Deep down I was so happy I said, “Oh, it’s much lighter.”
By then Kugen was five years old, and he had already become my good little helper. Wherever I went he’d follow and help me work; he could even cut the rice stalks. I had the town blacksmith make Kugen a little sickle, and when he got it Kugen was happy as could be. Normally when I brought him into town he’d go looking for his friends as soon as we passed the alley that led to Erxi’s old house. No matter how many times I called him he wouldn’t answer. But the day I told him we were going to get him a sickle, he grabbed hold of my clothes and wouldn’t let go, following me all the way to the blacksmith’s shop. When we got there, the two of us waited outside for a while. Someone walked past us to go into the shop, and Kugen couldn’t resist pointing to the sickle inside and telling the man, “That’s Kugen’s sickle.”
Now when his friends came to play with him, he just turned his head and said proudly, “I don’t have time to talk to you now.”
After the sickle was finished, Kugen insisted on sleeping with it. I wouldn’t let him, so he had to settle for keeping it under his bed. The first thing he’d do every morning was reach under the bed to caress his sickle. I told him that he’d get quicker with it the more he used it, and that the harder he worked the stronger he’d get. Kugen blinked his eyes and stared at me for a long time before saying, “The quicker I get with the sickle the more stronger I’ll get.”
Kugen was still little, so naturally he was slower at cutting the rice than I was. He’d get upset as soon as he saw that I was quicker. Staring at me, he’d yell, “Fugui, slow down!”
All the people in the village called me Fugui, so Kugen also grew accustomed to calling me Fugui. He also called me Grandpa. I’d point to the pile of rice I had cut and say, “Look at all that Kugen cut.”
He’d be so happy he’d start to giggle. Then he’d point to the pile of rice he had cut and say, “Look at all the rice that Fugui cut.”
Kugen was little and got tired easily. He’d always be running up to the ridge to take naps. He’d say, “Fugui, the sickle’s slowing down.”
What he meant was that he was tired. After lying down on the ridge for a while he would get up and watch me cutting the rice shoots. From time to time he’d yell, “Fugui, don’t step on my rice shoots!”
Everyone around would laugh when they heard that — even the team leader. He was just as old as I was, and yet he was still the team leader. There were a lot of people in his family, so they got the five mu of land that were right next to mine. The team leader said, “Little bastard’s really got a mouth on him, doesn’t he?”
“It’s to make up for Fengxia’s inability to speak,” I said.
Those days may have been difficult and exhausting, but at least deep down I was happy. With Kugen around I had a new zest for life. Seeing Kugen getting bigger and bigger by the day, this grandpa of his could rest easier. At dusk the two of us would sit on the doorstep and watch the sun go down. We’d see the fields turn a deep glowing red and hear the sound of the other villagers calling in the distance. The pair of chickens we were raising would totter back and forth in front of us. Kugen and I were really close. When we were together we’d never run out of things to say. Seeing those two chickens made me think back to what my father had said just before he died. I would always repeat those words to Kugen. “When these chickens grow up they’ll become geese, and when the geese grow up they’ll become lambs. When the lambs grow up they’ll turn into oxen. And us, we’ll get richer and richer!”
Kugen couldn’t stop laughing at this. He remembered every word of what I said. Many times, when he came out of the chicken coop with the newly laid eggs, he would sing those lines to himself.
When there were enough eggs we’d take them into town to be sold. I told Kugen, “When we’ve saved up enough money we’ll buy an ox, and then you’ll be able to go off to play, riding on the ox’s back.”
As soon as Kugen heard this, his eyes lit up.
“And the chicken will really turn into an ox!” he exclaimed.
From then on, Kugen was constantly waiting for the day when we would be able to buy an ox. Every morning after he opened his eyes he’d ask me, “Fugui, are we going to buy the ox today?”
Sometimes when we’d go into town to sell the eggs I’d feel sorry for Kugen and want to buy some candy for him. Kugen would say, “Just one piece is enough. We still haven’t saved up enough for the ox.”
In the blink of an eye, Kugen was already seven. He had gotten much stronger, too. One day, just when it was almost time to harvest the cotton, the village radio broadcast announced heavy rains. What was I supposed to do? The one and a half mu of cotton I had planted was already ripe. If it rained, my whole crop would be ruined. Early that morning I pulled Kugen out to the cotton field and told him that we had to strip all the cotton that day. Kugen looked up at me and said, “Fugui, I feel dizzy.”
“Hurry up and start picking,” I prodded him. “After you finish you can go off to play.”
So Kugen started picking the cotton. After working for a while he went up to the ridge to lie down. I yelled at him, telling him to get up, but Kugen just repeated, “I feel dizzy.”
I figured I’d let him rest awhile longer, but once he lay down he didn’t get back up. I started to lose my temper a bit. “Kugen, if we don’t strip all the cotton today, we’re never going to buy that ox,” I warned him.
Only after hearing that did Kugen get up. He told me, “I’m really dizzy. My head hurts.”
I kept working right up until noon. Only when I saw that more than half the cotton was already stripped did I start to relax a bit. I went up the ridge to get Kugen so we could go home for lunch, but the second I grabbed his hand I knew something was wrong. I quickly felt his forehead — he was burning up. Only then did I realize he was sick. I was really an idiot: there he was, sick, and I was forcing him to work. When we got home I had Kugen lie down. Everyone in the village used to say that ginger is a cure for all kinds of illnesses, so I decided to cook him a bowl of ginger soup. The only problem was, I didn’t have any sugar in the house. I thought of just throwing in a little salt, but I couldn’t do that to Kugen. So I went to one of the villagers’ houses to borrow some sugar.
“I’ll repay you in a couple of days when I sell the cotton,” I promised.
“Don’t worry about it, Fugui,” he said.
In addition to the ginger soup, I also cooked Kugen a bowl of porridge. Only after I watched him finish did I eat. As soon as I finished I went right back out to the fields. On my way out I said to Kugen, “You’ll feel better after you get some sleep.”
But as I went out the door, I still couldn’t get Kugen out of my mind. I decided to pick half a pot of fresh beans for him. When I went back inside to cook them, I made sure to add some salt. I moved the stool over next to the bed, putting the half-filled pot of beans on top of the stool. I told Kugen to eat, and seeing that they were beans, he smiled. As I went back outside I heard him say, “How come you’re not having any?”
I didn’t go back into the house until dusk. By the time all the cotton was reaped I felt like all my joints were out of place. It was only a short walk from the field to my hut, but by the time I got to the door my legs were trembling. As I walked in I called out, “Kugen, Kugen.”
Kugen didn’t answer; I assumed he was asleep. As soon as I went over to the bed I saw his twisted body. His mouth was half-open, and I could see two unchewed beans inside. The second I saw his mouth like that I began to feel lightheaded, and my ears rang wildly — Kugen’s lips were blue. I shook him with all my might and screamed his name. His body swayed back and forth in my arms but he didn’t answer. I was flustered, so I sat down on the bed to figure out what to do. I wondered if Kugen could be dead — the second the thought crossed my mind I couldn’t keep from crying. I shook him again, but still he had no reaction. I realized he might be dead. I went outside and saw one of the young guys from our village.