Cockleburs and Candy
After leaving the commune compound, the ox cart moved through the dust kicked up by the tractor. In the glaring sunlight, every speck of dust was sharply visible.
Chu Mo huddled beneath his mask and scarf for a while before daring to peek out and look around.
His low fever still hadn’t gone away. His face felt warm, and the skin around his eyes was hot too. His vision seemed veiled in mist, making the scenery look hazy, like a Monet painting.
Golden yellow and earthy brown blended into one another, with a few touches of green. Everything had the roughness and dryness characteristic of the north.
Ahead of them, Zhong Maosong trudged along slowly, his back bent and a white towel wrapped around his head as he led the ox. He seemed to melt into the landscape.
Chu Mo rummaged through his bag and pulled out the last piece of fine-flour flatbread. Then he reached out and tapped the cart’s wooden frame.
Zhong Maosong turned around. Deep wrinkles furrowed his face, and his worry was plain to see.
Chu Mo felt a pang of sadness. Zhong Maosong was probably only in his forties, but he looked more like he was in his fifties or sixties.
Chu Mo felt he owed Zhong Maosong, but couldn’t promise him anything just then. He only beckoned him over.
“What is it, kid?” Zhong Maosong muttered, coming closer.
Chu Mo held out the flatbread.
Zhong Maosong looked at the fine, white bread and licked his cracked lips.
“You could trade that for some coarse grain. You’re so skinny, you won’t earn many work points each day. Save it, or you might not make it through the winter. The grain ration you’ve been given won’t last long.” Zhong Maosong gestured as he spoke, in case Chu Mo couldn’t follow.
As he saw it, if Chu Mo, in such poor health, had still been sent to the countryside, then his family probably didn’t care much about him either.
Taohuagou was worse off than the other brigades. In the past, no educated youths had been willing to come. Most of those assigned there were either too simple to know how to get ahead or had a problematic class background and needed reeducation.
With Chu Mo added to the mix, Taohuagou could practically be called a brigade for troubled young people.
Besides worrying that Chu Mo couldn’t do the work, Zhong Maosong was also worried he wouldn’t survive the winter.
Chu Mo knew Zhong Maosong was a good man. He hadn’t expected him to worry so much about a stranger.
Chu Mo waved his hand to say he didn’t need it, and tried to give the flatbread to Zhong Maosong again.
“Keep it. I’m not used to eating that. You don’t need to do this. Take things as they come. Once you’re in our brigade, you’re one of us.” Zhong Maosong refused again.
Chu Mo paused, then put the flatbread away. Knowing how stubborn Zhong Maosong was, he didn’t press him. He smiled with his eyes and nodded, then patted the front of the cart, trying to get Zhong Maosong to climb aboard too.
“I’ll stay on my feet. I can still walk, and it’ll make things easier for the ox.” Zhong Maosong waved him off.
He felt sorry for the ox. The cart already held Chu Mo’s luggage and transitional grain rations, and Chu Mo was sitting on it too. He didn’t want to burden the old ox any further.
Chu Mo understood. Without a tractor, the old ox was an essential part of Zhong Maosong’s livelihood.
Watching Zhong Maosong turn and continue down the road, Chu Mo tried to think of what he could do to improve life in Taohuagou as much as he could.
After a little over an hour on the road, Chu Mo had dozed off for a while. He woke when he felt the cart rocking.
They had started up a hill, and the old ox was struggling to pull the cart. Chu Mo tapped the frame and asked Zhong Maosong to stop so he could get down and walk.
After resting for a while, Chu Mo had recovered a little strength.
The uphill road was nothing but packed earth, covered with a layer of fine, dry dust. Overgrown dirt banks rose on either side, and the path wound steeply ahead.
After walking for a while, Chu Mo began to struggle for breath. He braced his hands on his knees and bent over, panting. Zhong Maosong looked back, shook his head, and stopped the cart to rest.
Chu Mo tried taking off his mask. Perhaps the ox’s hooves had stirred up dust, and there was a little wind too. The air he breathed in felt cold and gritty. He sneezed several times.
Chu Mo had no choice but to put his mask back on.
When he’d caught his breath, he looked up. Once they crossed this slope and went another two or three li, they would reach Taohuagou village.
The place where he was now was also called Taohuagou, named after a peach grove owned collectively by the village.
When the peach blossoms bloomed in spring, the grove was beautiful. Now it was withered and bare, with not a soul in sight.
Chu Mo rested for a while, took a deep breath, and continued on with Zhong Maosong.
They stopped four more times before finally getting over the Taohuagou slope and reaching level ground.
Zhong Maosong pulled the ox cart over to the side of the road and fed the ox. Chu Mo sat on the edge of the cart to rest.
He felt as though only half his life was left, and that was about to go too. His legs didn’t even feel like his own anymore.
That uphill road had been brutal.
Still, he’d made it. They were almost there.
Chu Mo looked around.
The fields and the villagers of Taohuagou Brigade were all gathered on this stretch of flat land. In the distance stood a towering mountain whose name he didn’t know. It seemed close enough to touch, its slopes and the patterns of greenery clearly visible.
As Chu Mo’s gaze settled on the mountain, the same one he remembered from his past life, a few children came into view, running and playing. Fine dust rose in their wake.
Chu Mo turned aside to avoid it, then looked back at the children.
In his past life, Chu Mo had grown up in Taohuagou until he was ten. He’d known most of the village children, and had even had one or two friends.
The one in front was a little dark-skinned boy with wild, sticking-up hair and tattered clothes. The other children quickly caught up and surrounded him. Some threw cockleburs into his hair, while others twisted his arms and grabbed hold of him.
The little boy’s large, dark eyes were full of stubborn defiance. Like a wolf cub, he growled and fought back with all four limbs, his thin arms and legs holding their own against the others.
“Ergouzi’s gone crazy! He’s biting people! Hit him, make him let go!”
One of the children shouted.
Chu Mo glanced over and got a good look at the boy’s face. He sprang to his feet and, ignoring the ache in his legs, hurried toward the children.
Chu Mo recognized the little boy they’d caught. He was Chu Mo’s second older brother in his past life, Chu Yuechuan’s little brother, Chu Yueqing.
Back then, Chu Yueqing had been kidnapped by the same gang as Chu Mo. By a twist of fate, they had ended up together. When Chu Yuechuan found them, Yueqing had fallen ill and died. They hadn’t been able to save him.
Chu Yueqing was a big part of why Chu Yuechuan had taken Chu Mo home and raised him.
In his past life, Chu Mo had been younger than Chu Yueqing, so Chu Yuechuan had told him to call Yueqing his second older brother.
In this life, though, Chu Mo was more than ten years older than Chu Yueqing.
Chu Yueqing should only have been about four or five now.
Chu Mo wanted to chase the children away, but he couldn’t call out. He was hurrying toward them, anxious and unable to make a sound, when the children scattered like rabbits, leaving Chu Yueqing sprawled on the ground.
It was Zhong Maosong, behind Chu Mo, who had let out a shout.
Chu Mo hurried the last few steps and reached Chu Yueqing.
The child looked like a little beggar. His hair was a little long and stuck out in every direction, with cockleburs tangled in it. His soot-black face was as dirty as a kitten’s. When he looked up, his shiny black eyes fixed on Chu Mo, and he bared his baby teeth in warning, like a puppy facing a stranger.
Chu Mo reached out to help him up. Chu Yueqing scrambled backward a few times, then sprang nimbly to his feet.
“I bite hard! Touch me and I’ll bite you too!” Chu Yueqing said, not bothering to brush the dirt off himself. He stood there staring at Chu Mo, his words indistinct.
Chu Mo tried to read his lips, but all he could tell was that the boy’s pronunciation was off. His tongue barely moved, and Chu Mo couldn’t make out what he’d said. Still, Yueqing seemed so lively and unhurt that Chu Mo felt relieved.
Seeing how wary Chu Yueqing was, Chu Mo took a few fruit-flavored hard candies from his pocket and unwrapped one.
In his past life, Chu Yuechuan had told him that Chu Yueqing loved candy. Unfortunately, they’d been poor, and Yueqing had hardly eaten any growing up. The candy Chu Mo bought had mostly been for him.
Chu Yueqing stared at Chu Mo’s hand, his eyes going wide. The wariness in his gaze gave way to longing.
Chu Mo popped the unwrapped candy into Chu Yueqing’s mouth, then held out the rest in his palm.
Chu Yueqing froze for a second, then moved his mouth. The sweet taste filled it. He swallowed, delight and satisfaction lighting up his dark eyes. When Chu Mo held out his hand, Yueqing immediately snatched all the candy from his palm with his little black paw and clutched it to his chest, as if afraid Chu Mo might change his mind.
Chu Mo smiled with his eyes and reached out to pick the cockleburs from Chu Yueqing’s hair.
Chu Yueqing stared blankly at Chu Mo’s beautiful eyes, as if he wanted to say something. Then his expression suddenly changed.
He looked over Chu Mo’s shoulder, his eyes filling with fear. He took a few steps backward, then put on a fawning smile.
Chu Mo sensed someone behind him. A large shadow fell over his own.
He turned and saw a tall figure stride past him. With his long legs, the man reached Chu Yueqing in a few strides.
Chu Mo’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze fixed on the newcomer.
He was tall and thin, dressed in a patched, coarse-cloth shirt. It was only a single layer, and didn’t fit him well. His trouser legs were so short they exposed his lean calves. His sleeves were rolled above his elbows, revealing wheat-colored skin and bony arms, as well as large hands with long, distinct fingers.
From behind, Chu Mo could see the man’s shoulder blades jutting out beneath his clothes.