‘What about Lin?’
‘Lin?’ he asked, surprised. ‘Isn’t he in West Village?’
‘Fang said her brother was in the hospital . . .’
‘Oh,’ he smiled, ‘I’m her brother too . . .’
Jingqiu’s heart missed a beat. ‘How are you her brother? She said her brother was ill, she didn’t say you were ill. You must be here looking after Lin? Aren’t you? Don’t joke around. Where’s Lin?’
‘You’re . . . here to see Lin? You wouldn’t come if it wasn’t Lin . . .’
‘You know I don’t mean it like that. Why did Fang say I didn’t want you? That’s why I thought she meant Lin, because she knows I didn’t want him.’
‘Oh. I wrote a few letters to you at the farm, but they were all sent back. I used Fang’s address, and they all went back to her, so she said you don’t want me any more.’
‘You wrote to me at the farm? Why didn’t I get a single letter? What address did you use?’
‘I wrote, Yichang No. 8 Middle School Farm, Fujia Plateau Production Team, Yanjia River Commune, Yiling. I also put your name on the envelope. All the letters came back with “Person unknown, return to sender” written on them.’
Jingqiu thought that it must have been Mr Zheng’s doing, because he was trying to set her up with Mr Quan. What despicable methods! But he wrote Fang’s name on the letters, so why would Mr Zheng have suspected they were from a boy? Could he tell that it was a boy’s writing? Or did he open the letters and read them?
‘What did you write in the letters? You didn’t write anything I should be worried about, did you? It must have been our Mr Zheng that did it, I’m worried he might have . . . opened them and read them.’
‘He can’t have. If he’d opened them I would have been able to tell.’
She was starting to be very angry with Mr Zheng. ‘Isn’t it against the law to go around secretly reading other people’s letters? I’m going to have a word with him when I get back, see if he really has the guts.’
‘Why would your teacher be interested in your letters? Does he . . . have those sorts of feelings for you?’
‘No way,’ she reassured him. ‘He’s old, and married. He’s acting on someone else’s behalf.’
‘The guy who drives the tractor?’
‘How do you know about the guy who drives the tractor?’ she asked, looking at him in surprise.
‘I saw you two together,’ he smiled, ‘in Yanjia River. It was raining and he lent you his raincoat.’
‘It’s not him, Mr Zheng hates him. It’s another teacher, the one who taught us volleyball. But don’t worry, I don’t like him. What were you doing in Yanjia River?’
‘The second unit is nearby, I often go there during our lunch break to wander around in the hope that I might bump into you.’
‘Have you been to our farm?’
He nodded. ‘I saw you once cooking, barefoot.’
‘The roof leaks in there. As soon as it rains the ground is mud soup for a week. Barefoot is the only way.’ Thinking this might worry him she added, ‘But it’s colder now, so I wear my rubber boots. Haven’t you seen me in them?’
He looked sad. ‘I haven’t been for a while.’
She was too scared to look at him. ‘What’s . . . wrong with you?’ She was extremely anxious, afraid that he would say the terrible word.
‘Nothing, just a cold.’
She exhaled slowly, but she didn’t quite believe him. ‘You’re in hospital for a cold?’
‘People do if it’s bad.’ He laughed quietly. ‘I’m a glass whistle, remember? I’m always getting colds. Are you going home or back to the farm? How long can you stay?’
‘I’m heading home, and I have to go now. A colleague is waiting for me, I need to collect money so we can buy rice.’ She saw the disappointed look on his face and promised to come back. ‘I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. I’ve got two days of holiday, so I can leave home a day early.’
His eyes filled with happiness. Then he began to worry. ‘Aren’t you worried your mother will find out? ’
‘She won’t find out.’ She wasn’t actually that sure, but she couldn’t worry about that too. ‘You won’t leave over the next few days, will you?’
‘I’ll wait for you here.’ He rushed back into the ward, grabbed a paper bag and stuffed it into her hands. ‘Such good timing, I bought it yesterday. See if you like it.’
She opened the bag and took a peek. Inside was a length of hawthorn-red corduroy with small black flowers embroidered on it. ‘This is my favourite colour and type of material, it’s like you read my mind.’
‘I knew you would like it,’ he said proudly. ‘When I saw it yesterday I had to buy it, but I never guessed that you would come the next day. You make something from it and let me see it when you next come.’
He walked her to the main entrance and saw Little Zhou and his tractor in the distance. ‘Your colleague is waiting, I’ll stay here so he doesn’t see me. What’s his name?’
‘He’s got the same name as you, but his last name is Zhou.’
‘As long as he doesn’t have the same fate too.’
‘What . . . do you mean by that?’ she stuttered.
‘Nothing. I’m just . . . jealous. I hope he’s not chasing you too.’
As they drove to Yichang, Old Third’s words echoed in her head, ‘As long as he doesn’t have the same fate too.’ He may have explained, but she still felt that it wasn’t jealousy he was talking about, but something else entirely.
Fang said that her brother had contracted a terminal illness, and it was true Old Third did not look too good. He was pale, but perhaps that was because he was wearing black. Yet he said that it was only a cold. Was it possible that, were he really terminally ill, he could be so calm and collected, as if nothing was wrong? And, if he was that ill, would the doctors tell him?
Fang must have been mistaken, or else she did it on purpose so that she would go visit Old Third. Fang thought that she didn’t want him any more, so maybe she came up with this story to trick her into visiting him at the hospital. But what had he meant?
Once they arrived in Yichang, Little Zhou stopped the tractor before a restaurant. ‘Let’s eat first, it’s better to wait until everyone’s home from work before going to collect money.’ She nodded, and gazed absent-mindedly as Little Zhou bought some food.
After they had finished eating, Little Zhou drove them to Jiangxin Island where he took them to each student’s home, one by one, to collect the money. He asked her to give him the piece of paper with their addresses, and he took charge of navigation. For her, it was as if she was floating in a dream; she followed Little Zhou in a daze, first here then there. When he told her to keep the accounts she did so, when he asked her to find change she did so. He spoke to the parents while she stood dumbly by his side. Eventually, Little Zhou took the paper and money bag from her and organised the whole thing by himself.
They worked until past nine o’clock, when they had more or less collected all the money. Little Zhou took her home. ‘I’ll come tomorrow morning and we can go and buy the rice. Don’t think about it too much, a county hospital can deal with leukaemia, pneumonia, whatever, right?’ This startled her. Can Little Zhou tell I’m worried about Old Third? She told herself she mustn’t look sad, in case her mother could tell.
Her mother was surprised but happy at her return, and hurried to make some food for her. But Jingqiu said she was not hungry, that she had already eaten. She took out the material Old Third had given her and started washing it first in cold water an
d then in hot in order to shrink it. Then she wrung it out and hung it up where the breeze could dry it quickly, so that she could make something from it as soon as possible.
Early the next morning Little Zhou came round early to collect her. Her mother was uneasy as she watched Jingqiu climb up on the tractor. Perhaps she was tempted to jump on too so that she could keep an eye on them. Jingqiu made a special effort to speak animatedly with Little Zhou because she was not afraid of her mother thinking there was something between them. In fact, the more she suspected the better. If her mother was taken up with worrying about Little Zhou she wouldn’t be suspicious when Jingqiu went to visit Old Third the next day.
Once they had bought the rice Little Zhou drove her back home and gave her the receipt to keep safe. Then he left to deliver the rice back to the farm. With the danger gone, Jingqiu’s mother relaxed and began to warn her daughter that she mustn’t, under any circumstances, have anything to do with this Little Zhou.
In the afternoon Jingqiu went to the school to report on their progress at the farm. She also went to the homes of Mr Jian and Miss Zhao in order to collect their private supplies of pickles. Once everything was taken care of, she went to Mrs Jiang’s house to borrow her sewing machine. She popped home in the evening for dinner before returning to Mrs Jiang’s house to carry on sewing.
Once she had finished she still couldn’t bring herself to leave, as if she still had some unfinished business, something she wanted to do but didn’t dare. After a great deal of thought it occurred to her that she wanted to ask Dr Cheng about this leukaemia business. She crept up to his bedroom, the door was open, and she could see Mrs Jiang sitting reading, and Dr Cheng playing with their son on the bed.
‘Jingqiu, have you finished sewing?’ Mrs Jiang asked on seeing her.
Jingqiu nodded blankly, and then plucked up the courage to ask, ‘Dr Cheng, have you ever heard of leukaemia?’
Dr Cheng gave their son to Mrs Jiang and moved to the side of the bed to talk to her. ‘Who’s got leukaemia?’
‘A close friend.’
‘Where were they diagnosed?’
‘At Yiling hospital.’
‘That hospital is very small, they might not have made the correct diagnosis.’ Dr Cheng asked her to sit down, and reassured her, ‘Don’t worry, wait and see what it really is.’
Jingqiu couldn’t explain, all she knew was what Fang had said. ‘I don’t know for sure what it is either, I just want to know if a young person can get . . . that kind of disease?’
‘Most people who get it are young, usually teenagers or those in their twenties, and perhaps young men more than women.’
‘If . . . you get it . . . does that mean you’ll definitely . . . die?’
‘Fatalities are . . . rather high,’ Dr Cheng said, choosing his words with care. ‘But didn’t you say they were examined at the county hospital? The county hospital is badly equipped, they are very constrained. Your friend should get themselves to the city or provincial hospital as soon as possible. You shouldn’t worry yourself sick over an inconclusive diagnosis.’
‘Didn’t that happen at our school?’ Mrs Jiang joined in. ‘The hospital said this boy had cancer and scared him half to death, and in the end it wasn’t. When it comes to these sorts of situations you won’t find three hospitals that give the same diagnosis, you just can’t trust them.’
Jingqiu sat in silence while Mrs Jiang and Dr Cheng continued to give examples of misdiagnoses, but she couldn’t see that they had any relevance to her situation. ‘If he really does have it, how long has he got?’
Dr Cheng bit his lips together nervously, as if afraid that the answer would fly out of the side of his mouth. She asked again and he replied, ‘Didn’t you say that he’s only been to the county hospital?’
Jingqiu was so anxious she had to fight back the tears. ‘I’m asking “if”. If . . . if . . .’
‘That depends . . . I . . . can’t say how long exactly, it might be six months, it could be longer.’
Jingqiu got back home and started packing her things until she realised that it was already evening and there would be no buses to Yichang County until tomorrow. She lay on her bed and did what she did best: she prepared for the worst. As she didn’t know whether it was the county hospital that had diagnosed him, her thoughts alternated between peaks of optimism and the deepest depths of despair. Such wild ups and downs were the most painful of all.
Now, if he had not been diagnosed by the county hospital, what would that mean? That he really did have leukaemia. If that was the case, then he would not have long to live. But how long was not long? When she was fourteen or so her mother had had an operation to remove a tumour from her uterus, and Jingqiu had looked after her. There had been a woman with late-stage ovarian cancer in the same ward who everybody called Granny Cao. She was as thin as a ghost, and spent most nights groaning in pain, so that no one else on the ward was able to sleep.
Then one day, Granny Cao’s family came to take her home, and beaming with joy, she left. Jingqiu had envied her on her mother’s behalf, thinking that Granny Cao was the first on the ward to be cured and allowed to leave. Only later did she hear from another patient that Granny Cao had been ‘sent home to die’.
Old Third was still in hospital, so you could say he was being ‘kept to live’. If he was discharged then she would ask her mother if he could come and stay with them. Her mother did like Old Third after all, she was only afraid of what others might say, or that his family would not approve the match. But if people knew that Old Third only had three months to live then surely there’d be nothing for them to say, it wouldn’t matter if his family didn’t approve, and nothing could possibly happen between them, so her mother could not be worried.
She wanted to be with him, feed him whatever he wanted, let him wear whatever he wanted, take him wherever he wanted to go. The money that he had left for her last time amounted to nearly four hundred yuan, which was the equivalent of one year’s wages. She had yet to use a cent, so it should be enough to satisfy his every desire.
She would wait until he had died, and then she would follow him. She knew that her death would devastate her mother, but if she carried on living she would only suffer, and that would be even worse for her mother. She would wait three months in this world with Old Third, and then accompany him to the next, where they could be together forever. It didn’t matter where they were, as long as they were together.
This had to be the worst case, that Old Third only had three months to live. If he had six months left, then they would gain three months in this world. Or if the hospital had made a mistake, a whole lifetime. Thinking it through like this made Jingqiu feel calmer, like a general before a battle planning every attack and retreat. There was nothing to worry about.
The next day she got up even earlier than usual and told her mother that she had to return to the farm. Her mother was surprised, but Jingqiu stood her ground and said that that was how things were organised, she had only been sent to collect the money and then return the following day. ‘If you don’t believe me, ask Mr Zheng.’
‘How could I not believe you?’ her mother said. ‘I just thought . . . you’d stay another day.’
Jingqiu went to the bus station and bought a ticket. Then she went to the toilets and changed into her new outfit. She guessed that Old Third would be waiting for her at the bus station because she had told him when she was returning, so it would be better to change now. That way, when he caught his first glimpse of her, she would be wearing the clothes she had made from the material he had given her. She wanted to do everything in her power to please him, whether that meant letting him see her in her clothes or out of them.
Chapter T
hirty-Two
Old Third was waiting at the station, just as she had expected, wearing his black woollen clothes, with an army jacket draped over his shoulders. If she hadn’t known that he was sick she would never have guessed that he was dying. She was definitely not going to bring it up, to say that word. She would pretend she didn’t know, so as not to break his heart.
He ran up to her, took her bag and said, ‘You’re wearing it! How beautiful, you work so fast.’
She hadn’t meant to let him take her bag in case it tired him out, but she realised that if she refused she would be treating him differently, like an invalid. They walked close, side by side. As they were passing a shop he pointed to her reflection in the window. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said.
What she saw was the two of them. He was leaning in towards her, looking young and healthy, smiling broadly. People said that if you saw a skull floating above someone’s reflection in a window that meant they were about to die. She looked carefully, but there was no skull above Old Third’s head. She turned to look at him: he really did look young and full of life. Maybe the doctors at the county hospital were wrong. It’s only a tiny hospital, did they know leukaemia from pneumonia?
‘Are you going back to the farm tomorrow?’ She nodded. ‘Then you can stay tonight?’
She nodded again. ‘I had a feeling that you might, so I asked Nurse Gao if I could borrow her bedroom. You can sleep there.’ He took her to the town’s largest department store and bought a towel, toothbrush and plastic wash bowl, as if she was moving in permanently. They then went to buy some fruit and snacks. She didn’t try to restrain him, but let him shop to his heart’s content.
‘Let’s take these things back to the hospital first,’ he said, after they had finished their shopping spree, ‘and then I’ll take you wherever you want. Do you want to see a film?’
Under the Hawthorn Tree Page 29