My mother really loved me, so she would work with me in the fields. But she was getting old, and her feet made work difficult. Once she bent over it would take her a long time to stand up again. When she would sit down in the field, I’d say to her, “Mom, hurry up and get back inside.”
But Mom would shake her head and say, “Four hands are better than two.”
“If you get sick, then I’ll have to take care of you. And then there won’t be any hands!” I retorted.
Hearing this, she slowly walked back to the ridge between the fields to sit with Fengxia. Every day, Fengxia would sit on the ridge and keep me company. She would pick a whole bunch of flowers and put them in a pile next to her legs. As she picked each one she would ask what kind of flower it was. How was I supposed to know what kinds of flowers they were? I would say, “Go ask Grandma.”
My mom, sitting on the ridge, would often call out to me when she saw me working with the hoe, “Careful not to cut your foot!”
When I used the sickle she would be even more worried. She would constantly repeat, “Fugui, don’t cut your hand!”
Even with my mom on one side reminding me, it wasn’t much use. There was too much to do, so I had to work fast. As soon as I would pick up the pace I would inevitably slice my foot or cut my hand, and as soon as my hand or foot would start to bleed, my mother would become frantic. On her twisted little feet, she’d run over and press a clump of mud on the wound to stop the bleeding. And then she would scold me for not being more careful. Once her mouth got going, it went on forever. But I couldn’t talk back or she’d start to cry.
My mom would often say the mud of the earth is the best thing for people’s health. Not only could it grow crops, but it could cure diseases, too. In all the years since then, whenever I’ve injured myself, I’ve always pressed a clump of wet mud against the wound. My mom was right: you shouldn’t scoff at those clumps of mud, as they’re a cure for all kinds of sicknesses.
When you’re working to the point of exhaustion every day, you don’t have time to worry about other things. After renting the land from Long Er, I would fall into a deep sleep each night the moment my head hit the pillow. There was no way I had time to think about anything else. Looking back now, those days were both difficult and exhausting, but my heart was at peace. I thought that the Xu family was once again like a little chicken. If I kept working as I had, within a few years that chicken would become a goose. And one day the Xu family would once again be rich.
I stopped wearing silk clothes after losing the house to Long Er. I wore an outfit my mother had made for me from coarse cloth. When I first began to wear those clothes they felt really uncomfortable, especially the way they rubbed against my skin, but as time went by they became more comfortable. One day Wang Xi died. Wang Xi had been one of our tenants. He was two years older than I was, and before he died he told his son to give me his old silk shirt. He never forgot that I used to be the young master. He wanted me to have the wonderful feeling of wearing silk clothes once more before I died. Me, I felt bad because Wang Xi’s heart was really in the right place, but as soon as I put on that silk shirt, I took it right off. That slimy, uncomfortable feeling was unbearable. It felt like I was wearing clothes made of snot.
Then, three months after Long Er had rented the land, Changgen, our family’s old worker, showed up. I was working in the field, and Mom and Fengxia were sitting on the ridge. Changgen walked over, wearing torn clothes and leaning on an old, withered tree branch. He was still carrying the same bag and, in his other hand, clasped an empty alms bowl. He’d become a beggar. Fengxia saw him first. She stood up and called, “Changgen! Changgen!”
When my mother saw that it was Changgen, who had grown up in our home, she hurried to greet him. Changgen, wiping away his tears, said, “Madame Xu, I missed the young master and Fengxia. I just came back to see them.”
Changgen walked out to the field. When he saw me wearing those coarse clothes covered in mud, he began to cry like a wounded bird, asking, “Young master, how could you have ended up like this?”
After I lost our family property, Changgen was the one who suffered most. Changgen had worked for our family all his life, and, according to custom, when he got old it was supposed to be our family that took care of him. But once our family was reduced to poverty, he had no choice but to leave. All he could do was beg to get by.
Seeing Changgen come back broke my heart. When I was little he would carry me all around on his back. And when I got older I never paid much attention to him. I never dreamed he would return to see us.
“Are you doing all right?” I asked Changgen.
Wiping away his tears, he replied, “Okay.”
I asked, “You still haven’t found a family to give you work?”
Changgen shook his head. “At my age, whose family would want to hire me?” Hearing this, I wanted to cry. But Changgen still didn’t feel his life was difficult — he was crying for me.
“Young master, how can you take this kind of suffering?” he asked.
That night Changgen stayed over in our thatched hut. My mother and I decided to let Changgen stay with us. Although from now on life would be even harder, I told my mom, “Even if it’s difficult, we’ve got to let him stay. If each of us eats just two mouthfuls less of rice we’ll be able to support him.”
My mom nodded. “Changgen has such a good heart.”
The next morning I told Changgen, “Changgen, you’ve come back at the perfect time. I was just short a helper. From now on you’ll stay here.”
After hearing my words, Changgen looked at me and laughed. He laughed and laughed until tears began to fall.
“Young master, I don’t have the energy to help you anymore,” Changgen quietly uttered. “Your good intentions are enough.”
With those final words, Changgen left. No matter how hard we tried we couldn’t stop him. He said, “Let me go. I’ll be back to visit you some other time.”
After Changgen left, he came back once more. He brought a piece of red silk for Fengxia to tie her hair up with. He had found it somewhere, and after cleaning it off he tied it to his waist and brought it all the way here especially for Fengxia. I never saw Changgen again after that.
Since I rented Long Er’s land, I was his tenant. I couldn’t call him Long Er like I used to; I had to call him Master Long. In the beginning, when Long Er heard me address him like that, he would wave his hands and say, “Fugui, there’s no reason for the two of us to be so formal.”
But as time went by he got used to it. When I was out in the field he would often come by to chat with me. Once when I was cutting the rice and Fengxia was behind me picking up the fallen ears, Long Er swaggered over. He said to me, “Fugui, I’ve given up. From now on I’m not going to gamble. No one’s a winner at the gambling house. I’m quitting while I’m ahead so as to avoid ending up like you someday.”
I bowed to Long Er and said respectfully, “Yes, Master Long.”
Long Er pointed to Fengxia and asked, “This is your little brat?”