by Yu Hua
By then Kugen was three. He sat in his stool rocking back and forth. His eyes were wide open as he tried as hard as he could to understand what we were saying. Erxi tilted his head to the side in thought. After a while he finally said, “My memories of Fengxia are my only happiness.”
Later, I had to get back to the village and Erxi had to get back to work, so we left together. Keeping to the wall, Erxi bolted off the moment we got outside. With his head tilted, he moved like lightning, as if he were afraid someone was going to see him. He pulled Kugen by the hand, practically dragging him. Kugen tripped and stumbled, his whole body aslant. It was not my place to say anything to Erxi—I knew that he had become like that only after Fengxia had died. But as soon as the neighbors saw him they yelled, “Erxi, you’d better slow down! Kugen’s going to fall.”
Erxi acknowledged them with a grunt, but he continued walking just as fast as before. Being pulled by his dad, Kugen’s body would twist about, his eyes rolled around to take everything in. When they got to the corner I told Erxi, “I’m heading back.”
Only then did Erxi stop and raise his shoulder to look at me. I said to Kugen, “I’m going.”
Kugen looked at me and, waving his hands, said in a sharp voice, “Get going.”
Whenever I had some free time I’d head into town. With both Erxi and Kugen there, I couldn’t stand staying at home—I felt that my true home was in town. When I returned all alone to the village, I couldn’t relax. A few times I brought Kugen back with me. Kugen loved it; he’d happily run all over the fields. Once he wanted me to help him catch a sparrow. I asked him how I was supposed to catch one, and he pointed up at a tree and said, “You climb up.”
“I’ll break my neck!” I protested. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“No, I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to catch a sparrow!” he replied.
Kugen seemed to be very much at home in the country, but it was hard for Erxi to be away from his son. Going one day without seeing Kugen was unbearable for him. Every day after work he’d be so exhausted he could barely move, yet he’d still walk over ten li to come see Kugen. And then he’d have to get up the next morning and walk back into town to work. I realized that continuing like this was no solution to anything, so from then on I’d see Kugen home before it got dark.
After Jiazhen died I didn’t have any other attachments, so when I got to town Erxi would say, “Dad, why don’t you stay over?”
And so I’d stay in town a few days. If I had wanted to move in with them, Erxi would have happily obliged. He kept saying that having three generations under one roof was better than two. But I wasn’t willing to rely on Erxi to take care of me. I was still good with my hands and quick on my feet, still able to make a living. Having the two of us working and making money, Kugen would have an even better future.
Things went on like this until Kugen was four. That’s when Erxi died. Erxi was crushed between two slabs of cement. As a porter it’s common to get bumped or scraped up a bit, but to lose one’s life—Erxi was the first. It seems like everyone in the Xu family had a tough fate. The day of the accident, Erxi and the rest of them were moving cement slabs into carts. Erxi was standing in the cart in front of a pile of cement slabs while the crane was lifting four more of them. I don’t know what went wrong, but suddenly they all fell on him. No one had even noticed Erxi standing there; they suddenly just heard a loud scream: “Kugen!”
Erxi’s buddies told me the sound of that final shriek had scared the hell out of them. They had never imagined Erxi could have such a powerful voice—it was as if his chest had exploded. By the time they got to Erxi, my crooked-headed son-in-law was already dead. He was lodged between the pile of cement slabs, and except for his head and feet his whole body was crushed flat. They couldn’t find a single unbroken bone, and the blood and flesh were spread like a thick paste over the cement slabs. They said that when Erxi died his neck suddenly stuck out straight and his mouth opened wide—that was the moment he called out to his son.
Kugen was beside the nearby pond throwing pebbles into the water when he heard his father’s last scream. He turned around and said, “What does he want?”
He paused for a while, and since he didn’t hear his dad call him again, he went back to tossing pebbles into the water. Only after Erxi’s coworkers brought his remains to the hospital and he was officially declared dead did someone go tell Kugen, “Kugen, Kugen, your father’s dead.”
Kugen still didn’t quite know what death was. He turned around to answer, “I know.”
After that he just ignored the guy and went on throwing stones.
I was in the field working when one of Erxi’s coworkers ran down to tell me, “Erxi’s dying! He’s in the hospital. Hurry!”
As soon as I heard something had happened to Erxi and that he was in the hospital, I immediately began to cry. I yelled over to Erxi’s coworker, “Hurry up and get him out of that hospital. You can’t leave him in that hospital.”
The guy stared at me in confusion—he must have thought I was crazy. I told him, “Once Erxi enters that hospital, there’s no telling if he’ll come out alive.”
Both Youqing and Fengxia had died in that hospital, but I had never imagined that Erxi would end up there, too. Can you imagine, three times in my life I had to go to that small room where the dead lay, and all three times it was my own relatives I saw lying there? By then I was old, and I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I went to get Erxi to bring him home, but the moment I saw that little room I collapsed on the floor. Just like Erxi, I had to be carried out of that hospital.
After Erxi died I brought Kugen to the country to live with me. The day we left town I gave Erxi’s furniture and things to his neighbors; I picked out only a few of the lighter things to take with me. By the time I left with Kugen it was almost dark. All the neighbors came out to see us off. They walked us to the end of the street and said, “Be sure to come back and visit.”
A few of the women even cried and caressed Kugen.
“Poor child’s really got it tough,” they said.
Kugen didn’t like their tears falling on his face. Pulling me by the hand he tried to get me to leave. “Come on, let’s go! Hurry!”
As I walked down the street holding Kugen’s hand, the icy wind whisked down my neck. The farther I walked, the more empty I felt inside. I thought about how we’d had a big, happy family and how now all that was left was an old man and a little boy. I was in so much pain that I didn’t even have the strength to sigh. But just looking at Kugen brought me comfort. Having him was better than anything. There was hope for the Xu family after all. I had to keep on living.
As we approached a noodle shop, Kugen suddenly yelled out, “I don’t want any noodles!”
I had other things on my mind and didn’t really pay attention to what he’d said. But when we got to the shop entrance, Kugen called out again, “I don’t want any noodles!”
After yelling he pulled my hand and wouldn’t let me go any farther, and only then did I realize that he really did want some noodles. This kid didn’t have a mother or father—if he wanted a bowl of noodles I figured that buying the kid a bowl of noodles was the least I could do. I brought him in and paid nine fen for a small bowl. I sat there and watched him slurp down his noodles. He ate so quickly his face became covered in sweat. When we left he was still licking his lips.
“Can we come back tomorrow to have some more?” he asked.
I nodded, “Okay.”
Before we got too far we came to a candy store, and once again Kugen pulled my hand. Looking up, he said in a serious voice, “At first I wanted to have some candy, but since I already had noodles, it’s okay.”
I knew that he was trying a new tactic, this time to get me to buy him some candy. I reached my hand into my pocket and felt two fen, and after thinking for a second I pulled out five fen. I gave the money to Kugen so he could buy five pieces of candy.
When we got home, Kugen said his feet were a
ching really badly and were tired from walking all that way. I let him lie down in bed while I went to heat some water for him to soak his feet in. By the time the water was heated, Kugen was already asleep. He had propped his two feet up on the wall and conked right out. Seeing him like that, I couldn’t help laughing. Sore feet always feel better propped up. Kugen was so little, yet already he had learned how to take care of himself. But right after that, a sadness came over me. Kugen still didn’t know that he’d never see his father again.
After I went to sleep that night, I kept feeling a kind of pressure, a weight around my heart. Only once I sat up did I realize that Kugen’s little butt had been pressing against my stomach. I pushed his rump away, but just as I was about to fall back asleep his little bottom slowly made its way back over. I reached out my hand and realized that he had wet his side of the bed. No wonder his little ass kept coming over to press against me. So I just let it.
The next day Kugen started to miss his dad. He was playing on the ridge while I was working out in the field. After playing all day Kugen came over to ask me, “Are you taking me home? Or is Dad coming to pick me up?”
When the villagers saw Kugen like this, they shook their heads and remarked on what an unfortunate kid he was. But then one of the farmers told him, “You’re not going home.”
He shook his little head and said seriously, “Oh yes I am.”
That evening Kugen started to get anxious when he saw his father still hadn’t come. His little mouth chirped along, saying all kinds of things, but I couldn’t understand a word of it. I thought that maybe he was cursing someone. Finally, he looked up at me and said, “Forget it. If he’s not coming, he’s not coming. I’m just a little kid. I don’t know the way home. You’ll have to take me.”
“Your dad’s not coming to get you, and I’m not taking you home,” I told him. “Your dad is dead.”
“I know he’s dead,” Kugen replied. “It’s already dark and he still hasn’t come to get me.”
That night, lying under the covers, I told Kugen what death was. I told him that after people die they are buried, and that people still living won’t be able to see them anymore. At first he was so scared that he trembled all over. Afterward, when he realized that he wouldn’t see Erxi again, he began to cry. His little face pressed against my neck, and warm tears dripped on my chest. He sobbed and wailed until finally crying himself to sleep.
After a couple of days I thought I ought to let Kugen see where Erxi was buried. I brought him to the western part of the village and told him which grave was his grandma’s, which was his mom’s and which was his uncle’s. Before I pointed out Erxi’s grave, Kugen pointed to it. In tears he said, “This one’s Dad’s.”
Kugen and I were together only six months when the village fixed the output quotas for each family. That’s when it started to become even more difficult to get by. Our family got only one and a half mu. From that point on I couldn’t hide among the others while working or drag my feet when I was tired. The fields never stopped calling me. If I didn’t do the work, there was no one who was going to do it for me.
Once I got old I began to fall apart. Every day my back was sore and my vision blurry. I used to be able to carry a load of vegetables into town all in one breath, but by this time I had to take periodic rests as I went. Unless I set out a full two hours before dawn there wouldn’t be any buyers by the time I got to the market. I’d finally become that “slow bird who starts early.” Now Kugen was the one who had it the hardest. I’d pull him out of bed when he was fast asleep. Then, with his eyes half-closed, he would grab hold of the bamboo basket and follow me into town. Kugen was a good kid. Noticing that I kept taking breaks because the load was too heavy, he would take a few handfuls of vegetables out of each of my baskets. Carrying them in his arms, he’d walk in front of me, and every so often he would turn around to ask, “Is it any lighter?”
Deep down I was so happy I said, “Oh, it’s much lighter.”
By then Kugen was five years old, and he had already become my good little helper. Wherever I went he’d follow and help me work; he could even cut the rice stalks. I had the town blacksmith make Kugen a little sickle, and when he got it Kugen was happy as could be. Normally when I brought him into town he’d go looking for his friends as soon as we passed the alley that led to Erxi’s old house. No matter how many times I called him he wouldn’t answer. But the day I told him we were going to get him a sickle, he grabbed hold of my clothes and wouldn’t let go, following me all the way to the blacksmith’s shop. When we got there, the two of us waited outside for a while. Someone walked past us to go into the shop, and Kugen couldn’t resist pointing to the sickle inside and telling the man, “That’s Kugen’s sickle.”
Now when his friends came to play with him, he just turned his head and said proudly, “I don’t have time to talk to you now.”
After the sickle was finished, Kugen insisted on sleeping with it. I wouldn’t let him, so he had to settle for keeping it under his bed. The first thing he’d do every morning was reach under the bed to caress his sickle. I told him that he’d get quicker with it the more he used it, and that the harder he worked the stronger he’d get. Kugen blinked his eyes and stared at me for a long time before saying, “The quicker I get with the sickle the more stronger I’ll get.”
Kugen was still little, so naturally he was slower at cutting the rice than I was. He’d get upset as soon as he saw that I was quicker. Staring at me, he’d yell, “Fugui, slow down!”
All the people in the village called me Fugui, so Kugen also grew accustomed to calling me Fugui. He also called me Grandpa. I’d point to the pile of rice I had cut and say, “Look at all that Kugen cut.”
He’d be so happy he’d start to giggle. Then he’d point to the pile of rice he had cut and say, “Look at all the rice that Fugui cut.”
Kugen was little and got tired easily. He’d always be running up to the ridge to take naps. He’d say, “Fugui, the sickle’s slowing down.”
What he meant was that he was tired. After lying down on the ridge for a while he would get up and watch me cutting the rice shoots. From time to time he’d yell, “Fugui, don’t step on my rice shoots!”
Everyone around would laugh when they heard that—even the team leader. He was just as old as I was, and yet he was still the team leader. There were a lot of people in his family, so they got the five mu of land that were right next to mine. The team leader said, “Little bastard’s really got a mouth on him, doesn’t he?”
“It’s to make up for Fengxia’s inability to speak,” I said.
Those days may have been difficult and exhausting, but at least deep down I was happy. With Kugen around I had a new zest for life. Seeing Kugen getting bigger and bigger by the day, this grandpa of his could rest easier. At dusk the two of us would sit on the doorstep and watch the sun go down. We’d see the fields turn a deep glowing red and hear the sound of the other villagers calling in the distance. The pair of chickens we were raising would totter back and forth in front of us. Kugen and I were really close. When we were together we’d never run out of things to say. Seeing those two chickens made me think back to what my father had said just before he died. I would always repeat those words to Kugen. “When these chickens grow up they’ll become geese, and when the geese grow up they’ll become lambs. When the lambs grow up they’ll turn into oxen. And us, we’ll get richer and richer!”
Kugen couldn’t stop laughing at this. He remembered every word of what I said. Many times, when he came out of the chicken coop with the newly laid eggs, he would sing those lines to himself.
When there were enough eggs we’d take them into town to be sold. I told Kugen, “When we’ve saved up enough money we’ll buy an ox, and then you’ll be able to go off to play, riding on the ox’s back.”
As soon as Kugen heard this, his eyes lit up.
“And the chicken will really turn into an ox!” he exclaimed.
From then on, Kugen was const
antly waiting for the day when we would be able to buy an ox. Every morning after he opened his eyes he’d ask me, “Fugui, are we going to buy the ox today?”
Sometimes when we’d go into town to sell the eggs I’d feel sorry for Kugen and want to buy some candy for him. Kugen would say, “Just one piece is enough. We still haven’t saved up enough for the ox.”
In the blink of an eye, Kugen was already seven. He had gotten much stronger, too. One day, just when it was almost time to harvest the cotton, the village radio broadcast announced heavy rains. What was I supposed to do? The one and a half mu of cotton I had planted was already ripe. If it rained, my whole crop would be ruined. Early that morning I pulled Kugen out to the cotton field and told him that we had to strip all the cotton that day. Kugen looked up at me and said, “Fugui, I feel dizzy.”
“Hurry up and start picking,” I prodded him. “After you finish you can go off to play.”
So Kugen started picking the cotton. After working for a while he went up to the ridge to lie down. I yelled at him, telling him to get up, but Kugen just repeated, “I feel dizzy.”
I figured I’d let him rest awhile longer, but once he lay down he didn’t get back up. I started to lose my temper a bit. “Kugen, if we don’t strip all the cotton today, we’re never going to buy that ox,” I warned him.
Only after hearing that did Kugen get up. He told me, “I’m really dizzy. My head hurts.”
I kept working right up until noon. Only when I saw that more than half the cotton was already stripped did I start to relax a bit. I went up the ridge to get Kugen so we could go home for lunch, but the second I grabbed his hand I knew something was wrong. I quickly felt his forehead—he was burning up. Only then did I realize he was sick. I was really an idiot: there he was, sick, and I was forcing him to work. When we got home I had Kugen lie down. Everyone in the village used to say that ginger is a cure for all kinds of illnesses, so I decided to cook him a bowl of ginger soup. The only problem was, I didn’t have any sugar in the house. I thought of just throwing in a little salt, but I couldn’t do that to Kugen. So I went to one of the villagers’ houses to borrow some sugar.
