I jumped off the bike and tears filled my eyes as we rushed to each other and she hugged me tightly in her arms. "How I missed you!" she cried. "How I missed you! I nearly died missing you!" she kept repeating.
I was in ninth heaven again. This was what I had been dreaming of ever since I left her a year ago.
My fourth aunt rushed out of her house then, hobbling on her tiny bound feet as fast as she could. "Where is my sixth son?"
"Si niang. How are you?" I asked.
"You are whiter and a little fatter than when you left us!" she said proudly.
We all went into our house then. Nothing had changed. I could smell the ginger, garlic and green onion dumplings. I was so happy. All my brothers sat around and everyone talked and talked. It was as though we were trying to tell all our stories of the past year, all at once.
Niang didn't say much, but from the way she looked at me I knew she had missed me terribly. Throughout the day I simply hung around her-I felt safe. I felt loved. I was a little child of hers once again.
"Can I help you wash those shirts?" I asked as my niang was preparing her laundry.
"I'm fine," she said. "Don't you want to see your friends?"
"I'll go later," I replied.
"Did you miss home?"
I hesitated, remembering what my second brother had said. "No, not too much, only a little!"
"That's good. There isn't much to miss back here. Only a hard life!" she sighed.
Just then a couple of my niang's friends walked in. "Aya! Look at him, he has grown!" one said.
"He has become so white," said the other. "Look at his beautiful skin! This would only come from nutritious food. What a lucky boy you are!"
I dutifully answered their questions about Beijing and life at the academy and then escaped to pay my respects to my relatives, neighbours and friends, and to spend the rest of the morning roaming the streets, playing some of the old games with my brothers and friends. I had missed them so much and I felt so relieved to be back.
After lunch, my fifth brother Cunfar suddenly dragged me outside into our front courtyard. "I nearly forgot!" he said excitedly. "I have a present for you. Just wait." He went into our little shed and pulled out a small glass jar. "I've kept my prized cricket champion for you since summer! He has beaten all the crickets in our village and now he is yours!" Proudly he handed me the jar.
"Really?" I held the jar as though it was a priceless treasure. "What did you name him?" I asked.
"The King," Cunfar replied. "He is so handsome, just wait until you see the size of his teeth!"
I carefully opened the lid. "Come on, King," I called and tilted the jar sideways. Nothing happened.
"He won't recognise your voice. Let me try," he said. "Come on, King! You can come out now!"
Still no cricket came out. "I'll kill you if you don't come out!" he shouted impatiently.
"Let me see." I gave the jar a gentle shake and tipped it upside down. The cricket dropped out, dead.
"Oh, my King!" My brother was devastated.
"Don't worry, Fifth Brother. I'm sure you'll find another champion next summer."
"You would have been so proud of him. He fought like a true warrior. His teeth were as sharp as knives. I'm sorry you didn't get to play with him."
I too was sad that the King was dead. From the look of him he'd been a strong cricket.
Later that afternoon, my second brother Cunyuan rode on the bike again to collect our dia from work. Jing Tring and I ran to the intersection at the edge of our village. I was excited to see my dia again, but I was anxious about my grades too and worried about his reaction. I saw them ride up and my dia hopped off in front of us. "You're back!" He smiled one of his rare smiles.
I nodded. That was all he said to me and all I had to reply. I loved my dia dearly and I knew he loved me as well.
My niang had already prepared a special dinner as a welcome treat by the time we arrived home. There was so much excitement! We all sat around the kang and again I explained what my life was like in Beijing and I tried hard to mention only the positive elements of the experience. "We can't match the food you had in Beijing but I hope you still like my dumplings," my niang said as she sat a bowl of steaming hot dumplings in front of me.
"This was all I'd dream about, but we did have dumplings all the time at the academy," I lied. I pushed the bowl in front of my dia, because I knew there wouldn't be enough for everyone."
Liuga, can you count how many times you ate meat there?" Jing Tring asked.
"Nearly every day!" I replied.
Cunsang was wide-eyed with disbelief.
I nodded. There was silence.
"Madame Mao wouldn't let her students starve, would she?" Niang said finally.
A few weeks before I arrived home Cunsang had been accepted by the Chinese navy and he was going to be a sailor on one of the battleships stationed in the Shandong Province area, so we talked about this as well. After dinner I took out the sweets which I had bought in Beijing and everyone tasted a piece. Our dia would keep the rest as gifts. Then I suggested playing our word-finding game, looking for words from the newspapers that covered our walls, and my brothers happily agreed. We had so much fun. It was just like old times.
Before bed, when I was alone with my parents and Jing Tring, I handed my dia the three yuan which I had saved.
"Why didn't you buy something for yourself in Beijing?" my dia asked.
"I thought this would help the family," I replied.
"Zhi zhi zhi!" my niang just sighed. She was sad that I'd felt the need to give back whatever I had to my family.
With my second brother now working in the commune, I could tell that my family's living conditions had improved, even if only slightly. They still ate the same kind of food but now there was a little more for my niang to cook with: limited rations of meat, fish, oil, soy sauce and coal, plenty of dried yams and, once a week, corn bread. And besides the New Year's special food, my niang had cooked me dumplings not once but a couple of times, because she knew they were my favourite. Even so, there was never enough for everyone, and the dumplings travelled from my bowl to my niang's, my niang's back to mine, and then I would pass one to my dia. But he'd move his bowl away and the dumpling would slip onto the wooden tray. Niang would sigh yet again. "Silly boy, just eat them! I know you have good food to eat in Beijing, but you won't be able to have my dumplings again for a whole year!"
I attracted attention wherever I went in my village now. I was a celebrity.
"Did you really see Madame Mao?" one peasant man asked me.
I nodded.
He suddenly grabbed my hands and shook them violently. "It's a privilege! Such a privilege!" he shouted ecstatically.
Many people stopped me like that and asked me about Beijing and university life. I knew they were expecting to hear about glorious, heartwarming experiences, so I found myself telling everyone only the best aspects of Beijing. Everyone wanted to know about the food. I had to glorify everything. They longed to hear something that would give them hope. Hope was all they had and I couldn't let them down.
One day, four of my old friends and I were playing our "hopping on one leg" game when one of them asked me to give them a dance lesson. "Teach us something we can perform in our school show!" he begged excitedly.