It was time to plant the winter crop—radishes, cabbage, sweet potatoes, melons, and squash. When spring came, the paddy would be flooded and the rice planted again. As we worked in the field, it saddened me to see how easily Han Na tired. If she stood up suddenly, she became dizzy and I would have to steady her. Though I begged her to leave the work to me, she would not return to the house and would only rest for a bit in the shade of the bamboo.
The rains had long since ended and the weather was pleasant. I often looked at the hills and wondered how Ling’s orchard was doing, for it was cooler there, and then one day Han Na said, “It is time to visit the Zhangs.” Han Na was not one to accept charity. Though the Zhangs’ gift of wheat flour was kindly meant, the gift weighed on her. “I must take them something in return,” she said. After that she fell upon our fattest chicken and imprisoned it in a basket.
I washed my hair, leaving it fall to my shoulders with no ponytail.
Han Na looked at me with surprise. “Now you are more a young woman than a girl,” she said. She was in her best jacket and trousers, and I wore my new blue jeans. Together we set off with the restless chicken. It grew cooler as we went up the hill, climbing slowly so as not to tire Han Na. The winter wheat on the farms we passed trembled in the light winds. The bamboo groves swayed and rustled. Many of the farms on the hill had pigs, and one or two, like the Zhangs’, had a water buffalo. The houses were as large as three rooms. Everywhere there was stone that had been cleared from the land. The houses were made of stone, the fences were of stone, and wherever you looked there were piles of stone waiting to be put to some use.
The Zhangs must have been prosperous, for they lived in one of the three-room houses. Ling and his parents hurried to greet us, apologizing for the climb up the hill and for the disorder of the house, which in truth was as neat as Han Na’s house.
They made much of Han Na’s gift of a chicken. We were given bowls of tea to drink and pickled ginger and dumplings in broth. It was a mystery where Ling’s height came from, for his parents were like two dolls, small and very neat in appearance.
While the Zhangs talked with Han Na about Quan, Ling offered to show me his orchard. On the way we passed the stable where the Zhangs’ water buffalo was tethered. I stopped to stare at the great animal. “Is he dangerous?” I asked, looking at the beast’s curved horns.
“He is a great baby,” Ling said. He reached over and patted the beast, who rolled his eyes at us. “I have ridden him since I was five years old and had to be tied onto his back to keep from falling off. In the spring the buffalo and I will be down to plow Han Na’s rice paddy and all the nearby paddies. When I come, I’ll give you a ride on the buffalo if you like.”
Ling’s orchard clung to the hillside with only a high stone wall like two sheltering arms to keep the trees safe. There were twenty trees, some full-grown and some Ling’s height and a few no taller than I.
“Each year I clear more stones and bring in more dirt,” Ling said. “Where there was nothing, there is land now.” One by one he introduced me to his trees, which in the winter season had lost their leaves. “This plum has a golden color like the wheat when it ripens, and this one is lavender like the twilight sky in the eleventh moon.” He stood frowning at a tree. “These peaches are sweet but very small. When I take them to market, no one buys them. They look at the size and won’t believe in the sweetness.”
After I had met each tree, we sat at the edge of the orchard and Ling told me of the trees that were to come when more stones were moved and more dirt brought in. “I do not understand how Quan could have left the land for the city,” he said. “In the city when you sit down to rest at the end of the day, there are no stretches of green paddies or rising hills to see, only ugly buildings and dirty streets.”
“Ling,” I asked, “how did you know how to plant and care for such trees?”
The great smile took over his face. “There are pamphlets in the village, which the government gives out for the asking. I have a box full of pamphlets. You can find your fish in one of their pamphlets. I could show you the place in the village.” In a low voice he said, “It is one good thing among many bad things the government does.” Then he asked, “Can you read?”
I nodded my head.
That seemed to please Ling. “I have as many books as trees. Some of them are foreign stories. I could lend you one.”
He took me back to the buffalo stable. There was a shelf of books. “Why do you keep your books here?” I asked. “The beast does not read.”
Ling shrugged. “It’s closer to the orchard. Sometimes I stop my work and read for a bit.” He added, again in the quiet voice, “Though they can’t read, it is best that my parents do not see my books. My parents would think some of the words in the books dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“Dangerous only because they speak the truth.”
Each book was wrapped carefully in a piece of newspaper.
“It keeps them safe from bugs and dampness,” Ling said, but I thought he had not said all he wished.
“But how do you know which book is which?” I asked.
“From their shapes,” Ling said, “and where they are on the shelf. Here is one for you to read, A Dream of Red Mansions. It was written more than two hundred years ago.” He handed me a heavy book.
“So long ago?” I asked. “Why read it now?”
The smile came again. “Do you think people change? Anyhow, it’s China’s greatest book.”
I nodded my head.
That seemed to please Ling. “In our house I have a pamphlet on squash and still another on radishes, all of which I know Han Na plants. I’ll lend them to you.”
When we returned to the Zhangs’ house, Ling filled my hands with pamphlets, handling them as if they might be precious jewels.
His father laughed. “Ling farms with his pieces of paper as well as his hoe, but as long as his trees do well, I will say nothing against the pieces of paper.”
As Han Na and I made the return trip down the hill, Han Na said, “Ling seemed pleased with you.” After a moment she added, “Chu Ju, I have never asked you about your parents or the orphanage that you say you come from. I have only been glad to have you, but others, such as Ling’s parents, might be curious. They might wonder if you have anything to hide.”
“I have nothing to hide,” I said. “My parents are honorable people. My father, though only trained for a short time, is a doctor.”
“I will ask you no more of your family,” Han Na said, “but it may be that one day you will want to visit them.”
For an answer I only shook my head, but sooner than I imagined I was indeed telling Han Na of such a visit. It was a terrible lie, and it came about in this way. I returned from the village with a letter to Han Na from Quan. As usual she opened it and handed it to me to read. For the first time in many months the letter contained no yuan, but Han Na said nothing of that. It was always Quan’s words she looked for and not the money. The first part of the letter was short and much as usual. Beneath the usual part were these frightening words.
This is for the girl’s eyes only. I am in jail. There was a cha hukou. The police searched our room and caught all who had no residence permits. Unless a fine is paid for me, I must remain in the detention center. Take the train and come to this address with all the money I have sent. You must not mail it or the jailers will steal it. Do not tell Ma Ma, for it would kill her. Quan
The letter shook in my hand.
“What is it?” Han Na asked.
“I feel a little sick,” I said. “The broth in my bowl of noodles tasted strange.”
“Ah,” Han Na said, “they are sloppy at the noodle shop. Who knows what was in your bowl? Drink a little boiled water and lie down for a bit and rest.”
I drank the boiled water and said, “I think the air would make me better.” Gratefully I escaped, and as soon as I was out of sight of the house, I sank down in a bamboo grove. I had read Quan’s words only once, but I knew them by heart as surely as if they were cut into my brain with a knife. Everything he asked was impossible. I must steal the money from Han Na. I must find a way to get onto the train. It must be a train that would take me to Shanghai. In Shanghai, a city of millions, with who knew how many thousands of streets and turnings, I must go to the detention center and find Quan. Each thing was more impossible than the other. My heart sank within me. I would tell Han Na, and we would go together. But Han Na tired easily these days, and to learn that Quan had been arrested might truly kill her.
All the rest of the day and all the night I turned over Quan’s dreadful words. The next day when our work was done, I said to Han Na, “This book that Ling gave me to read is too difficult. May I take it to him and ask for another?”
Han Na laughed. “You were never a girl to find something too difficult, but if you wish to see Ling again, one excuse is as good as another.”
I blushed at what she was suggesting, but I had to have someone’s help and there was only Ling. It might be that he had a train pamphlet or even a Shanghai pamphlet. I believed the boy who made an orchard from stones would understand how a thing must be done.
I hurried past the Zhangs’ home hoping I would not be seen and made my way to the orchard. Ling was standing at the edge of the orchard, his arm stretched out, and perched on his hand was a hawk. The hawk flew off and I watched it soaring over the paddies and fields. For a moment I forgot my trouble, amazed that Ling should have held a wild bird in his hand. I called softly to Ling and he looked around, startled at my voice. Then a great smile came over his face.
“How is it that the hawk sits on your hand?” I asked.
“I take a hawk from its nest and train it to hunt. When I have had it for two years, I let it go and train another. My ba ba taught me and his ba ba taught him.” Ling saw the book in my hand. “You have not read the book already?”
“No, the book is only an excuse. I have a great worry.” Quickly the words tumbled out. It was a relief to tell someone else of Quan’s problems, for they had been too much for me to carry alone.
Ling listened closely to my story. “How could Quan ask such a thing of you? It is impossible.”
“No,” I said. “I must go or Quan will stay in jail forever. Han Na has been so kind to me, I must do what I can for her son.”
“I will go,” Ling said. “This is a time of year when the trees don’t need me. The making of the new land can wait.”
I shook my head. “A young man like yourself without a residence permit would be as likely to be arrested as Quan, and there is not enough money for two fines. I’ll dress like a young girl. No one will suspect me. It is something that I must do. I came to you for help in doing it.”
Ling had many arguments against my going to Shanghai, but at last he saw that I meant to make the trip. “I’ll go into the village in the morning and see when the train goes to Shanghai and how much a ticket will be,” he said. “Shanghai itself is another matter.” He looked thoughtful. “I’ll come to your house to tell you what I’ve found.” He gave me a searching look. “Quan is lucky to have such a good friend,” he said, as if he were asking a question.
Quickly I told him, “It is not my friendship for Quan but my friendship for Han Na. I would do anything for her happiness.”
At that moment the hawk returned, a pheasant in its beak. The hawk landed on Ling’s outstretched hand, and Ling took the struggling bird from the hawk and wrung its neck. “Here, take it for Han Na’s supper.”
I shook my head. The hawk had been very beautiful in its soaring, but my feelings were all for the pheasant. Misfortune had swept down upon me like the hawk and now, like the pheasant, I must struggle. I did not want the unfortunate bird to remind me of failure.
I had the night to get through. The moment I lay down, my head filled with my troubles, and I could hardly breathe. The night, which had always seemed quiet, was now full of noises. An owl screeched, frightening the roosting chickens. A cricket found its way into the room, and I could not close my eyes for waiting for its next chirp. I thought of how my ye ye had said, “At night the crickets sing away the darkness,” but this night the darkness seemed never to end. I went over and over Quan’s words hoping to find some way to get around them. Sleep would have been a comfort, but my eyes would not close. I felt as if the whole world were smooth with sleep and I was a great bump. When the morning came, I nearly cried with relief until I thought of what lay ahead.
It was the middle of the morning when Ling appeared in our field. He greeted Han Na courteously. “I stopped on my way home from the village,” he said, “with the thought that if Chu Ju could be spared from her work, she might wish to walk partway to the hill with me. The morning is pleasant.”
Han Na stared a little but after a moment said, “Yes, of course, if Chu Ju wishes.” She smiled knowingly at me. “Be back for our noon rice.”
When we were a little distance, Ling said, “Are you still set on making such a trip?”
“Yes, I must go at once.” It was not only that I was anxious to get Quan from the detention center, but I was so upset with worrying about the trip, it would only be the leaving that would end my misery.
“Well then, if it must be. The train that goes to Shanghai stops in the village at six o’clock this evening. You will be in Shanghai at noon tomorrow. You must buy a ticket for a hard seat, that is the cheapest, and as you said, you must make yourself look like a child, for the fare will be cheaper yet. Take some food with you. And here, for only a few yuan I found this pamphlet with a map of Shanghai. See, right here in the train station there is the underground train that takes you anywhere in the city. There is no need to wander the streets. And Chu Ju, should anyone ask, you must have a story in your head of why you are there, but the story must not say that you carry money with you. Tell no one that.”
Ling gave me a worried look. “Chu Ju, I wish you would let me go in your place.”
I shook my head. “And if they kept you as well? No. It must be me. If I am to go tonight, I must hurry home and prepare.” I took hold of his hand and thanked him for his help. A moment later I was running back to Han Na.
I was out of breath when I reached her. “Han Na,” I said, “I must go to see my parents. I leave today.”
Han Na’s eyebrows flew up. “What, today! What has Ling said to you? I like the boy, but this suddenness is foolish. You are only sixteen. Wait a little until you have thought on it.”
I was happy to let her believe Ling was the excuse for my hurrying away, for what other excuse could I offer? “I promise I will take no foolish action with Ling, but I must see my parents.”
Han Na saw my determination. “If you must go, I cannot keep you here, but Chu Ju, I wish you would wait a bit.”
I shook my head. “It is only for a few days. I promise to come right back. It is the quiet time of year for the vegetables.” Han Na sighed and said nothing more.
The worst part was yet to come. “How will you go?” she asked.
“By the bus from the village,” I lied, knowing that it was just the first lie I would have to tell.
“You must have some money for the trip,” she said. Han Na got out the package of money that Quan had sent and gave me twenty yuan.
I felt my face grow hot as I took them and thanked Han Na, knowing that I would have to find a way to take all the money before I left.
The way came when Han Na went out to pick some radishes for me to take on my journey. The money when I took it was like a poisonous scorpion in my hand. It would have been no surprise if it had bitten me. Quickly I put it inside my jacket in a little pocket I had hastily made. I copied the address in Quan’s letter. A moment later Han Na returned with the radishes, which she wrapped along with rice cakes and two hard-boiled eggs.
In the early afternoon I said my farewell to Han Na, unable to leave without shedding tears. Han Na cried as well. “With Quan away, you have been both a daughter and a son to me. This house is your house. Promise me you will come back.”
I promised, but inside I wondered if there would be any returning from such a journey. At last I set off for the village, the money burning the place next to my heart where it lay. Several times I turned around to wave to Han Na, who stood there watching me, her hand shading her eyes from the bright sun. Then I turned a bend in the road, and when I looked back, Han Na’s house was no longer there.