The Pearl Jacket and Other Stories. Shouhua Qi
led by Yang, were ready to go into the mountains to join the guerrillas.
Hai Chuan, however, didn’t want to leave his newly married bride behind. Disappointed, Goldie said: I thought I had married a real man, not a chicken-hearted sissy.
His face reddening, Hai Chuan said: All right, just you wait for the day I’m back with a few Japs’ skulls for you to pee in.
A smile blossomed on Goldie’s face: That’s my man! You go and join the guerrillas and I’ll wait for you, eight years, ten years, a lifetime, no matter.
So Hai Chuan went with Yang and the group of young men into the mountains.
Eight months later Goldie gave birth to a son and named him Little Chuan.
Goldie waited for eight years. Hai Chuan didn’t return, saying he had to go on to fight Chiang Kai-shek now that the Japs were gone. So Goldie waited for another three years. Still Hai Chuan didn’t return, saying he had to go to Korea to fight the Americans. So Goldie waited for a few more years. Then, she was told that Hai Chuan, now a general, didn’t want her any more even though she had waited for him for so many years; he had married a modern city girl.
Goldie cried for three days and nights. On the fourth day she went to the village river to wash her tears and sorrow. She buried her anger and sadness deep down and placed all her hope on bringing up her son as best she could. As time flew by like water in the river, Goldie’s world began to shine with hope and promise. Whenever folks praised Goldie, they would have a few unkind words about the heartless Hai Chuan. It was in such an environment that Little Chuan finally grew up, got married, and became a father himself. One day, his son asked him:
“Pa, everybody else has a grandma and grandpa, why me, only grandma, but no grandpa?”
Little Chuan muttered angrily: “Grandma is all we need. Who cares about Grandpa!”
Now, General Hai Chuan finally retired. Every day he walked with his birds and watered his flowers while reliving his past in his mind. All the fierce battles he had fought, big and small, became a blur gradually as the dust of time settled in his memory. In their place re-emerged the picture of a little village where he grew up, a little river that had nourished him, and a bride he had left behind many years ago. Sorrow would hit him and hit him hard. Goldie must be in her 70s now. And the son. Yes, the son must be about 50 years old, too. The old general missed his home village badly. One day he returned, with a deep sense of guilt, and stood in front of Goldie.
“Goldie, I’ve wronged you. . . . ”
Goldie was calm as the cloudless autumn sky. She called in her son, and then her grandson, to meet the guest. “This is your grandpa,” she said to her grandson. The old general burst into tears. He didn’t dare to say anything tender to Little Chuan, but gathered his grandson in his arms and kissed him like mad.
The old general had been used to being treated like an important guest, but being treated like this in his own “home” made him feel awkward and heavy-hearted. He was especially saddened by the coldness his own son, Little Chuan, showed him. During dinner that evening wine was served. After a few cups, the old general didn’t feel well and turned in early. When he woke up, the light was still on in the outer room. Someone was saying something. It was Goldie:
“Listen to me, Little Chuan, your pa stepped forward when our country was in grave danger. He fought in so many wars, going into battles with his head in his hand, not knowing whether he would live or die the next instant. He is a real man. If he owes anything to anyone, he owes it to me alone. Whatever he owed to you, I made it up on his behalf long ago. If you treat your pa like that again, I won’t let you get away with it. . . . ”
Tears gushed down his cheeks as the battle-hardened old general lay on the kang and listened. He thought, “Goldie is a piece of real, genuine gold! How in the world could I have abandoned her?”
(2001)
Straw Ring
Jinguang
Minzi and Erniu were high school classmates. They were good friends. Upon graduation, Minzi asked his family to go to Erniu’s to propose. Soon afterwards the two good friends were engaged.
Minzi’s family was poor. He had several brothers. The family of eight squeezed together in a simple shingle-roofed house which had only three rooms. But Erniu didn’t mind. Poverty, she said, didn’t mean Minzi had no potential and prospect. As long as they loved each other and worked hard, they would be happy.
One thing Minzi’s family had plenty of, though, was manpower. During harvest time his parents would tell him to go and help Erniu’s family. One day, Minzi came to Erniu’s to help harvest wheat. The two of them worked for hours on the Red Soil Slope under a scorching sun. Then Erniu urged Minzi to take a break under a big persimmon tree and drink some water. So Minzi sat down, drank some water, and the two of them chitchatted. Before long Minzi reached for the sickle and was ready to go back to work. Erniu grabbed his arm and said: “What’s the hurry? Want to work yourself to death?” Minzi smiled and sat down again.
Erniu said: “So, Minzi, what will our life be like when we get married, with no house of our own and no money, either?”
Minzi picked up a stalk of wheat, removed the grain-bearing top, gestured with the remaining stem as he said: “We may not have money, but we have spirit and will. Remember I was good at writing in school. I’ll continue to write and write my way into the city. Then, I’ll bring you over to the city with me.”
Erniu was surprised: “Really? Is that possible? Will you still want me when you are in a big city?”
Minzi said: “Hey, I am not worth a cent now and you still like me so much. I am not that kind of man, you know.”
At this Erniu rested her head on Minzi’s arm happily.
Minzi twisted the straw in his hands a couple of times and said: “Give me your hand.”
Erniu looked up and saw a ring made of the straw. She gave him her hand. Solemnly Minzi put the ring on Erniu’s finger. Erniu gazed at the ring for a long while as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Then she turned, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek.
Minzi was indeed a goal-driven young man. During the next two years he read and wrote whenever he had time and published over 30 short stories and essays here and there in regional newspapers. Soon he became a well-known freelance writer in the county. When the County Writers Association needed another artist in residence to strengthen its program, Minzi was the one chosen. So he went to the city and became a full-time writer there.
Soon after he started at the County Writers Association, Minzi wrote two feature stories about the Tobacco Company. Its general manager was thrilled by the stories and promised to help if he needed anything. So Minzi asked the manager if he could arrange for Erniu to work in his company. The manager beat his chest and said: No problem. I’ve done it so many times before. One more time is nothing. So, within two months, Erniu started to work at the Tobacco Company as a full time employee.
The day Erniu moved to the city Minzi celebrated in a fancy restaurant called “Fortune Food.” When the last drop of a big bottle of wine was gone, Minzi, somewhat tipsy, said: “Honey, we’ve made it into the city finally.”
Erniu held his hand and said: “Yes, thanks to my man’s can-do spirit and hard work.”
Rubbing Erniu’s hand in his own, Minzi said: “What a beautiful hand you’ve got here. I’ll buy you a ring when I’ve made more money. Then you get to taste what it is like to live like city folks.” With that he lifted her hand and kissed it like the romantic he was.
Minzi was a man of his word. If he promised something, he would deliver no matter what. Since that day the idea of buying Erniu a ring had been firmly lodged in his mind. However, given the low salary from the County Writers Association, Erniu giving birth to a baby daughter, which meant so much more to take care of at home, and his endless writing assignments and other work, the idea sank deeper in his mind,