To Live (15 page)

It had been a month or two since any of us had eaten our fill, but that lamb was just as fat as before. Every day you could hear her “baa baa” sound loud and clear coming from the lamb pen— Youqing could take the credit for that. He had hardly anything to eat himself—every day he would complain about being dizzy— but not once did he shortchange his lamb when it came to her grass. He loved that lamb in the same way that Jiazhen loved him.

After Jiazhen and I discussed selling the lamb, I brought it up with Youqing. He had just dumped a basket of grass in the lamb pen. The rustling sound of the lamb chewing the grass sounded like the falling rain. Youqing stood to one side with his basket in hand, laughing as he watched the lamb eat her grass.

He didn’t even notice me walk over. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he twisted his head around to look at me.

“She’s famished!” he said.

“Youqing,” I said, “Dad has something he wants to talk to you about.”

Youqing nodded and turned around to face me. I continued, “Our grain at home is almost gone. I talked it over with your mom, and we’ve decided to sell the lamb. We can trade her for some rice; otherwise, our whole family will go hungry.”

Youqing lowered his head and didn’t utter a sound. He was unwilling to part with his lamb. I patted him on the shoulder and said, “Wait until things get better and I’ll buy you a new lamb.”

Youqing nodded his head. He had grown up. He understood much more than before. If it had been a few years earlier, he would have cried and made a scene. As I walked out of the lamb pen, Youqing pulled my shirt and pleaded pathetically, “Dad, please don’t sell her to a slaughterhouse.”

I thought, during a time like this, who can afford to raise a lamb? Other than a slaughterhouse, who else would buy her? But looking at Youqing’s expression, I could only nod my head.

The next morning, with an empty rice bag slung over my shoulder, I led the lamb out of her pen. As soon as I made it to the edge of the village, I heard Jiazhen calling me from behind. Turning around I saw Jiazhen and Youqing approaching. Jiazhen said, “Youqing wants to go along.”

“There’s no school on Sunday,” I said. “What does he want to come for?”

“Just let him go,” said Jiazhen.

I knew that Youqing wanted to spend some extra time with his lamb. I was afraid if I didn’t agree Jiazhen would say something. I thought, what the hell, if he wants to come, let him come. I waved him over, and Youqing ran and took the leash right out of my hand. He lowered his head, and we walked off together.

The whole way there Youqing didn’t open his mouth once, but the lamb on the other hand wouldn’t shut up with her “baa baa.” As Youqing led her, she would from time to time bump her head into Youqing’s behind. The lamb was practically human. She
knew that it was Youqing who fed her grass every day, so she was affectionate with him. The more affectionate she was, the sadder Youqing became. He bit his lip as he struggled to hold back his tears.

It was difficult to watch Youqing continue with his head lowered the way it was. I tried to find something to say that would cheer him up.

“Selling her is better than having to slaughter her,” I told my son. “Let me tell you, lambs, they’re animals. From the time they’re born, this is their fate.”

We got to town, and just as we were turning a corner, Youqing suddenly stopped. Looking at his lamb he said, “Dad, I’ll wait here for you.”

I knew that he was unwilling to watch me sell the lamb. I took the leash from his hands and led the lamb forward. Before I could walk more than a few steps, Youqing called out from behind, “Dad, don’t forget your promise!”

“What promise?” I turned to ask.

Youqing got anxious. He said, “You promised not to sell her to a slaughterhouse.”

I had already forgotten what we had talked about the day before. It was a good thing Youqing didn’t go with me or he definitely would have cried. I said, “I
know.”

I led the lamb around the corner and headed off in the direction of the meat shop. When I got there I found that the hanging meats which normally filled the shop were gone. During hard times like these, there wasn’t even a rump hanging.

Inside sat a listless-looking man who didn’t seem at all excited to see me bring in a lamb. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking as he weighed the lamb.

“I haven’t got any energy,” he said. “I’m starved.”

Even the people in town weren’t getting enough to eat. He said it had been over ten days since his shop had had any meat. He extended his hand, pointing to an electric pole twenty meters away.

“You just wait. Within an hour they’ll be lined up all the way over there to buy meat,” he said.

He was right. By the time I left, there were already more than ten people lined up there, and they were lined up outside the rice shop, too. Originally I thought I’d be able to get around a hundred ten jin of rice for that lamb, but in the end I only took home forty. As I passed a small store on the way home, I took out two
fen
to buy two pieces of candy for Youqing. He’d been breaking his back for the last year, and I figured he deserved an occasional sweet.

As I walked over carrying the forty jin of rice, Youqing was pacing back and forth in that old spot of his, kicking small pebbles out of his way. I handed him the two pieces of candy. He put one into his pocket, peeled the wrapper off the other, and popped it into his mouth. Youqing held the candy wrapper in his hand, folding it carefully as we walked. He then raised his head and asked me, “Dad, do you want one?”

I shook my head. “You go ahead.”

I carried the forty
jin
of rice home, and as soon as Jiazhen saw the size of the bag she
knew exactly how much rice was in it. She sighed but didn’t say a word. Jiazhen was in the most difficult position. How was she supposed to feed four mouths every day? She was so worried that she couldn’t even get a good night’s sleep. But no matter how bad things got we still had to find a way to pull through. Every day, Jiazhen would go out with a basket to search for wild vegetables. She was already sick, and having to endure daily hunger really took its toll on her. The doctor was right: Jiazhen’s illness got increasingly worse. She needed a stick to lean on when she walked, and after taking only a few dozen steps her face would be soaked in sweat. When other people would dig for wild vegetables they would squat down, but Jiazhen would
kneel. When she would try to stand up, her body would waver as if she had lost her balance. I couldn’t bear the sight and said to her, “Why don’t you stay home?”

But she refused. Leaning on her stick, she started heading back outside. I gave her a light tug on her arm, and she fell down. Jiazhen sat weeping on the floor.

“I’m still alive, but you’re treating me like I’m already dead,” she cried.

I was at my wit’s end. There’s nothing women won’t say or do once they lose their temper. If I didn’t let her work, she would worry that I thought she was useless.

In less than three months the forty
jin
of rice was gone. If it hadn’t been for Jiazhen’s planning and her collecting pumpkin leaves and tree bark, it wouldn’t have lasted even two weeks. By then no one in the village had any grain, and all of the wild vegetables had long been dug up. Some families resorted to digging up roots to eat. There were fewer and fewer people in the village; every day more people grabbed alms bowls and took to the road to beg. The team leader went to the county seat a couple times, but before he could even make it to the edge of the village he’d have to sit down on the ground to catch his breath. The few people scavenging the fields for food would walk over to ask him, “Team leader, when will the county provide us with grain?”

With his head tilted to one side, the team leader would say, “I can’t walk.”

Seeing those taking to the road to beg, the team leader would say, “Don’t go. The people in town don’t have anything to eat, either.”

knowing all too well that there were no wild vegetables left, Jiazhen, leaning on her stick, would still spend her days staggering through the fields in hopes of finding something edible. Youqing would always go with her. At his age Youqing was still growing, but without any grain he was as skinny as a bamboo shoot. Youqing was just a
kid, and Jiazhen was so sick she could barely walk, yet she’d still wander all over searching for wild vegetables. Meanwhile Youqing would straggle behind her, complaining, “Mom, I’m so hungry that I can’t walk.”

But where could Jiazhen have gone to find something for Youqing to eat? She could only say, “Youqing, go and drink some water to fill yourself up.”

All Youqing could do was go down to the pond and slurp some water to allay his hunger.

Carrying a hoe, Fengxia would go with me to dig for sweet potatoes. God
knows how many times that land had been turned over, but the village’s people
kept digging with their hoes. Sometimes after digging all day we’d end up with nothing but a rotten melon vine. Fengxia was also starved to the point of exhaustion. Her face was pale, and as she raised her hoe it looked as though her head was about to topple off. She couldn’t speak; all she
knew was work. No matter where I went, she would follow— which, after thinking about it, didn’t seem like such a good idea. Fengxia following me around wasn’t going to get us anywhere. It would be better if we split up and dug on our own. I made a hand sign to tell Fengxia to go dig somewhere else. Who could have guessed that as soon as Fengxia left me she would run into trouble?

Fengxia was digging on the same plot of land as another guy from our village, Wang Si. Wang Si wasn’t really a bad guy. When I was in the army, he and his father would often help Jiazhen do some work in the field. But hunger can drive people to do all
kinds of wicked and immoral things. Clearly it was Fengxia who dug up that sweet potato, but Wang Si took advantage of the fact that she was mute. While Fengxia was using the edge of her shirt to wipe the mud off the potato, Wang Si snatched it out of her hands. Normally Fengxia was extremely well behaved, but given the circumstances her manners went out the window. Fengxia rushed at him, trying to wrest back her potato. And as she did, Wang Si wailed like a baby, making everyone around think it was Fengxia who was stealing from him. Wang Si yelled to me, “Fugui, doesn’t your daughter have a conscience? Even if you’re on the verge of starving, that’s still no excuse to steal!”

Seeing Fengxia struggling with all her might to remove Wang Si’s tightly wrapped fingers from the potato, I rushed over and pulled her away. Fengxia was so upset that tears rolled down her face. She used some hand symbols to tell me it was Wang Si who had stolen her sweet potato. The other people in the village also understood what Fengxia meant.

“Did she steal it from you?” they asked Wang Si. “Or did you steal it from her?”

Wang Si had an offended look on his face, as if he had been unjustly accused.

“All of you saw it clearly—she was trying to steal it from me,” he declared.

“Everyone in the village knows that Fengxia is not that kind of person,” I said. “Wang Si, if this sweet potato is really yours, then take it. But if it’s not, I hope you get an upset stomach after eating it.”

Wang Si pointed his finger at Fengxia and said, “You let her say for herself whose it is.”

How could he say such a thing when he knew damn well that Fengxia couldn’t speak? He made me so furious that my body began to tremble. Fengxia stood to one side, and her mouth opened but no sound came out; instead, tears poured down her face. I waved my hand at Wang Si.

“If you’re not afraid of the god of thunder striking you down, take it,” I said.

Wang Si was guilty but he didn’t even blush. Instead, he straightened his neck and said, “It’s mine. Of course I’ll take it.”

Saying that, he turned around to go. No one imagined that Fengxia would pick up her hoe to hit Wang Si. If someone hadn’t screamed out in terror, giving Wang Si a chance to duck out of the way, I’m afraid he would have been
killed. When Wang Si saw Fengxia trying to hit him, he stretched out his hand and slapped her. Fengxia had nowhere near as much strength as Wang Si did, and that one slap knocked her to the ground. The sound of the slap went straight to my heart; it was like the sound of someone diving into a pond. I rushed forward and hit Wang Si in the face. His head bobbed, and my hand ached. After Wang Si came around he grabbed hold of a hoe and aimed it right at me. After jumping out of the way, I also grabbed hold of a hoe.

If the villagers hadn’t restrained us, that day would have marked the end for at least one of us. Then the team leader came. After we finished telling him what had happened, he yelled at us, “Fuck, if you
kill each other what the hell am I supposed to say to the higher-ups?”

After having it out with us, the team leader said, “Fengxia’s not the
kind of person to do a thing like that. But then again no one saw Wang Si steal it, either. So this is what we’ll do: We’ll split it, and each of your families will get half.”

With that, the team leader held out his hands to Wang Si, expecting him to hand over the potato. But Wang Si held on to it with both hands, unwilling to let go.

“Hand it over,” the team leader ordered.

Wang Si had no choice. With a long face he handed the potato over to the team leader. The team leader borrowed a sickle from someone beside him, put the potato down on the ridge and with one swift swipe the sweet potato was split in two. But the team leader’s aim was off, leaving one huge piece and one tiny piece. I said, “Team leader, how do we split this up?”

The team leader said, “That’s easy.”

With another swift swipe, he cut a chunk off the big piece and put it into his pocket—that chunk was his. He handed Wang Si and me the two remaining pieces.

“Are they about the same size?” he asked.

One piece of a sweet potato would never be enough to feed a family, but our way of thinking back then was different. At the time we were in dire straits. It had been a month without grain, and just about everything edible in the fields had long been eaten. Back then, if someone had offered a bowl of rice for your life, he would have had more than a few takers.