Shaozhen was thrilled that Tingming, Chun and Yangyang seemed eager to help. Bolstered by their comments, Shaozhen asked his friends to meet him on the basketball court the next evening.
He paced nervously, practising free throws as he waited for everyone to arrive. Relief washed over him when he saw Chun, Tingming and Yangyang approaching.
‘You made it!’ Shaozhen high-fived his friends, even Tingming.
‘Of course.’ Chun smiled. ‘And not just us, either!’
There were more voices coming from the road. Shaozhen saw Wulei and Chun’s cousin Bo and they were joined by even more youths, boys from across the village, and even a couple of girls. They clustered around the basketball court, casting curious glances at Shaozhen.
Shaozhen was gobsmacked. ‘What are you all doing here?’
‘Everyone has been so worried about the drought and the harvest, but feeling helpless because all the adults are leaving,’ Wulei explained. ‘When we started talking, we all agreed we should be doing more ourselves.’
‘We want to hear your ideas,’ said one of the younger boys in the back. Everyone nodded.
Shaozhen took a deep breath. ‘Well, I did think of something we can do for everyone.’
The group leant forwards, hanging on Shaozhen’s every word.
‘Instead of everyone bringing two buckets of water per family, we can bring water for the entire village,’ he said. ‘Our grandparents with their bad knees and hunchbacks won’t have to trek out to Xifeng every day and villagers like Lao Zhu, who have been left on their own, will have more water too.’
Many of the boys were quick to agree.
‘Kang’s gung was grateful. I think he actually smiled. I don’t think I’d ever seen Lao Zhu smile in my entire life!’ Tingming said.
A few were less eager. ‘Why should I help? With all the farm work to do and my own grandmother bedridden, I have enough work collecting water for myself,’ one of the girls complained.
‘The idea is that no one family will need to do more work than any other,’ Shaozhen explained. ‘If we all work together, each of us won’t have to go to Xifeng every day and carry our own measly buckets home. We can bring more water for everyone in the village.’
But the girl was still not convinced.
‘But what about the two-bucket rule? I tried to get an extra bucket for my neighbour once and that driver snatched it away from me,’ she said. Others murmured in agreement.
The girl spoke again. ‘Besides, even if we did try to carry water for everyone, we’d never be able to make enough trips in time. You only have one motorcycle. We won’t be able to carry that much more than we already do,’ she said.
‘But you haven’t heard the other part of my plan yet.’ Shaozhen waggled his eyebrows in delight.
Shaozhen approached Xian’s house. He hoped the Secretary was at home. Since queuing for water had begun, Xian had been spending most of his days in the Town Secretary’s headquarters. The villagers whispered about it, wondering if their Secretary was avoiding them and speculating if Xian was on his way out like Luqiao.
Shaozhen’s palms stayed damp no matter how many times he wiped them on his trousers and he felt a queasiness in his gut that was impossible to ignore. This has to work.
There was a single light on in Xian’s oversized dwelling. Shaozhen hadn’t been back here since he had asked Xian to drive Nainai to the hospital. He knocked softly on the grand double doors.
A weary-looking Xian appeared behind the slit of the open door. ‘Shaozhen?’ The Secretary’s face was still thin and drawn and he had the same bags beneath his eyes.
‘Secretary Xian, may I speak with you for a moment?’ Shaozhen smiled, hoping he looked convincing, even though it felt as if there were grasshoppers in his stomach.
‘Please, come inside.’ Xian held the door open. ‘Ah, forgive me if I don’t…um…offer you some tea. In times of drought, we must all make sacrifices.’
Shaozhen gave a small, knowing smile and followed Xian into the living room. He was stunned to discover the TV was gone as well as the comfortable leather chair he’d sat in. Only the computer in the corner remained. ‘They didn’t feel right,’ Xian said with a shake of his head. ‘They weren’t a reflection of who I wanted to be as a Village Secretary.’
They settled into the stiff wicker chairs, the only furnishings left in the room. There was a great expanse between them and Shaozhen felt like he would need to shout to bridge the chasm.
The pair both spoke at once.
‘Secretary, I…’
‘Shaozhen, I’m sorry…’
They laughed.
‘Please, elders first,’ Shaozhen offered.
‘Shaozhen, I am deeply sorry. I don’t think that I have done right by you and the villagers since I arrived. I – I made a fool of myself.’ He hung his head. ‘I wanted so hard to make an impression, to prove that what I knew and what I had learned could make great things happen, but I didn’t listen to the needs of my own residents. The people I wanted to help. I am no better than your old Luqiao.’
Shaozhen felt bad for Xian. ‘I – I think you’re being hard on yourself. The villagers never liked the old Secretary, that’s a given.’
Xian laughed. ‘That may be so. But I want to make it up to you all. I’ve been working with Secretary Lam on some big ideas. That’s why I’ve been spending so much time in Xifeng. Our plan, I think it will revolutionise Hongsha village and the Xifeng township, and hopefully help your families.’ He looked Shaozhen in the eye. ‘And, Shaozhen, I’d think you would be the perfect person to help me deliver the policy to the villagers.’
The boy rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly awkward. He didn’t think he was ready to become a Party mouthpiece. ‘Well, um, I actually came here because I wanted to talk to you about something. The boys and I, And Yangyang, too, want to do something for the village, something for all the villagers. But we need your help.’
‘Oh? Go on.’
Shaozhen explained about Kang’s departure. He talked about Kang’s gung, Lao Zhu, and how he was too unwell to carry water. He told Xian about old Shen in the mountains.
‘My grandfather’s village in the mountains was lost to a landslide a while back. I didn’t think anyone still lived up there,’ Xian remarked.
‘Old Shen does. And he’s too stubborn to come to live in the village. He has to make the trip all the way to Xifeng for water. And I’m sure there are other villagers who are old and alone because their children have all left for the cities, like my parents have.’
Shaozhen paused to look Xian straight in the eye, trying to hide his nervousness before continuing. ‘My friends and I think we should offer a free water-delivery service for the elderly. We’d visit them every day, and we could do chores around their house or the garden, and, of course, drop off the water. But we need your help. The town would have to give us enough buckets of water, not just the two-bucket limit, and we really need a vehicle – and not your personal ambulance service,’ Shaozhen added with a half-smile.
To his relief, Xian laughed heartily. ‘That was a bit silly, I have to say. I thought I was being a good Secretary by sticking to the rules. Secretary Lam heard about it and reprimanded me terribly. I – I have a lot to learn about the Party and its place in the community.’
Shaozhen’s spirits soared like he had sunk the winning basket at the buzzer. ‘So you’ll help us? You’ll lend us the truck?’
‘Even better. I’ll drive it.’
A few weeks later, a large group of youths were gathered at the entrance to Hongsha. What had started as just the Hongsha village teens getting water from Xifeng, had grown to include other teens in other villages as well. Boys and girls Shaozhen had only known at Xifeng Junior Middle School and a few that he had never seen before because they hadn’t gone to school were all helping out. The villagers were calling them ‘water-carriers’. There were pushbike-pedallers and wheelbarrow-draggers, all coming together to help. Their numbers kept growing and now there were thirty-odd water-carriers from across the region.
Shaozhen, Chun and Tingming came out and greeted the boys with high fives while Yangyang headed over to the huddle of girls. Many of the teens were left-behind children, just like them, and they had all become fast friends.
‘You boys up for a game of basketball tonight?’ Shaozhen asked. ‘We can get a full game going, I reckon.’ ‘Hey, we’d love to, but harvest starts tomorrow,’ said one of the boys from Weiying village, two li over.
Shaozhen’s eyes lit up. ‘Wow, really? We’re not starting ours until next week.’
‘Yeah, we’re going to try and save what we can. Won’t be much, but a harvest is a harvest. You know, we could use some extra hands. I don’t know if—’
‘Of course we can help!’ Tingming said. ‘This is what the water-carriers are all about. Villager helping villager, village helping village.’ He glanced at Shaozhen, who gave the older boy an affirming nod.
‘Make way! Make way!’ The group of teens dispersed as the vehicle approached the entrance to the village. Secretary Xian stuck his head out of the window, a look of intense concentration on his face as he swivelled the truck in between the two lines the water-carriers had formed, like feeding a soccer ball between the goalposts.
Xian caught Shaozhen’s eye and gave the boy a small triumphant smile as the team swarmed the truck. Shaozhen flashed the Secretary the thumbs up.
Chun hopped up onto the back of the truck and began passing pails of water into the waiting hands of the teens below them.
‘Feiyuan from Weiying missed her delivery yesterday. Do you think she can get an extra bucket today?’ someone asked.
‘Wangpeng from Shunmiao said he won’t need a second bucket today, so she can have his,’ Chun said, handing the water-carrier his extra load. ‘Be careful, that one’s really full.’
‘Tingming, will you carry this for me?’ Yangyang appeared to be struggling with a bucket, even though Shaozhen had seen her carry loads three times that weight without breaking a sweat. He rolled his eyes but said nothing. Tingming didn’t seem to notice anything amiss and took the extra bucket without a word.
They all set off in pairs or trios, some with wheels, most on foot, to deliver the water to its intended recipients.
Xian hopped down from the truck and picked up an extra bucket. ‘Shaozhen, I’ll come with you to visit old Shen. You’ve told me so much about him, I’d like to finally meet him in person.’
Shaozhen shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Secretary. Shen doesn’t really take kindly to visitors, especially from the village.’
‘I’ll take my chances.’
The pair were quiet on the walk up to Shen’s home. Xian began to whistle, not a revolutionary song but a pop tune from the radio, and a love song at that. ‘I would never have picked you for a Luhan fan,’ Shaozhen chuckled.
‘The lyrics are good,’ Xian said with a shrug. Over the past few days, Shaozhen had noticed a change in Xian: he was more like the Xian who had played basketball with them on his first day in the village. Instead of the pained look of a weary Village Secretary, Xian looked young and happy.
Shaozhen was on edge as they passed the garden plot and approached the house. Shen had come to accept Shaozhen’s daily visits and had even stopped insisting he didn’t need charity. While he wouldn’t say the old man had warmed to him, he was less callous.
The goat bleated as usual, announcing their arrival.
‘Shaozhen, are you ready for another lesson?’ Shen was setting up the Chinese chess pieces on a small stool at the front of the house. They had played one game before and Shaozhen had lost miserably. Shen stopped halfway through laying out the king pieces when he looked up and noticed the Secretary.
‘Who is this?’ he demanded, glaring harshly at Shaozhen.
‘This is Secretary Xian from Hongsha village,’ Shaozhen mumbled. He could tell from the venomous change in Shen’s expression that he shouldn’t have brought Xian here.
‘What do you want? I have no business with you, the Party or Hongsha,’ the old man snarled.
Xian held his hands up in peace. ‘Please, Comrade Shen. I mean you no harm. I just wanted to talk to you. I know about Mao.’
Shen squinted at the young man. ‘How do you know about Mao?’
Shaozhen’s ears perked. Who’s Mao?
‘My grandfather was from Xiaosong.’
A gloominess settled over old Shen’s features. ‘Leave Mao to rest in peace. Bad enough I had to bury my children, but a grandchild too…’
Shaozhen furrowed his brow. ‘I thought your children died in the famine.’
‘His sons and wife passed during the Three Bitter Years,’ Xian answered for Shen.
Shaozhen was stunned. How did Xian know this? The boy tried to meet Shen’s gaze but the old man turned away.
The Secretary went on. ‘But Shen had a daughter. She married a man from Xiaosong, a farmer she loved dearly. But he never felt good enough for her. His family was very poor. So when a bunch of men came to the village offering a fast and easy way to make money, he thought it was a sign from the heavens.’
Shen was staring at the ground, his toothless jaw trembling.
Xian continued. ‘So this farmer, along with some of the other villagers, sold his blood. He convinced his wife to do it too, as often as once a week. They built a new house with the money they earned. And then they had a son.’
Xian’s voice softened. ‘But soon, many of the other villagers fell gravely ill. The blood drive had caused a sickness, something that had never been seen before. And before long, the farmer and the new mother were very sick too.’
Shaozhen stood there, his mouth agape. He knew without Xian telling him how the villagers had passed, why they were sick. Since Shaozhen had been a boy, there were whispers of ghostly villages throughout the province that were marked for death, stricken by a deadly and vicious illness.
Aizibing, AIDS.
‘The Party did nothing,’ Shen whispered. ‘The villagers begged for help but the Party let them die. Another footnote to be written off with slogans and propaganda. It’s all your fault.’ He pointed a trembling finger at Xian but then he let his hand fall, too weary to even hold it up. ‘The villagers drove the sick out.’
Shaozhen looked from Shen to Xian, the pieces slowly falling into place. ‘Your grandfather was the Party Secretary of Xiaosong,’ Shaozhen said finally.
Xian nodded. ‘He was. He witnessed the villagers getting sick, so many people needing help. But there wasn’t anything he could do. The hospitals were full and he suspected the medicine they gave him to distribute was nothing more than sugar pills.’ He bowed his head. ‘He couldn’t bear to watch. He was heartbroken, so he quit his post and moved his family to Wuhan. And that’s where I was born. He never spoke of the tragedy that befell the village of Xiaosong, but I knew it was the cause of the heavy weight he carried in his heart.’
‘Your grandfather left and the village was in chaos.’ Shen pressed his lips together, like he was trying not to cry.
Shaozhen’s heart was in tatters. Shen had lost his wife and sons to the famine and his daughter to AIDS. ‘What happened to their son?’ he asked Shen.
‘After my daughter and her husband passed, the little boy was on his own. He was just three years old but no one in the village would take him. The sick families had all been driven out and no one wanted to take in a sick boy. The entire lot of them shunned a helpless child because they were afraid of his illness. They treated him worse than a dog.’ He banged his fist against his palm, his puffy eyes fierce and angry. ‘So of course, I took him. I couldn’t bear the possibility of him suffering at the hands of the Hongsha villagers like he had in Xiaosong, so I left my home in the village and came up to the mountains on my own. I built this house. I planted a garden to grow food and I raised the goat for milk. I taught my grandson numbers and how to read, all by myself. And we were happy for the short life he had.’
Shen fell silent. His face looked weary and worn out, like he had somehow aged ten years in ten minutes. He slumped down on the ground beside the stool with an enormous weight that sent the chess pieces clattering to the ground.
Xian bowed deeply three times. ‘Lao Shen, on behalf of my grandfather, the Party, the villagers and the people, for what it’s worth, I apologise for your great loss.’
Shaozhen bowed deeply beside Xian so that his forehead was practically touching his knees. He was full of anger and sorrow. His misgivings and sadness about his parents leaving was nothing compared to Shen’s suffering.
There was a long silence and then Shen sighed and stood up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. ‘Begone, you two. You’ll have more water to deliver to the others. I know you boys have set up quite the enterprise.’
They turned to leave. But Shaozhen had one more plea.
‘Great Uncle Shen,’ he said softly. ‘I know the villagers don’t understand your suffering and I see now why you don’t want to associate with us. But the harvest is coming. It’s been a rough year for everyone, there has been little water and the crops aren’t much. But the villagers in Hongsha are planning to celebrate anyway. Because sometimes, even in the worst of times, we need to try to be happy. I think – I think you should come.’
Xian didn’t say a word, but he nodded in agreement.
Shen’s face was unreadable. But Shaozhen thought he might have seen just the tiniest, most imperceptible nod. And that was enough.