by R Yang
Mother had changed even more. In the past, everybody said that she looked ten years younger than her age. Slim figure. Upright posture. Permed hair. Rosy cheeks. Elegant dresses matched by carefully selected accessories ... All these were gone now. In three years, Mother had become what everyone would call a "yellow-faced crone." At the age of forty-five, she looked as if she were in her late fifties. Her back was bent and she walked with a limp. Her face looked swollen. Her lips were purple ... I was shocked to see Mother like this.
"What has caused her to change so much over this relatively short period of time?" I could not ask this question, knowing if I did, Mother would be offended. Yet it was on my mind and I kept guessing at it: her high blood pressure, irregular menstruation, a recent operation (to remove a tumor from her leg), sprained ankles ... Maybe there are other illnesses that don't get diagnosed, as there's no doctor in the village? Maybe the farmwork is too hard for her- but the way she is, would she ever admit it? Maybe it's something else? What about the strain caused by the separation of our family?
Trying to cope with the financial strain caused by moving and the family living at three different places, Mother had sold her few pieces of jewelry. The last piece she sold was her diamond wedding ring. Aunty knew and told me about this, because she had been hiding these for my mother since the beginning of the Cultural Revolution. The ring was sold for only one hundred yuan at a secondhand store. "A robbery price!" cried an indignant Aunty. But Mother sold it anyway, because she had received a letter from me in which I asked for a sheepskin coat.
Mother never mentioned the wedding ring to me in her letter, but she described in detail how she got the coat. The night before, she went to Aunty's home and slept on a few chairs. The next morning, she got up at five and took the first bus to Renmin Shangchang (people's department store) downtown. She arrived there shortly after six. Some people were already waiting outside the gate. Standing in line, Mother prayed that the store would carry a few sheepskin coats on that day and also that those who were ahead of her were trying to buy something else. For in 1968, hundreds of thousands of educated youths had gone from Beijing to the northeast, northwest, and Inner Mongolia. These were all very cold places. Suddenly everybody needed a coat, the heavier the better. As a result, sheepskin coats were sold out in Beijing.
After seven o'clock, more people arrived. The line broke up. All pressed their bodies toward the gate like sardines. At eight, the gate opened. Mother raced with others toward the back of the store where coats were sold. As she approached the section, she saw a few sheepskin coats hanging on the rack. Great! Mother rushed toward them, grabbed one that looked the heaviest, and embraced it with both arms. Others did the same. They were parents too. Each embracing a coat as if this were their beloved child who was shivering in the cold wind hundreds of miles away. After that Mother gladly put down the money, about eighty-five yuan, and returned like a general who had won a decisive battle.
If Mother had worried about me in 1968, later she worried about Lian and Yue even more. But at the May Seventh Cadre school where she and Father were "studying," the rule was very strict: no one was allowed to leave the village, unless a family member elsewhere had died. Thus Mother was unable to return and see her own father before he died in 1970.
I heard my maternal grandmother blame Mother. I visited her in Beijing after I came back from the village. "How could she be so heartless? You know how much your grandfather loved her. She was a pearl on his palm! He sent her to Zhongxi, the most expensive middle school in Shanghai, and then to Yanjing, the best university in China. He gave up his career and retired early when his company moved out to Hong Kong in 1949, only because your mother said he should stay. After that we moved from Shanghai to Beijing just to be near her. But when he was dying, he waited for your mother to come so he could see her for the last time. One telegram. Two telegrams. Three! Your mother never showed up! Did she want to draw a clear line between her and us? She is a Party member, a cadre, and we were capitalists? When your grandfather died, his eyes were open ... "
For two hours she went on and on, sobbing from time to time. I listened quietly, after I told her about the rule that did not make sense to her. I knew how lonely she was after my grandfather died. I was sympathetic. But still I could not love her. I could not forget that twenty years earlier she had tried to talk Nainai into dismissing Aunty to let a professional nurse from Shanghai take care of me. For that, both Aunty and I bore her a grudge. I forgave her only after she died two years later.
Nainai, on the other hand, was my savior! Because of her decision, Aunty stayed and the Shanghai nurse went back home. Nainai, I heard from Father, was still alive and she lived at the same address. In fact, I had promised Father, who could not leave the village either, that I would visit Nainai before I returned to the northeast. To tell the truth, I also missed Nainai. I had not seen her since the Cultural Revolution broke out.
Aunty was truly glad when she heard of my promise. She got herself busy immediately: cooked lotus-leaf pork and three-cup chicken, which were Nainai's favorite, bought pastry and fresh fruit. "Go see your Nainai! Go this afternoon and give her my best regards!" Aunty was still devoted to Nainai. No political campaign could change that. After she packed everything into a big basket, she almost pushed me out of her home. Thus an hour later, I stood at the gate of the compound where I grew up.
The gray brick wall looked familiar. The street number was still the same. I pushed the wooden doors open from the middle. The creaky sound rang an ancient bell. But once I was inside, I knew that nothing was the same in this compound.
The first courtyard was now extremely crowded. Three families had taken over the two bungalows that faced each other. Coal stoves, wash basins, diapers ... Kids were running in the yard. Adults watched me with suspicion. I had become a stranger here. I was an intruder.
The second courtyard, once a beautiful garden, stung me in the eye with its ugliness. The white lilac tree and winter jasmine had disap peared. Nainai's tree peonies and Third Aunt's roses were gone. In their places stood makeshift shacks, built with broken bricks and asphalt felt. I could not tell if they were kitchens or storehouses.
A family of five was now living in Nainai's room. "Where did you move the old lady who used to live here?" I bit the question back, however, when I saw the unmistakable hostility of these people toward me. Better not provoke the revolutionary masses here. Once I set foot in this compound, I am the granddaughter of a big capitalist. A head shorter than everybody else. Perhaps that's why I haven't been back these five years? Thus thinking, I lowered my eyes, walked around them, and knocked on the door of Third Aunt's room.
Third Aunt looked frightened when she opened the door. Perhaps I had knocked too impatiently. Seeing it was only me, she heaved a sigh of relief and let me in. After we sat down, however, I realized that we simply could not talk in this room. The wall between this and the adjoining room, once Nainai's, was a work of art. It was elaborately carved through at many places. As a result, it was no thicker than a piece of rice paper and every word we said here would be overheard by those who lived next door.
So I simply told Third Aunt that I came to see Nainai but did not know where she was. Hearing this, Third Aunt stood up and gestured me to follow her. She took me to the storeroom, which was portioned out from our old dining room along the northern wall. On the way, she told me that because of serious diabetes, Nainai had been pretty much confined to bed these five years. Then we were at the door. Third Aunt opened it for me. I walked in. She left, closing the door gently behind her.
At first, all I could make out was a flickering candle. It made me realize that the room had no windows, and there was no lamp. When my eyes got used to the dimness, I saw Nainai. Half sitting and half lying against some pillows, she was watching me. Our eyes met. The trace of a smile lit up her face. That familiar old smile of hers!
"Nainai!"
"Little Rae. So you come. I knew you would come. Today."
"Nainai. How have you been?"
"Fine. Fine. I am all right."
But everything I saw in this room told me the contrary! The room was narrow and small. A black iron stove stood in the middle of it. The stovepipes should have been removed when spring came. But here they remained when summer was almost over. Seeing the dead stove, I felt a chill and realized that the room was damp and cold even in August. It was stuffy and smelly too. A chamberpot stood next to Nainai's bed. During the day no one was here to clean it. Third Aunt was at work. On a small table near the head of Nainai's bed stood a candle and a few steamed buns. So that was how she had her meals. Warmed up the cold buns over the candle, ate them with no vegetable, no soup, no tea. Not even a glass of hot water was available to her as far as I could see!
So for five years, they put my dear old Nainai in this rat hole! Buried alive! No day. No night. No summer. No winter. She was bedridden with diabetes. Most of the time, no one is here to help her. No one to talk to. Father and Second Uncle cannot come. One is an old revolutionary; the other a counterrevolutionary. Neither is allowed to leave the village where he was sent. Third Aunt is here. Thank heaven and thank earth! But she is a doctor, and the neighbors are so hostile. She cannot come but once or twice a day. And me? I could have come. I should have come! But I was so busy making revolution that I forgot I had a Nainai! All these years I never tried to find out what happened to her!
As if she could read my mind, Nainai said: "Rae. Listen. I've got everything I need. Don't be hard on yourself. See. Here's the People's Daily. I read it every day. And the rest of the time, I have this atlas. So I can look at the maps. Especially this one. This is Hunan. I grew up there. It was a beautiful place. The rivers Xiang and Yuan were pink with petals in spring. In summer, bamboos on the riverbanks were so green that the color dripped into the water. It was actually the tears of two women, Ehuang and Nuying, which dripped from the mottled bamboos.
"These women were the daughters of a wise king. They both married a great man named Shun. When he died in the south, Ehuang and Nuying cried before they threw themselves into Xiang River. Afterwards they became goddesses and the bamboos stained by their tears became mottled. Death is eternal life. Life is dying. The goddesses are dancing on the peach blossoms; they fly and twirl with the fallen leaves. When finally I am free, I'll join them on the misty Xiang River ... "
"Nainai! What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Hunan. The shamans there had great power! One used to favor me. So she came and worked as my nanny for five years. At night, after others were asleep, she taught me how to open my wisdom eye so I could see things that happened far away and long ago. I practiced with her. I made progress. Then I came back to Beijing and got married. I had children. I was not in the right mood and I stopped practicing. The light in my wisdom eye went out. But nowadays I've got the power back!
"Come here. Look. Everyone has a wisdom eye. It's right here, in the middle of your forehead. This eye is upright, unlike your other eyes that are lying down. Take a deep breath. Let the qi go slowly down to your cinnabar field. Close your eyes. Now can you feel it?"
It seemed that I felt something indeed! A small ball of fire was burning inside my forehead. A flicking light shone in the dark. Maybe it is just my weird imagination? So what? For so many years I have been a terrible granddaughter! This is probably my last chance to mend my ways and be good to Nainai. So today I will do anything she wishes me to do. No questions asked.
"Good. You are getting there. Someday the power will be yours. So tell your father he needn't come. I can see him. I am with him day and night. I am with your Second Uncle too, and Little Ox, Little Dragon, Lian, Yue, and you. Especially you!
"Not only did I see you in the northeast, I could see you in your previous life also. In that life you were not a woman. You were a man, an extraordinary one. Your father taught you kung fu when you were a little boy. At the age of seven you began to learn strategy and tactics from a great master. Seven or eight years later you fought in real battles and distinguished yourself. When you turned twenty, you were already a general. Oh, no, I can't say I liked you very much in your previous life. A red-tasselled spear in your right hand, a short sword in your left, you were a furious whirlwind on the battlefield, cutting open bloody paths. Whoever stood in your way was dead in an instant.
"Yet I can't blame you. You were a loyal subject and an upright man. You cared about your soldiers, not gold and silver. You were brave and smart, even though you were illiterate. Yes! You were illiterate in your previous life! That's why you always make mistakes when you write characters. At the age of twenty-five, the emperor made you a noble and built a palace for you. You brought glory to your ancestors and wealth to your clan. Two years later, however, you were forced to kill yourself.
"In that battle your forces were greatly outnumbered. The enemy laid siege to your city. You held the city for forty-nine days, waiting for reinforcements. In the end, you had neither food nor arrows left. Most of your soldiers and male civilians had died on the city wall. Finally the gates were stormed open. Fire engulfed half the city. Smoke darkened the sky. Your soldiers were still fighting in the streets. But you knew this was the end.
"Protected by a few bodyguards, you rushed back to your palace, a short sword in hand. The sword was a priceless treasure left to you by your ancestors. Your wives came out to meet you. Seeing you appear with the sword, they thought you were going to kill them, as tradition demanded. But you said: `Don't fear. I won't hurt you. Run or hide. Follow other men. I won't blame you. But hurry! The city's fallen. The enemy could be here any moment!' Saying this, you turned the sword and plunged it into your own chest."
At that instant, excruciating pain shot through my heart, as if a sharp sword pierced it. The metal was as cold as ice and yet it was hot. As it went in all the way to the handle, it set every cell of my body on fire. The sky turned yellow and the earth went black. Red blood? Green blood? The sword drank it like a hungry serpent ...
Nainai nodded her head with a knowing smile. "The name of the sword was Yin Bi [drink green]. It was made for you, hundreds of years ago. It was your destiny! After you died, the sword would leave the world.
"Now let me tell you what happened after you died. Your wives did not run away. They loved you and your death broke their hearts. They threw your body into a well that was nearby, so that it would not be seized and mutilated by your enemy. The sword went down with you to the bottom of the well. By this time, your palace was surrounded. It was burning. Your wives jumped into the well. Then a building collapsed over it. The well became your grave. As a result, in this life whenever you go near a well, you have an eerie feeling. You can't help peering into it, for you sense something there at the bottom. Yet in the meantime it horrifies you and you want to run away from it."
This is exactly true! How does Nainai know it? Is there really a mysterious blood tie between us so that she can get into my mind and I into hers? For I suddenly "remembered" the well in "my palace." The mouth of it was a hexagon, made of six dark blue stone slabs. The water at the bottom was clear and deep. Nearby several cassia trees were in full bloom. A gust of wind. Tiny gold flowers fell like a fragrant shower. On my face and my body. On the pool of blood. "Loyal subject and heroic man left a fragrance for ten thousand years."
I also "remembered" the heart-piercing remorse I felt while I was dying. The moment seemed as long as a lifetime. "Ten thousand years?" By then who will remember me and who cares how I died? In a moment, however, I will be no more. Buried under the nine springs. Never to see the sun again. Or feel the wind blow. The only thing I have-this body, this life-I've given it up for fame and positions. How stupid! I don't want to die! I'm still young. My body is filled with life and energy ... Now my strength is draining away. My body is dying. Dying by my own hand! I had to do it! Now I understand how horrible it is to be killed and how horrible to kill others. But now when I understand this, all is too late! Heaven. I deserve
your anger and punishment. I accept my fate. In my next life, please make me into a woman so I won't have to kill or be killed. I want to live. In peace. I want to learn to read books and love people.
"Now you are beginning to remember," Nainai said. "Good. But don't carry it too far, or else it will hurt you. People are much better off if they can forget certain things. Because of your remorse, Heaven took pity on you. Your dying wishes were granted. As a woman, you are actually stronger than men. Do you know? It has always been that way in our Manchu families. I took care of my father and brother in the past. You will take care of yours in the future. You will help your Second Uncle too. Someday your wings will grow strong and they will carry you over great mountains and vast oceans. You will be free too."
I smiled at Nainai in spite of myself. A confident smile shining from the bottom of my heart. Nainai was smiling too. Her eyes were full of love and wisdom. Her face was pale, yet not pale. It was half transparent and half luminous. In my eyes, she was a jade bodhisattva, sitting in a dark cave. This was my last impression of Nainai.
When I came out of Nainai's room, however, I began to feel bad again. Third Aunt suggested we go to Beihai Park. There at least we could sit on a bench and talk quietly, while the crowd passed us by.
"Now you have seen it," Third Aunt said, watching my eyes, "your Nainai's head is messed up. I haven't told your father and Second Uncle about this. They can't come anyway. I will be with her when the end comes. It won't be long, judging from the level of her blood sugar and the condition of her heart and kidneys."
After a short pause, she continued: "Sometimes I wish things were all over with her. For five years, loneliness and this disease were the only things she had. Five months like that would drive me crazy! The neighbors never helped. Not only that, once an old servant of ours sent her daughter here to help Nainai and the neighbors reported them to their neighborhood committee! After that she did not dare come anymore. Those neighbors wanted your Nainai to die! You know. She made them feel guilty. Because she is the owner of this house. And they threw her out and moved in without her consent. Six families altogether. Class struggle was only an excuse."