When Fugui’s story got to this point, I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. This scoundrel of forty years ago was today sitting bare-chested on the grass, the sunlight filtering through gaps between the tree leaves and into his squinting eyes. His legs were covered with mud, and patches of white hair sprouted from his shaven head. Sweat trickled down over the wrinkles on his chest. At that moment his old ox was in the golden water of the pond, with only its head and back exposed. I saw the water slapping against the ox’s long black back, just as water crashes on the shore.
This old man was the first person I had bumped into after beginning my life of carefree travel. I was young and without troubles or worries. Every new face filled me with excitement and joy, and I was deeply attracted by anything I didn’t know. It was just at this time in my life that I came upon Fugui. Never before had anyone so completely confided in me the way he did when he vividly recounted his story. For as long as I was willing to listen, he was willing to talk.
My chance meeting with Fugui filled my later days of collecting folk songs with happiness and anticipation. I imagined that this rich, flourishing land was full of people like Fugui. And in later years I did meet a lot of old men like him. They wore their pants just like he did, with the crotch area drooping down near their knees. The wrinkles on their faces were filled with sunlight and dirt. When they smiled at me, I noticed only a handful of teeth left in their empty mouths. Although they would often cry, it was not because they were unusually sad. Sometimes they would cry even when they were happy and perfectly at peace. Their hands were as coarse as a dirt road. Raising their hands to wipe away the tears from their eyes was as common a gesture as flicking a piece of straw off one’s clothes.
But I never again met anyone as unforgettable as Fugui. Never did I meet anyone who was not only so clear about his life experiences, but also able to recount them so brilliantly. He was the kind of person who could see his entire past. He could clearly see himself walking as a young man, and he could even see himself growing old. It’s very rare to meet this kind of old man in the country. Perhaps the difficulties and hardships of life destroy the others’ memories. They often face the past with a kind of numbness. Not knowing what to do, they simply dismiss the past with an awkward smile. They lack interest in their own experiences. Just like gossip or hearsay, they remember only fragments— which often are not even related to their own experience. One or two sentences is enough to express everything they stand for. I often hear the younger generation mocking them: “Once they hit old age, they start living like dogs.”
But Fugui was completely di ferent. He liked thinking about the past. He liked talking about his life. It seemed that in this way he could relive his life again and again. His story grabbed me in the same way the talons of an eagle clutch the branches of a tree.
After Jiazhen left, my mother would often sit off to one side, secretly wiping her tears. At first I tried to think of something to say to comfort her, but as soon as I saw her expression, the words just wouldn’t come out. In the end, she was the one who often tried to cheer me up. “Jiazhen doesn’t belong to anyone but you. No one can take her away.”
Hearing this I could only swallow a sigh. What could I say? A strong and healthy family had been smashed apart like a clay jar. When night came, I would often lie in bed unable to sleep. I carried inside of me hatred for so many things, but when it came down to it I hated myself most. At night I worried too much, and during the day my head ached. All day I had no energy to harvest the crops. Thank god there was Fengxia. Fengxia would often pull me by the hand and ask, “Dad, a table has four corners. If you chop off one corner, how many are left?”
I didn’t know where Fengxia had heard this, but when I said three corners, Fengxia would smile ear to ear and laugh uncontrollably. She would say, “Wrong! There are five corners left.”
Listening to Fengxia, I wanted to laugh but couldn’t. I thought of our original four-person family. When Jiazhen left it was like cutting off a corner, not to mention the child she was carrying. I told Fengxia, “Wait until your mom gets back and there’ll be five corners.”
After we sold everything of value in the house, my mother would take Fengxia out to dig up wild vegetables. Carrying a basket on her arm, Mom would be off, unable with her twisted little feet to walk as fast as Fengxia. Her hair was completely gray, yet she had to learn to do hard physical labor for the first time in her life. Mom would hold Fengxia by the hand and watch her every step. My mother’s careful manner almost brought me to tears.
I knew that I could never again live the kind of life I once had. I had to support Mom and Fengxia. I talked to Mom about borrowing some money from some friends and relatives in town to open a small shop. After hearing my idea, Mom didn’t utter a sound; she didn’t want to leave. When people get old they’re like that, unwilling to move. I said to Mom, “The house and land all belong to Long Er now. Setting up our home here is just the same as anywhere else.”
After hearing this, Mom was silent for a long time before saying, “Your father’s grave is still here.”
That one sentence made me stop thinking of any new ideas. After going through all of my options, I decided my only choice was to approach Long Er.
Long Er had become the landlord here. Holding a teapot in his right hand, he would stroll the fields in his silk shirt. He was so cocky, always laughing, exposing his two big gold teeth. I originally thought he was quite cordial to people, but sometimes he’d open his mouth to yell at the more offensive farmers. Slowly I realized he only wanted people to notice his gold teeth.
Long Er was still fairly courteous to me whenever I saw him. He would often laugh and say, “Fugui, come inside for some tea.”
I never went to Long Er’s home because I was afraid I would get emotional. I had lived in that house since I was born, and now it belonged to Long Er’s family. How was I supposed to feel?
But actually when your life has been reduced to the level that mine had, you really don’t care about all that much. The old saying “Poverty lowers the ambition of man” seemed to apply to me. That day when I went to see Long Er, he was sitting in the old-fashioned wooden armchair in the parlor. His two legs were propped up on a stool as he held a teapot in one hand and waved a fan with the other. When he saw me come in, he grinned. Chuckling, he said, “It’s Fugui! Get a stool for yourself and have a seat.”
Long Er was slumped back in the wooden chair, motionless; I didn’t really expect him to offer me any tea. After I sat down, he asked, “So Fugui, you’re here to borrow money, is that it?”
Before I could say no, he continued, “According to reason I really should lend a little bit to you. But as the saying goes, ‘You can save someone in times of emergency, but not from poverty.’ Me, I only save people from emergencies, not from poverty.”
I nodded my head, explaining, “I would like to rent a few mu of land.”
Long Er smiled slyly and asked, “How many do you want to rent?”
“Five mu.”
“Five?” Long Er’s eyebrows shot up, and he asked, “Can your body handle that?”
“With a little practice I’ll be fine,” I answered.
He thought about it and said, “Because we’ve known each other for a long time, I’ll give you five mu of good land.”
Long Er must have had a heart after all, because he really did give me five mu of good, fertile land. All by myself, I planted that five mu of land, though I almost died of exhaustion in the process. Never before had I done farmwork, so I learned from watching the other farmers. There’s no need to mention how slow I was. As long as it was still light outside, I was out in the field. And even when it got dark, if there was moonlight I’d still be out there working. The crops have to be planted at the proper time. If you miss the right time to sow the seeds, then you will miss the entire season. When that happens, not only will you be unable to raise a family, but even paying back Long Er’s rent grain would have been an impossibility. As the saying goes, “Slow birds need an early start.” Well, I was the slow bird who never finished.