by Cao Wenxuan
“Have you any idea what they’ve been through to raise her?” He paused. “I can say she should go, but I can’t guarantee that it’ll happen.”
The official took him to one side. “There’s no alternative. It has to be done. Everyone can understand that they won’t want to let the child go. It’s difficult enough to part with a dog, let alone a child. Go and talk to them. Tell them how city people think, and what city people do. And stress that this is all for the child’s benefit!”
“OK, I’ll go and talk to them.”
So the head of the village went to see the family. “Someone from the city wants to see you,” he told them.
As soon as Baba and Mama heard this, they told Bronze to take Sunflower, who was playing outside, and go and hide.
“There’s no need to hide,” said the head of the village. “He’s come to talk, not to snatch her away. Remember where we are. This is Damaidi! Do you think the people of Damaidi would stand back and let someone snatch away one of our children?” He turned to Bronze. “Go and play with Sunflower. There’s nothing to worry about.”
The head of the village sat down. He got straight to the point. “The situation’s not going to change. I can’t see that they’ll let her stay.”
Mama began to cry. She ran after Sunflower, who clung to her tightly. “Mama, I won’t go!”
A crowd began to gather. The scene brought tears to their eyes.
“No one’s taking her anywhere!” said Mama.
The head of the village sighed, and went outside. As he walked down the road, he told the people he met, “They want to take Sunflower away! They’re at the village committee office!”
Soon, the whole village knew. They ran to the committee office. Before long, a large crowd surrounded the office, several people deep, packed so tightly together that even water could not seep through.
The official pushed open the window. “What’s going on?” he asked the head of the village.
“I don’t know,” said the head of the village. “What’s going on out there?”
At first the crowd was quiet, but after a while they began to speak and then to shout. “You can’t just take her away!”
“She’s one of us!”
“Do they know what this family has done to raise her? Do they know that they gave her their only mosquito net in summer, and burned bulrushes so the smoke would keep the mosquitoes away?”
“Do they know that her Nainai used to fan the air with a reed fan every night in summer, until she was cool enough to sleep?”
“Since the day she stepped through their door, we’ve all thought of her as one of their family.”
“They’ve had a hard time, but no matter how hard it’s been, they’ve never made it hard for her.”
“She’s such a thoughtful girl. We’ve never known such a thoughtful girl.”
“That family is so close. You can’t split them up.”
A few people made their way into the office. The head of the village ordered them out, but they just stood there, refusing to move, looking coldly at the city people. When the city people saw how many there were standing outside, they were shaken, unnerved.
“We haven’t come to snatch the child away,” they told the head of the village.
“I know,” he said.
Then, one of the lads who had pushed his way inside shouted, “You can’t just take children away!”
And the crowd outside shouted, “You can’t just take children away!”
The head of the village went to the door. “Why are you shouting?” he asked. “These people have come to discuss the situation. Can’t you see that? They didn’t go directly to the family but came to ask me to talk to them first.”
The same young man went up to the city people. “We’d like you to leave.”
“That’s no way to talk to our visitors. Please, show some respect.” The head of the village went back inside, sucking on his teeth. “You can see how hard this is going to be.”
There was not much the city people could say after that.
“Perhaps we should go now,” they said to the official who’d come with them. “When we’re back in the city, we’ll make a report and take it from there.”
The official glanced at the crowd outside. “We’ve done all we can today,” he said, then turned to the head of the village. “But this isn’t the end of the matter, I can tell you!”
The head of the village nodded.
“Tell them to disperse,” said the official.
The head of the village came outside again. “That’s enough. Go away. They’re leaving, and they’re not taking Sunflower.”
And with that, he led the line of visitors out of the office. The villagers politely stepped aside and let them pass.
After New Year, when the weather suddenly turned warm and the wind began to howl again, the head of the village was called to see his superior.
“There’s no room for discussion,” said his superior. “You need to get on with it.” They could wait a couple of days, he explained, or a couple of weeks, but it was just a matter of time. The instruction had come from the highest level, and it had to be carried out.
The mayor had made it his mission to demonstrate that his city had a conscience and a sense of responsibility. He wanted everyone to know that this little girl who had been left behind in the poor, remote countryside was at last coming back to her home city. But, he promised over and over again, it was to be done properly; the girl’s parents were to understand that she would still be their daughter, and that in wanting her to come back to the city, he was thinking foremost of her future. It would also be a way of honouring her blood father. The mayor believed that the girl’s parents would understand. He wrote personally to the head of the village, on behalf of the entire city, to pay their respects to the people of Damaidi and to the girl’s parents.
The head of the village went to see the family again, and read the letter to Baba and Mama. Baba said nothing. Mama was clearly upset.
“They have a point,” said the head of the village. “It would be good for Sunflower. Think about it. What kind of life would she have if she stayed here in Damaidi? And what kind of life would she have if she went to the city? Two completely different lives! Everyone knows how painful it would be for you if she went. Everyone knows that. These last few years we’ve had disasters and hard times. Fortunately she was part of your family. Otherwise … oh, it doesn’t bear thinking about. We’ve all seen how you went without so that you could provide for Sunflower. When her Nainai was alive –” at this point the head of the village had to wipe his eyes – “she treated her with such love and such care, always putting her first…”
The head of the village sat down on a stool and carried on talking. Baba hadn’t said a word. Mama hadn’t stopped weeping. Bronze and Sunflower hadn’t appeared.
“Where are the two children?” the head of the village asked.
“I don’t know,” said Mama.
“Maybe they’re hiding,” said the head of the village.
Bronze and Sunflower really were hiding. It was Sunflower’s idea. This time they didn’t hide in the reeds. “There are snakes,” Mama had told them, “you can’t stay there too long.”
So they hid on a big boat with an awning, and let it drift about on the river. Only one person knew where they were hiding, and that was Gayu. He was out punting his little duck-boat when he went past the big boat and noticed Bronze and Sunflower on board.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t say anything.” Bronze and Sunflower believed him. “Do you want me to tell your parents?” he asked. Bronze nodded.
“Tell them that we’re hiding, but don’t tell them where,” said Sunflower.
“OK.” Gayu punted his little boat and moved his ducks along the water.
Quietly he passed the message on to Mama. When he saw how worried she looked, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll look out for them.”
All the villagers, young and old
, showed their loyalty. From then on, Gayu drove his ducks near, but not too near, the big boat.
“Your mama says you’re to keep hidden and not come out.”
Mama had said no such thing – it was Gayu himself who was saying this. At mealtimes, he would bring them food that Mama had prepared for them. He’d carry it in a basket, quietly put it on his duck-boat and quietly deliver it to the big boat.
The city people came again, five or six of them, this time on the white boat of the next administrative level up, and with them were another half a dozen people from the highest level of authority. The villagers recognized two of them as the women who had brought Sunflower to Damaidi all those years ago, and sat with her under the big old tree. They had changed, and looked a lot older now. When they saw the head of the village, they clasped their hands around his to show their respect. They tried to say something but the words caught in their throats, and their eyes were blurry with tears.
The head of the village took them to see the Cadre School on the other side of the river, and as the two women stood in the overgrown wilderness, it brought back painful memories. Eventually they raised the matter of Sunflower’s return to the city.
“We’re discussing it right now,” said the head of the village. “I seem to be making some headway with the girl’s parents. But we need to take it slowly. You can all help to persuade them. You know, their feelings for her are so strong.”
The two women wanted to see Sunflower. The head of the village said, “When they heard that you wanted to take her away, she persuaded her brother they should go and hide.” Then he laughed. “Those two little devils could be anywhere.”
“We could look for them?” suggested the women.
“We’ve looked everywhere,” said the head of the village. “Never mind. Let them hide for a while.”
The next time Gayu saw Bronze and Sunflower he said, “Some people have come from the city. For goodness’ sake, stay where you are.”
Bronze and Sunflower nodded.
“There’s nothing to be scared of, just stay on the boat,” said Gayu, then punted his little boat off after his ducks.
The head of the village took the two city women to Sunflower’s house. As soon as Baba and Mama saw them, they froze for a moment, then jumped up from their stools.
“Sister! Brother!” cried the two women, reaching out with both hands. One of them clasped Baba’s hands, the other clasped Mama’s. In the years since they had last seen them, Baba and Mama had aged a lot. The women were shocked to see their dark, dull skin and their almost skeletal frames, and held their hands tightly, reluctant to let go.
“I’ll leave you to talk,” said the head of the village.
One of the aunties wore glasses now, and it was she who did most of the talking.
“So many years have passed. We’ve often thought about coming to see Sunflower and her family. But we couldn’t bear the thought of troubling you.
“We’d ask how she was getting on here. We knew she had a good life. We discussed coming back, but none of us wanted to alarm her, or you.”
Gradually the conversation turned to taking Sunflower back to the city. There were tears in Mama’s eyes.
The women described all the arrangements that had been made: which school Sunflower would go to (the best school in the city), who she would live with (the one with the glasses, who had a daughter about the same age as Sunflower), when she could come back to Damaidi to see them (she would spend the winter and summer school holidays there) and so on. It was clear that the people in the city had put a lot of thought and consideration into this.
“She will always be your daughter,” she said.
“If you miss her, you can go and stay in the city too,” said the other one. “The mayor has told the city committee’s guesthouse that you can stay there whenever you wish.”
“We know this will be hard for you. I would feel the same way.”
“And clearly the child herself doesn’t want to go.”
Mama let out a cry. Both women put an arm around her shoulder.
“Sister, sister!” they said, and they cried too.
Villagers had been arriving to see what was happening. They stood both inside and outside the house. “We only want what’s best for the child,” the older one told them. “Nothing else.”
The villagers were less belligerent than before. They were beginning to come round to the city people’s way of thinking.
That night the two women stayed with the family. The next day, the head of the village came back.
“Any news?” he asked.
“Our sister has agreed,” one of them replied.
“And the others?” he asked.
“Our brother has agreed too,” said the other.
“Good, good, good!” said the head of the village. “It’s in the child’s best interests. Damaidi’s a poor place, and we don’t want to let her down.”
“If she’s the considerate child you say she is, then she’ll never forget the kindness she’s known in Damaidi,” said the auntie.
“You cannot imagine how considerate she is. Everyone loves her. These good people will be heartbroken when she goes!” said the head of the village, pointing to Baba and Mama.
The two women were nodding in agreement.
“And then there’s her mute brother…” The head of the village was touching his nose, trying to hold in the tears. “He’ll go mad.”
Mama burst out sobbing.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” said the head of the village. “It’s not as though she’s not coming back. Wherever she goes, she’ll still be your daughter. Please stop crying. When the child sets out for the city, you mustn’t cry. Think about it. She’ll have a good future ahead of her. You should be happy for her!” he said, dabbing the corner of his eye.
Mama nodded. The head of the village passed a cigarette to Baba and lit it for him.
Baba took a long drag, then asked, “When do you want to leave?”
“There’s no hurry,” said the women.
“Where did you moor the boat?” he asked.
“The head of the county and the mayor have agreed that the boat can wait here as long as we need,” said one of the women.
“In that case,” said the head of the village, “tell the children to come home and spend some time together as a family.”
“But I don’t know where they are,” said Mama.
“I do,” said the head of the village.
He’d been watching the big boat floating on the river.
The head of the village took Mama to the river.
“Sunflower!” she called out. There was no answer. “Sunflower!” she shouted again. There was still no answer. “You can come out. It’s safe,” said Mama.
Only then did Bronze and Sunflower open the cabin door and show their faces. She told them to come home.
Mama began to collect Sunflower’s things together. She kept herself busy, saying what needed to be said, doing what needed to be done.
Mostly, the two children stood or sat to one side, watching. They didn’t know what to do. They stopped hiding. There didn’t seem to be any point now. Mama said nothing as she began packing up Sunflower’s things. She’d be busy doing this and that, and then she’d suddenly stop and look blank.
Mama opened up her trunk, and from the bottom of it took out the jade bracelet that Nainai had given her for Sunflower. She looked at it, and remembered the gold ring and jade earrings that Nainai used to wear.
“Apart from her clothes, Nainai didn’t keep anything for herself,” she sighed, then wrapped the jade bracelet carefully in a piece of cloth, and put it in a little wicker basket, which was already full of Sunflower’s things.
That evening Mama and Sunflower slept side by side.
“If you’re homesick, you can come back. They’ve already said that all you have to do is tell them you want to come home, and someone will bring you. When you get there, you have to study hard. Don’t thin
k about Damaidi. It’ll still be here, it’s not going to fly away. And don’t worry about us, we’ll be just fine. And if we miss you, then we’ll come and see you. Be happy that you’re going, because if you’re happy, then Baba, Bronze and I will be happy too. You’ll have to write to us, and I’ll tell Bronze to write back to you. Your aunties will be good to you. That year, when they were sitting with you under the old tree, I could see they had kind faces and kind hearts. You must do what they say. When you go to bed, try and tuck your arms under the cover. You’ll have to wash your own feet before you go to bed, you can’t ask your auntie to do it. You’re a big girl now, you have to wash your own feet. From now on you’ll have to look after yourself. Don’t walk around with your head in the clouds all the time. There are cars in the city, it’s not like round here where the worst you’ll end up with is a mouthful of mud. And don’t get all excited like you do with Bronze, Cuihuan and the girls. You’ll have to see what your new friends are like first…”
Mama’s instructions flowed on and on, just like the river.
During Sunflower’s last days in Damaidi, the villagers often saw a paper lantern bobbing about in the fields at night, stopping for a while in the sunflower fields and in front of Nainai’s grave.
The head of the village came by. “Are you going to let her go?” he asked.
Baba nodded. Mama was more cautious. “I’m scared that when the time comes, Bronze won’t let her go,” she said.
“Haven’t you discussed this with him already?”
“Yes,” said Mama, “but you know Bronze, he’s not like other children. If he has a wild notion in his head, no one can hold him back.”
The head of the village said, “Try and keep him away.”
When the day came, Mama told Bronze, “Go to Grandma’s house and fetch the shoe patterns. I’d like to make another pair of shoes for Sunflower.”
“Now?” asked Bronze.
“Yes, now,” said Mama.
Bronze nodded and went to Grandma’s. Meanwhile, the head of the village was hurrying the city people along. “It’s time to be going,” he told them.
The white boat had been moored at the pier since it arrived. The engine started up and the boat moved along the river, closer to Sunflower’s house. While Baba took her things on board, Sunflower stood on the bank, clutching Mama’s hand. The entire village seemed to be standing at the riverside.