A Humble Hero

By Jianxin Huang

This book is about Linsen, who was born in a typical farmers family in the southern Yangtze River area in 1900. When he was 5 years old, his father passed away. He had to quit school when he was only 11 to support his family. He inherited a huge amount of debt. Despite drastic regime changes, Japanese invasion, civil war, land reforms, widespread starvation, the upheavals of the Communist and Cultural Revolutions and their dreadful political and economic consequences, he held on to Chinese traditions all his life. He believed that one should live on and get wealth only from his own hard work. By his own efforts, he became a very skilled, knowledgeable, and successful farmer, well respected person by rich and poor people in his town. He was a legendary figure of a grassroots Chinese farmer. He tried his best to resist the destruction of Chinese traditions and culture. Cynically, the final and fatal blow to him was from one of his beloved family members. Some of the dramatic historical and cultural events and information in this book were never before recorded.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493114412

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Jianxin Huang.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013918546

ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-4931-1440-5

Softcover 978-1-4931-1439-9

eBook 978-1-4931-1441-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 05/08/2014

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Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

Chapter 1 A Little Grown-up (小小大人)

Chapter 2 An Unfilial Son (不孝之子)

Chapter 3 Going to School (上學讀書)

Chapter 4 The Favorite Student (優秀學生)

Chapter 5 Grandma Left for Heaven (祖母昇天)

Chapter 6 Separating from His Brother (兄弟分家)

Chapter 7 A Master Farmer (種田能手)

Chapter 8 Getting Engaged (男大當婚)

Chapter 9 Getting Married (迎娶媳婦)

Chapter 10 The Prospering Period of Life (家景興旺)

Chapter 11 The First Son (頭生兒子)

Chapter 12 Raising Niece and Nephew (撫養外甥)

Chapter 13 Fighting against Drought (力抗大旱)

Chapter 14 Japanese Invasion (日本入侵)

Chapter 15 Japanese Occupation (日據時代)

Chapter 16 Rescuing a Soldier (救人一命)

Chapter 17 Two Women (两个女人)

Chapter 18 Chaos and Skyrocketing Inflation (世道溷亂)

Chapter 19 Buying Land (購買田地)

Chapter 20 The Family Temple Taken Away (家廟被拆)

Chapter 21 Losing Land (失去土地)

Chapter 22 Ominous Fate Started (噩運開始)

Chapter 23 First Starvation (忍饑挨餓)

Chapter 24 Resisting Government Order (違抗命令)

Chapter 25 First Trip to City (首次進城)

Chapter 26 Liancheng’s Death (連成之死)

Chapter 27 Hiding the Genealogy Book (秘藏家譜)

Chapter 28 Saving the Family Cemetery (保護祖墳)

Chapter 29 Denouncing the Cultural Revolution (痛駡文革)

Chapter 30 Returning to Nothing (囘到原點)

Book Summary

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

My greatest gratitude is to my beloved mother, who passed away unexpectedly in 1987. She not only told me so much about my grandfather and our family, but also held onto those Chinese traditions that I grew up with. She was also the prototype of some characters in this book.

Thanks to my father, who, in the last a few years, helped me with all those detailed Chinese customs, historical events, government policies, cultural phenomena and changes presented here.

I deeply appreciate Bill Hirsch and Raimonda Modiano, who read, edited and proofread my drafts. Also, many thanks to my wife, Cathy Qiu, my son, Harry Huang, as well as to Elizabeth Caldwell (who passed away), Liz Walsh-Boyd, Anne Holmes, Gretchen Bakamis, Luther Stone, Marilyn Di Blasi and all other friends for their encouragement, input, draft readings and support.

I would like to thank all my family members, relatives, villagers and my former co-workers. When I lived and worked with them and later on during interviews, they told me all they knew of and clarified each other’s recollections about the details of those events, equipment, beliefs, rituals and ceremonies described in this book.

I wish to thank the artist in Huaxi Village who let me use his drawings of those farming tools, devices and equipment as illustrations in this book.

Preface

Before 1967, in China’s countryside, the government’s control was basically physical and economical. The impact on morals, traditions and ideals was not that complete yet. People still sought help from senior and honorable clan members for any dispute or conflict; people still made all kinds of sacrifices to their deceased ancestors; people still organized monetary clubs for their financial needs; people still did private business based on oral agreements and honored them; people still addressed each other by the title of their relationship, rather than names; people still spared their scarce shares of food and other daily necessities for the needy, no matter whether they knew each other or not; people still believed that 3 feet above, the divinities are watching you. Doors to houses and rooms were kept open during the day, even if nobody was at home. Thus, despite all the distorted propaganda promoted by the government, people who were born and raised at that time still held on to some traditions and life-styles inherited from their ancestors.

All this changed completely almost overnight when political movements such as Destroy Four Olds and Establish Four News were launched at the beginning of the Cultural Revolution. The traditions, ideals, codes and moral compass, regardless of whether good or not, were constantly denounced and criticized by the government and its propaganda media. On the other hand, the revolutionary moral education in schools was empty and feeble, and it was so hypocritical compared with reality that nobody believed it, but sneered at it. Ever since, there have been two completely disparate language systems. One is the official, public and politically right system, which is full of false and deceitful propaganda and cliché. The other is the expression of people’s real feelings, ideas and opinions, which are only shared among themselves or with family members and close friends. Almost everyone is double-faced. Never in all of Chinese history had the whole country and society experienced such completely dishonorable and dishonest behaviors. As a result, when the new generation, especially those born after the 1970s, grew up, there was no faith or upright morality for them to learn and follow.

In the mid-1980s, economic reforms took place. The Chinese government called for let a small minority of people get rich first. Regardless of who you are, or how you acquire wealth, you are a model if you become rich. Money is everything is now many people’s ultimate motto. The only thing they care about is to get money by any means. If you have more money, you are considered to be more successful. Everybody hates corruption. However, almost everybody is corrupted by the desire for money and power. Therefore, the rubbish part of Chinese culture and traditions has been flourishing, amplifying and dominating, while its essence has been and is being suppressed and eradicated. Now, cheating, corruption, double-dealing, deceiving, blackmailing, indifference, hatred, jealousy, scheming, bribing, embezzlement and extreme selfishness are the dominating social skills and behaviors. In order to get what they want, people will do anything, no matter how, by hook or by crook, by fair means or by foul. Just as one famous and successful businessman and idol in China now stated when it was pointed out that he had deceived the public by claiming he held a doctoral degree from a university in United States, If you cheat one single person, it is not a big deal. It demonstrates your competency and capability if you are able to deceive everybody!

In the last decade, especially the last a few years, except for some reports of economic progress, the Western media was full of negative stories and reports about China, such as thousands of infants getting sick from melamine in the feeding formula; luxury car drivers intentionally killing the victims they hit and stating that their fathers were mayors or directors of public security; developers hiring gangs to evict legal residents and demolish their houses, even when the owners were sleeping inside; a baby girl being hit by a car, then eight other cars rolling over her and no driver or onlooker helping her; a top leader’s wife, who was an attorney herself, murdering her British business partner and ordering her husband’s subordinates to cover it up; thousands of school kids being killed by collapsing buildings because developers cut corners; money spent for entertaining governments officials surpassing the total defense budget, in contrast with the fact that there were no power, no water even no desks for students in some elementary schools; a low-ranking government official with a salary of a couple of thousand Yuan holding up to more than one hundred residential and commercial properties and supporting several mistresses; African elephants becoming an endangered species because of some rich Chinese people’s poaching for ivory, etc. Every time I hear and read horrible stories like these, I can hear Linsen shouting, "Zuonie! (Doing evil!"), the same words that his grandma yelled at Bingsen when he beat his wife. Then I have the impulse to relay his screams to the world. I really want to tell the people here that there used to be so many good things in Chinese culture and traditions.

Starting from the 1950s, particularly during the Cultural Revolution, most temples, buildings, artworks, and other physical instruments for all those traditional beliefs, faith, ideals, values of life, culture and valued relationships have been intentionally destroyed. Then, during the economic reform, things got even worse. People have had to leave their hometowns to look for jobs in cities and more developed areas. Old houses have been torn down. Modern town houses or high-rise commercial and apartment buildings have sprung up just like bamboo shoots in the spring rainy season. In collaboration with governments, developers have consciously and unconsciously discarded and smashed those traditional antique tools, furniture, utensils, pots, baskets, clothing and artworks, which almost every single family had, as well as historical monuments, landscaping, styled houses and buildings. All these, miraculously, survived the Cultural Revolution, but are now in the process of disappearing in another catastrophic eradication. Even traditional craftsmanship, as well the craftsmen and their tools, has virtually vanished from today’s China. They were the instruments at the core of traditional family values. Yes, many new Buddhist and Taoist temples have been built and restored, and they have been filled with worshippers since the last couple of decades ago. But most of the temple visitors are utilitarian, just asking for blessings and protection for themselves or for making more money or getting what they desire. They have no real faith or ideals. Since 1980s, the local governments have been restored many historical monuments and sites, but that is mostly for the purpose of attracting more tourists and business. I have a relative who was skilled in mending all kinds of broken ceramic stuff. He could either restore them to their original state, so that most people could not tell the difference with their eyes, or use a unique technique to turn them into another piece of artwork. However, he has abandoned his craft and is now working in a factory because he could not make a living by his artisan work. When I inquired about his craft tools, he told me that he had thrown them away as he had to move so many times from one residence to another. In this book, I have also tried to record some of these historical and physical instruments.

I am also fascinated by ancient wisdom and technology. The water system in the lower Yangtze River area is an excellent example. The network of this water system is composed of natural rivers, lakes, creeks and ponds, as well as man-made river outreaches, canals and ditches to connect all of these water bodies. They served as the main transportation system as well an irrigation system, and provided abundant aquatic produce and fishery products. The other important thing was the ecological balance that kept this water system functional and healthy. Farmers dug out the mud on the bottom of the water bodies to clean up the water, and this mud was used as natural fertilizer. This mud-cleaning-up technique was one of the most important ways to keep water clean and healthy. But in the last 30 years or so, the water quality in China has been deteriorating very quickly. Besides industrial pollution, one of the most important reasons is that all the organic materials remained in the water, particularly on the bottom. Peasants apply only chemical fertilizers. Nobody collects the natural fertilizers including the mud on the bottom of these water bodies anymore, but they dump garbage into the water. In addition to this, farming machines and equipment such as water-pumping systems, threshing devices, grain-shelling systems, building technology, genealogical recording systems, five dress codes, even baby toys and furniture, bracelets with bells, etc. all reflect the wisdom and intelligence of Chinese people. I have tried my best to integrate them into this book.

I am not pessimistic. I do think that changes always have been taking place in human history. But the current cultural destruction is not the regular change or evolution. Many people in China recognize this issue. Even the government, after so many years of denouncing Confucianism and other Chinese traditions, has started to embrace them. But the trend is far from being corrected or reversed yet.

Linsen, the hero of my book, lived a life which was in constant change, even many regime changes. In 1900, the year he was born, the collision between extremely conservative and deteriorating China and the modern world, represented by the Boxer Rebellion and the Eight-Nation Alliance invasion, was the precursor of revolutions in all aspects of the Chinese people’s life, culture and society, which finally overthrew the Qing Dynasty. Even in the countryside like Linsen’s hometown, a backward region, the impacts were incredible. Before Linsen went to school, imperial examinations, which had run for thousands of years, had been terminated; when he was 14, his Qing-style pigtail was cut off; when he was 21, he had his first suit made of imported calico. However, all these revolutions and changes did not change the nature of the traditions, ideals and culture of the grass roots people. Confucianism was still the core of Chinese culture. As long as a person obeyed the laws and paid the tax, even the most cruel government authority would leave him alone. But since 1949, the changes were completely different. They were destructive and subversive. All traditions, culture and customs, regardless of whether they were benign or not, have been denounced and eradicated. That was the real source of Linsen’s pain. He was an optimistic, positive and passionate person who never gave up hope in his life, even when he was in a huge debt with so little land, when he was deprived of the right to rent land and when he lost his beloved wife. He encouraged others like Gu Ruiao and Gu Fuling when they were in despair. One can tell how much pain he must have experienced when he could not even provide enough food for his beloved mother; when his family genealogical books, telling the stories of those heroic ancestors he grew up with, were about to be burned; when his family cemetery was to be flattened and excavated; when his honest, hardworking and well-respected friends and acquaintances were executed and/or forced to commit suicide; when his once highly praised virtues were denounced; and when those rubbish people gained and abused the power. Gradually, he became reticent. By no means was Linsen an obstinate, reactionary person. On the contrary, he sent his niece and his child daughter-in-law to a Western-style school, which was rare then, especially in the countryside; he wondered about and questioned the traditional relationship between a mother-in-law and a daughter-in-law; he spared the adulterers who would have been executed; he was one of the first a few people who bought a new threshing machine in the local town. He figured out by himself how to increase production by plowing the field deeper. Had he been in a family with better financial situation and had an opportunity to get higher education, he would have perhaps been a scientist or a reformist statesman with a great achievement.

At the beginning, the denouncing and criticizing of Confucianism and other traditions just made people feel uncomfortable. Chinese people are not antagonistic, they like to be left alone, and so they tolerated these pronouncements in silence. Just like Grandpa Shunfang said, you can do whatever you want for yourself, just do not bother us. From their history and their personal experiences, they did not think the Communist revolution would last long. However, when new ideals and behaviors were forced on to people with the violence of state power, nobody could resist. The only thing people could do was to mentally isolate themselves—as Linsen did—or physically commit suicide—like Grandpa Shunfang and Liancheng did. But under such a tyrannical regime, which controlled people not only physically and financially, but also mentally and ideologically, even mental isolation did not work. That was why eventually, Linsen exploded. Prior to that, he passively resisted by not attending those political gatherings and hiding his family genealogical books. When the collision between his ideal and the government’s cultural and ideological suppression escalated, his resistance also escalated. He actively drove Xitang out of his family cemetery, and even had the courage to openly denounce the Cultural Revolution.

Unlike those intellectuals and social elites who fervently embraced the revolution after the Japanese were defeated, Linsen and other grass roots folks, from their hearts and guts, did not think it was right because they believed that legitimate and justified income and wealth should only come from one’s own hard work. They despised those who got wealth from deceitful ways. It actually was that simple. But for so many years, those elites and intellectuals invented and put forward such a complicated, sophisticated and grandiloquent theory and explanation to justify their evil and antihuman ideals and activities that most educated people came to truly believe it and elaborated upon it. This is an ironical and eccentric phenomenon in modern Chinese history.

Historically, it was those humble people like Linsen who carried the good part of Chinese culture and traditions from generation to generation. They were the backbone of Chinese faith, ideals, morals and traditions. Throughout thousands of years, despite the cruelties from dynasties, local governments, bandits and riots, Chinese people never lost their root, thanks to these humble heroes. I believe that only this kind of humble heroes can restore, carry forward and enhance the good part of Chinese tradition.

Just like Linsen, I am a humble person. The only thing I can do is to record what I learned, heard and know of and leave a little trace of history of those humble people who were beyond those elites’ notice before it is completely washed away by the current dreadful political and cultural flooding.

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Chinese characters of a humble hero

Chapter 1

A Little Grown-up (小小大人)

Linsen was playing with Xichao, his nephew, Bingsen’s son, who was 3 years younger than Linsen and just starting to talk. Xichao was sitting in a hexagonal bamboo cart, which was around 2 feet high. A baby could sit if the supporting board was pushed down at the chest level, or stand up if it was lifted. The supporting board was also used to put food and toys on it. On each side, there were three to five bamboo rings on a bamboo rod for the baby to play with.

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A hexagonal bamboo cart

Xichao, Xichao! Laugh now! Xichao giggled, and it made Linsen laugh happily.

It was a cloudy, gloomy and depressing day. That was the only thing Linsen could remember. He had no idea whether it was summer or winter, spring or autumn. Only later, when he grew up, was he told that it was the 30th year of Guangxu Reign (光緖) in the Qing Dynasty (清朝1616-1911),¹ 1904 in the Gregorian calendar.

He saw many adults going in and out from his home, including his uncles and aunties on both parental and maternal sides. But they seemed preoccupied, serious and in a hurry. They did not hug him, tease him, or play with him as usual when they got into the house. Something unusual was happening. He was trying to figure it out.

It must be related to his father, because for a few days, his father had stayed at home instead of working in the farm field. He hardly remembered his father. When he woke up in the morning, his father had already left home to work in the farmland. By the time he went to bed, his father was still working. His father almost never came back home for lunch. His mother sent his lunch in a hamper to the field where his father worked. The only chance for him to see his father was on a day of heavy rain or a snowy day in winter, or a special day such as New Year’s Day or Mid-Autumn Festival.² Even on those rare occasions, his father would be busy doing something. Only when he cried to get attention from his father, would his father pick him up, hug him a little, massage his head with his big, rough and callused hands, muttering, Linsen, be obedient. He would then take him to his mother and resume whatever he was doing. But his father had been at home for many days. He did not work, but remained lying on the bed all the time. Linsen was glad; he thought he could stay with his father and play with him now. But his mother told him not to bother his father because he needed rest.

Besides those relatives, he also saw a little old gentleman with a small shiny cloth bundle under his right armpit. The man was someone who had never visited his home before. He went into his father’s bedroom every day. People referred to him as doctor. Linsen followed him into father’s bedroom. But his grandma and aunties took him out. They told him that no woman other than his mother, nor any child, should be in the room while the doctor was there; otherwise, bad luck would happen. While the women were whispering anxiously and paying no attention to him, he approached to the bedroom and peeked into the room through the cracks on the door. He saw the doctor hold his father’s wrist with his fingers, and turn his head toward the door. Linsen was scared. He immediately took a step back. His heart was racing. But he did not hear anything. The bedroom was so quiet. So he went back again. The doctor was in the same position and posture without any movement, just like a Buddha statue in the temple. Apparently, the doctor had not noticed him, so he stayed there, continuing to peek. He did not know how much time had elapsed. When he felt bored and was ready to leave, the doctor changed position, took his father’s other wrist, and became a Buddha statue again. This time, the doctor was facing the window opposite to the door. Another long time period had passed, the doctor got up and looked at father’s mouth. Then he touched his father’s forehead, neck, tummy and feet.

When those things were done, the doctor murmured something to his father, nodded at his mother and Bingsen, Linsen’s elder brother, who were waiting by the side of the bed, then turned around and moved toward the door. Linsen hurried to his grandma.

The doctor came out with his brother. Hearing the creaking of the door, Grandma wiped her eyes, stood up, and anxiously asked the doctor a question. Linsen did not understand, nor could he remember what his grandma was asking, or the reply from the doctor. The only thing he could remember was the doctor gently shaking his head and Grandma sobbing violently.

The doctor sat down by the dining table. With the brush and black ink that Bingsen had prepared for him, he drew lots of characters like tadpoles on a piece of paper, which was a prescription for medicinal herbs. He put down the brush, picked up the piece of paper, blew on it with his mouth a few times to dry up the ink, and then handed it to Bingsen. Bingsen cautiously took it with both hands. In turn, he handed it to his uncle Jinyao, who was sitting by the table, and then he hurried back to his father’s bedroom. The doctor chatted with Jinyao while sipping tea in a small rice bowl. Bingsen came back and handed the doctor a red paper wrapper. It must be lucky money³ because it looked exactly like the package that Linsen got on New Year’s Day from Grandma, but heavier. The doctor slipped the lucky money into his loose sleeve, put his cloth bundle under his right armpit, got up and took leave. Bingsen thanked him profusely and walked him out.

Linsen saw Grandma walking hurriedly to Father’s room, followed by his uncles and aunties. He went in too. His mother got up from her sitting position and greeted Grandma. Grandma sat down on a chair made of wood frame woven with rice straw rope on the seat and the back. She took Father’s hand and murmured gently, Jinchang, Jinchang, my heart, my liver! She repeated it on and on. Linsen felt bored and tired. He went to Mother. Mother picked him up, kissed him, and patted him. Immediately, he fell sound asleep.

A strange smell woke him up. He sat up. The room was smoky. He saw Bingsen squatting down behind the gate, facing the east wall. In front of him, steam was coming out from a half-covered clay pot supported by two bricks against the wall. Red-bluish fire was burning underneath the pot. His brother kept putting more dry sticks from mulberry bushes in the fire. He felt queasy and wanted to throw up. His eyes stung, and tears came out; his throat was burning, and he heaved. He slipped down from the low table where he was sleeping and ran into Father’s room. Mother was not there. She was cooking dinner in the kitchen. Grandma was still sitting in the same chair. He threw himself onto Grandma’s chest. Grandma patted him and kissed him, saying, My little treasure, do not be upset. That is medicine for your father. Your father will be fine after drinking the medicine. Oh! That is magic medicine. Your father will be fine. Upon hearing this, magically, Linsen felt better.

Bingsen came in, gingerly holding a steaming bowl with brownish liquid. Bingsen’s wife hurried over, trying to take over the bowl.

No! Grandma stopped her with a shout. Don’t touch it! Only a man can serve it! Immediately, Sister-in-law drew back with a guilty, sheepish smile on her face.

Brother put the bowl on the nightstand and put another pillow underneath Father’s head. With a clay spoon, he fed Father little by little.

At the same time, Grandma spoke to the aunties and Sister-in-law, You are too young to know this. Remember, women cannot touch, prepare, cook, or serve medicine. Otherwise, it won’t work because usually diseases are caused by Yin evils and women are Yin creatures. Only by a man with vigorous Yang Qi will the Yin evils be driven out. The best ones to do this are sons or grandsons like Bingsen and Linsen.

When Linsen grows up, he will serve the medicine for me. I will be cured right away. With this, Linsen felt Grandma gently massaging his scalp. He tilted his head up and saw a glow in Grandma’s eyes.

The smell and smoke faded away. He wondered what was happening with the clay pot. He sneaked out from Grandma’s arms and went to the front room. The fire was gone with only a little cinder and ash left. The clay pot was still there with the lid half covering it. He peeked into the pot and saw brownish swollen sticks, barks, leaves, flowers and even some grain inside. The smell made him gag, and he went back to Father’s room again.

After dinner, he saw his brother pick up the clay pot and go out. He followed him. His brother came to an intersection of a dirt path and scattered the contents in the center. He wondered why his brother threw away the medicine. He held his tongue when he saw his brother gesture to him with his hand covering his mouth. Not until he was almost a teenager, while he was serving similar medicine to his aged grandma, did Mother tell him that by drinking the decoction, the evil spirits from the sick person would be transmitted to the dregs of the medicine, and they would be chased away by many people stepping on them. These Yin evil spirits could not stand the Yang energy emitted by so many passersby.

But, the evil spirits had not been chased away.

A couple of days later, he was playing with Xichao.

Linsen, Linsen! Come here! Hurry up! All of the sudden, he heard Mother calling him. The voice was anxious, urgent and wailing. He ran to the bedroom. He saw Mother struggling to hold back her sobs, tears rolling down her cheeks. Grandma was sitting on the edge of the bed by his father, her right hand massaging his father’s forehead, and she was crying:

Jinchang, my treasure, don’t go! Don’t leave us! You have old and young ones to support. How can you leave us widows and children? Look at Linsen. He is only 5. If you leave, he would be fatherless. How can you be so heartless? Don’t go! Let me go first. Oh! Heaven, why do you let me, the white hair, see off the black hair (白髮人送黑髮人)?⁴

Mother grasped his hand and took him to his father who was lying on the bed with his face like ash.

Call Dad, Mother told him in a muffled and sobbing voice.

Dad, he called timidly. No response.

Louder! Mother commanded hastily.

Dad!

He saw his father’s lips move and the fingers on his left hand quiver a little. Mother took his right hand and put it in his father’s left hand. He felt father’s hand squeezing him. But it was so feeble that he hardly felt it. He heard Father murmur something like, I can’t… go. Linsen is… too… young. At the same time, he felt wet on his cheek; he turned his head up and saw that Mother was sobbing violently and trying to restrain herself from crying out. Around a time period of one serving of tobacco,⁵ Linsen felt his father’s hand was becoming cold and weaker; finally it slipped away. Linsen was wondering what was happening to his father. But before he figured out anything, he heard Mother burst out screaming and saw her throw herself on his father. At the same time, all the women in his household, including Grandma, aunties and Sister-in-law, joined Mother, crying and wailing. Bingsen stepped forward, took Mother’s arms, and pulled her up to sit on the chair where Grandma used to sit. Bingsen massaged his father’s eyelids and mouth so that they closed. Then he put a piece of yellow paper⁶ over father’s face.

Mother took Linsen onto her breast, hugged him tightly, and wailed out, My poor Linsen, now, your father is gone. Who will take care of you? You are so young. You are so little. Who will raise you?

Linsen felt suffocated on Mother’s chest. He struggled to liberate himself from his mother’s arms and stood up. He did not understand what was happening. He had never seen Mother so sad and distressed and so many people crying together. He reckoned that something would be different in his life. Father was gone. But Father was always gone. He saw how Mother and his sister-in-law took care of himself and Xichao. But his father never took care of him like that. So what was the difference?

Mother was so sad, it made him sad too. He loved Mother. It was she who put clothing on him when he felt cold, gave him food to eat when he was hungry, and gave him a hug when he was fussy; she patted him and even hummed when he was in bed. He did not want Mother to be so sad. Why did Mother keep wailing the same thing, Who will take care of you? Who will raise you? Suddenly, he knew why Mother was so sad.

Taking Mother’s right hand, articulately and resolutely, Linsen announced: Mom, don’t worry about me. I will take care of myself. I will raise myself!

All the crying stopped; everybody in the room was frozen. Mother’s mouth was ajar, and her surprised eyes fixed on him. Nobody had anticipated that he was so precocious. He was only 5 years old.⁷ He had never spoken out a single whole sentence prior to that announcement.

Mother hugged him again and kissed him all over and mumbled, My precious Linsen, my heart, my liver, you will be a man. Oh! You are a man. I am proud of you. Your father did not have the fortune to enjoy you. Now, I have hope. I have someone to lean upon in the future, my Xiao Da Ren (小大人Little Grown-up)." Although she was still crying and shedding tears all over his scalp, face and neck, Linsen knew Mother was not that sad but was somewhat happy now. He swore in his heart that he would always make Mom happy.

Ever since then, he had the nickname Little Grown-up.

Chapter 2

An Unfilial Son (不孝之子)

Help! Help!

In his dream, Linsen heard somebody screaming and banging on the bedroom door. At the same time, he heard a male voice yelling and people running around outside.

Mother shouted back, I am coming! She sprang up from the bed and hurried to the door.

Now Linsen was wide awake, and he was scared. His heart was racing. He figured out that the people at the door were his brother Bingsen and his sister-in-law. When Mother opened the bedroom door, Linsen saw that Bingsen was beating his wife while yelling, You vicious woman, how dare you intervene in my business? Your skin is itching and longing for beating!

Covering her face with both hands, Sister-in-law was crying and screaming.

Mother trembled and begged Bingsen to stop. But Bingsen ignored her and kept slapping his wife. Mother ran toward Grandma’s room. Grandma had stepped out already. She yelled, Bingsen, stop! with such a commanding and authoritative tone that Bingsen immediately stopped and let his wife go.

"Zuonie (作孽You are doing evil)! Grandma was very angry. Your father’s bones haven’t even cooled down yet, and you are storming at home, disturbing even chickens and dogs! Shame on you! Go back to your room, everybody!" She turned, went back into her room, slammed the door, and shut the wood bolt loudly.

Bingsen mumbled something and went back to his room.

Sister-in-law was a child daughter-in-law (童養媳) in the family. In those days, it was the custom to have a child daughter-in-law. When families needed more workers and were not so poor, they would find a 10-to 15-year-old (sometimes even younger) girl as a child daughter-in-law. If a family had a baby boy, the parents would find a girl 3-6 years older than the boy to babysit him. In this way, the mother was freed for her housework and other jobs. Becoming a child daughter-in-law was a good situation if a girl was an orphan or her family was too poor to raise her.

Most child daughters-in-law were arranged by parents when the boy and girl were toddlers or infants or even before they were born. When a girl was around 10 or even as young as 7, she was sent to the boy’s family to be a child daughter-in-law.

The boy’s family would pay a lump-sum of money to the girl’s parents, usually 1 shoulder load⁸ of coarse rice per year of the girl’s age, 15 shoulder loads at most. It did not mean that the girls’ parents sold their daughters. They still had some parenting rights. The girls’ parents, especially from poor families, would be pleased to let their daughters be child daughters-in-law. Daughters were money-sucking creatures. Parents had to feed them till they were adults because they had bound feet and were unable to do farm work; they could do only some house chores. When they were old enough to help their parents, they got married and moved out into their husbands’ households. Furthermore, parents had to spend money and energy to prepare dowries for their daughters’ marriage. The practice of child daughter-in-law not only saved parents about 10 years of food and other living expenses, but also relieved them from the responsibility of dowries. Plus, they could get cash immediately.

When the boy grew up, usually when