by Keyi Sheng
When Xianxian celebrated her first month, Shui Qin made a public proclamation. In her eyes, a daughter was no different than a son. She would only give birth to this one child, so she would put her best efforts into raising it, including sending the little one into the city for school, where she could receive a good education. Xianxian was going to study at a renowned university. Perhaps she would even go abroad for her studies.
Shui Qin knew my father’s bias against girls, and it seemed her intention was to give him a deliberate warning, as well as to air the grievances of us Li girls.
My father immediately said, ‘No. This is not just your concern, and you will not have final say in the matter. You must think of the Li family. . . unless you’re saying you want to let the Li name die out.’
His words were heavy, but Shui Qin answered like a gentle breeze and rain. ‘Father, don’t talk about any “future generations.” Think back three generations – do you even know who those ancestors were? We don’t live for others. As long as we live this life well, that’s enough, and that’s all that matters. Furthermore, I am a woman, and I am also a human. I have my own plans for my life. I am not a child-bearing machine. I certainly don’t want to have my tubes tied, going under that knife for no good reason.’
My father, accustomed to having the last word, had never come across someone who reasoned with him. He did not know how to respond. The status of the parents had vanished into thin air before Shui Qin; they even seemed a little afraid of her.
Later, my mother told me how imposing Shui Qin had been. When I heard it, it sparked my interest in her. I was in Beijing studying journalism then, planning for a future as a reporter, since Xiazhi had said that the lack of law in the land made it impossible for a lawyer to help the innocent, but could only manage to set the guilty free. Shui Qin often asked me about university life, so we got along quite well, and our relationship gradually deepened. I never got involved in her conflict with my parents. Every wife was sure to have problems with her in-laws; there was no way anyone could help that.
Xianxian drank so much of her mother’s milk that her flesh was white as powder, and her eyes were bright and black. She loved to laugh. Most of the time she looked like a little cat. When she was awake, everyone fought for a chance to hold her. Even when outsiders held her, they didn’t want to put her down. My brother had to wait until she was asleep, then watch her sleeping in her crib.
My brother had good fortune. Perhaps he was finally getting a break.
The year her foetus was killed, my sister also died a little. She caught an infection after the tubal ligation, so had to make another visit to the hospital to have her wound cleaned and redo the stitches. Her whole body was in pain, and it effectively stopped any further interaction between sperm and egg. Since the Liu family had no hope of a male heir, they were inferior to others and so they spoke with less authority. They were even labelled as ‘sonless,’ as if their ancestral graves had been robbed. Zhima was initially so angry he could not sleep at night, thinking hard, pondering how he could come up with more vicious ways to retaliate. During the day he would join the crowds that formed around quarrelling and fighting opponents. Hearing them scold and observing their fighting moves, he eventually discovered that the worst curse that anyone could come up with was, May you die sonless. He also discovered that when fighting, the one without weapons was worse off than the one holding a lethal force.
Zhima learned a tactic. When he heard the word ‘sonless,’ he would threaten the opponent with a red brick. Over time, everyone came to know that Zhima was not to be provoked, so no one dared to use the phrase in front of him. At least that left his ears unsullied. In fact, he came to realise that his was not the only household that was ‘sonless,’ and he could look forward to comforting pleasures in the future. Just wait until his two pretty little girls, Yihua and Yicao, got married; good wine and cigarettes would flow in then. Happiness was just a matter of how one viewed life, so the ‘sonless’ Zhima felt free. He drank, played cards, and left his wife to work the farm like a beast, while he was at ease. In local terminology, he was ‘parting his beard to drink porridge, sitting idly waiting for his daughters to honour him.’
Zhima occasionally went out to conduct a little mosquito net business, but it was a mess. His mosquito nets were of poor quality and wore out easily. People could buy better, prettier ones, and so stopped buying from him. He had no choice but to give it up. One night, on the way home from playing cards, Zhima spotted clothing outside a house, and inspiration hit him. He had come up with a capital-free way to make money. All it required of him was that he sleep a little less at night and put forth a little more intelligence. At night, Zhima rode a bicycle, carrying a big basket behind him. As he drove around the village, if he saw clothes or linens, he picked them up. He even got the occasional electric rice cooker or water flask, or perhaps a wok, kitchen knife, or something of that sort. When he had accumulated enough goods, he piled them all on his three-wheeled bike, then rode to the neighbouring village, selling his wares at bargain prices.
The second-hand items were very popular. Women gathered around the three-wheeled bike to pick and choose. He often completely sold out within two or three hours, and the women would ask him to bring more items soon, perhaps mentioning that they really needed trousers for their children, men’s T-shirts, or a pressure cooker. Zhima took note of all these hand-picked goods, remembering to raise the prices on them when he got them in stock. When his route became familiar, the women would know Liu Zhima was coming as soon as they saw the bike. They would call cheerily as they flocked towards him, then look over his items, feeling grateful to him for enriching their material lives.
One woman, surnamed Cao, had a rather unusual coquettish energy. She pointed her fingers in a dramatic way at a house about a hundred metres away and asked Zhima to ride his bike to the terrace outside her house. She was cooking and was afraid the food would burn. Zhima stared at her vigorously swinging hips as she departed, and he knew he was in some real luck. He had run into many such situations when he sold mosquito nets. A young widow once asked him to carry the net into her room, then that happened. That widow had not even asked his name, but just undressed him. She finally bought a mosquito net she didn’t even need.
Zhima stopped the bike on the terrace. The woman, Ms Cao, called him to come into the house for a drink, saying that she was feeding the pigs and that the animals always fought. If she did not watch them closely they would make a mess of the food. Zhima went into the house. It was very dark inside, but he could see that there was nothing of value there. Black ropes, which had been smoked to season them for use, dangled from the roof beam, and the corners of the paper pasted on the wall drooped and were covered with black ash. The Cao woman brought out a bowl of cold tea. When Zhima took it, she curled her orchid-like finger around him and caught him in her grasp. Zhima put the bowl down and embraced her, thinking this was to be like the time with the widow. But the woman did not reach for his crotch. Instead, she reached into his pocket and removed his money, then pushed him away.
‘You crook! Trying to steal from a woman like this. If you don’t want my husband to break your legs. You’d better get out of here quick!’ The Cao woman took the money and put it into her own pocket.
All his sweat and hard work had been stolen by this woman. Swallowing his grievance in silence, he made a quiet retreat and never again returned to that place.
Yihua failed her high school entrance exams, falling just short of the score needed for admission. She was told that if she were to pay a sum of money, she could continue her studies, but Zhima was unwilling. The money he had borrowed the year his son was to be born was for the purpose of ensuring a successor in the family. It was a necessity. ‘Whether she studies or not is no fucking big deal,’ he said.
My sister’s dream of sending Yihua into town to study likewise went up in smoke. She still owed large sums to our uncle and Li Letian. That money was owed by her, so Zhima di
dn’t bother about it. All he cared about was drinking and leading a life of oblivion. From the time she was small, Yihua had been quite sensible. She never fussed about wanting to study, and when the other girls her age started to date, she also did not feel the sky had fallen in on her.
Yihua turned fifteen in the autumn, about the time a fishing net factory from the city came to recruit workers. Seven girls from the village applied, the oldest of whom was twenty and the youngest fourteen. Yihua was one of them. She said to Liu Yicao, ‘You study hard and I’ll pay for your school tuition.’
Zhima was very attentive at this point as he helped Yihua tie her quilt tightly and stuffed various items into her checkered plastic bag. Smiling, he walked Yihua to the vehicle, then the seven girls there, or rather nymphs, rumbled their way into the city in a tractor. The tractor, as if it were an invading military vehicle, kicked up dirt like flying war banners, and the pedestrians moved to give way to it. The girls laughed as they sat in the tractor, as if they could pull the excitement over a fresh start to life from the laughter, though it was a journey of only five or six miles to their new home.
Yihua was the prettiest of the seven girls. In fact, wherever she went, she was considered pretty. The other girls called her Black Beauty, and she was both truly dark and truly beautiful, her skin almost as dark as that of an Indian woman. Though it was the dream of all the girls in the village to have very pale, soft skin, Yihua was not of the same mind, which meant that she had a more uninhibited, wilder nature. She was never upset over a broken nail, nor would she spend time picking at a bunch of hairpins. She either left her hair down or pulled it back in a ponytail with a black band. She took little interest in what she wore, but however she dressed, she always looked like she had taken great pains over her appearance. She was quiet, preferring to make use of her eyes instead, observing things, as if the world was screened through them. She did not speak much, but expressed herself through action. For instance, if the food was no good, she would put down her chopsticks and leave, sitting on one side enduring her hunger. For any reality that could not be changed, she did not waste time talking about it. For example, the first important event in her life was dropping out of school. Of course, she did not really place a lot of importance in studies, but she resented her parents’ cold attitude and knew that she had to find her own path. So when an opportunity presented itself, she did not hesitate, and in fact felt it was too close to home and not exciting enough.
Yihua had inherited the hidden, suppressed part of my sister’s personality – the cold resolution my sister displayed when she prayed to the God of Earth about my father’s sudden death, and when she chewed the matchstick heads in the night. Liu Yihua did not think much of herself. She was already 1.65 meters tall, even though she was still developing and had not quite fully blossomed, like the undulating lines of the skyline that would soon be visible when the sun rose in the east. When she had been at the fish net factory for a while, several young men appeared around her, waiting for that sun to rise. The seven nymphs were in the habit of walking to and from work. They lived in a back street, and they had to go through an alley to reach it. The alley lay between the New Moon Bridal Shop on one side and a book rental shop on the other. The boss of the wedding photography shop wore glasses, while the book rental shop was watched by a wizened old man who always sat on a stool. The neighbourhood punks often took advantage of the time the factory shift ended to hang out in these two shops, waiting for their targets to appear. The girls had no idea that the gang of boys already covertly divided the spoils of conquest. Several had their eyes on Yihua, but they’d already resolved this conflict among themselves – they would abstain, leaving Yihua for the most prestigious among them.
The fellow she was left for was named Ma Liujia, but everyone called him Liuzi. Liuzi was from a good family, living in a Western-style building by the river. They had opened a fish net factory in the early days, and had raked in a fortune back then. But it had been closed for a while, partly because they were unable to recruit younger employees with all of them fleeing to Guangzhou, and also because of the later-opened fish net factories that led to poor sales. The fishermen had then also found other ways to earn money. In short, the industry had withered.
The first time Liuzi and his gang approached the seven nymphs, it was as if a shot had been fired into the trees, flushing out the birds. Only one bird was unmoved, Liu Yihua. She stood straight, looking at them. Under this gaze, several of them turned away or ducked their heads.
Liuzi kept his cool. He said, ‘You want to go for spicy crawfish and karaoke?’
Yihua said, ‘There are seven of us.’
Liuzi hesitated, then said, ‘You can bring along as many friends as you like.’
They bled Liuzi that day. It was the first time Yihua and the girls had eaten spicy crawfish, so they ordered plate after plate. All seven ate until their eyes bulged and they burped nonstop. When they got to the karaoke bar, they sat dumbly. Not having been exposed to such a setting, they stared at the screen with mouths gaping. Liuzi and the gang were shy at first, but after a few beers, they raised the mic and yelled and sang without a care in the world.
Yihua also learned to drink beer on this night. Eventually, she could quietly put away horny guys in a private room with her drinking capacity, but that came much later.
Yihua liked to sing Zhang Huimei’s songs, but she didn’t open her vocal chords. She was thinking about the lives of urbanites, and she thought of her sister Yicao. Yicao loved singing, and knew practically all the hits from Hong Kong and Taiwan. No one knew where she’d picked them up.
Later, when Liuzi asked her out for dinner and a movie, Yihua went alone. In fact, she knew nothing about romance but she thought that although Liuzi seemed like a bit of a ruffian, he actually wasn’t a bad guy. Liuzi asked about her family, and said that if she needed any help, she should just tell him. Yihua said, ‘My home is a bottomless pit. If you dumped a million banknotes into it, it would be of no help.’
Liuzi had been with many girls, but he’d never seen a flower with quite so many thorns as Yihua. Fortunately, he liked being pricked.
It was only when Liuzi asked her to go to his parents’ house for dinner that Yihua realised he was serious. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she went to the oldest of the seven nymphs, Liu Lihong, for advice. Lihong was robust and ruddy, and had a loud mouth. She said, ‘You’re in a hell of a lot of luck! Liuzi’s family’s got money, and they’re from the city. You’re climbing above your station.’
Yihua said, ‘The fall will be deadly for anyone who climbs high. I don’t even dare to climb a ladder.’
Lihong said, ‘Did you come to me looking for advice or looking for a quarrel?’
Yihua said, ‘I came to ask you to accompany me to dinner tomorrow.’
Lihong said, ‘What relative should I pretend to be?’
Yihua replied, ‘We’ve got the same surname. You could be my older sister.’
And so it was agreed.
Later Yihua told me that her first love was not Liuzi, but the bespectacled boss of the wedding photography shop, Dai Xinyue. She described this man to me in great detail, not leaving out the direction of his sideburns, the density of his eyebrows, nor even the shape of his fingerprints. From Yihua’s description, it was clear that Dai Xinyue was a gentle scholar, a somewhat gloomy character, unshaven, and looked as if he’d seen some setbacks in life. But in the eyes of the 15-year-old Yihua, this sad, lonely look was a sort of hidden splendour.
Inside the New Moon Bridal Shop hung many shabby clothes. Once the seven nymphs had taken their wages and gone there for photos. They chose their favourite designs, and Dai Xinyue gave them each a makeover. While taking Yihua’s pictures, Dai Xinyue had told her that it was best not to get too close to Liuzi. When she asked why, he said, ‘No reason. It’s up to you whether or not you want to listen.’
From then on, Yihua frequented the studio, slowly getting a clear picture of Dai Xinyue’
s profile. He had not been successful in the college entrance examination and had been married, but his wife ran away with someone else. This was nothing to Yihua. Later, Dai Xinyue asked Yihua to be his model for advertisements, so he took several photos of her and posted them in the shop windows. One evening after that, Dai Xinyue brought Yihua to the second floor of his studio. There, in his bedroom, he undressed her, and clumsily stuck a white towel under her lower body.
‘You want to check to see if there’s blood?’ Yihua sprung from the bed. Without waiting for his reply, she added, ‘I’ll tell you, I’m not a virgin.’
Then she got dressed and left.
But it was a lie. No man had ever touched her, but she thought Dai Xinyue’s action with the white towel was reprehensible. It disgusted her to think that a person could bother about such trivialities at a time like that. It was like changing a baby’s diaper. It was ugly, terrible, and suspicious. Yihua had always been quite childish, showing her temper when unhappy, then running away. At that moment, she didn’t care about the swollen appendage on Dai Xinyue’s lower body, a thing she had little knowledge of or interest in. All her emotions were focused on Dai Xinyue’s face.
Outside, she saw Liuzi in the dim light of the streetlamp. He sat on the curb, cigarette stubs all over the ground.
Liuzi saw Yihua come out. Without greeting her, he turned and left.
Early the next morning, as the seven nymphs made their way to work, they found that the windows of the New Moon Bridal Shop had been smashed, the shattered glass spattered onto the middle of the street, and torn wedding gowns strewn all over the floor. Standing at the empty windows looking in, they could see that the inside had also been ransacked.