by Liu Zhenyun
We talked about what we’d just learned and concluded that Wang had the noblest motivation; we fell asleep after someone said we’d wake up to a new life.
2
The school was located in a town called Tapu, a name originating from a twisted brick tower on a hillock to the west of a village behind the town. The tower had seven tiers, but no roof, which, legend had it, was brushed off when a traveling immortal flicked his sleeve. The top of the tower afforded a nice vista, but no one was in the mood to go up for a look. Situated below the tower, the school had no wall and bordered a cornfield. To the west of the field was a creek. When the male students got up to relieve themselves at night, they irrigated the crops.
Our first class was language and literature. After the bell sounded a few times, the classroom quieted down. Haozi, who shared a desk with me, nudged me to draw my attention to his girlfriend, Yueyue, who sat in the second row. With a bow at the tip of her braid and a small, rosy face, she was definitely a pretty girl. He asked me to find a way for them to sit together. I nodded, as the teacher walked up to the rostrum. Ma Zhong, a man in his forties, had a long, gourd-shaped face. Everyone knew he was small-minded and had sarcastic tendencies. He didn’t say a word as he stood on the rostrum, scrutinizing each student below. When he spotted the ones who had failed the previous year, he pointed with his long face and said with an impassive grin:
“Good, excellent. You’re back. By not passing the exam last year, you’ve ensured my job another year. I hope you’ll continue to support me.”
He held his hands together in mock salute, and no one knew how to react to that. His sarcasm was directed at the younger students, but everyone suffered. Instead of starting the lesson right away, he told me to take attendance. Each time I called out a name, the student answered, “Here,” and Ma nodded. When that was over with, he concluded,
“You all have very nice names.”
Then he started, by writing on the blackboard “The Donkey of Qin.” To show off his knowledge of literature, Haozi said aloud, “The Donkey of Jin,” immediately getting a laugh from the class. I saw Yueyue blush, which was evidence that they were an item. Wang Quan piped up to say we don’t have a textbook or any review material, angering the teacher:
“Did you bring your nanny with you?”
When the classroom went quiet, Ma began reading the text in a drawn-out voice: “A busybody shipped a donkey in.” By the time he reached the part where the donkey fought a tiger, we heard snores from the back. Naturally, Ma stopped to trace the source of the sound; we followed him with our eyes to Mozhuo, who was fast asleep with his head on the concrete board. We thought Ma would blow his top again, but he just stood calmly in front of Mozhuo’s desk to watch, until Mozhuo woke up with a start and, like a frightened rabbit, stared red-eyed at the teacher, clearly embarrassed. Ma bent over and said in a soothing voice,
“Go ahead, sleep. Chairman Mao said that students are allowed to sleep if the teacher isn’t teaching well.” Then he straightened up and continued, “So you are free to sleep, and, of course, I’m free to stop teaching. I admit I’m not qualified to be your teacher, so I’ll stop. I’m off now.”
He returned to the rostrum, picked up his folder and textbook, and stormed off.
The classroom erupted: some jeered, some laughed and some complained about Mozhuo. Looking shamefaced, he explained that he never slept well the first three nights in a new place, so he was tired after a sleepless night.
“That’s just the beginning of your problems,” Haozi said. Someone jeered. I stood to keep order, but no one paid any attention.
That was when I noticed a girl who shared Yueyue’s desk. Instead of joining in with others, she was bent over her concrete board, studying diligently. She looked to be in her early twenties, with short hair and dressed in a red padded jacket with buttons down the middle. Like a meditating monk, she fixed her eyes on the book she was holding, softly reading the text. I was impressed—the only good student in a class of people who were croaking like toads.
Mozhuo was in the dumps at lunchtime. He took out a cold steamed corn muffin from his sack but didn’t finish it. That evening, back in the dorm, he threw himself down on his bedding and began to sob. I tried to comfort him, but he wouldn’t listen. Haozi, who was writing something next to him, groused, “Stop crying as if someone in your family has died. Damn you, I’m writing a love letter.”
That made it worse for Mozhuo, whose sobs turned into loud wails. I walked out after failing to get him to stop. With no destination in mind, I walked through the cornfield, until I reached the creek.
The setting sun hung precariously over the creek, in which the water was tinted a bloody red by the dying sunlight as it flowed along slowly. On the bank in a distance, a farm girl was raking grass. I was downcast when I thought about my situation; nearly twenty-seven, I was too old to be hanging out with these kids. And yet I had nothing to show for my life so far and couldn’t claim a future in this vast world. I could only sigh and turn back. The farm girl had gathered a large stack of dried grass by then. I was surprised when I looked closer, for it was none other than the girl who had been reading the text by herself. I walked over to greet her. She was short and stocky, on the heavy side, but her fair face had a rosy hue, not bad looking at all. I told her I was impressed by her in class earlier; she didn’t reply. So I asked her what she was doing with the grass. She blushed before telling me that her family was poor, her father was sickly and she had two younger brothers and one younger sister. She had to cut grass to sell in order to pay her tuition. I sighed and said life was hard. She looked at me and said, “It’s better now. We were much worse off before. I went with my father to Jiaozuo to get some coal when I was fifteen. It was just before New Year’s. We had a flat tire when we got to Jiazuo, and it was midnight by the time we found someone to fix the tire. We pulled the cart down the street, where people in the neighborhood were setting off firecrackers to welcome the new year. We felt terrible. Now I’m back in school, and I have to study hard so I won’t let him down.”
I nodded silently, as many things seemed to make sense all of a sudden.
Mozhuo was no longer crying when I returned to the dorm. He was quietly putting something together, while Haozi was humming a tune as he read the same filthy book by the kerosene light. I guessed he must have sent off his love letter. Wang Quan raced in to say he’d been looking all over for me. I asked him what was up. He said my father had come with some steamed buns but couldn’t wait to see me so he got on the road to return home that night. He handed me a sack. When I opened it, I was surprised to see some wheat rolls, which we only ate over New Year’s. A warm current coursed through my heart. Reminded of the girl by the creek, I asked Wang about her. He said he knew her. Her name was Li Ailian and she was from Guo Village. Her family was dirt poor and her father was a drunk; she’d fought with him three times before she could come to the review sessions. I nodded without saying anything but Haozi piped up, “What, does our banzhang have his eye on her? You have to act right away. Here, I’ll lend you this Complete Collection of Love Letters, so you can get a move on her. Seize the opportunity, pal. There’s no more after this, and you’ll never get anything so good—”
“Screw you!” I threw the sack at his head.
I’d obviously shocked everyone in the room, for even the dejected Mozhuo looked up at me, his tiny eyes staring in surprise.
3
Winter arrived. A cold wind blew in and out of the classroom and our dorm, so we were cold day and night, with no place to hide. As if that weren’t bad enough, snow fell and quickly turned everything icy, making it even colder. We were often awoken by the cold at night. Finally we decided to form two sleeping teams, rolling up two blankets together for two people to sleep under.
No fire burned in the classroom either. At night, we each lit a small oil lamp and slumped over our cement boards to review our lessons. The flames flickered each time a cold gust slipped in through cracks
in the wall. Sitting in rows, we tucked our hands into our sleeves as we read, our shadowy figures like those of temple demons. When I looked out the window, the black tower shook in the wind, seemingly on the verge of toppling over.
The flu arrived and began to spread, causing everyone to cough, and claiming the two younger students sitting in the front rows as its first victims. Spiking a high fever that had them spouting delirious speech, they were forced to withdraw and go home with their parents.
By then I was sharing a desk with Li Ailian, after Haozi had moved to sit with Yueyue. We got to know each other pretty well. I told her about life in the army, when I had to feed the pigs. She talked about how she had climbed elm trees as a kid. One morning she climbed eight elms to collect enough pods to cook a meal. Her mother was nice, but her father had a temper and liked to drink. He often hit them when he was drunk. Once, when her mother was pregnant, he kicked her and sent her rolling down a slope.
The food was really awful at the school. Most of us were from poor families, so we brought cold corn muffins from home, which we ate with a piece of pickled vegetable and cornmeal gruel that we bought in the galley. Anyone who could afford fifty fen could buy a bowl of cabbage soup, and that would count as a major dietary improvement. Haozi’s family was better off than the rest of us, so his parents often sent him some good food. But none of us was invited to share with him, only his girlfriend. Occasionally Wang and I would get a taste, but never Mozhuo, whom he didn’t like. At such moments, Mozhuo would sit stiffly to the side, a hungry, hurt look in his eyes. It was heartbreaking to see. He was never again caught dozing in class, and threw himself into his studies, which exhausted him so much he became visibly thinner and seemingly smaller.
Finally spring arrived and green buds sprouted on willow trees. When I was eating dinner in the classroom one day, Li Ailian quietly handed me a bowl. I looked down to see a few vegetable rolls made of fresh, tender willow leaves. After giving her a grateful look, I took a hasty bite; it was a rare delicacy. I could not bring myself to finish them all; instead, I saved one to give to Mozhuo behind everyone’s back. But he looked at me and shook his head; he would not take handouts.
Wang’s wife came to see him one day. A big woman with a shrewish look and a swarthy face, she started cursing him the moment she walked in, saying they had nothing to eat at home and that their children were crying from hunger. She wanted him to go home and do something.
“The three of us are suffering at home while you’re having a great time here. How nice for you.”
Without responding, Wang found a stick and drove her out. Like a couple of kids, they chased one another around the athletic field, until he finally got her to bound off. Everyone else was laughing at the sight, as he spun around and returned to the dorm.
Wang’s older child came the next day with a sack of steamed buns. He held the swarthy kid’s hand and sighed.
“You and Mama will have a better life when Papa passes the exam and becomes a big official.”
Something quite strange occurred. A red glow appeared on the face of Mozhuo, who had been reduced to skin and bones. One night he came in late, with an oily sheen on his lips. When I asked him where he’d been, he wouldn’t say and went straight to bed. After he fell asleep, Wang Quan and I figured the guy must have found a place to eat. Why else would his lips be greasy? But where did he get the money?
“He must have been stealing,” Haozi cut in. I glared at him and we all went quiet.
Eventually I found out. One night I returned to the dorm after a study session, but Mozhuo wasn’t there. So I stole out of the room to look for him. He was nowhere to be seen. Then I went to the toilet, where I saw a flickering flame behind the wall like a will-o’-the-wisp. Someone was sprawled on the ground. What the hell? It was Mozhuo. I tiptoed over and saw burning scraps of paper in which newly hatched cicadas were crawling. Mozhuo was licking his lips, his eyes fixed on the fire, as he tossed in more cicadas. The fire died out after a while, but it was unclear whether the cicadas were dead or cooked through. He picked them up one after the other and stuffed them into his mouth. He chewed noisily. It gave me a bad feeling, so I backed off, but made a noise as I did. Startled, he stopped chewing and turned to see who it was. When he realized it was me, the fearful look turned to embarrassment, as he stammered, “Want one, banzhang?” he stammered. “They’re delicious.”
I didn’t reply, nor did I take one, as a sadness welled up inside me. In the dim moonlight, he looked like a squat little animal. There were tears in my eyes as I went up and took his arm, as if he were my own brother.
“Let’s go back, Mozhuo.”
“Banzhang,” he pleaded tearfully. “Please don’t tell anyone else.”
“I won’t.”
The school finally offered us something better to eat when Labor Day came around. Stewed turnips with pork, fifty fen a portion. You can be poor all year round, but never skimp on holidays, as the saying goes. So everyone bought a bowl and was immediately slurping away; an occasional shout signaled that an extra piece of pork had been spotted in someone’s bowl. When I returned with my food to the classroom, I saw Li Ailian sitting alone at her desk with her head down. She must not have any money, I said to myself. So I took a few bites and pushed the bowl to her. She looked up at me; her eyes reddened when she took it. I was touched but sad, suddenly feeling protective and somehow noble. Tears welled up in my eyes as I spun around and left the room. She was gone when I returned that evening.
Something’s not right, I thought. I asked Wang to come out with me to see if he knew what was wrong. With a sigh, he said, “I heard her father is sick.”
“Serious?”
“Pretty bad, I heard.”
I raced back inside to borrow Haozi’s bicycle and rode off to her village after buying some pastries.
The family really was dirt poor, with three dilapidated, rammed-earth rooms under a thatched roof; the yard was pitch black, as was everywhere else, except for the central room. I saw movement inside when I called out “Li Ailian.” The curtain parted and she came out.
“Ah, it’s you!” She was surprised to see me.
“I heard your father was sick, so I came to see.”
I noticed a grateful look in her eyes.
A kerosene lamp on the wall gave off a dim yellow light to reveal a gaunt matchstick of a middle-aged man on a bed against the wall. Straw was strewn all over the bed, around which stood several sniffing children. At the head of the bed stood a middle-aged woman with a disheveled bun at the back of her head; Li Ailian’s mother. They all looked at me when I walked in.
“I’m a classmate of Li Ailian,” I explained. “At school, when we heard that Uncle Li was sick, they asked me to come see him.” I handed the pastries to her mother, who snapped out of her daze and offered me a seat.
“Ai-ya! You didn’t have to do that. And there was no need to bring such expensive treats.”
Her father sat up and coughed, while offering me the pipe on a table. I waved to say I wasn’t a smoker.
“This is our banzhang. A very nice person. He brought you this bowl of meat and vegetables.”
I spotted the half-finished bowl of food on the rickety bedside table. She hadn’t eaten it, but had brought it home for her father. My heart ached at the sight of her younger siblings staring greedily at the pork in the bowl.
After spending a bit more time there and finishing a bowl of water Ailian handed me, I learned about her father’s illness. It turned out that he had gotten drunk again, which brought on his usual stomach problems. I told him to take care of himself and stood to leave.
“I’ll head back now. Why don’t you spend the night at home and come back to school tomorrow?”
“You’re such a nice person.” Li’s mother took my hand. “We have nothing in the house. I just wish I could offer you something to eat.” She turned to her daughter. “Go back with him. There are enough of us here to take care of your father. Go back with the young ma
n, and be sure to work hard at your studies.”
The road on the dark night meandered like a serpent. I rode along with her on the back of the bicycle, but we couldn’t find anything to say to each other, until I realized that she was sobbing. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she pressed her face against my back and called out,
“Ge—”
A warm current filled my chest and my eyes began to well up. “Be careful. Don’t fall off,” I said, while silently vowing to myself that I must study hard and pass the exam this year to be a worthy “ge,” a big brother.
4
Only two months until the exam, we heard we’d also be tested on world geography. That was news to all of us, including our teachers, who had thought we only had to study Chinese geography. It threw everyone into a panic, for we were nearing the breaking point of our focus and energy. Wang Quan had been suffering from insomnia; Mozhuo suffered from headaches and his eyes glazed over each time he opened a textbook. Cursing the school for not getting it right, everyone complained about a crippling hardship. But the biggest problem facing us was the absence of review material for world geography. Everyone got into action searching for the materials, everyone but Haozi, who remained cheerful despite the chaos. We heard that his love life was thriving, like crops sprouting in the spring.