by Wai Chim
I wondered if maybe he should come out to the countryside and join me, but I knew that would be heartbreaking for our mother. Plus, I wasn’t sure he would be suited for this life.
I tapped the letter against my chin, pondering my brother’s predicament as I gazed out over the crashing surf. There were soft footsteps behind me. Ming. I turned and gave him a big smile.
‘Hey.’ I noticed the piece of paper clutched in his hand. ‘That a new letter?’
Ming nodded and sat down beside me, holding the page delicately. I’d passed on a similar page to him just a couple of days ago, Fei’s response to his first letter. The entire walk back I’d been itching to read it, but managed to resist. Ming’s delighted face over the past two days told me everything I needed to know.
I was surprised he’d written a reply so quickly, after the weeks he’d spent agonising over that first one.
He held out the letter to me, though I had to tug a little to release it from his grasp. I should have just put it in my pocket, but I was dying to know. ‘Do you want me to read it?’ Ming tucked his bottom lip under his teeth, hesitating for a moment, then nodded.
The letter was short again, which made my heart sink, but then I started to read.
My friend and confidant Fei,
How are you? I was very happy to receive your letter – it gave me so much joy. My eyes follow the marks of your hand and I wanted to reach out and close my fingers around yours. Perhaps that is too forward for me to say, but when I think about you I cannot stop the flow of happy thoughts and pure joy in my head and heart.
I read about your family. Li also tells me that your life at home is hard. I can imagine the boys laughing as their mother chases after them and hear your aunt’s harsh tones when she scolds you. I want to leap through the page and shout her down. To protect you from her anger, to light the fires of the stove and keep them burning so that you never have to stoop over the smouldering coals and shed hot tears again.
You are right to remark that I am shy. I don’t want to be shy, I want to share my thoughts and words with you. I want to share my dreams and hopes and many jokes. I want to share my sweet potatoes and secrets. I want to be a better person for you. I will make an effort to smile more, simply because you asked.
Our days begin and end with the rising and setting of the sun. East to west. But maybe there’s more to the end of the day than just darkness. Maybe in the nightfall, we will find the true light.
I look forward to your next letter, Fei. I yearn for your companionship even if it is just through a leaf of parchment. For me, that it is the page written by your hand is more than enough.
May the road be ever swift and flowing,
Ming.
I wanted to whoop and holler and congratulate Ming on his poetic masterpiece, but no doubt that would have just caused him greater embarrassment.
So I punched him in the arm. ‘Good words,’ I said.
Ming still blushed.
Just as I was putting his letter away, I was hit by a bolt of inspiration and shoved the letter back at him.
‘Hey, why don’t you deliver the letter yourself ?’ I exclaimed.
‘I – I can’t … her aunt,’ Ming stammered. ‘She’d never let me near her.’ He didn’t say the rest of the sentence, because of my father.
‘That’s only because you don’t have any reason to be talking to her niece.’ I could feel my eyebrows leaping up with excitement. ‘But we can get you one. An official reason for you to see and speak with Fei.’
Ming frowned. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Leave it with me.’
Ming wiped his palms on his frayed trousers for the umpteenth time. I didn’t think it was worth pointing out the sheen of sweat on his forehead. At least he’d taken the time to run his fingers through his hair in a rushed comb.
The door swung open and Fei’s eyes were as wide as the full moon.
‘M-m ….’ His name remained unsaid, hanging on the edge of her lips.
‘Good evening, Miss Fei,’ I said in my most formal tone. ‘May I introduce Comrade Ming Hong, a local from Dingzai village.’ I flashed her a smile.
They gaped at each other: a startled rat and a newborn cat, unsure who was predator and who was prey.
‘Ah, Li, you’re here.’ Aunt Shu was tying a towel around her head when she spotted Ming next to me. Her eyes narrowed. ‘What is he doing here?’
Fei cast her eyes downwards while Ming’s ears went crimson. I steeled myself and put on a big smile.
‘Shu tai, this is Ming, from Dingzai village. He is my good friend and an excellent comrade,’ I stepped forward and gestured for Aunt Shu to take a seat in the corner stool. ‘Ming has been chosen by our Brigade Leader to help direct our education program for the villages. And for your exceptional performance and display of Party ideals, your household has been given the honour of receiving the benefits of this new directive.’ I gave emphasis to the words ‘exemplary’ and ‘performance’ and considered pounding my fist into my hand like I’d seen the great orators do in their speeches, but that might have been too much for the tiny room we were in.
It actually hadn’t been difficult to convince Hongbing to let Ming come to my lessons with Fei and Aunt Shu. I threw around some quotes about the need for the peasants to take a dominant position in the new socialist transformation. ‘And what better embodiment do we have than this poor orphan who has lost everything, but still stands proud, ready to further the cause of the Party?’
I don’t think Hongbing really cared either way, and he granted his permission with a wave.
So now I was selling this to Aunt Shu with all the passion and charm I could muster.
Aunt Shu glared at Ming but gave a nod. Fei let out a little gasp of relief that she concealed as a light cough. Ming wouldn’t look up, keeping his eyes on the ground as he took a seat beside Fei on the dirt floor.
I remained standing while Fei and her aunt pulled out their copies of Mao’s quotations. ‘Today, we will look at Contradictions amongst the People,’ I began. The women dutifully opened their copies. Ming glanced around awkwardly and I realised he’d left his book at home. So much for coming under the guise of being a teacher. Fei noticed and leaned over to share her book with Ming.
‘Ahem.’ Aunt Shu made her intentions clear. The pair scooted apart and Ming returned his gaze to the ground.
I found it hard to concentrate as we went over Mao’s thoughts on indecision and conflict within the socialist sects. I tried to maintain the serious demeanour of a Party educator, but all the while I was watching every flinch and gesture between Ming and Fei. At first, their arms were stiff by their sides. But as the lesson went on, I noticed that Fei’s elbow seemed to nudge Ming’s. Aunt Shu didn’t notice and Fei flinched back immediately, blushing and increasing the distance between them further still. I suppressed a grin.
‘Aiyo,’ Aunt Shu exclaimed midway through a passage. ‘Teacher, if you can’t even read the words on the page how are we simple peasants expected to follow?’ she scolded.
‘Forgive me, Shu tai. My head is not clear today.’ And I had a thought. ‘But now might be a good time for my assistant to relieve me, while I collect myself.’
Ming’s head snapped up. I offered him my book. This was a passage we had gone over a few times together, so I hoped he’d be confident with it.
Fingers trembling, Ming took the book from my hands. It took him a while to find the right spot and Fei managed to very quickly point it out before withdrawing her arm under the hawk-eyed glare of her aunt.
‘In order to build a great socialist society, it is of the utmost importance to arouse the broad masses of women to join in productive activity.’ I flinched as Ming’s voice cracked and squeaked. But it grew in confidence as he went on. ‘Men and women must receive equal pay for equal work in production. Genuine equality between the sexes can only be realised in the process of socialist transformation of society as a whole.’
‘Well said, Min
g,’ I applauded, as if the words were his own. Ming stood up straighter and continued.
‘China’s women are a vast reserve of labour power. This reserve should be tapped in the struggle to build a great socialist country. Enable every woman who can work to take her place on the labour front, under the principle of equal pay for equal work. This should be done as quickly as possible.’ Ming made that final declaration with such uncharacteristic authority that I found myself slamming my hand to my chest as if swearing my unwavering allegiance.
He finished, shocked by his own performance. He looked to me for approval and I flashed him a smile and a wink.
I wasn’t the only one who approved. Fei was grinning from ear to ear, her eyes round, her cheeks a little pink with emotion. ‘I didn’t know his words could be so wise,’ she murmured.
But most importantly, I had seen Aunt Shu swelling with pride. This hard-working peasant woman, without a husband to support her, was the quintessential female comrade that Mao’s words were intended for. While my motives might not have exclusively been in the interest of furthering socialism, the effect was profound.
Aunt Shu gave Ming a sidelong glance and a grunt. It wasn’t approval but it was certainly progress, I thought.
‘Well, I think that wraps up today’s lessons,’ I said. ‘We will take our leave.’ Aunt Shu stood up and dusted off her trousers before heading straight for the stove, though not before setting her book down gently on the table. Fei leapt to her feet and showed us to the door.
Ming was still staring at the ground, but when he lifted his head to bid her good night they exchanged a mutual look of affection.
I hated to interrupt.
‘Teacher Ming, maybe there’s some homework you want to leave with your student?’ I whispered, elbowing him in the ribs.
Ming’s eyes lit up and he fumbled in his shirt pocket. Fei’s brow crinkled and then her face smoothed into a shy smile when Ming withdrew a thin envelope.
‘Ah, some reading for you,’ he said softly.
Fei gave a knowing tilt of her head and a little wave good night. I’d definitely say we’d made progress.
And that was more than enough for the night.
Chapter 10
LI
I ventured into the surf, just up to my ankles. Ming was already out in the sea, oblivious to the cold. The chill cut deep, so I could feel it in my bones. I was looking forward to the New Year and all it promised, though it would be the first time I would spend it away from my family.
Winter had been sullen and overcast, though up until now the water had been mild enough that Ming and I had kept up our swimming lessons. Meanwhile, fields still needed to be hoed and loosened so the pace of our work hadn’t slowed. Some of the educated youth had been put to work carving out channels for irrigation before the spring planting.
At night, we huddled in the darkness of the room lit by flickering lamps. I was surprised by the way the peasant boys had taken to the study of Mao’s words so seriously. Even Tian was writing and rewriting characters in the dust.
Hongbing was, of course, pleased to see their progress and Feng took it upon himself to spend as much of his free time as possible reciting the words of Mao to our village brothers. He wasn’t a great teacher, but no-one could deny his passion.
‘We should rid our ranks of all impotent thinking. All views that overestimate the strength of the enemy and underestimate the strength of the people are wrong.’
‘The prospects are bright but the road has many twists and turns.’
Of course, with the unfamiliar words, not to mention the way Feng delivered them, more than a few village boys were left scratching their heads.
‘There was a Foolish Old Man who had a house at the base of two mountains, but the mountains obstructed his view,’ Feng read a familiar story during one of our study nights. ‘So he set about moving the mountain with a pickaxe and shovel, one mound of earth at a time. A scholar passed the Foolish Old Man and his sons toiling at the mountain and remarked on his foolishness. The Foolish Old Man replied, “If I do not complete this task, my sons will continue my work for me and their sons after that. It will take many generations to chip away at our obstacles, but with enough time, we are sure to triumph.” The Old Buddha heard the Old Man’s declaration and took kindly to his determination. The Buddha sent an angel to lift the mountains and remove them from the Old Man’s view. And it was thus that the Foolish Old Man accomplished the impossible.’
Feng’s smug grin was met with confused faces.
‘Why didn’t he just turn his house around?’ Tian asked, his face disbelieving. ‘Who builds a house facing a mountain? What an idiot.’
‘That’s not the point Chairman Mao is making.’ Feng sighed. ‘The lesson we can take from this allegory is that we must continue to strive for our ideals despite the odds. We must be forever moving towards the socialist transformation if it is to succeed.’
‘Sounds like a load of crap to me,’ Tian muttered, not trying to hide his contempt. ‘Like when the Cadre made us all melt iron pots for steel. Doing something stupid and calling it commitment to the cause is still stupid.’
Feng squirmed uncomfortably and turned to me. I just shrugged. I’d never quite understood that story, even when I was a young Red Guard.
Unlike the Red Guards and the workers Mao had drawn into the Revolution in the cities, the peasants weren’t shy about sharing their real opinions. Maybe it was because there was little danger of their thoughts being called ‘intellectual’, or that they could be accused of bourgeois behaviour or being part of the landlord class. I found it all refreshing, the blunt common sense of it. While most of us in the Communist Youth Leagues had been falling over ourselves trying to prove how ‘socialist’ we were in our thinking, the villagers didn’t need to prove anything. The questions these boys were asking, like the ones Fei and even Aunt Shu posed to me, were thought provoking. Mao had always emphasised the importance of self-criticism and examination, but I realised now I’d never really seen it practised.
‘Li!’
A cold splash against my knees snapped me back to the present. My rolled-up trousers were soaked and the chill was becoming unbearable. Ming was waving wildly from the sea, pointing towards the rocks.
I followed his arm until a movement caught my eye. A figure was climbing the edge of a rocky outcrop, peering into the crashing surf. At first I thought it was a local fisherman, but he was too unsteady on his legs.
‘Comrade!’ I called out, starting back towards the beach to meet him. When he turned, I saw he was about my age or just a year or two younger. His hair was long, ruffling in the wind. He smiled and raised his hand in greeting, but didn’t move from the edge of the rocks.
I watched as he crouched down into a half squat looking down into the water, like he was practicing tai chi.
Then he pushed himself off the rock into a swan dive. Except he mistimed the jump, and he was left tumbling and flailing before landing on his back to be swallowed up by the sea.
‘No!’ I shouted as I watched the waves suck and push brutally against the rocks. I broke into a run, my feet slipping as I tried to hurry along the shore in my waterlogged clothes. I scrambled up the outcrop where he’d leapt, hardly noticing the jagged rocks cutting into my calloused feet. But by the time I reached the edge, there was nothing but white foam below.
After a long, awful moment, a dark mass of hair broke the surface, tossed about in the waves.
Ming was swimming desperately towards me, but he would never reach the boy in time. After only a moment’s hesitation to shed my shirt and pants, I leapt off the edge.
The water was icy cold, and I regretted the jump immediately. But I shook off the biting sting as I kicked my way to the surface.
I fought the waves, swimming towards where I could just see the boy’s hair bobbing on the surface, pushing away the image of my own head smashing against the rocks. I hauled my body through the water until I felt my fingers close around
cold flesh.
The boy’s awkward jump must have knocked him unconscious. He was a dead weight. With one armed wrapped around him, keeping up steady strokes with the other, I did my best to keep his head above the waves. My legs burned from the inside out but I kept pushing towards the shore.
Ming reached us just as my feet found solid ground, and he wrapped his arms around the boy’s legs. He was shorter up close and actually quite young, probably in his mid-teens. His skin was smooth, his body lean but not muscular, unlike the local youths. Together, we managed to carry the body and stumble back to the beach.
We collapsed in a wet heap and I checked the boy’s pulse. It was light but present, and I put my ear against his chest and heard short ragged breathing. I pounded his back once, twice, until a plume of water shot out of his mouth and dribbled out the sides. He coughed then, hacking and gasping. He tried to speak and I bent closer to him.
‘Did I make it? Am I in Hong Kong?’ His whisper was barely audible. When I looked back to his face, he’d passed out again.
‘We’d better get him to the nurse.’ Ming was already on his feet, dragging the boy by the armpits. I grasped him by the ankles and tried to stand, but my tired legs gave out from under me and I collapsed. Finally, I got to my feet and we struggled through the village with our load.
When we left the boy with Nurse Xi and headed back towards the dormitory, I was completely recovered.
‘We saved a boy, Ming. We saved a comrade’s life! What a glorious feat.’ I was bursting with excitement.
Ming was more subdued. ‘It was too dangerous. You could have died!’
‘Are you kidding me?’ I was beaming from ear to ear. ‘I feel amazing. I bet I could swim thirty li in the Yangtze river, just like Chairman Mao.’ I struck a gallant pose, waving to an imaginary crowd, like the newspaper photograph of the Chairman, clad in a simple robe after emerging from his historic ten-mile swim.
