Chapter Ninety-Two: An Ancient Village and an Old Stockade

Reaching this little market village was no simple matter. Aside from the train, they still had to change to two buses before they could arrive. After studying the map, Zhou Hao had them wait in the county seat for a day, and the next morning he borrowed a jeep from the armed office in the neighboring county and drove it over.

“Come on. It’ll be much easier if we drive ourselves. Bring more bottled water. I heard most people up in the mountains drink spring water, and if you’re not used to it, it can give you diarrhea.”

The adults did not mind, but the children might have weaker stomachs.

Besides bottled water, Chen Xin also packed some instant noodles, biscuits, ham sausages, and the like. There would certainly be food in the stockade, but rumor had it that the local fare was a little intimidating. Chen Xin worried Zhang Zhang might be frightened and refuse to eat, so she brought these things as a safeguard.

Driving from the county town to the stockade took more than seven hours. The road was rough in places, and Bai Mingqing was successfully car-sick.

Since Zhang Zhang was also feeling a little unwell, Chen Xin had to look after the child, and the task of caring for Bai Mingqing fell to Yi Bai.

At lunchtime, Yi Bai and Zhou Hao took turns driving. Though Yi Bai usually seemed as brisk and fiery as a summer squall, he was unexpectedly steady behind the wheel. Once Bai Mingqing took the front passenger seat, she felt much better, and the back seat was left to Chen Xin and Zhou Hao, with Zhang Zhang wedged between them.

Zhang Zhang clung tightly to his aunt, tears welling in his eyes as he said he felt awful. Seeing Chen Xin worn out, Zhou Hao reached out, lifted the plump little boy into his arms, and began telling him stories.

Zhou Hao was a grown man through and through; he did not know any fairy tales or fables, so he told Zhang Zhang a few old war stories he had heard from his own grandfather. Little Zhang Zhang truly was a brave little fellow. Knowing already that his father had been a hero, he was especially fond of this sort of story. Listening to Zhou Hao, he naturally pictured his father in those tales, and from time to time he would ask whether his father had been just like that.

Zhou Hao, of course, would never say otherwise. In every child’s heart, a father is a heroic figure. Especially for a martyr’s orphan like Zhang Zhang, who had never seen his father’s gallant bearing with his own eyes, every image of him came from others’ words or from his own imagination. To shape a heroic father for them at this stage was far better than telling them that fathers had flaws too. When they grew up and came to understand life in their own way, they would see that fathers were human as well, and imperfect; but that brave, fearless figure would already have taken root deep in their hearts. No matter how many shortcomings he might have, their worship of their father would remain unmoved.

Zhang Zhang also had relatively little contact with men in daily life, most of them older people like Old Man Liu. Now that Zhou Hao, who seemed more like his father, had appeared, he unconsciously transferred his feelings, and his attachment to Zhou Hao ran deeper than it did to the other men.

By the time they reached the stockade, it was already half past six in the evening, and smoke was rising from the cooking fires atop every household.

Following the location they had been given earlier, Chen Xin found Pujia, the man she had spoken with by phone.

Pujia was a young man in his early twenties. His family was not among the poorest in the village, but he was one of the few young people who had stayed behind to care for his relatives. He had studied outside for several years and could understand and speak Mandarin, though his writing was rather poor, about on the level of a primary school student.

He had finished junior high and not gone on to further study. He had worked for two years in the south, where he had been cheated and bullied. Later, when his mother fell gravely ill and became bedridden, Pujia simply returned to his hometown. Every day after finishing the work in the fields, he would go into the mountains to gather produce to sell. Part of the money went toward his mother’s treatment, and the rest was sent to his younger brother, who was studying away from home.

Pujia’s younger brother was nineteen and in his first year of college. With the school’s scholarship and work-study assistance, his tuition and living expenses for each semester were basically covered. Every time money came from his elder brother, he would carefully save it, only taking out a little when he truly had none left. The rest he planned to accumulate until he had enough to invite specialists to his hometown to see whether they could provide the villagers with technical guidance and support.

One had to admit, Pujia’s younger brother was a very sharp-minded boy. He was not merely thinking of saving money; he wanted to solve the problems of his hometown at the root.

Pujia’s younger brother attended the same university as Chen Xin, though in a different department. After hearing about the senior’s story, he went to the school computers to read her articles, and then specially sought out Chen Xin in hopes that she would go and take a look at his hometown.

“The medicine Bajiato asked me to bring back for your mother, and this money too, he told me to give it to you.”

After settling in, Chen Xin took an envelope from her bag. Inside were a thousand yuan, along with a box of medicine.

“The money isn’t much. It’s the prize Bajia won in this competition. He said he wanted his family to share in his happiness, especially his mother. He hopes she’ll be pleased for his success.”

She said this deliberately, because Bajia was deeply worried about his mother. His younger sister had once secretly told him that their mother seemed to have thoughts of ending her life.

Pujia had to support the family and raise his little sister. His father worked away from home and was lucky to come back once a year. To save money, during New Year’s he would stay in the laborers’ sheds, eating steamed buns and pickled vegetables, while sending all his wages back with fellow townsmen for his wife and children. Besides Pujia’s mother, who was ill and unable to work, there was also his grandmother to care for. His little sister attended primary school in town, and with boarding, tuition, and living expenses, it cost nearly two thousand yuan a year.

“Before my mother fell ill, she was the most capable woman in our stockade.”

Pujia was busy cooking over the hearth in the main room. Firelight illuminated his lean, dark face, softening it with a trace of gentleness.

“My grandmother’s embroidery is amazing too. My mother said that when my grandmother was young, she was responsible for making clothes for the tusi’s family. The tusi’s household would accept no embroidery other than hers. So back then my grandmother worked day and night, and by the time she got older, her eyes went bad. Now everything she looks at is blurry.”

Pujia glanced gently toward the old woman in the corner. Wrapped in a wool blanket, she sat half-reclined on a straw mat with her eyes half-closed, sleeping soundly and snoring softly.

“My grandmother has another skill. She can tell by touch what something is embroidered with, what kind of thread it uses, and what needle. My little sister learned embroidery from her. Don’t let her age fool you; the things she makes are among the best in our stockade. My mother says that with her needlework, there’s no need to worry about her not getting married.”

Since it was already rather dark, Chen Xin could not very well ask to look at the little sister’s embroidery, so she had Pujia tell them the various legends of the stockade instead.

Compared with his younger brother, Pujia spoke more slowly, in a lower voice, carrying the earnest simplicity of a mountain man. He was somewhat shy about facing Chen Xin and Bai Mingqing directly, so whenever he handed something over, he would first give it to Zhou Hao and Yi Bai, asking them to pass it on to the two girls.