Shaozhen was finally free of his chores late in the evening. Nainai had worked him to the bone, but the boys had promised to play basketball and he wasn’t going to miss out.
Chun was already on the court when he arrived, along with his cousin, Bo. There was another village boy called Wulei, as well as Tingming. Kang had come too, though he only ever watched from the sidelines.
‘Shaozhen, wah! I almost didn’t recognise you with that farmer’s stoop!’ Tingming called out as Shaozhen approached the court. ‘You’re becoming a regular peasant boy.’
Everyone laughed. Shaozhen bristled, trying to come up with a retort, but he had never been good at thinking on his feet. Instead he chucked the basketball at the older boy with force. But Tingming was ready and snatched the ball smoothly out of the air with one hand. The boys oohed, clearly impressed. Even Shaozhen had to begrudgingly admit that Tingming had skills.
‘Where’s Zhanfu?’ Shaozhen asked.
‘Didn’t you hear? His papers came through. He’s gone to Zhengzhou,’ said Wulei.
‘Really? He’s gone to the city?’ Shaozhen was surprised. Zhanfu had only turned sixteen about a month ago, and wasn’t even one of the oldest boys in the village.
For village boys like themselves, going to the city was the dream. There was no real future for them if they stayed in Hongsha, aside from getting married, having kids and then leaving them behind just like their parents had left them. Many of the youths wanted to go to Zhengzhou, Guangzhou or Beijing and join their parents, but getting the right permits was hard. They had to wait until they were at least sixteen and could apply to be migrant workers.
‘Yeah, he left yesterday,’ Tingming said. Shaozhen couldn’t help noticing the bitterness in his voice. He knew Tingming had been hoping for city work for months but the only way to secure a position without already being in the city was by recommendation. ‘His dad found him a job at a new shoe factory. Says they need more young workers. So’ – Tingming puffed out his chest – ‘he’s going to try to get me a job too. He could probably find something for all of us, well, us older ones anyway.’ He nodded deliberately at Chun, Bo and Wulei.
Shaozhen felt a surprising pang of jealousy shoot through him. He wasn’t itching to work in a shoe factory but he didn’t like Tingming excluding him and Kang. He glowered at the older boy, who returned a lazy smile.
‘So are we going to play ball or what?’ Shaozhen said loudly. He put his hands on his hips and scanned the group. ‘With Zhanfu gone, you’re going to have to play, Kang.’
‘Nah, I – I’ll just keep score or something.’ Kang never liked playing sports.
‘Come on. If you don’t play, we won’t have enough people for two teams.’ The other boys nodded. Kang’s eyes grew to the size of dishes behind his glasses.
‘Good evening, young comrades,’ a bold voice called out from the road.
The boys swivelled their heads in surprise. The young Secretary was standing at the edge of the court, a basketball tucked under his arm.
‘Mind if I join you?’
Secretary Xian stepped onto the court. Shaozhen felt his pulse quickening and his mind flashed back to the strange revolutionary coaching session with Luqiao. But Xian didn’t look like he was trying to push an agenda. If anything, Shaozhen thought he looked a bit uneasy.
Xian’s youthful features were perfectly smooth, like the pictures of the famous actors that featured in the billboards on the freeway. But his teeth were too wide, his nose too broad and his forehead too squat for him to ever be mistaken for a model.
‘Friends.’ He smiled broadly and scanned the group, his eyes landing on Tingming. ‘I’m Xian. I’m from Zhengzhou, but my grandfather came from Xiaosong.’
Xiaosong was an old remote village, now just a cluster of houses a treacherous thirty-minute hike up the mountainside. Shaozhen was surprised. He hadn’t considered that Xian could have local roots – he certainly didn’t sound or look like he did.
Tingming shook the Secretary’s hand gruffly.
Shaozhen stepped forwards. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Shaozhen and this is Chun, Bo, Kang, Tingming and Wulei.’ He introduced the boys in turn. ‘Welcome to Hongsha.’
The Secretary beamed, the brightness of his smile punctuating his unblemished face. Tingming scoffed but Shaozhen couldn’t help but puff with pride.
‘Nice to be here. You boys like to play basketball?’
‘Except for Kang. He prefers reading, so he just watches,’ Shaozhen explained.
Kang turned crimson, and hunched his shoulders around his ears like he was trying to slip into a shell.
But Xian smiled. ‘That’s great. I think I’m more of a books boy myself, but I don’t mind a game every now and then.’ He balanced the ball on the tip of his fingers as he said this. He didn’t have the flair of an NBA pro, but it was still impressive. With a smirk, he flicked a pass to Shaozhen. ‘So how about a game of three-on-three?’ he said.
The boys looked from one to the other and they all nodded in agreement. Shaozhen was relieved that they could finally play some real basketball.
They split up into teams: Secretary Xian, Tingming and Wulei on one side; Shaozhen, Chun and Bo on the other. Xian’s team took the ball out first. Shaozhen was impressed. Xian moved fast and wasn’t intimidated by his outsider status. He found an opening and fired the ball to Wulei, who completed the play with an easy lay-up and two points.
Shaozhen snatched the rebound and squared off against Tingming. The burly teen tried to use his size to block him, but Shaozhen got away with a sidestep left, a faked right. He came around the other side and shot a bounce pass to Chun, who took it to the basket.
Two points.
The play continued this way for a while, both teams evenly matched in ability and skill. Sweat clung to their backs. Tingming stripped down to his undershirt, his broad shoulders and bulging muscles on display.
The score was tied. Shaozhen had the ball. He dribbled carefully, keeping his eyes trained on Tingming, who was moving into position to guard him. Shaozhen felt Tingming’s penetrating gaze focused on his every move. He swivelled left and right, but Tingming stayed with him, a brutal barrier closing in.
Feeling boxed out, Shaozhen decided to try and make a break for it. He twisted down and under, imagining he was an eel snaking his way through watery muck, trusting his instincts to push him towards the basket. Tingming was like an octopus, limbs everywhere. There was no way out and in a move of sheer desperation – a ‘Hail Mary’ as the Americans called it – Shaozhen lunged blindly up and forwards. He felt the ball leaving his fingertips on the wings of hope, but at the last moment, Tingming’s forearm sliced through the air and knocked his hand away.
The ball sailed up and over the basket and ricocheted off the top of the backboard, before shattering the window of the village primary school.
Shaozhen gasped. He clapped his hand over his mouth, staring at the jagged hole in the pane of glass. He could still hear the ball bouncing to a stop within the room.
Tingming ambled over to inspect the damage and let out a low whistle. ‘Yikes. Shaozhen, do we need to show you what the basket looks like?’
Shaozhen clenched his fists by his side, fuming. ‘You fouled me. I couldn’t see a thing. I didn’t mean to—’
The sound of Xian’s slow clapping interrupted him. He clasped his hands together above his head. ‘Wow. Great game, boys! I haven’t seen that much excitement in a while.’ He pointed to Tingming and Shaozhen. ‘You two have the skills to rival any player on a university team.’
Tingming bowed humbly. ‘Secretary, thank you for your praise. I’m just sorry my friend here broke your window.’
‘You fouled me!’ Shaozhen protested, furious with himself as much as he was with Tingming.
But the Secretary waved it off. ‘It’s okay. These things happen. The school is due for maintenance over the summer anyway.’ He smiled. ‘I’m sure the Party can manage that.’
Shaozhen’s shoulders sagged with relief. There was no way his family had the money to pay for a new window for the school.
Tingming frowned but he didn’t say any more. The game was over, ending on a tie. Secretary Xian let Shaozhen into the school to retrieve his basketball. The boys high-fived each other and went their separate ways.
Shaozhen was still checking for bits of glass on his basketball when Xian called out to him. ‘Shaozhen, how about we have a quick cup of tea at my house?’ Xian suggested.
Shaozhen was surprised, wondering if the Secretary had changed his mind about him paying for the window. But Xian was smiling, his eyes warm and friendly. ‘S-sure, I don’t think Nainai would mind if I’m a little late,’ he stammered.
Xian was already set up in Luqiao’s old residence, a large three-storey house standing alone at the edge of the village. Luqiao had wasted no time building the spectacular residence during his abbreviated term. The house had a walled courtyard with a circle-shaped entrance, a traditional moon gate. But the rest of the house was more modern – all concrete, metal and chrome – though Shaozhen thought it was a little garish. The slick roof was made of shiny black tiles and large glass panels covered windows cut out of the gleaming white walls. A battered old truck was parked outside the front.
Shaozhen paused in the courtyard, gaping up at his reflection on the mirrored doors that served as the entrance. ‘Are you living here alone?’
Xian swallowed. ‘Yeah, I’m not married. Well, not yet.’ He gave a sheepish smile and bounded up the steps. ‘Please, come inside.’
Shaozhen followed wordlessly, in awe of the grandiose building.
‘It’s a bit much for me,’ Xian said apologetically. ‘To be honest, I would have preferred something simpler, but the Town Secretary said there was no point in wastage.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘I’m used to a crowded college dormitory.’
The opulence was apparent on the interior as well. The floor was polished concrete, so unlike the bare earth of the typical village home. Instead of a single all-purpose family room, this house had a separate space for cooking at the front with a large window that overlooked the courtyard. There was an elegant round table with matching chairs, made from hardwood stained dark like the midnight sky and then lacquered to a lustrous shine. Here, there were no folding chairs and wobbly tables that had to be stowed away after each meal. No random boxes of appliances stacked on top of each other in the middle of the room. And the lightbulbs overhead had shades, so that when Xian flicked the switch, a soft light cascaded gently through the room without blinding anyone.
Shaozhen walked into the centre of the room, careful not to touch anything. On the rare times he had come to the premises, Luqiao had never invited him or any of the other villagers inside, not even Headmaster Song. Only the more senior Party members, such as Secretary Lam, were ever welcomed inside the home.
Something caught Shaozhen’s eye. ‘Wah, look at the TV! It has a flat screen!’ They had a small colour TV at home, but he had never seen one this big or new before. He rushed over and peered at the sides, looking for the buttons to press.
‘Here.’ Xian picked up a black box wrapped in clear crumpled plastic and waved it through the air. Like magic, the screen flickered to life showing a female reporter delivering the late evening news.
Shaozhen put his face right up to the screen. ‘Wah! That’s so clear. Look – you can even see her mole!’
‘The reception’s not very good here, so the picture still goes in and out,’ Xian said as he muted the sound. ‘In the city it’s much better.’
‘Wah! You have a computer too!’ Shaozhen marvelled at the two screens, a colourful joystick and the set of speakers sitting on the worn desk in the corner. He had only ever used a computer at school where the network coverage was good enough for wi-fi. While some of the villagers had mobile phones, they rarely used them since the signal in Hongsha was unreliable. Even fewer residents had home phones; the village simply didn’t have the infrastructure to connect more homes.
‘Satellite internet. But it’s pretty expensive so I can’t imagine that I would use it very often. Please have a seat.’ He motioned towards an oversized leather chair facing two rather plain-looking wicker stools.
Shaozhen sat down gingerly, but he was immediately pulled into the chair’s cushioning comfort. It felt like he had fallen into a giant cloud, his neck cool against the pillowy headrest. He peered over the side and saw a small lever. Xian smiled and motioned for Shaozhen to pull on it. He did, and the chair moved back and a footrest rose out from the bottom, propping up his feet. ‘Ah! So comfy.’ Shaozhen couldn’t help giggling.
Xian smiled. ‘I’ll go make some tea.’ He moved towards the kitchen. Shaozhen felt awkward sitting by himself in the grand room, so he rose and followed Xian.
‘You were in Chengdu?’ Shaozhen asked as he leant against the doorway.
‘At the university. Not one of the best schools, but I’m just glad I had the marks to get in.’
Shaozhen stared as Xian pulled out an oversized bottle of water, the expensive kind that he saw vendors selling in town sometimes. The Secretary broke the seal on the lid and hoisted the bottle onto the stove.
‘What’s living in the city like?’ Shaozhen asked.
‘Chengdu is nice,’ Xian said, as he poured some of the water into an electric jug. ‘I like it more than I liked growing up in Wuhan. The air quality is a bit better.’ He replaced the cap, checking it to make sure it was screwed tight, and returned the water to the cupboard. He turned back to Shaozhen as he flicked the switch on the jug for the water to boil.
‘Oh really? That’s good.’ Shaozhen smiled quickly, ashamed to have been caught staring. Being the Village Secretary definitely has its perks, even when it comes to water.
‘The house and the stuff – none of it’s mine.’ Xian toed the edge of the cupboard. ‘My parents gave me the bottles of water,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘Everyone in Wuhan is hoarding them because of the drought.’
Shaozhen was surprised. ‘The drought has affected Wuhan too?’
Xian nodded. ‘All of Henan, Hubei, Shandong and beyond is dry. There’s no water coming from the taps and the reservoirs are empty. Everyone is using bottled water.’ He eyed the jug, pulling his lower lip under his teeth. ‘The drought issue is of utmost importance and a priority issue for the Party,’ he said finally. Those words were firm but stilted in delivery and Shaozhen wondered whether they had been fed to Xian by someone higher up, like Secretary Lam.
Tinkling music came from the electric jug, a tune from a child’s nursery rhyme. Xian put a teapot with loose leaves under the jug and pressed the round knob at the top. Steaming water spurted into the teapot with each press.
‘I want to make some serious changes here, Shaozhen,’ Xian said unexpectedly. ‘The village is in dire condition and requires lots of work beyond just the primary school. Headmaster Song is admired and well-respected, but he’s afraid to ruffle feathers. He wants to do things the old-fashioned way. But if we stick to traditions, China will never modernise. Don’t you agree?’
‘I – I guess so,’ Shaozhen stammered. Xian might have looked like a regular teen boy, but he was worldly. He had big ideas about things that Shaozhen knew nothing about.
The Secretary looked pleased with his reply. He swirled the pot then poured some tea into two cups, their rims edged with brass, not chipped or cracked like the ones in Shaozhen’s home. The tea was light and fragrant, earthy and reassuring.
Xian handed him a cup, gripping it at the lip so as not to burn his fingers. Shaozhen held his cup in the same way. ‘I want to help the residents of Hongsha achieve a better future for themselves. That means taking care of the drought situation, and more. Will you help me in my mission, Shaozhen?’ Xian raised his cup, ready for a toast.
Shaozhen nodded solemnly. Xian broke into a wide grin as the pair clinked their cups together and sipped at their tea.
The moon was almost at its highest point when Shaozhen finally left the Secretary’s house. The air felt cooler but it was still uncomfortably hot for this time of night. Shaozhen hardly noticed. His mind was buzzing, the hot tea warming his stomach. Tomorrow he’d have to face another hard day’s work in the fields. Tomorrow his mother would still be in the city, and tomorrow there still wouldn’t be any water in the wells. But after his evening with Xian, hearing the new Secretary’s glistening promises, he couldn’t help but feel hopeful.