The unexpected gift of a roasted chicken did not disrupt the children’s plans in the slightest. After gathering yet another basket of leaves and returning home, they gathered at Chen Dafei’s house and set to work together. They filled large gourd vessels with cooling herbal tea that Aunt Zhang had brewed that morning and left to cool. Shushu was given the task of steadying the gourds so they would not tip over while being filled. Her height made her perfectly suited to the work.
“Hold it steady for me,” said the boy working beside her. He had a round face and a slightly plump build. His name was Chen Jianshe. Though he was actually Chen Dafei’s uncle by generation, he was barely five years old. He was the second eldest among the group, still young yet old enough to share the heavier tasks alongside Chen Dafei. He ladled tea from the pot using a smaller gourd ladle, pouring it steadily through a simple funnel made of rolled bamboo sheath into the narrow opening. The pot filled quickly, and one after another they filled them all.
Once filled, Ke Xiaohua took each gourd, corked it tightly, and carried it to the small wooden cart together with Wang Yan, the girl with the ponytail. The children moved busily and cheerfully, and before long all the water was ready. Seeing that the time had come, Chen Dafei waved his hand. “Let us go take water to the fields!”
“Coming!” everyone answered in unison.
Chen Dafei and Chen Jianshe pulled the cart from the front while the others pushed from behind. Together they made their way toward the fields. “Water has come! Water is here!” Chen Jianshe called out at the top of his voice long before they had even come into full view. The adults working in the fields paused and rose to fetch the cool tea.
“It is a scorcher today,” an elderly man said, wiping sweat from his face with the towel tied around his neck before draining his cup in one long draught.
“The grain is nearly all brought in,” the village Party secretary said, standing nearby. “Hold on just two more days.”
“It promises to be a fine harvest year,” the village chief said, smiling broadly as he looked out over the fields of golden rice. Deep lines crinkled across his face. He looked as though he were fifty or sixty years old, yet in truth he was not yet forty-five. Years of labour beneath sun and wind had weathered his face far beyond his age. “In a few months we shall harvest the fish from the paddies too. Once sold, we shall have enough to buy cloth and make Shushu new clothes.”
Children grew fast and outgrew their clothes quickly. In those days resources were scarce. Even in the cities clothes were passed down from elder to younger. Each garment was worn for three years new, three years old, and three years patched and mended, until it could no longer be worn at all, when the remaining cloth would be cut into rags or used to line shoe soles. Not a scrap was wasted.
Yet from the day the village chief had found her, Shushu had never worn a single garment that was not made brand new for her. No one in the village begrudged her this. If anything, they felt they could never do enough for her. Everyone knew that this second chance at life was entirely her doing. All the clever ways they had found to grow richer and more prosperous had been shown to them by Shushu in her former life.
The rice fish swimming in the paddies were one such example. When she had grown up, she had travelled far to learn the method of raising fish alongside rice. Fearing the villagers might struggle to master it, she had paid specialists well to come and teach them personally. It had become an extra source of income for every household, and at no cost to the villagers.
Every expense, from purchasing fish fry to paying the teachers, had been met entirely by Shushu herself, who had grown into a highly successful businesswoman. The villagers had contributed nothing but their fields and their labour. She had told them simply that she wished to see them all prosper. She had been an abandoned infant, she explained, raised on the kindness of the whole village, fed and clothed by every family. In gratitude she had vowed to do all she could to repay their care.
Then she had died. The village chief looked toward the little girl who was now being passed from arm to arm and held and cherished by everyone. His eyes filled with tenderness and sorrow. She had been so young when she died. Why must the good and kind pass away so soon? Yet this time it would be different. This time she would grow up surrounded by the love of an entire village, safe and happy and long-lived.
That was why, in this new life, the village chief and Party secretary had set about putting into practice every method Shushu had once taught them. Some things were not yet possible in these times, yet even this single innovation of rice fish had already put extra food on every table. After a brief rest, the adults returned to their labour. The children remained gathered in a circle beneath the shade at the field’s edge, where Chen Dafei had begun teaching them lessons on safety.
Ke Xiaohua’s proposal of a kindergarten that morning had set Chen Dafei thinking. He decided that Shushu was now old enough to begin learning important things. Most important of all was safety. The very first lesson was to memorise the telephone number at the village office, which had been installed only recently at the end of the previous year. It was a precaution. He taught her what the number was for, when it might be needed, and why it was so important to remember. He explained everything simply and clearly until she understood. Then he taught her the digits one by one.
To everyone’s delight, Shushu had a remarkably sharp memory. She learned the eight-digit number in barely three repetitions. An hour later, when asked to recite it alone, she repeated it perfectly without hesitation.
“Shushu is so clever!”
“No wonder she achieved such great things!”
“Her mind works differently from ours!”
Everyone praised her so warmly that Shushu grew shy, her cheeks flushing pink. Seeing her sweet embarrassment, the children whose minds held the wisdom of adults laughed aloud with delight. Their laughter drew the attention of the adults. “What are you all laughing so happily about?”
“We are marvelling at how clever Shushu is,” Ke Xiaohua replied, and told them what the little girl had done. Which brought a fresh wave of praise, until Shushu did not know where to look and hid behind Chen Dafei.
“Enough now,” the village chief called out at last. “Back to work. The sun is nearly set. Work must be finished before darkness falls.” There were no street lamps in the village. Once night fell it grew so dark that nothing could be seen. Working by lantern light was difficult and dangerous. At the chief’s bidding everyone fell silent and bent once more to their tasks.
When the clouds blazed with the colours of sunset, the day’s labour came to an end. The workers began to leave, yet the work recorder remained busy. She walked through the fields inspecting each plot, carrying a notebook in which she wrote carefully. Shushu watched her curiously and tugged at the hand of the woman standing beside her. “Auntie, what is that lady doing?” Her speech was still developing, and she could not yet pronounce everyone’s name clearly, so she called all elders simply by affectionate titles.
Aunt Chen followed her gaze and smiled. “She is checking the quality of everyone’s work today,” she explained gently. “Only work well done earns full work points. Where work is not satisfactory, it must be redone tomorrow until it passes inspection, and only then shall work points be granted.”
In those days labour was measured in work points, which could be exchanged for grain and money.
To ensure that no one shirked their duty, every village had such rules in place. How well they were enforced depended entirely on the leadership.
In some villages, poor management allowed idlers to prosper while honest workers were treated unfairly. Conflict was sure to follow. Fortunately their village was well led, and the work recorder was thorough and conscientious.
Laziness was simply not tolerated. One could choose to work little if one wished, yet in return one would receive little grain and money. That was only fair. And because everyone had been given this extraordinary second chance, even those who had once been idle had turned diligent. Slowly but surely, everyone’s lives were improving. Why, had not Xiang Haisong only that very day found himself a bride?
“Mother, you truly know everything,” Ke Xiaohua said in admiration. “News travels fast indeed! Uncle Haisong was only accepted this morning and the whole village already knew by afternoon.”
“Your mother hears everything,” Aunt Chen said proudly, not in the least abashed. “And I hear he gave Shushu a roasted chicken. We shall eat that for supper tonight. I shall slice a cucumber and cook a pot of vegetable porridge, and we shall have a fine meal.”
It was an unspoken rule in the village that whenever Shushu stayed with a family, whatever she received that day belonged to that household. The mushrooms she had gathered yesterday had gone to Chen Dafei’s home.
Today’s leaves and the roasted chicken belonged to Ke Xiaohua’s family. It was not greed. Shushu was barely two years old. The small things she gathered were of little consequence. The chicken was another matter entirely.
In this heat, without refrigeration, it could not be kept until the next day. It had to be eaten the same evening. And this was no small chicken; it had been raised for well over a year and was substantial. How could such a large bird be eaten by one tiny girl? It was only right that the whole household should share it.
“Hooray! We shall eat roasted chicken tonight because of Shushu!” Ke Xiaohua cried happily, squeezing Shushu’s hand.
“Eat chicken! Eat chicken!” Shushu echoed joyfully, swinging their joined hands. The two little girls ran ahead hand in hand, their laughter carrying on the breeze.
When they arrived home, preparations were already underway. Ke Xiaohua’s elder sister Ke Xiaocao was busy in the kitchen. The Ke family had five children, three boys and two girls. Eldest was Ke Xiaocao, now fourteen years old and in her fourth year of primary school. Then came three boys aged twelve, ten, and nine. Ke Xiaohua was the youngest, born when her parents were already older.
Though her mother had been barely thirty when she was born, the ages of the Ke children seemed unusual. The eldest son had repeated a year in preparation for middle school. Ke Xiaocao had only begun school two years earlier. That opportunity had been won for her entirely through the efforts of her younger sister.
At first Ke Xiaocao had felt herself too old to begin learning. She had lived a lifetime without schooling, and saw no reason to change things now. Ke Xiaohua had insisted. She had argued persuasively with her sister and then with their parents, until finally she had won.
A primary school diploma, she had said, would give Ke Xiaocao choices in life. She might find better work, or marry into a better family, and never know the hardship and drudgery that had been her lot in her former life. Ke Xiaohua’s parents, though they valued sons above daughters, loved their daughters dearly. Had it not been for Ke Xiaohua’s determination, Ke Xiaohua might have grown up illiterate, married young, and suffered as her sister had. Instead, despite the family’s modest means, they had sent their eldest daughter to school. And Ke Xiaocao had not failed them. She studied diligently every day, and in just two years had advanced rapidly to her current grade.