“About what we discussed earlier, what are your thoughts?” At supper that evening, Niu Xiaomei turned to her elder brother and his wife and asked. Niu Dage and Jiang Lai fell silent for a moment and exchanged a glance. Then Niu Dage spoke first.
“We have decided not to trouble ourselves further,” he said quietly. “In our past life we tried for a lifetime and nothing came of it. If we try again now and meet with the same disappointment, it will be too painful. We have accepted our fate. We lived well enough without children then, and truly, does it matter so much now? Besides, have we not already been blessed with Shushu? Shushu is our child.”
“I cannot agree with such thinking,” Niu Xiaomei persisted. “Where there is hope there is still reason to try. In our past life we knew no better. Only later did we learn that the fault might lie with the husband, and by then you were already too old. This time we have the chance to find out. Why not try? What if it works?”
Captain Niu shook his head at his son’s resignation and added his own persuasion. He did not harbor great expectations. Yet since they had all been granted a second chance, surely there was no harm in making the effort. One might as well try, he reasoned. Who could say what might come of it?
Niu Dage looked at his father in bemusement. Surely that was not quite how the saying went. Captain Niu met his gaze squarely. “Listen to me,” he declared firmly. “Go to the county hospital tomorrow. If you lack money I shall provide it.”
“Perhaps we ought to try,” Jiang Lai said softly, her resolve wavering. She tugged gently at her husband’s sleeve. There was a quiet hope hidden in her heart. What if the difficulty lay with him? Then she would know it was not her fault. She would never leave him for it, yet at least she would no longer carry the burden of guilt.
“Go and see, just to be certain,” Sister Ke added kindly. She harboured no particular agenda of her own. She worried simply for her son’s health.
“Very well.” Niu Dage yielded at last. “We shall ask for leave tomorrow and go to the county hospital.” Persuaded from every side, he had made up his mind. Whatever the outcome they could bear it. They had suffered disappointment enough times already. One more could scarcely hurt them further.
Scarcely had the matter been settled when voices called out from beyond the gate. “Is Captain Niu at home?”
“Shushu will open the door!” Shushu, long since finished eating and listening idly to the conversation, scrambled down from her stool and trotted eagerly toward the courtyard entrance. The gate had been closed during supper and visitors could only call out until it was opened.
“Careful little one!” Jiang Lai hurried after her.
Shushu pulled the gate open to find a young couple standing outside with a small boy of perhaps three or four. He had a round face and bright clear eyes. At the sight of Shushu he grinned broadly and held out his hand instinctively as though offering something. There was nothing in it. Shushu tilted her head in puzzlement. Then remembering that they had come to see Uncle Niu she stepped back and held the gate wide.
“Uncle Niu is eating supper.”
“It is Shushu! What a dear well-behaved child.” The wife smiled warmly and praised her. Though she thought the child was perfectly charming she did not reach out to touch her without invitation. Her husband stood beside her holding their son’s hand, appearing somewhat ill at ease.
“Zhuzi! Come in. Do come in and sit down.” Captain Niu stepped forward to greet them and ushered the family inside.
“Captain Niu.” Niu Zhuzi rubbed his hands together nervously. He had realized they had arrived at mealtime. “I hope we do not intrude.”
“Not at all. Have you eaten? Will you not join us?” Sister Ke asked politely.
“Thank you, we have already eaten at home.” The couple declined in unison.
The little boy beside them looked about the room with frank curiosity. There was none of the precocious maturity Shushu had grown accustomed to seeing in children like Sister Xiaohua.
Instead he carried himself with the simple uncomplicated innocence proper to his age. He seemed exactly like any ordinary boy of three or four. That was Shushu’s first impression. She could not quite say why, but beside him everyone else seemed somehow older than their years.
The adults then spoke together and Shushu learned that Niu Zhuzi and his wife had come to borrow money. They wished to take their son to see a doctor. Yet look as she might Shushu could see no sign of illness upon the boy. The adults however all wore expressions of quiet understanding, as though each knew exactly what was soon to happen.
“Does Tiedan fall ill with fever around this time tomorrow night?” Captain Niu asked gravely.
“Precisely,” Niu Zhuzi replied with a nod. “Around two in the morning. We remember it clearly. We shall never forget the hour.” His wife was beside him. “We have decided to take him to the hospital beforehand and wait nearby. If anything should happen we shall be there in time. We cannot bear to see him suffer as he did in our past life.”
In that former life, it seemed, little Niu Tiedan had fallen dangerously ill with a high fever in the middle of the night. Help had arrived too late. The fever had damaged his mind. His intelligence had remained forever at the level of a child of three or four. With loving care from his parents he had learned to look after himself.
He had been of gentle disposition, always smiling, and would share his sweets with every child he met. Everyone in the village had loved him. Yet in this life, granted a second chance, his parents meant to see him grow up whole and strong if only they could find a way. They had been saving diligently since their rebirth, yet coming from such poor households they had managed to gather barely fifty yuan in more than two years. Fifty yuan was not an insignificant sum. It would surely suffice for a simple consultation at the county hospital. Still they were worried. And so they had come to Captain Niu to borrow a little more. They were distant relatives, and he was their production team leader. It was his duty to look after their welfare.
Captain Niu listened to their story and did not turn them away. He went into his inner room and returned with three ten-yuan notes. “Here is thirty yuan. Take it.” He handed the money to them. “Niu Dage and Jiang Lai also travel to the county hospital tomorrow. You may travel together. I shall write out leave permits for all of you.” Work in the fields could not be left untended. No one might absent themselves without permission from their team leader. And so too must leaders seek permission from their superiors.
“Thank you. Thank you most kindly.” The couple had expected difficulty and were overcome with gratitude. To travel in company with others was an added blessing. They agreed upon an hour to depart the following morning and then departed with their son, bowing repeatedly.
Only when they had gone did Shushu nestle into Jiang Lai’s embrace. “Is that little brother sick?” she asked in her soft voice.
“Not yet,” Jiang Lai explained gently. “But he will fall ill very soon. His parents fear the illness may harm him. And so they take him to the doctor beforehand so that help may be close at hand.”
It was a complicated explanation for one so small. Shushu pondered it for a moment and then gave up trying to understand.
Jiang Lai laughed and kissed her forehead. “Do not trouble your little head with such matters. We adults shall see to everything.” She could see the child was still thoroughly confused. She lifted Shushu in her arms.
“Time to wash and sleep. We must rise early tomorrow.” Everyone else had retired early and Shushu was settled beside Jiang Lai, bathed and sweet-smelling. Jiang Lai fanned her gently with a palm-leaf fan and sang soft lullabies. Warm and comfortable, Shushu drifted quickly to sleep.
Jiang Lai looked down at her with eyes full of tenderness. She had not always been called Jiang Lai. She had once been known as Jiang Laidi, a name given in hope of a younger brother who had never come. Her parents had never loved her for it. Then she married and bore no children. Her husband’s family had been kind, yet their disappointment had been plain to see. Feeling she had brought nothing of value to anyone she had cast aside her former name and chosen one that meant “a river shall come”. A name alone could change nothing, she had known. Yet then this child had said to her. “Your new name is beautiful, Sister Jiang. Jiang Lai. It means there shall always be a future.”
Was a woman without children truly without a future? Jiang Lai had wondered. She had her answer now. Shushu was her future.
When Shushu awoke, Grandmother Chen and Sister Ke were working together at the stone mill grinding soybeans. The others had already gone about their duties. She seemed to have been dressed while still half-asleep.
She looked down to find herself clad in neat clothing suitable for going outdoors. Jiang Lai must have dressed her before leaving. In the village Shushu stood high enough in kinship ranks that she addressed some women as elder sister rather than auntie.
“Shushu needs a towel,” she called out. Her towel hung upon a bamboo clothesline strung too high for her to reach. She jumped but could not grasp it. And so she turned to the two women working nearby.
Grandmother Chen paused in pouring water into the millstone. She made her daughter-in-law continue grinding alone for a moment and came to help Shushu wash her face and brush her teeth. Refreshed and clean, Shushu made her way back to the millstone eager to help.
“Shushu may add beans,” Sister Ke said kindly. She set the child to a task she could manage. Shushu needed only to wash her hands and scoop the soaked soybeans carefully into the mill. It required no special skill.
Shushu worked with great enthusiasm, feeding handful after handful of beans into the opening. Sometimes she moved too quickly and was bidden to go slowly. She would pause obediently and resume only when told.
Between the three of them the basin of beans was ground into two large pails of rich milk. The work was far from finished however.
The milk must be strained through fine cloth, boiled gently, and treated with coagulant to form curds. The process was long and tiring. There was little more Shushu could do to help. She was given a bowl of warm freshly made soybean milk and sent off to play.
Later that afternoon a large rural market would be held at the commune. The household had risen before dawn to make tofu to sell there. Their greatest hope was to trade some of their produce in exchange for cloth coupons and meat coupons, for those were the two commodities they lacked most.