Shushu had heard words much like these on many occasions before. She was still too young to fully grasp their meaning.
She simply stored them away in her heart by instinct, keeping them safe for the older version of herself to understand when the time came. Meanwhile the voices of Aunt Zhang and Uncle Chen slowly fell quiet.
Shushu turned over in bed, and the faint movement caught Aunt Zhang’s attention. A hand reached out and rested gently upon her small body, patting her in that slow and soothing rhythm that always felt like a lullaby. Before long, Shushu drifted back to sleep.
When she awoke again, daylight filled the room. Sunlight streamed through the window and fell warmly upon her. She sat up clutching her favourite cloth doll. Her hair stood up in tufts all over her head, and one cheek was slightly flattened and pink from where it had pressed against the pillow. She sat quietly for a moment to gather her wits, then turned to look toward the doorway. No one was there.
“Aunt Zhang, Uncle Chen, Brother Dafei,” she called out, naming each familiar person one by one.
Instead the one who answered was Chen Daliang, the person she knew least well. At the sight of him stepping into the room, Shushu fell instantly silent. Chen Daliang spent most of his time away at school, so she saw very little of him.
Children were naturally shy around those they did not know well. The others had been at home the day before, yet now it was plainly just the two of them, and a flicker of unease stirred in her chest.
She stared toward the doorway again and again, hoping someone else would appear. When no one came, her little mouth turned downward and trembled.
Seeing her on the verge of tears, Chen Daliang grew flustered. He had no experience caring for children and hurried to explain. “Your parents have gone to work in the fields. Brother Dafei has gone to the lavatory and will be back soon.”
Their home had no lavatory. To use one, everyone had to walk more than two hundred paces to the public facility at the edge of the village. It was little more than a pit latrine enclosed by rough wooden planks for privacy. The journey alone took time, so Dafei could not be expected to return immediately.
At this news, Shushu’s mouth turned down further. She held back her tears bravely enough, and asked in her soft childish voice. “Long wait?” She wanted to know how long they would be alone, but at just over two years old, her vocabulary could not stretch far enough to form the question clearly.
Fortunately Chen Daliang understood well enough. “Very soon now,” he said gently, trying to soothe her. “Are you hungry?” He hoped to distract her.
“Hungry,” Shushu admitted, patting her little tummy.
“Then shall we go and have breakfast?” Chen Daliang found himself speaking in a softer tone, using simple words as he might with a much younger child.
“…All right,” Shushu said after a moment’s hesitation. Her hunger outweighed her shyness. She held up both arms, asking to be carried.
Chen Daliang stepped forward. He slipped his hands beneath her arms and lifted her as carefully as though he were holding something fragile that might go off at any moment. He lowered her gently toward the ground without the slightest jolt. Just before her feet could touch the earth, she lifted both legs high into the air, leaving her dangling in a perfect V shape.
“What is it?” Chen Daliang asked, bewildered.
Shushu pointed to the bare ground beneath her and wiggled her bare little feet. “Shoes,” she said simply. He had forgotten to put her shoes on.
Chen Daliang quickly set her back on the edge of the bed. He knelt down, found her tiny shoes, and set about trying to put them on her feet.
Her hands and feet were incredibly small, each foot no bigger than half his palm, and so soft and delicate that he dared not press too hard for fear of hurting her, yet if he was too gentle the shoes would not slip into place.
For a moment he was quite flustered. By the time he had finally succeeded in fastening both shoes, beads of perspiration had broken out across his forehead.
“Come along. Let us have breakfast,” he said. He stood slightly stooped and held one of her tiny hands between two fingers, adjusting his steps to match hers so that she might lead the way toward the kitchen. Shushu clearly knew exactly where food was kept.
The kitchen was neat and tidy. On the stove, a bamboo steamer kept a bowl of soft pumpkin and millet porridge, alongside a single boiled egg. Aunt Zhang had prepared this especially for Shushu before leaving.
“Here. Sit and eat,” Chen Daliang said. He carried her breakfast to the table in the main room and set it before her. “Would you like me to feed you?” he asked thoughtfully.
Shushu shook her head.
“Then eat by yourself. I shall peel the egg for you,” he said. He placed a spoon in her hand and began to peel the shell away. He had barely peeled halfway when Chen Dafei walked through the door.
“Brother Dafei!” Shushu’s voice lifted instantly with delight.
Chen Daliang glanced at the child whose whole manner had changed in an instant. He said nothing, quietly finished peeling the egg, and placed it into her bowl.
“Shushu is awake,” Chen Dafei said as he stepped inside. It was more a statement than a question. He reached for her bowl, crushed the egg into small pieces so that it would be easy for her to eat, and then handed it back to her.
“Brother Dafei. Fetch water? Gather mushrooms?” Shushu asked between mouthfuls, already wondering what work they might do together that day. Young as they were, the children always tried to help the adults with whatever tasks they could manage.
“Not today,” Chen Dafei said. “Today we shall gather fallen leaves.”
Surrounded by mountains and woods, the village had no shortage of trees. Fallen leaves could be gathered almost anywhere and used as kindling for cooking fires. It was work suitable for small children.
Proper firewood was far too heavy to carry in any quantity, and gathering it would take an entire day for very little return. Collecting dry leaves was far more practical. And in truth, for the children it was mostly an excuse to play together.
“Hooray! Let us go gather leaves!” Shushu raised both hands high, her face glowing with excitement. Only those who had not yet learned the weariness of labour could look upon work as a game. She would understand soon enough once she grew older.
“I am going to the fields to work,” Chen Daliang said to his brother. “Watch over Shushu.” He was happy to pass the responsibility along. Much as he liked Shushu, given the choice he would far rather work in the fields than remain behind to mind a child.
“Go on then,” Chen Dafei said with a wave of his hand. Unlike his brother who had scarcely any experience with children, Chen Dafei found caring for a child no burden at all. In his former life he had served as an officer and cared for many lost children of every age from infants to teenagers until their families could be found.
He had raised children of his own as well. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it came to him as naturally as breathing.
He waited patiently while Shushu finished her meal. Then he washed the bowls, took her to the water jar to wash her face and brush her teeth, tied her hair into a little topknot that stood straight up from her head, and helped her into a sturdy outer tunic made to withstand dirt. Ordinarily he preferred children to wash before eating, but since Chen Daliang had already fed her first, he simply adjusted the order.
“My basket,” Shushu reminded him as they stepped outside.
“I have it right here,” Chen Dafei said. He lifted his free hand to show two baskets hanging from his arm, one large and one small.
“Shushu!” They had barely stepped beyond the gate when they met Ke Xiaohua and the others hurrying toward them. Every young child from Fengyang Village had gathered together.
“Shall we go to the small wood as before?” Ke Xiaohua asked, looking toward Chen Dafei for agreement.
Chen Dafei nodded. “That is the place.” The woods were safe and held plenty of useful things for the children to find. He led the little group along the familiar path. No one walked idly. Along the way they stopped whenever they found something of use. Ke Xiaohua discovered a cluster of wild berries and called everyone over to help pick the ripe ones and share them equally. In this village in the year 1970, childhood treats were whatever could be found growing wild on the hillsides. Anything edible became a snack, and whether one ate well depended entirely on one’s skill and good fortune.
After Ke Xiaohua, another child spotted a grasshopper. He moved too slowly and it escaped, otherwise it would have made a fine roasted treat.
They reached the woods at last and scattered to gather fallen leaves. Leaves fell in every season, carpeting the ground thickly. Some were already dry and ready for use. Others were still fresh, but those could be spread out to dry at home in a few days’ time. No one wandered too far. They kept within easy sight of one another and chatted as they filled their baskets.
“Have you all heard the news?” Ke Xiaohua asked first.
“About building proper lavatories for every household?” said Shouhou. “Yes, we have heard.”
“The village chief says that this winter, when work in the fields slows, every family will have a proper lavatory built,” Ke Xiaohua said. “And the whole village will be made cleaner and more orderly.”
“We should have public waste bins too,” one child suggested. “So people stop throwing rubbish everywhere.”
“If we keep our surroundings clean, we shall all be healthier and fall ill less often,” another added.
“With proper lavatories in every home, each family will keep its own fertiliser,” said a third. “Then no one will argue over who takes what.”
“I wonder if we shall be able to get more fertiliser supplied this year,” someone else said. “I have grown so used to using it that planting without it feels strange somehow.”
“Speak as though you actually worked the land,” teased another.
“I do too! I grow vegetables in pots on our balcony!”
“Balcony vegetables are not the same as fields and crops.”
“Do not fight,” Shushu spoke up anxiously. She did not fully understand what the older children were discussing, but their voices had grown louder and more eager, and she feared they might quarrel.
At the sound of her small voice, everyone fell quiet instantly. They saw that they had startled her and smoothly changed the subject.
“Once the summer harvest is over, new educated youth will be sent to our village,” Chen Dafei said. “From among them we shall find one or two suitable to be teachers. Then we can finally open our very own village primary school.”
“Has the application been approved?” Ke Xiaohua asked. Opening a school was not something that could simply be decided upon. Village leaders had to submit formal requests and prepare buildings, supplies, and everything else required before permission could be granted. More than two years had passed since everyone had been given this new beginning, yet the village’s first school had still not opened its doors.
“Everything is nearly ready,” Chen Dafei said. “At the latest, it shall open before September begins, just in time for the new term.” Because of his former experience, village leaders often sought his advice on important matters, and so he knew things that most people did not.
“I shall be too old to start,” said a girl with a ponytail who looked about four years old. “But my younger sister will be of age. If she studies hard and attends university one day, what an honour that shall bring to our family!”
“Who says you are too old?” Ke Xiaohua said from behind her. “Rules are not strict about starting age. You could join a year or two early if you wish.”
“Then I shall think about it,” the girl said. She showed none of the reluctance others might have expected. Her eyes lit up with hope. In her former life, she had never once had the chance to attend school. In this life, such an opportunity existed, and she had no intention of letting it pass her by. She knew only too well how hard life could be without education, and one lifetime of hardship was more than enough.