by Lin Zhe
Enchun couldn’t bear to watch any more of this scene. He gritted his teeth and, extricating himself from the crowd of beggars with difficulty, walked away. Every day he wanted to bring a little more food, but things were very tight at home. His father always relied on the congregants’ donations to live, but these days they all were having a hard time too. Sometimes what he received in a whole month wouldn’t even buy a few jin of hulled rice. One day there really was nothing at all in the cooking pot. His mother sat in front of the organ and prayed: O Lord, we have nothing to eat now. Our family of three can only boil water to drink. Even so, our faith will not waver. We know that you see us from heaven and that you will not forsake us.
Just then by chance Baohua ran over to ask about something in arithmetic. When she saw there were only three glasses of water on the table, she turned right around and ran back home, a place across from the church the Lins had now rented after the war. A little while later, Baohua returned with a huge “sea” bowl of hulled rice. Mrs. Chen was beside herself with happiness and, her eyes brimming with tears, sang a hymn as she played the organ. She gave thanks to Jesus the Lord for hearing her prayers and sending Baohua over with the rice. Enchun felt pity and sadness for his mother.
He walked with his head down, avoiding the stares of the beggars who came at him for food. Suddenly, someone patted his shoulder. It was the math professor, Teacher Zhao. Teacher Zhao was just the person he wanted most to see today.
“Good morning, Teacher Zhao.”
“You feel bad about not being able to help more people, am I right?”
Enchun nodded.
Teacher Zhao was from Beiping. Enchun’s family came from there too, and Pastor Chen and his wife had once paid a call on this fellow from their hometown. They invited him to hear the pastor preach the Word at the church, hoping that the teacher could receive Jesus’ saving grace. The teacher and his student had become quite close from this time on, and Enchun also became the head of the study group that Teacher Zhao had launched. This little group professed to be tutoring in mathematics, and math books and workbooks were displayed on the table, but what Teacher Zhao talked about was the Soviet Revolution, communism, and the leader of all those making “an about-face for liberation” in North China, Mao Zedong. Teacher Zhao had never said he himself was a communist, but Enchun believed he was. It was said that over the past two years, not a few of the people taken to be shot on that piece of barren land outside of West Gate were communists. Clearly, the Communist Party was in Old Town. Eighteen-year-old Enchun made a big decision: he was going to join the Communist Party. If he couldn’t find the party in Old Town, he would leave home and go up north to look for it. Today he wanted to tell Teacher Zhao of his decision.
As they walked into the school grounds, Enchun stopped and with a grim look on his face said, “Teacher Zhao, today is my eighteenth birthday.”
Teacher Zhao warmly shook his hand. “Happy birthday! Let me invite you to lunch.”
“Teacher Zhao, I couldn’t sleep all last night. I have made a decision that involves the rest of my life.”
“Oh?”
“Please introduce me into the Communist Party.”
“I…Let me think about how to do this. I have a friend who may be a communist.”
“This society is like a boat lost in the darkness and it could run aground and sink at any moment. I can’t wait any longer!”
“You know it’s very dangerous. You could be caught and shot at any time.”
“Rather than being tormented in all this darkness, I would prefer to die opposing it. Teacher Zhao, if you can’t help me, in ten days I’m going to disappear from this sealed jar of a little town.
“You can’t go, Enchun. Old Town needs young people like you who are attracted to the light.”
Around dusk, Enchun met again with Teacher Zhao. Teacher Zhao said that he had now been with that “friend” and the “friend” had agreed to accept his application. So from this day on, Enchun was a probationary Party member.
Evening at Winter Solstice comes early. The teacher and the student strolled about Little West Lake. Neither could see the other’s face clearly, but at this moment Enchun felt a ray of light come pouring out of the clouds and enveloping him fully. He saw his own heart throbbing in the light.
Today, Pastor and Mrs. Chen wanted to give their eighteen-year-old son to the embrace of Jesus. They had completed the preparations for Enchun’s baptism, and in the very center of the church was a big wooden barrel filled to the brim with clear water on which had been sprinkled flower petals. Naturally they couldn’t do without all five of Dr. Lin’s family to share in the blessings and happiness. Enchun was very close to the three Lin children and after today they would also become brothers and sisters in the Lord.
Enchun sought out the candlelight as he entered the church. Mrs. Chen immediately began playing the organ and the three Lin children sang the hymn “Jesus, Lead Me,” which they had just learned. “Lead me, Jesus. Lead me, Jesus. Jesus, lead me by your hand day by day…”
Mrs. Chen led her son by the hand. “Enchun, today is your eighteenth birthday. You’re now a grown-up. We know that from the time you were little you have loved the Lord. Surely you are willing to tell Jesus with your own voice that you long to be his child, and with your own voice will ask the Lord Jesus to forgive you your sins.”
Enchun had never expected that the gift his mother had spoken of would be his baptism, and for several moments he was at a total loss. Stiffly he went with his father to the side of the barrel.
The pastor asked: “Are you willing to accept Jesus as your eternal savior?”
Everyone being baptized would hear the same question and, fervently nodding, answer “Yes.” He then asked Enchun: “Do you admit that you are a sinner?”
Enchun silently shook his head.
Pastor Chen hadn’t noticed his son’s expression. Just as he was about to ask the third question, Baosheng yelled out, “Uncle Chen, Big Brother Enchun doesn’t want to!”
Abruptly Mrs. Chen stopped playing the organ. Her hand was raised in midair. What’s the matter with my son? Has he been attacked by Satan?
Enchun really wanted to tell his parents that starting today he was a completely new person and that his heart belonged to something else. He wanted to struggle for his beliefs his whole life.
“Dad, Ma, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Son, are you ill?”
“Ma, I am fine…better than ever.”
“If you are in your right mind, you must tell us the reason for this. From when you were little you knew Jesus. Why don’t you accept his redemption?”
Enchun drew himself very erect. “Ma, I can’t tell you why now. But in the future, even in the not so very distant future, you will certainly understand. And, not only that, you will support me.”
Holding the Bible to his breast, Pastor Chen leaned against the pulpit. Over the past decades the number of people he led to Christian baptism was uncountable. How was it he couldn’t lead his own son? He felt heartbroken and defeated.
Standing off to the side, Dr. Lin saw this as nothing accidental or unforeseen. He vaguely sensed that Enchun may have accepted communist ideas. It was easy for decent and upstanding young people like Enchun to be attracted by communism. In Shanghai, he himself had several classmates who went rushing off to the communist-liberated areas. All of them were decent, upstanding youths. He also had a classmate who called himself a communist sympathizer because communism and Christianity had no essential differences between them. The basic ideas of communism were to level the differences between rich and poor, the equality of all people, and food for people to eat. Wasn’t this exactly the New Heaven and New Earth sought for in Christianity? And there were many records in the Bible of the early Church advocating that everything be shared in common, to each according to his need.
The doctor told his wife to take the children home and asked the pastor’s wife and Enchun to leave them. He t
hen discussed his own views with Pastor Chen, but before opening his mouth he addressed a silent prayer to Jesus: O Lord, the wisdom of your child is limited. If your child’s thinking is wrong, please correct it.
Pastor Chen heard the word “communism” and tiny beads of sweat started oozing from his forehead. His mind formed a gruesome picture: Enchun, with his hands bound behind him, being led to that barren field outside West Gate.
The doctor’s sympathy toward communism and his understanding of it made the pastor feel for the first time his own poverty and dull-wittedness. He didn’t know whether making an analogy of communism with Christianity would offend Jesus. An even greater worry arose from the selfish heart of a father. Enchun had still not been baptized. In the event of some unforeseen disaster, he could never enjoy eternal life in heaven. The pastor spoke of these worries and the doctor said he would try to influence Enchun. The doctor loved Enchun as his own son.
Several days later, the doctor arranged to delve into the subject of communism with Enchun. They were like two underground activists secretly contacting each other, and they had a long talk in the pavilion at Little West Lake. The doctor came straight to the point. “I don’t know if you are a communist or not, but I would like to know what communism is.” Enchun told him that communism represented the interests of the broad laboring classes. As the doctor saw it, Jesus was the spirit that watched over the toiling masses. Jesus had said, “It is harder for a rich man to enter heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle.” The more he pondered this, the more he discovered similarities between the ideas of communism and those of Christianity. The darkness of society’s realities aroused his sense of justice. He expressed to Enchun his own willingness to be a Christian who supported communism. At the same time he still tried to persuade Enchun to be baptized. “Political parties are only the work of this life, but by accepting Jesus you can gain eternal life. The two should not be contradictory.” Enchun smiled but made no reply.
3.
HAD YOUNG MISS Baohua also sat at that Eight Immortals table, cupping her chin in her hands and gazing out at the drenched streets, lovesick and moonstruck over her Big Brother Enchun?35
The owner of this building and his whole family had moved to Indonesia during the War of Resistance. Here the Lin family would live peacefully and contentedly for half a century. Undoubtedly this was God’s plan. Dr. and Mrs. Lin had prayed the whole night through in their tearful gratitude at this. Although they were often so bad off that “in pulling down their sleeves, the elbows showed,” compared to the separation and chaos of the war period, they felt heavenly splendor and joy every moment of every day.
Baohua was still the pearl in the palm of her father’s hand and he continued to speak to her in soft and gentle tones as in years past. Whenever he had the time, he would still escort Baohua to school himself. But he had not realized that now that she had grown, something was weighing on her mind.
Enchun’s behavior on his eighteenth birthday had hurt his parents’ feelings and hurt Baohua’s. One month earlier, she had begun to prepare a gift for him. Every evening, she would hide herself away in her “lady’s quarters” to knit a scarf. Her hands were not as nimble or skilled as her mother’s, so she often missed loops and had to undo double stitches. She also embroidered a heart on one corner of it. She believed that when Big Brother Enchun wore this scarf he would have a clear sense about her good feelings for him. That evening she didn’t have the opportunity to give him this present, though, and for several days following when she pretended she was going to the Chens’ home to ask about problems in mathematics, she never ran into Enchun there. But she did hear that every night he was very late in returning home. The main doors of the College of Commerce and the Women’s Teachers’ Training College faced each other and these days “free love” was the big thing. Would he be doing this free love?
Baohua looked at the mathematics workbook spread out in front of her. Without Enchun beside her to guide her, she couldn’t make sense of even the topic headings and as she thought and thought, tears fell from her eyes. Her two younger brothers who were also there doing homework secretly glanced at each other in amusement. Baosheng teasingly said, “Big Sister’s sums are scarier than wooly caterpillars, aren’t they?” Holding her workbook close to her breast, Baohua went back to her room and slammed the door shut.
Her parents were both sitting off to the side. Daddy was reading a medical book and Ma was sewing. They smiled as they gazed at their three children and never intervened in their squabbles. Even if the children yelled fit to raise the roof, this also was all part of family happiness.
No one understood what was weighing on Baohua’s heart. She felt very much alone and as she sat in the darkness, her hands clutching that scarf to which had been entrusted a young woman’s feelings, she let her tears pour forth freely. Would he do this free love? If he did, then he was a heartless person. She decided to creep out this evening and wait by the church door for him to return. Even if she waited until dawn, she had to find out the answer.
Holding an oil lamp, Daddy knocked softly on the door. “Good little Baohua, go to sleep. Good night.”
The house was absolutely quiet. Baohua slipped out on tiptoes. She crossed the street, entered the churchyard and sat down on the steps. Now that her nervous tension and excitement had passed, the sluice gates of her tears opened up yet again. When she was small, Ma had often said that Enchun was the Lin family’s “half son,” though Baohua didn’t know what “half son” meant. Baosheng said, “This means that you and Big Brother Enchun are going to marry.” She thought that the marriage between her and Big Brother Enchun would be arranged by the parents. There was nothing wrong with arranged marriages and she was willing to live a lifetime with Enchun.
Around midnight, Baohua, dozing on and off, heard Enchun’s footsteps. She was as familiar with their sound as she was of those of everyone in her own family. It was a cloudy night, so dark that your five fingers stretched out in front of you would have been invisible. She jumped up and walked over toward this sound and by the side of the well she collided against Enchun’s chest.
Enchun grabbed hold of Baohua. “What are you doing out on the street this late at night?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“So, you couldn’t work out the math homework?”
“Mmmh.”
“This late do you still want to do homework?”
“There’s something else I wanted to ask you.”
“Which is…?”
“Why are you coming home so late every night?”
“I’m also tutoring math.”
“Don’t trick me!”
The tears that Baohua had been holding back coursed down again.
Enchun led her to the railing around the well and they sat down. He laughed. “You’ve got more tears than this well has water. You’re going to have to stop being Lin Daiyu. Society will now no longer welcome girls like Lin Daiyu.”
“I know you don’t welcome me.”
Enchun heard this and realized she meant something quite different and so, very cautiously, he asked her, “Are you angry with me?”
Baohua covered her face and said nothing. The scarf she gripped in her hand fell down.
Enchun picked up the scarf and put it over Baohua’s shoulders. “Good Baohua, go home and go to sleep. I no longer have much time to do your homework with you. I am going to be doing things many times more important than mathematics, but I still care for you and like you. From the time we were both small we’ve been the very best of friends, right?”
Baohua pulled the scarf from off her shoulders. “I knitted this for you for your birthday. Every day I have brought it with me looking for you, but I couldn’t find you.”
Enchun accepted the scarf. “Thank you. Now I won’t get cold coming home at night.”
“I didn’t knit this to keep you from getting cold!” Baohua said angrily.
Enchun felt quite alarmed. He w
as aware that Baohua had grown up. When he had been small, children could say whatever they wanted and no one would take it seriously. He had told his mother, “When I grow up, Baohua and I will be married.” He had even told Baohua, “When you grow up, do you want to marry me?” If Baohua was in a good mood at the time, the answer was “Yes.” If not, then “No.” Now she was grown up, but he had already changed into another, totally different, person. Revolutionary ideals and fervor completely possessed him, body and soul. He was prepared to spill his blood and lose his head for the sake of the birth of the New China.
He took a closer look at Baohua, wondering whether or not he could impart revolutionary truths to her, but immediately he stopped this thought. She was a pampered and willful little miss, like a piece of fine porcelain that always had to be handled delicately. He discovered that his own feelings toward her had changed. His tender and protective feelings had changed to worry and anxiety. The dawn of the New China was already appearing on the horizon. When the thunder of the revolutionary age sounded, would Baohua be weeded out and rejected? He felt more in common with the new woman who opposed feudalism and sought progress. In his reading group there was just this new kind of woman. She was healthy and enlightened, her cheeks were always rosy, and her eyes burned with ardor. She and he both could selflessly go to their deaths for the sake of the New China. Ever since accepting revolutionary thought, Enchun was often subtly aware of his own changes. At this moment he once again marveled at these changes. His thinking had changed. His vision of everything had changed. Indeed, he had become quite a different person.
“Good Baohua, this world is going to experience gigantic change and you will have to keep up with these new times. Don’t be a shrinking violet. You’ve got to be the weeds and thorns by the roadside. Wildfires can’t destroy you and when the spring winds blow then you’ll come to life again. All right?”
