Cries in the Drizzle

by Yu Hua

  Zhang Qinghai went back to his notes while I left the classroom. I looked over at the little room in the distance, mulling over the revelation that Teacher Lin was now in confinement. Other classmates went inside, and I could hear Zhang Qinghai quietly sharing the news with them too. The teacher's smile was chilling. In the little room he and Teacher Lin had seemed to be united in a common purpose, but now he was showing a different face altogether.

  RETURN TO SOUTHGATE

  My memories of Wang Liqiang and Li Xiuying, it is fair to say, remain fresh even now. I have often had it in mind to go back to Littlemarsh and have another look at the town that for five years I called home. What I wonder is whether Li Xiuying managed to keep herself going after the loss of her husband, and whether she is still alive today.

  Although they did make me toil away at household chores, my adoptive parents often showed a touching concern for my welfare . When I was seven Wang Liqiang decided I was old enough to go on my own to the teahouse to fetch boiled water. He said to me, “If I didn't tell you where the teahouse is, how would you know where to go?”

  I came out in a sweat trying to figure this out, but in the end came up with the answer, saying brightly, “I would ask somebody else.”

  Wang Liqiang laughed just as brightly. When I picked up their big two-liter thermos bottles and got ready to leave, he squatted on his haunches, trying to shrink his height to my level. He kept emphasizing that if I found I really couldn't carry the bottles an inch farther, I should toss them aside. I found this an extraordinary idea, because to me two thermos bottles were colos-sally expensive items, and here he was telling me to throw them away.

  “Why should I do that?”

  He told me that if I really couldn't carry them and just dropped them on the ground, the hot water might splash, and I would get scalded. Now I understood.

  With two cents in my pocket I proudly headed out, a thermos in each hand. I walked along the flag stones, asking people ostentatiously where the teahouse was. I didn't care whether further inquiries were redundant and kept on asking directions all the way down the street. My little stratagem worked like a dream, for my shrill queries elicited looks of surprise from grownups all along the street. When I entered the teahouse I placed my order in an even louder voice, and the old lady at the cash register gave a start. Patting her chest, she said, “You gave me such a fright.”

  Her mock alarm made me chuckle, but soon her expression changed to one of genuine astonishment. As I left with my two brimming thermos bottles, I heard her saying anxiously to my retreating back, “You can't carry those, can you?”

  How could I ever think of throwing the thermos bottles away? All these doubts about my capabilities served only to boost my self-importance. Wang Liqiang's injunction as I left the house was converted on the way home into a hope, conjuring up the following picture: when I arrived home with the bottles of water, Wang Liqiang would be so thrilled that he would give a shout to Li Xiuying, and she would get out of bed specially to witness my achievement, and they would shower me with praise.

  That was my goal as I carried the bottles home, one in each hand, gritting my teeth with effort. I kept telling myself: no throwing, no throwing! I made only one rest stop.

  But when I got home, Wang Liqiang disappointed me by showing not the least surprise and taking the bottles from my hands as though I had done only what he expected. As he bent over to put them on the floor, I still clung to a final shred of hope and gave him a little hint: “I stopped to rest just once.”

  He stood up with a smile, as if there was nothing wonderful about that. I was so crushed that I went off by myself, thinking, “Where did I get the idea that he would congratulate me?”

  One night I was so foolish as to interpose myself between Wang Liqiang and Li Xiuying, and the outcome was a beating. The nighttime interactions between husband and wife had always left me anxious and unsettled. When I first came to live with them, every few evenings after I had gone to bed I would hear the voice of Li Xiuying: pleading at first, and then with time her entreaties would change to moans. I found this quite frightening, but the next morning I would hear them chatting cordially enough, and their calm exchanges reassured me that nothing untoward had happened.

  One evening I had already undressed and got into bed when Li Xiuying, who had lain in bed listlessly all day summoned me sharply. Shivering in the cold winter air, I put on my underpants and pushed open their bedroom door, only to see Wang Liqiang in the process of taking his clothes off. He flushed bright red and kicked the door closed, telling me angrily to get back to my room at once. I did not know what was wrong, but I dared not return to my bed because Li Xiuying was still calling me desperately. I lingered just outside the door, cold and scared, shivering from head to toe. Later Li Xiuying must have squirmed out of bed; though wearing just a slightly damp item of underwear could easily make her run a fever, she was now throwing caution to the winds. I heard Wang Liqiang calling in a low voice, “Are you crazy?”

  The door was flung open, and before I knew what was happening Li Xiuying dragged me into bed with her. Panting from her exertions, she said to Wang Liqiang, “Tonight we'll sleep together, all three of us.”

  She put her arms around me and tucked her face so tightly against mine that her hair fell over one of my eyes. She was all skin and bones, but her body was warm. With my other eye, I saw Wang Liqiang glaring at me. He said furiously, “Get out of here!”

  Li Xiuying put her lips to my ear and said, “Say you won't.”

  I was like putty in her hands. I hated the thought of leaving her cozy arms and said to him, “No, I won't!”

  Wang Liqiang seized me by the arm, yanked me out of Li Xiuying's embrace, and shoved me to the floor. There was a fearsome bloodshot gleam in his eyes, and when I just sat there, unmoving, he yelled, “Get out, I said!”

  This provoked my stubborn streak, and I yelled back, “No, I'm not leaving!”

  Wang Liqiang stepped forward and grabbed me with both hands, but I clung for dear life to the leg of the bed and refused to loosen my grip no matter how he tugged. He then seized me by the hair and knocked my head against the bed. I could hear Li Xiuying screaming in the background. Pain finally made me relax my hold, and Wang Liqiang picked me up and flung me out the door, then locked it. By now I was in a frenzy too: scrambling to my feet I pounded on the door, wailing and cursing, “Wang Liqiang, you bastard! Take me back to Sun Kwangtsai!”

  I wept pitifully, hoping that Li Xiuying would come to my rescue. At first I could hear her arguing with Wang Liqiang, but after a while all was quiet inside the room. Still I cried and wailed, still I shouted abuse, until I heard Li Xiuying call my name and say in a faint voice, “You go off to bed now. You'll freeze to death staying there.”

  Suddenly I felt forlorn and had no choice but to make my way back to my room, sobbing as I went. On that inky winter night my heart seethed with hatred for Wang Liqiang as I slowly fell asleep. When I woke up the following morning, I knew that my face was aching painfully, but I did not realize that I had been beaten black and blue. As he was brushing his teeth, Wang Liqiang saw me and reacted with alarm. I ignored him and picked up the mop from the wall. He stretched out a hand to stop me, and through foamy lips said something unintelligible. I shoved his arm aside and carried the mop into Li Xiuying's room. She too gave a start and muttered a reproach to Wang Liqiang: “You didn't have to hit him so hard.”

  Wang Liqiang bought a couple of dough fritters that morning—just for me, he said, and he laid them on the table. It was then, just as I had an appealing breakfast in front of me, that I chose to launch my hunger strike. I refused to eat a bite, no matter how they tried to persuade me. Instead I burst into tears and told them, “Take me back to Sun Kwangtsai!”

  This was more a threat than an entreaty. Wang Liqiang knew he was at fault, and his efforts to appease me simply strengthened my resolve to remain at odds with him. As I went out, satchel on my back, he followed quickly on my heels
and tried to put his hand on my shoulder, but I jerked away out of reach. When he dug in his pocket for ten cents’ snack money, I refused the bribe with equal determination, shaking my head and saying obstinately, “I don't want it.”

  I insisted on savoring hunger to the fullest. Wang Liqiang's consternation at my fast had inspired me with the confidence to continue, and by inflicting hardship on myself I would get my revenge on him. At this stage I was proud of the stand I was taking. I vowed never again to let any food of his pass my lips, and at the same time I knew I would perish as a result; my eyes welled up with tears at the thought of my splendid martyrdom. My death by starvation would be the greatest retaliation against Wang Liqiang that there ever could be.

  But when it came down to it I was simply too young to carry this through: my will was indomitable only so long as I had a full stomach and a warm set of clothes. When I was later to reach the point of practically fainting from hunger, I would find I just could not resist the temptation to eat. In fact, I was not then—and am not now—the kind of person willing to die for a conviction, so much do I value the sound of life flowing through my veins. Apart from life itself I cannot conceive of any other reason for living.

  That morning my classmates noticed my bruised and swollen face, but they did not realize how much more painful was the hunger I was now experiencing. I had left home that morning on an empty stomach, and by the third period I was paying the price. First I was overcome with a vacant sensation: my insides felt as lonely as an alleyway late at night, windblown and desolate. Then the emptiness spread to all extremities, leaving my limbs powerless and my head groggy. Finally I came down with a stomachache, a pain more unbearable than the contusions on my face. Somehow I managed to make it to the end of the period, and then I dashed to the line of water faucets, put one to my mouth, and swallowed a whole bellyful of water. This gave me a shortlived respite from hunger. I leaned weakly against the water pipe and practically melted in the sunshine. The chilly winter water was so quickly absorbed into my system that I had to keep gulping it down right until the bell rang for the start of the next period.

  After I left the water faucets, I found myself facing an even worse ordeal, for when hunger returned I had no resources to combat it. I collapsed on my chair like a sack of rice. Soon I was hallucinating that the blackboard was a cave and the teacher was pacing back and forth at the entrance to the cave, his voice booming as it echoed off the cave wall.

  While my stomach was enduring one kind of pain, my expanding bladder inflicted a different sort of discomfort. It began to retaliate for my excessive fluid consumption. I had no choice but to raise my hand and ask Zhang Qinghai's permission to go out for a pee. We were only a few minutes into the period and he scolded me in very bad humor. “Why didn't you go during the break?”

  I made my way gingerly to the toilet, not daring to run, because as soon as I tried that I could feel the water in my bladder sloshing back and forth. After finishing in the toilet, I grabbed the opportunity to drink another bellyful of cold water.

  The fourth period that morning was perhaps the most trying hour of my whole life. Not long after I had been to the toilet, my bladder again became bloated and my face began to turn purple. When I really could not hold it another minute, I raised my hand a second time.

  Zhang Qinghai eyed me suspiciously and asked, “You need to pee again?”

  I nodded in embarrassment. Zhang Qinghai called Guoqing over and told him to go with me to the toilet to check whether I really had to pee. This time I didn't dare drink any more water afterward. On Guoqing's return, he loudly reported, “He passed more water than a cow!”

  I sat down red faced amid my classmates’ titters. Despite my self-restraint during the last toilet break, it was not long before my bladder again became distended. Hunger had now become a matter of secondary importance; it was the bulging bladder that was my concern. I wanted to avoid raising my hand if at all possible and tried to endure the agonizing pressure, hoping that the bell would ring soon. I didn't dare adjust my position even slightly, feeling that the dam could burst at the least provocation. But later I just could not wait: time was passing so slowly and the bell would not ring. Timidly I raised my hand for the third time.

  Zhang Qinghai was exasperated. “Are you trying to drown us?” he said.

  The class erupted in laughter. Zhang Qinghai didn't let me go to the toilet again, but told me to go around by the window and pee on the outside wall of the classroom, because he wanted to see for himself whether I really had a call of nature to answer. When I splashed the wall with a powerful jet of urine, he was forced to accept the evidence. He walked a few steps away from the window and continued to conduct the class. It must have taken me a long time to empty my bladder, because Zhang Qinghai suddenly broke off from instruction and turned to me in surprise. “What, still not finished?”

  Blushing hotly, I gave him a bashful smile.

  I did not go home at the end of the morning session like the rest of my classmates, but continued my hunger strike. That whole lunchtime I lay underneath the water faucets, and when hunger pains gnawed I would raise myself up and consume a bellyful of water, then go back to lying there and feeling sorry for myself. By that time my pride was just for show; I was actually looking forward to Wang Liqiang finding me. I lay in the sunshine as the grass happily grew around me.

  When Wang Liqiang did find me, it was afternoon, and classmates were arriving for classes. He discovered me sprawled next to the water faucets. I learned later from Li Xiuying that he had been anxiously waiting for me to come home ever since finishing his lunch. He helped me up, and when his hand grazed the bruises on my face I burst into tears.

  He set me on his back, holding my thighs firmly with both hands, and set off for the school gate. My body swayed from side to side, and my feelings of pride, so dominant earlier that morning, gave way to dependency. Now I did not hate Wang Liqiang in the least, and when I rested my face on his shoulders I was thrilled to have a protector.

  We entered a restaurant, and he set me down on the counter. Pointing at a blackboard that listed all kinds of noodle dishes, he asked me which I wanted. I scanned the menu but said nothing, for the remnants of pride were still circulating through my system. Wang Liqiang ordered a large bowl of noodles with three toppings—the most expensive option—and we sat down.

  I will never forget the look in his eyes. Even now, so many years after his death, I feel a pang whenever I recall this moment. He gazed at me with such shame and affection that I say to myself: yes, I did have a father like that. But that was not how I responded at the time: it was only after he died, when I was back in South-gate, that I gradually became aware that Wang Liqiang was much more of a father to me than Sun Kwangtsai. Now, when it is all so far away, I realize that Wang Liqiang's death for me has been a lasting sorrow.

  When the dish arrived, I did not start eating right away, but just looked at the steaming noodles—greedily, to be sure, but also with some reserve. Wang Liqiang read my mind: he stood up, saying that he had to get back to work, and walked out. As soon as he left I laid into the noodles with gusto. But my small belly was satisfied all too soon, and then I could only dejectedly pick up pieces of chicken and fish with my chopsticks, stare at them, and drop them back in the bowl, then dredge them up again; sad to say, I just could not eat any more.

  By now I had recovered my normal energy and my unhappi-ness had vanished. I noticed an old man in tattered clothes across the table from me, who was eating a small bowl of the cheapest noodles. He watched attentively as I played around with my chicken and fish, and I could sense that he was looking forward to my leaving, so that he could help himself to the tasty morsels that I couldn't finish. This brought out my mean streak: I made a point of lingering over my meal and poked at the food in my bowl time and again. The old man, for his part, seemed to be making a point of eating very slowly. A silent struggle had developed between us. Soon I grew tired of this game and an entertaining new var
iation occurred to me. I chucked my chopsticks to one side, stood up, and swaggered out. As soon as I was out the door, I crouched down next to the window so I could observe his next move. He glanced toward the exit, and then speedily dumped his noodles into my bowl and placed his bowl where mine had been, after which he immediately resumed eating as though nothing had happened. I abandoned my place at the window and strode cockily back into the restaurant and over to the table where I had been sitting. I stared at the empty dish with feigned astonishment and was tickled to see the look of shame that spread over his face. Then I left in the best of spirits.

  Once I reached third grade, I spent more and more of the day playing outside. By this time I was more familiar and comfortable with Wang Liqiang and Li Xiuying, and the trepidation that I felt early on had waned. Often I would be having so much fun that I would lose all sense of time, until suddenly it would occur to me that I needed to be home and I would race back to the house as fast as I could. I would be scolded, of course, but it was not so severe a reproof as to really scare me, and if I applied myself to chores and made a point of working up a good sweat, the reprimands died on their lips.

  For a time I was especially fond of fishing for shrimp in ponds, and with this activity in mind practically every afternoon after school Guoqing, Liu Xiaoqing, and I would run off into the country. One day we had just put the town behind us when to my alarm I saw Wang Liqiang walking slowly along a path between the fields, a young woman just behind him. I quickly turned around and started running in the other direction, but Wang Liqiang had already spotted me, and when he called out, I had to stop and watch uneasily as he came walking up with his long strides. I should have been home by this point. Guoqing and Liu Xiaoqing hurriedly explained that we were out to catch shrimp, not to steal melons. He smiled and to my surprise did not rake me over the coals, but put his big hand on my head and simply said that he and I would go home together. All the way he asked solicitously about things going on at school and showed no sign of trying to find fault with me, so I gradually relaxed.