Life, p.7
Life, page 7
As he lay on the kang, a powerful current of passion suddenly broke through the dam of logic he had constructed. He threw reason to the winds, and wanted only to see her as soon as possible, to be at her side.
He got out of bed, told his father he had some business in another part of the village, and ran out the door.
The night was quiet. Stars had begun to appear in the sky, and moonlight shone through the mist. The earth was covered in a swath of shadows and an air of mystery.
Gao Jialin walked south and stood on the hillside by Liu Liben’s house. He didn’t know how to get Qiaozhen to come out.
As he was hesitating beside the high walls of Liu Liben’s courtyard, he suddenly saw someone emerge from behind an old locust tree outside the main gate and rush toward him. Aha, it was his love! She had been waiting all this time, hoping against hope that he would appear!
Gao Jialin’s heart beat wildly, but he didn’t say a word, just turned and walked along the road that followed the stream into the gully toward the edge of the village. From time to time, he’d turn his head to look back at Qiaozhen, who followed close behind him.
When he reached the gully at the edge of the village, he lay down comfortably under a pear tree and listened excitedly to the sound of those sweet footsteps rustling toward him.
When she arrived, he quickly sat up. She hesitated slightly, then timidly yet determinedly sat down, leaning against him. She didn’t speak, but kissed the place where his clothing had been torn open at the seam and the darkly tanned skin of his arm was exposed. Then she hugged him around his shoulders, pressing her face to the spot she had just kissed, and began to sob piteously.
Gao Jialin leaned into her, returning her hug, and pressed his face against her head, unable to suppress the tears filling his eyes and falling onto her lacquer-black hair. There was no one in the world he felt closer to at that moment.
Qiaozhen dropped her head on his chest, still crying, and said, “Brother Jialin, why have you been ignoring me?”
“You must have been so sad . . .” Gao Jialin stroked her hair with his ruined hands.
“You can see into my heart, and you’re right.” Qiaozhen’s eyes, still shining with tears, gazed sadly at him.
“I’ll never do that again, Qiaozhen.” Jialin kissed her forehead.
Qiaozhen’s trembling arms encircled his neck. She smiled with pleasure and said, “Brother Jialin, swear it on the Jade Emperor in heaven!”
Jialin was amused. “You’re so superstitious! You must believe me, Qiaozhen . . . and why aren’t you wearing that beige short-sleeved shirt? It looks lovely on you . . .”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t like it, so I changed into this.” Qiaozhen pouted mischievously.
“Wear it again tomorrow, then.”
“OK. If you want, I’ll wear it every day!” Qiaozhen reached for her flower-print bag and pulled out six boiled eggs and a cake, which she set in front of him.
Gao Jialin was taken aback. He had been focused on Qiaozhen and hadn’t noticed that she had brought anything to eat.
While she peeled an egg for him, she said, “I know you didn’t eat anything this evening. Those of us who do hard labor all year long are too tired to eat when we get home—I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling!” She gave him the egg and a piece of cake. “My mother’s been terribly sick for the past few days. My sister brought her the cake, but she didn’t want to eat it. I stole it from the cupboard this evening!” Qiaozhen laughed good-naturedly. “If you hadn’t come to find me, I was going to bring these things to you at your house!”
Jialin swallowed a bite of cake. “You mustn’t! If your father knew, he’d break your legs!” he joked.
Qiaozhen pressed another peeled egg into Jialin’s hands and watched him happily while he wolfed it down. She put her hands and head on his shoulders and said tenderly, “Brother Jialin, you’re sweeter to me than my father is to my mother.”
“What nonsense! You really are a stupid girl!” Gao Jialin shoved the other half of the egg into his mouth. He patted her head softly, then shouted as one of the blisters on his hand broke against her hairpin.
Qiaozhen looked up in shock, unaware of what had happened, but quickly understood. Flustered, she searched in her bag. “Look, I forgot . . .”
She pulled out a bottle of red salve and a pack of sterilized cotton. She grabbed Jialin’s hand and pulled it toward her, applying balm to his wound.
Jialin’s jaw fell open. “How did you know my hands were hurt?”
Qiaozhen looked down as she applied the salve to his hands and said, “The Jade Emperor in heaven told me.” She tittered. “Who in the village doesn’t know about your hands?! You gentlemen, your hands are so delicate!” She gazed at him and smiled, parting her lips slightly to reveal two rows of pearly teeth as beautiful as white corn kernels.
An enormous wave of emotion rose in Jialin’s chest.
Oh love, sweet love! Like the silent spring rain sprinkling the fretful field of my heart. He had only ever experienced the emotion before while reading in fiction, but now he truly felt it. Most precious of all was that this happiness had come to him in the midst of great adversity.
After Qiaozhen had thoroughly applied the salve to his hands, he lay on the ground, utterly content. Qiaozhen leaned gently against him, her face pressed against his chest as though intent on studying every beat of his heart.
They cuddled together in silence, her body like a white-edged morning glory curling around a sunflower. The stars were scattered across the dark blue of the night sky like bright pearls. The contours of the Old Ox Mountains to the west looked soft and beautiful, as though drawn with a pencil. The wind had died down, and everything around them was still. Amid the gently rustling green leaves above their heads, unripe pears floated in the misty moonlight.
They lay sweetly in the quiet beneath the sky and in the embrace of the earth.
When love first awakens a young person, it bestows a great power. This is especially true in the case of those who have entirely lost faith in themselves—in them, passionate love can cause the spirit to come alive again.
Qiaozhen’s love was intoxicating: Gao Jialin felt uplifted, like he had a new passion for life. A warm current of love flowed over the cold tundra of his spirit, and he felt a new force blossom.
Love also gave him a deeper appreciation of the land. He had always been a child of the earth: he was born here and had lived a dreamlike childhood among the mountains and rivers of this place. When he’d gone to the city to attend school, the smell of the soil on him faded. He’d had less and less contact with the land. Now, with the help of Qiaozhen’s pure and beautiful love, he was coming to a deeper understanding: he shouldn’t fear living off the earth; this cherished land could still bear sweet fruit!
Gao Jialin slowly began to work in a more measured way: he stopped driving himself as he had those first days, until the physical pain forced the anguish from his heart.
After a while, his hands grew tougher. He rose early in the morning, and his back and legs were no longer so sore. He even learned how to plow and to do the very difficult job of separating the seedlings. He lost his taste for cigarettes, so he took a pipe up to the mountains. As a teacher, he had chosen his words carefully, but once he started working in the fields, he abandoned his precise way of speaking for the authentic language of the peasants; he learned to speak crudely and to joke with the women. His clothes naturally grew more and more tattered, and he washed or replaced them as necessary.
He would come home at noon every day and, without asking, help his father tend the allotment and help his mother pump the bellows. He also raised a few rabbits on the side. He spent his days like any other peasant, constantly busy.
The day was for working, but he had very pleasant evenings. Everything he suffered was endurable precisely because he had something so happy to look forward to.
At night, after it got dark, he and Qiaozhen would meet in the fields outside the village. Beneath the dense veil of night, they’d hold hands like children and stroll silently and aimlessly along the field paths, occasionally stopping to kiss or to gaze at each other sweetly and smile. When they tired of walking, they’d find a secluded spot where Jialin would lie down and release his exhaustion from the day with a contented sigh. Qiaozhen would then nestle into his side and comb through his dusty, disheveled hair with her fingers. Or she would press her delicate mouth to his ear and softly, softly sing one of the ancient folk songs passed down by their ancestors. Sometimes during this lullaby, Jialin would fall asleep and join his resonant snoring to her song. His beloved would then quickly rouse him and plead, “Look at how tired you are. You should take it easy tomorrow!” She would take his hand, cover her face with it, and say, “Wait until we’re married when you’ll get to rest at the beginning of the week. I’ll give you a real Sunday, just like you had at school.”
Every day Jialin was intoxicated by her sweet ministrations, and every day all other thoughts were pushed further from his mind. Only when he happened to see one of the county or commune cadres rushing along the road across the river, the wind blowing pleasantly over their snow-white Dacron shirts, would he suddenly feel melancholy. A slight bitterness would rise in his throat as though he had tried to swallow a pill that wouldn’t go down. He’d do his best to suppress this feeling, but he’d only really settle down when he saw Qiaozhen again, when he could then finally swallow the pill and chase it with a spoonful of honey.
He wanted to be with Qiaozhen all the time. He regretted that they weren’t on the same production brigade since that made it hard to see each other during the day. They missed each other like crazy. Sometimes their two groups would work near each other, and when it was time for a break, he would pretend to be looking for something and run to the other group. He never said anything to Qiaozhen, just looked at her. No one around them had any idea; only the two of them knew what was in their hearts—and that made it all the sweeter.
Sometimes he didn’t have a good excuse to go find her. Then she would belt out those two poignant lines:
Upstream a goose and downstream a gander
A lovely pair, she gazes bright-eyed at her brother
Whenever he heard the song from afar, he couldn’t help but smile.
Once when Qiaozhen had just finished singing, the women teased her, “Qiaozhen, Ma Shuan is on his way—quick—look at him with your bright eyes!”
She scolded them angrily and threw dirt at them, but was secretly proud and thought, Jialin is ten times stronger than Ma Shuan, you’ll see, and your eyes will be red with envy!
All the while that Gao Jialin and Qiaozhen were falling in love, matchmakers streamed into Liu Liben’s house. Liu Liben told them all that times were changing, and the decision should lie with his daughter. But secretly, he had a different plan. He had selected Ma Shuan—he was not badly off, he was honest, and he still understood enterprise, which was good since Liu Liben really wanted to go into business with his son-in-law at some point. But Qiaozhen didn’t think much of this darkly tanned young man, and Ma Shuan had his work cut out to persuade her otherwise. He even thought about asking his relative Gao Minglou to try to convince Qiaozhen.
Matchmakers would also frequently come by Gao Jialin’s. Jialin’s parents were thrilled with the idea that someone might find them a daughter-in-law, especially after seeing their meager home. There was one girl from a village on the other side of the mountain who didn’t want a bride-price—just Jialin himself—and Gao Yude was especially interested in her. But what was cause for celebration for his parents was met with laughter by Gao Jialin.
Jialin and Qiaozhen were happy with things the way they were since they could keep their love a secret. For the moment, they didn’t want to share the news of their romance, as this would undoubtedly make them the butt of intolerable taunts and coarse comments from the villagers. The two young lovers wouldn’t let anyone destroy their quiet, mysterious happiness.
Once, when Jialin and Old Deshun were working together, the old man asked, “Jialin, do you want a wife or not?”
Jialin laughed and said, “Sure, but there’s nobody suitable.”
“What about Qiaozhen?”
Jialin’s face turned red, and he didn’t know what to say.
Deshun grinned and said, “I think you two would be a good match! Qiaozhen is smart with excellent character; you two were made for each other! Jialin, you have good taste!”
A bit panicky, Jialin said, “Grandfather, I’ve never considered it.”
“Boy, there’s no need to be like that. We old men see everything!”
Jialin frowned and said, “OK, Grandfather, but you mustn’t say anything!”
Deshun took Jialin’s hands in his wrinkled ones and said, “My lips are sealed so tightly that not even iron bars can pry them apart! I’m so happy for you children. It’s just like the old song; you two ‘truly were paired up by heaven.’”
At midday, after he and Deshun had finished their work and were returning home, they happened across Ma Shuan at the entrance to the village. He looked as he had the last time Jialin had seen him: dressed in head-to-toe Dacron and pushing his gaily decorated bicycle. Jialin thought, a little unhappily, You’re on your way to Qiaozhen’s house.
Ma Shuan warmly greeted the pair. At first, he didn’t say anything to Jialin, waiting for Deshun to walk a little ahead. Then he said, “Professor Gao! I’ve just come from Liu Liben’s house. I’m going to ruin my legs running back and forth to that place. Once again, Qiaozhen didn’t pay any attention to me, even though I’ve burned incense at the temple about it. You’re from this village, and you’re a teacher, so you must know Liben’s daughters. Can’t you help me out?”
Gao Jialin was not thrilled at this request, but he did his best not to show it. He managed a smile and said to Ma Shuan, “You’re wasting your time. Qiaozhen has her eye on someone else.”
“Who?” Ma Shuan asked, surprised.
“You’ll find out soon enough . . .”
At this, he walked around the disheartened Ma Shuan and returned home.
CHAPTER 8
Rumors that Gao Jialin and Liu Qiaozhen were together quickly spread throughout the village.
They were first exposed by some elementary school kids who had been stealing watermelons from the fields after dark. They said that one night they saw their old teacher, Gao, hugging and kissing Qiaozhen in the fields on the far side of the village behind a hay bale. Still others confirmed that they had seen the two lying together in the sorghum one night on the near side of the river . . .
As the rumor passed from person to person, it grew increasingly outrageous. There were those who said Qiaozhen’s stomach was growing bigger; others said that she had already borne a child; and there were even those who could describe the time and place of the birth in painstaking detail.
Liu Liben eventually heard these rumors. The day they reached him, Double Ace donned his skullcap, so angry it seemed that steam came out his ears. At lunch, allowing her no opportunity to explain or make excuses, he beat his good-for-nothing daughter outside by their mud-brick stove. Then he furiously marched to the north side of the village to talk to Gao Yude.
Double Ace had suddenly realized that Qiaozhen’s behavior—brushing her teeth, changing clothes three times a day, running around after dark—was all because of Gao Yude’s black sheep of a son!
He ran up to the decrepit walls of Gao Yude’s house and called out for him.
Jialin’s mother shouted from inside that the old man wasn’t at home.
“On such a bright, hot morning he should be inside eating! Where’s he gotten to?” Liben bellowed from the yard.
“He’s probably gone to work in the allotment.” Jialin’s mother hurried out and invited the respected village elder into her home.
But Liben said he was busy, turned, and walked away.
He went out the main gate, toward the stream, and around a small hill—straight to Gao Yude’s allotment. On his way he laughed to himself. Hmph, of course he’s working in the dirt. So poor there’s not two cents in their whole cave, and they want to marry their son off to my daughter. They don’t even have a pot to piss in!
From far away Liben could just make out the stooped figure of Gao Yude working his plot of millet, and he picked up the pace.
Although he was full of rage as he came up the path, Liben was mindful of the old customs as he greeted his elder: “Elder Brother Gao, could you please take a break? There’s something I need to speak with you about.”
Gao Yude saw that one of the most revered members of his village had sought him out on this blazing-hot morning and panicked. He couldn’t utter a word, simply dropped his hoe and beckoned Liben over.
The two of them sat in the shadow of the mountains. Old Yude offered up his pipe, but Liben waved it away saying, “Go ahead, I’m afraid I’d choke on it!” As he spoke, Liben pulled a pack of Gong-brand cigarettes out of his pocket, lit one, and took a long drag. He turned to look at Yude with a gloomy expression. “Elder Brother Gao, your Jialin is messing around in the village. Why haven’t you done anything? He’s violating all our customs!”
“What’s going on?” Old Gao Yude pulled the pipe from his bearded mouth in surprise and turned to face Liben.
“What’s going on?” Liu Liben leaped to his feet, practically foaming at the mouth. “That prodigal son of yours is luring my Qiaozhen away in the middle of the night, doing god-knows-what with her without our approval and causing us to lose face in front of the whole village. I’m so embarrassed I wish I could hide my head between my legs, while you go around with a clear conscience, pretending you don’t know anything about it!” The tip of his cigarette trembled as he spoke.
