Chapter 7

Shi Fangfang watched Yang Qiujin leave with mixed feelings. Ji Mingchen was also stationed at the frontier, serving as a military doctor for several years. Even Chen Shengqing had been promoted to battalion commander and was on his way back. Would he bring Yang Qiujin with him? What about Ji Mingchen? When would he return, and when would he allow her to join the army?

“Mom, Shengqing is coming back!”

Li Xiu’e had just arrived home when she saw Yang Qiujin, holding the letter, running down the village road, breathlessly shouting, “Shengqing is coming back!”

“What? Shengqing is coming back?” Li Xiu’e thought she must have misheard. “Am I dreaming?”

“It’s true. Shengqing is really coming back,” Yang Qiujin read aloud from the letter. “Not only is he coming back, but he’s also been promoted to battalion commander. He’ll probably arrive in the next couple of days.”

“Oh, our Shengqing is an officer now!” Li Xiu’e was initially overjoyed, but soon wiped her tears. “This troublesome boy finally decided to come back. I thought he had died out there! Now that he’s back, you can enjoy your life.”

Enjoy life? Yang Qiujin didn’t think about that. She had always wanted Chen Shengqing to live, regardless of his promotion.

When she and Chen Shengqing first married, it was partly arranged by their parents and partly due to external pressure. She knew he had no romantic feelings for her.

Over the years, she had carried the burden alone: taking care of her in-laws, raising the children, working, managing the household chores. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t exhausted and frustrated.

How many times had she felt like she couldn’t continue? After crying in the dark, she thought of divorce. But could she really live the life she wanted after divorcing him?

Because of societal expectations, women were expected to marry, have children, and work tirelessly. If she divorced Chen Shengqing, not only would the villagers scorn her, but her mother would pressure her to remarry. And finding another husband might not be any better than Chen Shengqing.

She thought she could live well on her own, but she couldn’t bear the villagers’ judgment or her mother’s emotional manipulation.

Now that Chen Shengqing was returning, Yang Qiujin felt both hopeful and uncertain.

She had heard the gossip—many villagers said that Shengqing had never liked her. He hadn’t returned for so many years because he despised her. If he did come back, he would surely divorce her and marry a kinder, gentler woman.

Yang Qiujin didn’t plan to divorce him, but would he divorce her instead?

Watching her mother-in-law run off happily to share the news with others, Yang Qiujin suddenly felt overwhelmingly sad.

Forget it, she thought. Maybe she would just get a divorce. She didn’t need anything except her son, Tianyou. He was the only child she had fought so hard to bring into the world. If Chen Shengqing tried to take him from her, she would fight back fiercely.

In the following days, the Chen family was filled with joy. Everywhere Li Xiu’e and Yang Qiujin went, people congratulated them. When relatives and friends who had no prior connection with them learned that Chen Shengqing had been promoted to the battalion commander level, they all came to offer their congratulations.

Yang Qiujin, eager to avoid dealing with the powerful relatives and friends, left them all to her mother-in-law and focused on her duties.

The weather was overcast that day, and it seemed like it could rain at any moment.

Yang Qiujin was in the brigade office, quickly calculating the brigade’s financial income and expenditures for the past two days using an abacus in her left hand and writing in the account book with a pen in her right hand. Suddenly, she heard a commotion outside.

“What happened?” Yang Qiujin put down her work and looked outside.

She saw a large group of young students wearing military green uniforms and red armbands walking up the village road. They were holding red banners and small red flags, marching while chanting loudly: “Down with imperialist capitalism!”

“Down with feudalism, superstition, and the four olds!” ^[1]refers to Four Olds: Old Customs, Old Culture, Old Habits, Old Ideas.

“Down with all the counter-revolutionaries, demons, and monsters!”

“Looks like the little Red Army soldiers have nothing better to do and are making trouble again.”

Team leader Deng Jianshe, a man in his thirties who appeared older due to years of hard work, had a worried expression. “These students are not attending classes but organizing some kind of movement. Today they’re fighting this, tomorrow they’ll fight that. They’ve turned a good place into chaos. They used to fight only in the city, but now they’ve come to the countryside. Do you think they’re sick?”

“Hush, you can eat whatever you want, but don’t say whatever you want.” Brigade Secretary Zhang, also watching the scene, shook his head at Deng Jianshe. “The situation outside is tense. Any careless word could be used by those little Red Soldiers to target us. They didn’t fight us before because we’re in the countryside. Now that they’ve finished in the city, they’re turning their attention to us.”

Zhang took a sip of tea, smacked his lips, and said, “I think things will change for our Pioneer Brigade. Jianshe, Qiu Jin, stop working here. Before those little Red Soldiers reach our brigade, quickly notify the members to clear out the feudal four olds from their homes, and keep things quiet to avoid trouble.”

Deng Jianshe and Yang Qiujin became anxious. They had attended a cadre meeting in the county the previous year and witnessed the chaos caused by the little Red Soldiers in the city. They did not dare delay and quickly packed up their things to notify the members.

After notifying those working in the fields, Yang Qiujin and Deng Jianshe went their separate ways. They ran to the utility room at home, grabbed some dried medicinal herbs, went to the kitchen to gather four steamed buns, two boiled eggs, and five and a half palm-sized sweet potatoes, and placed them in a basket. Then they ran to their private plot, picked two cucumbers, and carried them to a remote cowshed at the foot of the mountain, where two returned intellectuals lived.

When Yang Qiujin arrived at the cowshed, Professor Zheng Jitong, a man in his fifties with half-white hair, wearing a gray patched suit, was squatting by the cowshed, shoveling fresh cow dung.

“Professor Zheng, I’m here to see you and Professor Cai.” Yang Qiujin approached with the basket.

The cowshed was clean with no unpleasant odor. Yang Qiujin’s sudden appearance startled Zheng Jitong, causing him to tip his shovel, spilling fresh cow dung all over himself.

When Professor Zheng saw his clean clothes covered in dung, he didn’t feel upset as he had when he was sent down to the countryside. Instead, he sighed and smiled at Yang Qiujin. “Comrade Xiao Yang, what brings you here?”

“Little Red Soldiers have entered the village. I’m worried about you and Professor Cai. I brought some food and wanted to warn you.”

Yang Qiujin handed the basket to Zheng Jitong and then noticed the skinny middle-aged man in the corner of the cowshed with sunken, lifeless eyes—Professor Cai Zhengmao, about 55 years old.

Yang Qiujin half-squatted and asked with concern, “Professor Cai, are you feeling better?”

Cai Zhengmao had caught a cold recently and had continued to work despite being ill. His health had not improved. Every few days, Yang Qiujin secretly sent him herbs she picked for him to boil into tea.

“Much better, thank you, Comrade Xiao Yang.” Cai Zhengmao coughed and stood up with difficulty to greet her. “I’m sorry to trouble you again. For so many years, it’s always been you, the little comrade, who’s taken care of us. We don’t deserve it.”

“You’re welcome. It’s nothing,” Yang Qiujin waved her hand and urged him to sit and rest. “If you and Professor Zheng hadn’t seen my mother while she was herding cattle and rescued her after she fell down the mountain, I don’t know what would have happened. You two saved her life. What I’ve done for you is nothing.”

Professor Zheng put the basket away and turned to say, “Xiao Yang, you should go back now. If anyone sees you with us in broad daylight, it will cause unnecessary trouble. We’ve received your kindness, but please don’t visit us too often. When we’re able, we’ll repay you. Don’t worry about the little Red Soldiers. This is not the first time we’ve been criticized. We will endure, no matter how they attack us.”

Yang Qiujin made the trip because she feared that the professors might not withstand the Red Soldiers’ treatment and could take drastic actions like other senior elements in the city.

After hearing Professor Zheng’s words, she nodded and said, “Professor Zheng, Professor Cai, remember, no matter what happens, don’t give up hope. Only by staying alive will there be hope and light.”

“We understand, Comrade Xiao Yang. Please leave now.”

After Yang Qiujin left, Professor Zheng handed the basket to Professor Cai. Upon seeing the contents, Professor Cai said with red eyes, “There are still good people in this world.”

It’s been eight years since they were labeled as rightists and sent to the countryside in 1959. During this time, they did the most exhausting labor, ate the worst food, lived in a cowshed with the animals, and were frequently dragged to struggle sessions by people from the brigade and the commune. They endured immense humiliation, and their former pride and dignity were destroyed.

If it weren’t for Yang Qiujin secretly supporting them all these years, their old bodies would have long since collapsed, dying from illness, starvation, or possibly suicide.

Yang Qiujin always encouraged them to keep living and occasionally helped them send letters home, giving them hope.

Though life had been hard, they were still alive, and they were happier than anyone to see Yang Qiujin arrive.

“Don’t be sad, eat the food while it’s hot,” Professor Zheng said, packing cooked eggs, steamed bread, and sweet potatoes into his arms. “We were beaten by those little red soldiers ^[2]refers to Red Guards. last year, and we were left in bad shape. It won’t be any easier this time. Let’s eat all of Xiao Yang’s food and toss the eggshells to the cows. Don’t let anyone catch us and blame Xiao Yang.”

“You’re right.” Professor Cai peeled a green egg to reveal the bright white inside. He took a big bite, savoring the tender egg white and pink yolk. It had been a long time since he had tasted something so delicate. He was so happy he almost cried. He promised himself he would repay Yang Qiujin someday.

Professor Zheng enjoyed the sweet yellow-heart sweet potatoes Yang Qiujin had brought him. The taste was tender, but he thought they weren’t as sweet as the varieties he had researched at the Japan Agricultural Research Institute. He hoped to study hybrid sweet potato technology and ask Yang Qiujin to plant more, seeing if they could reach the sweetness of those he studied before.