A century of poverty

Chapter 79 Illusion

My fourth sister is still shamelessly going to school. My father, eldest brother, and second brother all give her the cold shoulder. Knowing she's in the wrong, she gets up early every day to cook for the whole family, eats by herself, and then goes to school. The remaining housework is done by me, despite my ailing body.

My family includes my grandma, grandpa, second brother, younger brother, fourth sister, and me. I don't have to wash grandma's clothes; she doesn't like others touching her things. My fourth sister washes them herself. My second brother, younger brother, grandpa, and I have a huge basin of clothes every few days, especially my second brother's underwear and socks—they smell awful and go bad very quickly.

Rheumatoid arthritis is still taking its toll on my body; my legs hurt so much that I can't carry firewood while cooking. I called out to my father, "Dad—can you carry the firewood for me?" My father silently carried the firewood over.

Since Mom passed away, Dad has become much more lenient with my younger brother and me. We dare to speak to him directly now. When Mom was alive, if we didn't understand what he asked us to do, we didn't dare to ask, let alone ask him to fetch firewood.

Today, my third cousin's husband, Li Qin, who lives in the front, came to visit and was chatting with my father.

As her father carried firewood into the house, Li Qin said, "Uncle, little sister, you should go get your leg checked. It's too late for you to carry firewood, how can you manage?" Her third cousin's husband, speaking with a Jinzhou accent, said.

Dad: "I'd like to see her too, but she can't walk, how can I go?"

Li Qin: "I'll ride my bicycle and take her to Liuhe Hospital for a checkup."

Dad: "The feeling is gone."

Li Qin came home, rode his big old-fashioned bicycle, and waited at the door. He let me sit on it, then rode off to the entrance of Liuhe Hospital, stopped the bike, and let me get off. I walked in with difficulty. The registration window was on my right, and I registered myself. My third cousin's husband watched me from a few steps away.

When I arrived at the clinic, I was seen by Dr. Fan, a man in his fifties with a full beard. After asking about my symptoms, he asked the nurse to give me an intravenous injection of "compound sodium salicylate" and prescribed a packet of "phenylbutazone".

After this treatment, I did feel much better. I could open the hook to eat, my knees didn't hurt as much, and although my elbows still couldn't straighten, they didn't hurt anymore. I could move around freely again, which was good enough in my dad's eyes.

He thought I had "grown up" and could do the work for someone, so he should "retire" and enjoy his old age.

Actually, the "old men's team" around his age, who were a few years older than him, were also doing the work, responsible for planting and shoveling beans on the main line. They earned more work points than us, didn't have to go into the water, finished work earlier than us, and earned work points more easily than I did.

I carried a shovel and followed the rest of the team to rush to clear the stubble. Each row was 500 meters long, and we each took one row and pushed forward. I tried my best not to fall behind, but after less than 30 meters, my weak and exhausted hands were covered in four blisters, all of which had burst, and the shovel handle was stained red. I couldn't catch up.

I was overwhelmed with shame, my heart ached more than my hands. When others came back and brought my ridge back, I dared not look up at anyone, nor did I know how the work recorder had assigned me my work points.

When raising seedlings, my legs were too thin to support my boots when I went into the water, so I wrapped them with straw and tied them tightly. When covering the seedlings with a cloth, I was afraid the plastic would be blown away by the strong wind, so I held on tightly and wouldn't let go, even when the plastic sheet was blown into the air. When the wind turned, I and the plastic sheet fell to the ground together.

To work on the east side of the dry canal, one had to walk along a 500-meter-long small main road to the end. I had only gone halfway when my legs gave out and I was blown by a strong wind into the small main road, which was full of water (more than a meter deep). I struggled to climb out, went home to change my clothes, and then went again.

I persevered with all my might.

I remember a saying from my homeroom teacher, Wang Diankui: "It's better to sweat on your body than to let your face get hot."

When I got home, I still had to cook and do housework. I'd barely finished and hadn't even had a chance to rest on the kang (heated brick bed) when the whistle for getting out of bed blew, and I'd have to go back to work. Sometimes my dad would feel sorry for me, and when I came home from work, he'd light the fire, intending to cook. But when he saw me come back, he'd hand the cooking over to me and wait on the kang.

Sometimes, I'd rush to wash the clothes and hang them up to dry before going to work in the fields. When I came back, I wanted to change, but I couldn't because a rain shower had soaked the clothes I'd hung out to dry. At those times, I'd especially miss my mom, because Liu Fengming had also washed her clothes, and she'd have something to change into that afternoon; when it rained, her mom had taken them to the house for her.

I don't... I often feel heartbroken.

Despite taking medication, I persisted in working in the paddy fields and doing housework when I got home.

In the morning, my feet, clad in leaky boots, were hesitant to step into the paddy field. As soon as I stepped in, a rush of cool water gushed in, like a chilly little snake, first swirling around my feet, then gradually increasing until it covered my instep, submerged my ankles, and rose up to the entire boot shaft. My knees were completely enveloped in the cool water, and the chill rose up to my thighs.

When I got home, I said to my dad, "Buy me a new pair of boots! These are leaky; they get so cold when I step on the ground, it's freezing!"

My father replied, "If it's leaked, have your second brother fix it for you."

I said to my second brother, "My boots have a hole, can you help me glue them?"

Second brother: "Hmm."

Sometimes she wouldn't answer or pay attention to me. Like worn-out boots, once glued on, they're no longer durable; they leak everywhere. "Clang, clang." After wearing those leaky boots all summer, my feet were white, wrinkled, and swollen from being soaked, and my legs were stiff.

My second brother joined the militia as a core member. During training at the brigade, he brought home a copy of "Northeast Militia." I flipped through an article titled "Where is the Way Out for Rural Youth?" and read it several times. Before, I'd only read revolutionary articles; this was the first time I'd encountered one reflecting on personal prospects, and I deeply resonated with it. She articulated the crucial question that had been shrouding my mind: what was the future after adulthood? But right now, I still didn't know which path to take in life. Seeing that all the rural youth were farming, I could only follow suit.

This article opened a sliver of insight into my perspective on life, showing that one can consider their own destiny and forge a path different from those around them. Although I cannot yet put it into practice, I may gradually do so.

Once the dog days of summer arrive, the rice seedlings in the fields begin to bud and head, so weeding is no longer possible, and female laborers will also have a day off.

When my fourth sister was on summer vacation, my sister and I, under Grandma's guidance, took apart, washed, and remade all the cotton-padded clothes for the whole family. Grandma couldn't see, so she told us where to start, how to take apart, wash, dry, and flatten them, and then remake them one by one. After taking apart and making the cotton-padded clothes, we also took apart the quilts. The bedding was very dirty after half a year and very old after many years of use. We sewed and patched it up, took it apart and made it all over again, so that we could cover ourselves with clean and warm blankets in winter.

We also need to make time to gather wild vegetables for the pigs, so that we can save on bran and the pigs can eat them to reduce their internal heat.

One midday, I was walking alone with a basket on my shoulder, heading east along the terraced fields north of the county road. It was after the beginning of autumn, and there weren't many wild vegetables. Before I knew it, I had passed the small red house (a protective structure made of red bricks), and across a patch of reeds on the water, another twenty meters ahead was the location of my mother's grave.

I stopped and started walking back. Looking up, I saw a person dressed all in black, with their hair tied in a bun, walking west on the dirt road beside the county road. Wait, isn't that my mother? Wearing those lined trousers and a lined jacket? Did she come out of her grave?

I had fantasized countless times that my mother had gone on a long trip and would come back someday. Has this come true?

I stared intently, and she turned back to look at me kindly. Neither of us spoke; separated by the ditch, I couldn't cross, I could only watch. I felt fortunate to have this opportunity. After about five minutes, I thought again, "How could it be real, with such a long separation between life and death?"

I lowered my head to pick wild vegetables, but I couldn't help wanting to look around some more. I looked up again and saw that the person was still there, calmly walking forward. After watching for a while, I lowered my head again to look for wild vegetables. When I looked again, the path was completely empty, there was nothing there. I wasn't scared; in fact, I was quite relieved to see my mother. Although she didn't say anything, I definitely saw her.

By then, the basket was full of wild vegetables, time to go home! I happily told my fourth sister about it, and she said, "Is there someone who looks like them?"

I said, "How can they be so alike, even their expressions are the same, that way they look at each other! It's a silent communication."

Grandma: "It's your mother who missed her youngest daughter and came out to see you."

My fourth sister and I washed the quilt covers and quilt covers, and stretched the entire clothesline from east to west.

When Aunt Liu came and saw it, she said, "You're just doing it like this after it's dried? Why isn't it starched?"

I asked, "How do you make it?"

She said, "Go boil some water, I'll help you with the soup."

I did as she instructed, lighting the fire and boiling water. She then told my fourth sister, "Bring the noodles here."

Fourth Sister brought over a bag of flour: "There's not much flour left."

Auntie said, "That's enough." She scooped out a bowlful, poured it into a basin, stirred it with water, and then poured it into a pot.

"Go! Bring the dried fabric in." We followed her instructions, picked it up, and handed it to her. She rinsed it in the pan, then had us hang it out to dry. After starching and hanging it up, she told us, "Check it every now and then, in case it dries and sticks together." As she did so, she said, "This is so nice, it's cool to cover with in the summer, and the fabric is sturdy too."

she left.

Grandma pouted, "I don't even know how to make batter. This batter has cost half a pound of flour."

This autumn, several girls like me, who were "second-generation" girls, left the sixth team.

Most of the threshing was finished. Political team leader Liu Shiya presided over the meeting, stopping two threshing machines and rearranging the personnel, sending several migrant children, including myself, home for the holidays. We were very unhappy: "Let's reason with Team Leader Liu! Why are we being sent back? We're used when it's tiring, but not when it's easy?" Our discussion was overheard by Team Leader Liu, who was wielding a broom nearby. He seemed to be talking to us, but also to himself: "These kids are getting cocky. A few small mudfish can't capsize a big ship. Let them go if they want; it's all for nothing anyway. If we tell the work recorder, they won't give us any points."

We looked at each other, then parted ways in frustration.

Back home, I went to my sister-in-law's east room to sit on the kang (heated brick bed), watching the children while twisting rope. I didn't like to move or talk, and felt unwell. After a long while, I went to the toilet and found my cotton pants stained red with blood. I didn't know what to do and said something to my sister-in-law. She silently folded a piece of toilet paper and handed it to me. I went back to the toilet.

As the year draws to a close, the second Spring Festival since Mom passed away is approaching, and Dad bought us several pounds of meat for the New Year.

He went back to the interior for the New Year. His eldest sister's family was relatively well-off. His brother-in-law was a cook, and he often went out to cook for them while repairing the "Daheiting" and "Haihe" rivers. He earned a lot of work points and received subsidies. The girls in the family had small appetites, and when they couldn't finish the grain, they would go to the fields and hillsides to find wild vegetables to feed the pigs.

My eldest sister's family raises a big, fat pig every year. They slaughter it for the Lunar New Year but don't sell the meat; they keep it for themselves.

Although my second sister's family wasn't wealthy, they still had dumplings and meat during the Lunar New Year. As a place to eat, drink, and store supplies, it was very convenient to visit relatives and friends in Zhangzhuangtuo.

After the Lantern Festival, my father returned from inside the pass and told my grandmother that Zhang Xifeng had died.

Grandma: "Oh dear—what's wrong?"

Dad: "I heard it was liver cancer. It was discovered in the summer, and he passed away in less than three months. People also said that Zhang Mingzhi came to our house to look for the accounts he was in charge of, and there were some unpleasant rumors circulating about him."

Grandma: "Is there something wrong with our old grave? Why is it causing trouble for us, the heads of the household?"

Father: "When I was at home, I mentioned this to Zhang Xigui. He said that the land where the old graves were located now belongs to Zhaozhuangtuo, and he has no help. These days, it's not easy to bring up this matter, so I just said it and left it at that."