to imagine what it must have been like to have servants doing all the things that now filled her days. It was the bourgeoisie lifestyle Mao and the Communist Party had despised and fought against, declaring victory for the people. And yet, why was there never enough rice or oil or coal for the people?
Wei told her Sun and Moon had worked for his family ever since they were young women. Before then, they’d been silk workers from the village of Shun-de. When Wei was a boy of nine or ten, Sun and Moon were already middle-aged, and had been working for his family for over twenty years. “They were as different as the sun and the moon,” her father-in-law said, and laughed. “There was hardly a time when they didn’t disagree about something. They would have argued about the time of day if they’d had the time!”
When Wei was not yet fifteen, Moon fell ill. Sun devoted herself to taking care of her until she died, six months later. Afterward, Sun stayed on until she became too old, but she was never the same. She passed away just after Wei graduated from Lingnan. Had he seen their ghosts? Kai Ying asked. Her father-in-law shook his head. “They’ve only shown themselves to the women in the household,” he said. A few years after Sun’s death, his mother occasionally saw Moon carrying fresh sheets to one of the bedrooms, or Sun, moving in and out of the kitchen. While he had never seen them, he’d felt them. He remembered feeling a cold wind blowing through the hallway in the middle of a hot August day. “I knew it was them,” he said. The villa had been their only real home and he couldn’t imagine them anywhere else. Kai Ying had thought the same thing about him. She heard another creak. Could it be Sun and Moon returning to the villa wondering where Wei had gone?
* * *
Kai Ying yawned and tried to clear her mind. Instead, it was Tao’s innocent question that returned to her thoughts. Have you been there? She’d never been farther away from Guangzhou than her hometown of Zhaoqing, never needed to see more of the world than what was in front of her. She turned on her side and closed her eyes, but still the underlying thought lingered, why hadn’t she been brave enough to have boarded the train to Luoyang to find Sheng?
A Hundred Flowers Page 14