Without turning around she said, ‘Don’t stand there. Go. I want to write.’
She could feel he was still standing behind her but still she didn’t turn to look at him, and trembling, picked up her pen to write. After some time she sensed that he had gone, turned, and indeed found the room empty. She felt deflated. She had been convinced that he would stand a little longer, or perhaps keep standing there, forever. No, what was wrong with her? She’d forget him, yes, forget him, think of him no more. It would be easy. She already found it easy to speak to him in brutal tones. Whenever he looked back at her with those wretched eyes she was resolute and unmoved. But she was resentful. How could he do this? I only said those few words, and he’s run off?
Then she thought her behaviour disgraceful. She told herself off now. He’s good to you, afraid of making you angry, and you purposefully hurt him in such a cavalier manner, and worse of all, you only regret it now he’s run off? She scolded herself and pretended to go round the back to see if he really had left. She passed through the main room and kitchen on her way; he wasn’t in either. She listened carefully, but she couldn’t hear his voice. He really had gone. Dejected, she continued searching, desperate now to find him.
He was in the mill, turning it as Auntie fed it. As soon as she saw him, knew that he hadn’t left, the confusion fell away and distrust engulfed her again. Under her breath she cursed him as ‘a cheat’, turned, and went back to her room.
For the next few days she ignored him. He tried to find chances to speak to her and ask her what was going on, but she wouldn’t reply, until eventually she snapped, ‘Deep down you know your own actions, good or otherwise.’
‘I don’t understand,’ he pleaded. ‘Tell me, what exactly have I done?’
She ignored him, and went to her room to pretend to write. She knew he wouldn’t leave in anger, so she became impudent and was even colder with him, giving him no explanations. She let him sweat. For some reason this was her right, to torment him. Was it because she could? Or was it because he had taken advantage of her, that day on the mountain? Was she punishing him?
Chapter Eleven
By the time the Educational Reform Association was ready to return to Yichang, Jingqiu realised she still had the problem of how to get the walnuts home. She knew she didn’t want Lin to take them, still less Old Third. She couldn’t look to her group to help her as they were all carrying luggage – it was bad enough with your own stuff. Who would have the strength to help her carry a basket of walnuts?
‘Let Lin take them,’ Yumin suggested. ‘He rarely gets to go to Yichang, it’d be fun for him. If you want, we can ask my father-in-law to send Lin on a work trip. He can be sending off your group, and could even get work points from the brigade for it.’
Jingqiu thought this suggestion sounded even worse. Dragging Mr Zhang into it would make her into even more of the daughter-in-law.
It was only on the day before she was due to leave and Fang had returned from Yanjia River that Jingqiu was saved from her predicament. Fang would send the group off, but as she couldn’t carry the basket herself, Lin would come too to help in that capacity. Their primary task was to accompany the group to the city, and it just so happened they could also help with Jingqiu’s walnuts. Fang said she had long been wanting to go to Yichang, but she hadn’t had anyone to go with before. Now was her chance. Auntie and Yumin also had a few things they wanted Fang to buy in the city. Jingqiu couldn’t think of a better solution, and realising that this arrangement would be a good way of punishing Old Third, she agreed.
Lin was extremely excited, as was Auntie. She gathered together his best clothes and taught him all the appropriate etiquette she could think of for his trip away from home. She instructed him to call Jingqiu’s mother ‘teacher’, and not to stand around like a lump of wood. When eating he should chew carefully and swallow slowly, and not eat as if he’d just been let out of the workhouse. His walk should be light and his arms should swing gently by his side, and he shouldn’t ram into things. Each possible situation and potential event – no matter how big or small – was explained and re-clarified. It was as if she was dying to go in his place herself.
In the evening Old Third came to visit. The whole family was animated and nervous, adding the finishing touches to their preparations for Lin’s trip. Auntie and Yumin tipped the walnuts into a bag, and added some dried string beans, dried cabbage and dried salt vegetables as presents for Jingqiu’s family.
Jingqiu became more anxious as the preparations became more complex, far exceeding her expectations. She tried to explain that it was just brother and sister coming to visit Yichang, and to help bring the walnuts, but the others were acting as if Lin was preparing to leave home for the first time to meet his new parents-in-law. She wanted to stop the whole trip but she couldn’t get the words out; it was too difficult to turn down an offer made with such warmth, it would be like punching a smiling face, and how could she do that? Auntie hadn’t told Lin to call her mother ‘mother-in-law’, after all, but just ‘teacher’. And after living for so long with Auntie’s family, how could she refuse to let her son and daughter visit?
Old Third was lost and unsure as everyone busied themselves, his expression changing only when he heard that Lin was to go with Jingqiu to Yichang. He froze to the spot, still in the midst of the whirl of activity.
Jingqiu looked at him, and a certain sense of satisfaction at his distress came over her. If you’re allowed a fiancée, am I not allowed someone to lend me a hand? She had been regretting allowing Lin to bring the walnuts, afraid of the extra trouble it would cause, but now she could see the decision was an excellent one. It was the perfect form of retaliation.
‘Do you have an extra travelling bag?’ Yumin asked Old Third. ‘One that he can carry in his hand is fine. He won’t look presentable in the city without a bag.’
He hesitated, then said, ‘I have one I use when going away. I’ll bring it over.’ It was a long time before he returned with a couple of bags, and giving one to Lin said, ‘Can you carry it all on your own? If not, I can come tomorrow and help. I’ve got the day off.’
‘I can carry them, didn’t I bring that basket of walnuts back from my aunt’s house, after all? Not only can I carry the walnuts, I can also help them with their bags. You don’t need to come.’
Old Third glanced over towards Jingqiu, as if asking for an invitation. She dodged his gaze and returned to her room to collect her things. Old Third followed her in, asking: ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘No.’
‘Why did you ask Lin? If he goes, he’ll miss work. I’ve got the day off tomorrow – why don’t . . .’
‘Forget it, it’s too much bother.’
He stood to the side, mute, responding only after watching her trying to stuff her things into an army shoulder bag. ‘I brought a few bags with me, do you need one?’
‘No. I’ll go back with the same bag I arrived with.’
He continued to watch as she crossly squashed her things into the bag. ‘When you get back please tell your mother from me that I hope she gets better soon.’ After some moments of silence he added, ‘Tell me as soon as she’s finished the sugar and I’ll get some more.’
‘Thank you, but there’s no need.’
‘But your mother must get better as soon as possible!’
‘I know.’
After another period of silence he said, ‘Come back when you get the chance. Come see the hawthorn flowers in May or June.’
That first day, when we met, he invited me to come see the flowers then too. She had been certain she would return to see them, but now she didn’t know how to answer. Somehow, the hawthorn flowers had lost th
eir meaning. She was downcast at the thought of leaving this place, she didn’t want to go, even with this cheat standing before her. She looked at him, and saw the same sadness in his face, the face that once she said goodbye to she would never see again.
The two of them stood in silence, until she said, ‘If you stay here Fang won’t dare come in to go to bed. Go back.’
‘OK, I’m going.’ But he didn’t move. ‘You’re about to leave, and you still won’t tell me why you’re angry with me.’
She didn’t answer, her throat choked with rising sobs.
‘Have you . . . said yes?’ he asked.
‘Said yes to what?’
‘The thing with Lin.’
‘None of your business.’
Old Third paused to regain his composure. ‘When I went to get my bags just now I wrote you a letter, to make my feelings clear.’ He dropped the letter on her table, his eyes lingered on her, and then he left.
Jingqiu looked at the letter, which was folded into the shape of a dove. This must be a break-up letter because he wrote it when he knew Lin was coming with me. What else would he be saying? She didn’t have the courage to open it, but stared at it instead, hating him.
She also wanted to write him a letter, to have a go at him. She grabbed the letter, wanting to see what he had to say for himself. It was short:
Tomorrow you’re going and Lin is going to accompany you, so I won’t. You’ve made your decision, and I respect that, but I only hope it came from your heart. You’ve got real artistic talent, but you were born at the wrong time, and so cannot let it run free. Don’t underestimate yourself. You must believe, ‘If heaven made me I must be of use.’ One day, your talents will be recognised.
Your parents are the victims of injustice, which wasn’t their fault. You mustn’t think that you are inferior because of your background, they have never done anything that is worthy of condemnation. For thirty years the river flows east, for forty years the river flows west; those on the bottom rung today might well be on top tomorrow, so don’t denigrate yourself.
I know you don’t like me asking about your temporary work, but I still want to say that those tasks are too dangerous, so don’t do them. If something were to happen your mother would be even more upset. Physical strength is not there to be flaunted, and if you can’t lift something you shouldn’t force yourself to lift it; if you can’t pull a vehicle you shouldn’t pull it. Your body is capital for the revolution, if you wear it out, you won’t be able to achieve anything.
You ignore me, and I don’t blame you. You are intelligent and wise, and you must have your reasons, even if you won’t tell me what they are. I won’t force you, but if ever you want to tell me, then please do.
Getting to know you these past months has made me happy and fulfilled. You have helped me experience a kind of happiness I have never known before, and I treasure it. During this time, if I have done anything wrong, or anything to upset you, then I hope you will forgive me.
Chapter Twelve
Jingqiu and the Educational Reform Association left on Sunday at eight in the morning. At first Jingqiu was worried that the group would criticise her for bringing Fang and Lin with her, but in fact her teachers praised her for having integrated so well with the poor and lower peasants, citing it as evidence of the formation of deep proletarian feelings.
Lin was carrying the big bag of walnuts as well as Jingqiu’s personal effects, and Fang helped the other two girls carry their luggage. The atmosphere was boisterous as everyone chatted and laughed. Strangely, it did not seem the same endless mountain road of their initial journey to the village but perhaps having got to know the way and with their attention turned towards home, it felt like only a matter of moments before they arrived at the hawthorn tree. It was the end of April and it was yet to blossom.
Jingqiu was hot, and while everyone was taking a rest under the tree, she darted to one side to take off her jumper. As she was pulling it off she thought of the day she had walked here with Old Third. She looked over to the spot where he had stood that day. She gazed at it for a while, uncertain of the feeling that had swept over her.
Jingqiu returned home to discover her mother very unwell and lying, pale-faced, in bed. Her sister was balancing a curved length of wood on a large piece of stone outside the school canteen, attempting to chop it into kindling. The scene made Jingqiu’s heart hurt, and she rushed over to her, grabbed the axe from her sister’s hands and started to chop herself, instructing her sister to start cracking walnuts for their mother.
‘Brother, why don’t you help with the wood?’ Fang said to Lin. As if woken from a dream, Lin stepped forward, wrestled the axe from Jingqiu, and started chopping.
At that time everyone used coal to make their fires. Kindling was part of the planned economy, so each family only received a fifteen pound supply of wood every month which once used up was impossible to replenish. In order to cope, lots of families never put their fires out. At night, using thin shavings of coal, they banked up the fire, before stoking it with fresh piles of coal the next morning. Maybe they hadn’t looked after the fire properly yesterday and it went out. Last time Jingqiu had cut kindling she had made a large pile, but this was all gone now. Thankfully Jingqiu had now returned, otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to cook any food that evening.
Lin cut the family’s remaining firewood into kindling, and stacked it for later use. Fang laughed at the small pieces of wood Jingqiu’s family used to light their fire, each piece being around three inches long. At her house they stuffed whole branches into the stove. Lin heard Jingqiu say that her family only had three to five branches to use for the whole month, and so he promised to bring firewood from home next time.
They lit the fire, but for a long time it wouldn’t take, so using a fan Jingqiu flapped furiously at the flames. She hurried to get the food finished quickly so that Lin and Fang would have time for a walk around the city after the meal before taking the bus home. Fang wanted to help, but despite searching high and low she couldn’t find the kitchen cupboard, nor their chopping board. ‘Where’s the kitchenware?’
‘We don’t have any.’
They really didn’t have anything – they were destitute. Their table was an old school desk, students had sat on their stools, and their beds were made from school benches with planks of wood fixed across them. The sheets were clean, but patched. Bowls were stored in an old wash basin, and the chopping board was made from the top of a desk.
Lin huffed and puffed with shock. ‘How can you be poorer than us country people?’ Fang looked sharply at her brother in order to shut him up.
With great effort they had managed to cook a meal, and together they sat down to eat. The house was composed of an old school room divided in two, fourteen square metres in total. Her brother used to live in the outer room, while Jingqiu, her mother and sister had slept in the inner room. Ever since her brother had been sent to the countryside Jingqiu had slept in the outer room, where they also ate, and her mother and sister in the inner room.
As they were eating a gust of wind blew in, bringing with it flakes of what looked like black snow. ‘Damn it,’ Jingqiu exclaimed. She leapt up to fetch some newspaper to cover the food on the table and called to everyone to cover their bowls, but they had already received a sprinkling of the mysterious dust. Fang asked what it was, and Jingqiu replied that it was dust from roasting rice husks that had blown across from the canteen opposite. The chimney of No. 8 Middle School’s canteen was always spewing out these burnt husks, and as Jingqiu’s home didn’t have a ceiling, as soon as the wind picked up the husks would blow through the cracks between the roof tiles. Two families used to live next door, but finding the black snow unbearable, they had a
sked the school for new accommodation and had moved away. The school treated her mother differently, however, so they hadn’t been assigned a new place to live, and had to make do.
Jingqiu was distressed. She hadn’t planned to reveal all these details of her family’s poverty to Fang and Lin. But she was grateful for one thing: that Old Third hadn’t come instead. Were Old Third, who grew up in a cadre household, to see this he’d turn and run, wouldn’t he? That would be worse than just telling her to go to hell.
After they finished eating Jingqiu took her two guests into the city, but as it was nearly four o’clock they didn’t have time to go shopping. Instead they ran to the long-distance bus station and bought tickets for the last bus back to the county town. Jingqiu felt ashamed; they had wasted money on bus tickets only to help her deliver some walnuts to her mother.
Once back home, as Jingqiu put away her things, she made a surprise discovery: someone had put the money she had borrowed and given to Old Third into her army bag. In her mind, she sifted through everything that had happened after she gave him the money, but there had been no opportunity for him to put it there. Had he followed her today? If so, how could he possibly have put the money into her bag? She decided to pay the money she owed Mr Lee and Mr Chen tomorrow, while looking for a way to pay back Old Third. Finding a way of returning the money, of seeing Old Third again, was like covering live cinders in order to remake a fire, and that thought made her happy.
Again, her mind turned to Old Third’s letter and the poem he wrote in her notebook. She had to take care to hide them, for it would be bad enough for her mother to see them, and worry, let alone for anyone else to find them. She read over his letter a few more times, still unable to determine what type of letter it was. It wasn’t quite a summation, rather a sort of ‘looking back while looking forward’, saying that in the future they must ‘make persistent efforts’, that was to say, their ‘friendship will last for years’, or something like that. Like he’s putting a full stop on these last months, and deep down he’s saying ‘Those months were glorious, but they are now in the past.’
Under the Hawthorn Tree Page 10