Shaozhen was numb. Without Kang, it was as though the village had emptied. With all his time spent collecting water and working in the fields he hadn’t seen much of his friend, but he had always sensed his warm presence close by. Now he felt like a part of himself was missing.
The next morning on his way to Xifeng, he passed the little shack that Kang had manned for his gung. It was still boarded shut, giving Kang’s sudden departure an eerie finality. No one’s coming back the shabby door and bent nails screamed.
Shaozhen went past Kang’s house. There was an untouched plate of vegies covered with plastic wrap sitting on the stoop, a pair of kuaizi carefully laid on top. Shaozhen recognised those kuaizi from the few times he’d sat in Aunty Wu’s kitchen.
The doors and windows were closed. He knocked gently. No answer. He pressed his ear against the door and heard a light wheezing and something else. A sob? Kang’s gung was in there, pretending he wasn’t. Shaozhen felt an ache from inside. As much as Lao Zhu had pushed his grandson, scolded him and worked him to the bone, Shaozhen knew that he loved Kang. And now the old man was utterly alone.
Shaozhen let out a loud sigh and stepped away from the building. It was then that he spotted the two buckets and bamboo pole that Kang had carried on his tiny shoulders lying on the ground. Without thinking twice, he grabbed the pole and hoisted it onto his back. The poles were different shapes, which made carrying them both at once awkward. The buckets clacked together with every step, but he didn’t care. With four buckets hanging from his shoulders, he set off for the town.
The queue was as long as ever and he waited nervously with his two sets of buckets, trying to avoid the eyes of the official overseeing the queue. Fortunately, the official seemed bored and less diligent than he had the first day the villagers had arrived.
As Shaozhen watched his second bucket filling up, he pushed the other pair into place. ‘Two per household,’ grumbled the driver. ‘Them’s the rules.’
‘It’s not for me. It’s for my friend’s gung. He…he’s by himself now. His grandson left him. You remember Kang – the one with the thick glasses?’
The driver eyed him warily but relented and began filling the extra buckets. Shaozhen heaved a sigh of relief. Then he noticed a stack of empty buckets at the front of the truck and had an idea. ‘Wait, can I have one more?’
The driver threw the hose to the ground. ‘Are you kidding me?’ The people behind him grumbled and Shaozhen felt his face go red. But he stood defiantly, and met the driver’s eye.
‘No, it’s for old man Shen – you remember I was with him before? You’ve seen him. He barely gets a bucket a day. It’s too little. Surely he’s allowed his full share?’
The driver groaned but went to fetch a bucket. Finally, Shaozhen was left with four heavy buckets to balance and an extra bucket in his hand. He could barely walk, but he was determined to return to the village with his haul.
As he was making his way out of the town, a vehicle with a soft, puttering engine pulled up alongside him. Chun was doing his water run on the repaired moped. His two full buckets were balanced perfectly on his back. ‘Hey, Shaozhen, what are you doing? Are you running a scam?’
Shaozhen tried to shake his head. ‘It’s for Kang’s gung. And I got a bucket for the old man up the mountain.’ He laughed. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
Chun chuckled and shook his head. ‘This is why Kang’s got the head for numbers. Yours is a downright mess.’
They both laughed again. Chun killed the engine and climbed off the bike and they set down their buckets. The two stared at the seven buckets laid out in front of them.
Chun scratched his head. ‘There has to be a way.’
It was like a torturous physics puzzle: how to balance the load and keep the bike from tipping over. Kang would know, but his ideas were usually theoretical, as though they had a jet-propulsion system and a world with no friction at their fingertips.
‘There’s no way to carry it all at once,’ Shaozhen concluded. ‘Maybe I could just wait here with the extra buckets for you to come back?’
Just then, there was a squeak of rusty brakes. ‘What are you boys doing?’ Tingming called out. The frame of his pushbike was too small for his burly form and the spokes groaned when he hopped off.
Shaozhen hesitated out of habit, remembering the way Tingming always taunted him on the court. Even after their stand-off with the man at the water queue, the two still weren’t exactly the best of friends. But things were different now. In times of hardship, we watch our brothers’ backs.
‘We need to get this water to the village. That’s for Kang’s gung.’ Shaozhen pointed. ‘And that other bucket is for old Shen up the mountains. He can never carry enough water for himself.’
Tingming nodded. ‘Wulei and I have been carrying water for the woman who lives next to us. She’s completely bedridden and her grandson is only six. He cooks and cleans but he can’t get the water.’
Shaozhen was surprised. He had always considered Tingming to be a bully. He’d never thought he would do something like carry water for his neighbour. ‘Do you think you can help us carry some back?’
The older boy narrowed his eyes for a moment, as though contemplating the request. Shaozhen felt his face growing hot and he was about to tell him to forget it when Tingming picked up the buckets that belonged to Kang. ‘I was here in Xifeng seeing if there were any jobs in the granary. But they sent me away.’ He sighed loudly. ‘I’ll go see Lao Zhu,’ he said.
‘That’d be great!’ Chun declared. ‘And, Shaozhen, if you sit across the back of the bike and we balance the other poles across our shoulders with the last bucket between your knees, we should be able to take the rest!’ Chun smiled like he had just figured out how to shoot rockets to the moon.
Tingming hoisted Kang’s buckets onto his back and climbed onto his bike. The small tyres sank into the gravel and Shaozhen thought the bike might fall apart before their very eyes. But somehow Tingming got the gears to turn and the wheels to roll forwards, shakily at first but eventually with enough momentum to set a steady pace back to the village with his precious cargo for Lao Zhu.
Meanwhile, Chun fired up the engine. Shaozhen clambered onto the back of the bike, carefully placing one of the buckets between his knees. A small crowd leaving the water queue had gathered to watch their incredible balancing feat as they lay the poles across their shoulders, like stacking a house of cards.
‘I always thought I could join the circus, you know?’ Chun joked as they settled on the moped, their backs ramrod straight to keep the buckets from slipping.
‘Balance and steadiness,’ Shaozhen said, trying to limit his movements to just his facial muscles. ‘Great for basketball. I’m sure this was part of Yaoming’s daily practice routine.’
‘I think he just shot hoops,’ Chun replied.
The crowd was laughing and pointing now but the boys didn’t mind the attention. Chun reached forwards and tugged gently on the handlebars. The little bike came to life and they very slowly set off. The machine strained with the extra weight but they managed to putt along at a slow but constant speed. It really did feel like a training session, a lesson in teamwork, with Chun shouting instructions to coordinate their efforts.
‘Left turn coming up,’ he called, and the pair leant gently into the turn and then straightened up.
‘Gravel road up ahead.’ Shaozhen tensed his legs to keep the bucket from slipping out from between his knees as his whole body vibrated from the bumpiness of the surface they were travelling over.
Finally, they arrived at the entrance to Hongsha. It took a fair bit of collaboration to extract themselves from the bike but finally the two boys were standing on solid ground with five relatively full buckets of water.
‘That was great!’ Chun grinned. ‘We make a real good team.’
Shaozhen smiled. ‘Thanks for your help.’
‘Hey, do you want to take the bike up to the mountains to deliver the water to Shen? Just make sure to hide it before you start the climb.’ Chun reached for Shaozhen’s pole.
‘Really?’ Shaozhen was stunned that his friend trusted him with his precious motorcycle.
Chun nodded solemnly. ‘We should do everything we can to help others in the village. Especially since our parents aren’t here. We’re all that’s left.’
Shaozhen smiled. He knew what Chun meant. It was why he had picked up Lao Zhu’s buckets in the first place. Even though he was missing his best friend and his parents, he didn’t want to give up hope. His heart felt full.
Chun shouldered the other buckets. ‘I’ll take your water to your nainai, no problem. Come find me tomorrow morning. We can haul the water back for them together.’
Shaozhen climbed onto the bike. His smile was so wide, he thought his cheeks might crack in two. The bucket rested between his knees. He pulled very gently on the handlebars, half-expecting the bike to lurch out from under him and leave him behind. Fortunately, the controls weren’t very sensitive. The engine growled like a jungle cat and as he coaxed the bike forwards. Shaozhen pulled a little harder and tucked his feet up onto the footrests. The front of the bike wobbled wildly but he tightened his grip and finally brought it under control.
Chun was right: the road to the mountain was short and smooth and it wasn’t difficult, despite this being his first time riding a motorbike on his own. He arrived at the path to the mountain and brought the bike to a creaky stop. He got off and rolled the bike partway up the road then stashed it among the trees, using fallen branches to disguise it well enough that it wouldn’t draw attention from the main road.
He set a brisk pace and it wasn’t long before he came to Shen’s little vegetable patch. The goat bleated, announcing his arrival. Shaozhen swallowed. He wasn’t sure if old Shen was home or if he would come to the door after the angry blow-up he’d had last time they parted ways. But he reached up a clenched fist and knocked anyway.
Nothing. Shaozhen pressed his ear to the door. He could hear a faint shuffling from within, and then it stopped.
‘Great Uncle Shen. It’s me, Shaozhen.’ He knocked again, harder this time. ‘I have something for you.’
The rustling started again. Shaozhen waited. He was about to knock for a third time when the door squeaked open.
Old Shen peered out, his wrinkled face all twisted up and sour.
Shaozhen offered him the bucket. ‘I, uh – I brought you some water, Great Uncle Shen. I – I know you don’t need the help,’ he added quickly. ‘But the boys from the village and I, well, we wanted to help. We all wanted to do more for the villagers – I mean, for everyone.’
Shen narrowed his eyes and Shaozhen thought he was in for another verbal lashing. But instead, the man stepped out onto his stoop, his bony arm reaching out.
‘Come inside, Shaozhen. Have a rest.’
Shaozhen smiled and carried the bucket inside.
Shaozhen was whistling, his tune loud enough to be heard over the sound of the bike’s engine. He was tempted to really take the bike for a spin, but he didn’t want to betray his good friend’s trust. They needed each other. That was what he had come to realise most in these past few weeks. The village was a community. A superstar team better than the Houston Rockets!
He headed to Chun’s house to return the bike then he set off home. But when he went past Tingming’s house he heard voices. He recognised the husky laugh but the tinkling girlish giggle almost sounded foreign. He soon found their source.
Tingming was sitting on his front stoop with Yangyang, sharing a joke.
‘Hey. Yangyang, what are you doing here?’ Shaozhen approached the pair cautiously, sizing up the situation before him.
‘Oh, hi, Shaozhen! Tingming stopped by looking for you. I said you weren’t back yet and we got to chatting. He mentioned he had an unusual plant growing near his vegetable patch so I offered to take a look.’ Yangyang’s eyes were shining. ‘You’re very lucky, Tingming, not everyone can grow honeysuckle. Once the drought is over, you can expect some pretty flowers among your cabbage plants.’
‘Is that…so?’ Shaozhen couldn’t mask the edginess in his voice.
Tingming stood, pulling his shoulders back so his chest stuck out. ‘Wow, you’re very smart, Yangyang.’ The girl beamed, like she had just won an Olympic gold medal. Shaozhen tried not to roll his eyes.
‘I was just returning Chun’s bike. Thanks for helping with Lao Zhu’s water,’ he relented.
‘No problem. I’m glad to run into you. I wanted to see if there was anything more I could do to help. You know, with the water-carrying,’ Tingming said.
‘Tingming said you and Chun were bringing water to the other villagers who aren’t able to collect it for themselves!’ Yangyang was practically bouncing on her heels. ‘What a clever idea!’
‘It is!’ Shaozhen blushed when he realised how boastful he sounded, but he couldn’t hide his pride. ‘Well, I mean…I realised Kang’s gung needed water and then there was Shen in the mountains and…well, Tingming and Wulei are helping their neighbour too…’ He narrowed his eyes at Tingming once again. ‘You really want to help?’
‘I do.’
Shaozhen could see the calm sincerity in the older boy’s eyes. Finally, he offered his hand and Tingming shook it.
