Jiangtaiba in June 1975 was scorching hot.
The sun beat down mercilessly, parching the earth. Not a breath of wind stirred. It had been this hot for nearly two months, with hardly a drop of rain in between. The fields were so dry that the crops were wilting. For farmers who depended on the heavens for food, this was truly being pushed to the brink of death. If the heat continued like this, they could forget about the early rice harvest.
In the fields at the foot of the northern mountains, the commune members were working with great fervor. Unlike other brigades, the members of Jiangtaiba had more smiles on their faces. This was because this year, they had deviated from their usual focus on rice and had instead planted drought-resistant crops like potatoes, corn, and sweet potatoes.
“Iron Head, we owe it all to you this time.”
“That’s right, Iron Head. If you hadn’t persuaded us to switch to potatoes and other coarse grains, we would have been starving this time.”
The commune members chattered their thanks. The more angry they had been before, the more relieved they were now. Iron Head had foreseen this drought long ago and had advised the Da Duizhang early on to switch to these drought-resistant crops. If they had continued planting moisture-loving rice as before, Jiangtaiba would likely have had no harvest at all.
The person who felt this most deeply was Da Duizhang Jiang Youliang. He was in charge of production. This drought had come on suddenly and fiercely, catching everyone off guard. If not for Iron Head, the one crying would have been the Da Duizhang—and the entirety of Jiangtaiba. Now, they were the only ones in the whole Gongshe, and perhaps even the whole county, headed for a truly bountiful harvest.
He remembered going to the Gongshe to deliver grain a couple of days ago and seeing the miserable faces of the other Da Duizhangs. He realized that without Fan Minghua, he would have been just like them, unable to fulfill his grain quotas. Looking at the young man surrounded by the commune members, he thought to himself, Fortunately.
Iron Head, also known as Fan Minghua, didn’t originally belong to the Jiangtaiba Brigade. His family had fled here as refugees before Liberation and officially settled in Jiangtaiba the year New China was founded. Jiang Youliang didn’t actually know much about the Fan family’s history, only that they were from the Dabie Mountain area and had fled after their village was burned down during the war.
Old Man Fan and Old Woman Fan had only one son and one daughter. Their daughter, Fan Xiaohua, had married off over a decade ago. Their son, Fan Minghua, although already thirty-two, had only just married last year, and his wife was now pregnant.
Digressing aside, the reason Jiang Youliang valued Fan Minghua was because the man was a bit uncanny. Despite never having spent a day in school, he knew exactly when it would rain or when the wind would blow. When experts came from the township to guide them in scientific farming, the others in the brigade couldn’t understand a word, yet Fan Minghua could not only grasp the concepts but also extrapolate from them. He would then use that knowledge to explain things to the commune members in the simplest language, ensuring they thoroughly understood before execution. He was Jiang Youliang’s most capable assistant.
Indeed, as early as two months ago, Fan Minghua had said there might be a drought. A few years ago, the people of Jiangtaiba might not have believed him, but his mouth was practically blessed. If he said it would rain, it would definitely rain the next day; if he said it wouldn’t, the next day would certainly be sunny.
Initially, the commune members hadn’t agreed to planting these coarse, drought-resistant grains. Who would want to plant coarse grains when they could have fine grains like wheat and rice?
But Fan Minghua insisted. He not only persuaded the Da Duizhang and the Zhi Shu but also went door-to-door to convince the commune members. He argued that once the drought hit, if they had planted water-hungry rice, they would have no harvest and everyone would go hungry. Finally, the Da Duizhang made the final call to plant drought-resistant coarse grains. Back then, it was a decision made out of a desperate resolve; now, it was a source of great relief. No wonder the commune members were so happy.
Jiang Youliang said to Old Man Fan nearby, “Old Uncle, you’ve raised a good son.”
Old Man Fan maintained a serious expression, repeatedly saying, “It’s nothing, it’s nothing.”
Jiang Youliang said, “I’m going to report Iron Head’s contribution to the higher-ups.”
Old Man Fan hurriedly said, “No need, no need.”
But Jiang Youliang insisted, “It’s necessary, it’s necessary.”
Fan Minghua’s talent couldn’t be wasted. Jiang Youliang wanted to report it to see if he could help Fan Minghua secure a position within the Gongshe.
At that moment, Fan Minghua was squatting on the ground, tending to some rice that had been planted. Although he had convinced all the cadres at the Da Dui Bu and most of the commune members, there was still a large portion of members who hadn’t agreed. Consequently, several mu of land had been reserved for rice. Compared to the bountiful coarse grains, these water-loving rice plants were now wilting and lifeless due to the severe drought, seemingly on the verge of dying.
What he wanted to do now was see if he could save this rice. Regardless, it was several mu of rice; if it really died of thirst, the brigade’s grain production would decrease, and everyone would be heartbroken. Saving even a little was better than nothing, right?
Just then, Jiang Youliang walked over and asked him quietly if there was any way.
Fan Minghua’s brow was furrowed tightly. Unlike the other members of the brigade, who were dark and rugged, he looked as though he never tanned despite working in the fields every day to earn work points. His skin was fair, and he had thick brows and handsome eyes, looking very much like the city Zhiqing who came to the countryside—no, he looked even more like a Zhiqing than the actual Zhiqing.
He said, “Let me think…”
At that moment, a child of five or six, still wearing split-crotch pants, suddenly came running from the other side of the field. It was the youngest son of Jiang Youtian, Fan Minghua’s neighbor. Before he even reached them, his voice arrived: “Uncle Ming, hurry! Auntie fell!”
This news hit Fan Minghua like a bolt of lightning. A fall might be nothing for an ordinary person, but Fan Minghua’s wife, Ning Zhi, was eight months pregnant. If she really fell, something terrible could happen. Without a second thought, and without even remembering to ask the Da Duizhang for leave, he bolted.
Given the emergency, Jiang Youliang naturally wouldn’t make things difficult. He simply asked the child, “What happened? How could she have fallen?”
There was an old saying: “Seven survives, eight does not.” For a woman, childbirth was already like having one foot in the gates of hell. With a fall like that, who knew what might happen? He naturally understood Fan Minghua’s panic.
“It was Fan Dagu…”
The wind carried the voice over. Fan Minghua, who had already run quite a distance, faintly heard these words, and his eyes turned bloodshot. His legs moved as if they had motors attached, desperate to reach home immediately. He didn’t even hear his father’s shouts behind him. The fields, which usually didn’t seem that far, now felt as distant as the ends of the earth.
Finally reaching the Fan house and entering the courtyard, he saw his wife lying on the cold ground, curled up and clutching her stomach. She was crying out, “Mother, Big Sister, save me…” Blood was flowing out from beneath her.
Meanwhile, his mother and his elder sister, Fan Xiaohua, stood nearby, seemingly with smiles still on their faces. Fan Xiaohua was whispering something to Old Woman Fan when she caught a glimpse of a sleeve appearing at the courtyard gate, and the smile on her face vanished.
She reached out to help, but whether she truly lacked the strength or was faking it, she stumbled. As she went to support Ning Zhi, she instead fell toward her, her heavy body collapsing right on top of Ning Zhi.
This scene played out right before Fan Minghua’s eyes. His eyes nearly burst from rage as he charged forward, kicking the bloated Fan Xiaohua away. He gathered Ning Zhi’s heavy body into his arms.
Though Fan Minghua looked fair and refined, his strength was immense. Years of physical labor combined with his lack of restraint in his kick sent Fan Xiaohua tumbling. She clutched the spot where she had been kicked, her face pale as she screamed, “Iron Head, are you crazy! I’m your sister!”
Fan Minghua had already scooped Ning Zhi up. With a long stride, he headed out the door, his voice echoing in the wind, cold and filled with hidden hatred: “You’d better pray my wife and child are okay, or I’ll have your life!”
Fan Xiaohua stood up, clutching her aching waist. Hearing Fan Minghua’s voice, she complained to Old Woman Fan, “Mother, listen to Iron Head, he wants to kill me!”
“He wouldn’t dare!” Old Woman Fan roared.
Carrying Ning Zhi, Fan Minghua had just left the courtyard gate when a tractor pulled up beside them. Jiang Youliang shouted from the vehicle, “Iron Head, quick! I’ve asked Youtian to take you!”
It was exactly what he needed. Fan Minghua had intended to go to the Da Dui Bu to borrow a vehicle, and now one had arrived. He carefully placed her on the tractor and then turned back toward the house. He collided head-on with Old Woman Fan, who was following behind him, knocking her off balance. He didn’t even stop to help her as he rushed into his room and grabbed a cotton quilt.
“Where do you think you’re going!” Old Woman Fan, supported by Fan Xiaohua, tried to grab Fan Minghua as he rushed out with the quilt. “Who goes to the hospital just to give birth? Do you think it’s free?”
Fan Minghua broke free without even bothering to explain. He reached the tractor, pulled himself onto the trailer, spread the quilt beneath Ning Zhi, and then held her, quilt and all, in his arms.
With a series of loud chugs, the tractor roared away, cutting through the wind. Faintly, Old Woman Fan’s shouts could still be heard:
“I won’t allow it!”
“Don’t even think about getting money from me…”
Jiangtaiba wasn’t far from the town or the county seat. It took about fifteen minutes to get to the town and half an hour to reach the county. However, they were in opposite directions. When Jiang Youtian asked, Fan Minghua only hesitated for a few seconds before deciding to go to the county. Ning Zhi didn’t look well, and the medical facilities in town weren’t as good as the county’s. He had already looked into it—if there were complications, the hospital could perform a Caesarean section, a technique only available at the County Hospital. He didn’t dare take a risk, and he certainly didn’t dare gamble on a “what if.”
Ning Zhi was submerged in a sea of pain. She felt as though she was dying. At the moment she was pushed, her first instinct had been to protect her stomach.
Countless images swirled in her mind, shadows overlapping, and voices exploding in her ears. Everything converged into a single point. She opened her eyes to see bright lights above her; the intense glare made her eyes sting.
Oh, she couldn’t feel the pain. Even the contractions in her stomach, which had been coming in waves, were gone. Thoughts came flooding back—she remembered being pushed down by her sister-in-law. Her child! She wanted to touch her stomach but found she couldn’t exert any strength; there was no response from her hands. She panicked instantly.
“The patient is hemorrhaging, she needs a transfusion immediately…”
“Blood pressure is low…”
“Oh no, the patient’s heart has stopped…”
She heard the doctors’ voices and the clinking of instruments. Her heart beat slower and slower. In this moment, she was dying; she even thought she was hallucinating. Faintly, she could hear her husband calling her name, but he seemed to be getting further and further away. Her body grew colder, and she smelled blood.
Am I really going to die? she asked herself.
In a state between dream and reality, a small Red Carp rushed toward her. The little fish opened its mouth and blew a bubble that enveloped her.
“Mama!” It lunged toward her with the bubble.
A warm current began to flow from her stomach to her limbs. Her freezing hands and feet warmed up almost simultaneously.
“Waa!” The cry of an infant pierced the twilight clouds.
Whoosh! Raindrops as large as beans fell from the sky, bringing sweet nectar to the long-parched city.