“One day, the school principal invited Shi to a family banquet to celebrate his rich landlord father’s eightieth birthday. At the banquet, he met Jun, the principal’s younger sister.
“Jun was a beautiful, shy girl who blushed in his presence. Her big eyes were so dark they were like pools of mystery, and her skin was as smooth as silk. She seemed like a dream in that fragrant garden, where their eyes met for the first time on that magical night. Suddenly, the young teacher’s loneliness vanished.
“They talked and talked like two old friends under the moon. She said she played the piano and liked Chopin and he said he liked Mozart and played the violin.
“‘I know, and you’re also a poet,’ Jun said.
“‘How did you know?’ Shi was surprised.
“‘How could I help not knowing, the whole village knows.’
“She was a beam of light in the wilderness, a dock at which he could moor. Shi could have walked straight out of the romance novels Jun often read. He was handsome, noble, and refined, yet brooding and lonely, expressing his thoughts only in poetry and music. They fell madly in love that night…”
“Hold it, hold it,” Mo Gong interrupted. “I gotta pee.”
“Shut up,” Sen said. “We’re just getting to the good part. What happened then?”
“I can’t hold it no more.” Mo Gong stood by the edge of the boat, opened his fly, and a stream arched into the river.
“The story was so good we forgot to smoke. Here.” Siang whipped out a new pack of Flying Horse and lit one for me first. “Okay, let’s continue.”
“C’mon, Mo Gong, you’re delaying us,” Yi said impatiently, holding on to the pole.
The boat had arrived at a wider section of the river, four miles away from Yellow Stone. The lights from the town flickered in the distance, and it seemed as if we were the only people alive between the silky water and the silvery, moonlit sky.
Yi laid down the dripping pole, crawled up to us, and sat next to me. The boat sat motionless, as if it, too, were eager for the story to continue.
“Every day Jun waited for Shi outside the school, picking wildflowers,” I continued. “As soon as he appeared with his book, she’d run into his arms. They laughed and walked and talked. In the evenings, he played the violin and she accompanied him on her piano. Jun fell asleep with his poems in her hands. His music sounded more cheerful. Jun had never imagined love could be so sweet and wonderful. She would have done anything for him. She told him she would go anywhere he went and love him forever. He cried in her arms like a baby.
“As time went by, Jun sometimes waited for Shi, disappointed, until dark. When she asked about his absence, he turned silent and told her that it was nothing, but it began to bother her more and more as he turned gloomy and moody again. He would sit for hours just holding Jun, sighing heavily.
“‘What’s wrong?’ Jun asked, fearful of losing her love.
“‘Nothing,’ Shi said. ‘I just love you very much, and that’s bothering me.’
“Jun was surprised. ‘Why should that worry you?’
“Shi sealed her mouth with a long, passionate kiss and she melted away in the heat of his love.”
“Hey, you’re getting too close to me.” Sen shoved Mo Gong away from his neck; Mo Gong was drooling, his head almost on Sen’s shoulder.
“Want me to kiss you too? Here.” Sen planted a wet kiss on Mo Gong’s forehead.
“Shit,” Mo protested in disgust. “Go on, Da. What’s next?”
“Yeah, what’s next?” Yi echoed.
“Light me another Flying Horse,” I said.
“Oh, forgive me, Master. Please, leave no plot untold,” Siang joked and lit me a cigarette. “Did they sleep together?”
“Don’t be a dirty-minded rat.” Sen pinched his ear and kneed him.
“…Then one day, the young teacher came running to Jun and fell to his knees, crying, ‘I have to tell you this…I have to tell you.’
“‘What’s the matter?’ Jun was shocked at his outburst.
“‘I am going to marry Lin Li. I’m sorry,’ Shi said in tears.
“‘What?’ Jun asked in a faint voice, her knees weak. ‘Who is Lin Li?’
“‘She’s the wife of my college classmate who joined the Communist party. He was just imprisoned and sentenced to death by the Nationalist army. I have been going to see his wife and three children at their home for the last few months. Remember all those disappearances?’
“Jun collapsed limply into her chair.
“‘Are you all right?’ Shi asked, falling to his knees beside her.
“She nodded sadly and looked at his handsome face. ‘Go on.’
“‘Life has been unimaginable in their household, and the wife has been sick. I have been giving my food and money to them. But yesterday, a comrade just informed me that my classmate had been secretly executed in prison. When I broke the news to his wife, she went crazy and fell into a seizure. Her situation is getting worse and worse. She remains delirious and keeps calling her husband’s name. I have made up my mind to marry her this evening. I could not bear to see the family go down like that. Do you understand?’
“‘No. Do you love her?’
“He shook his head. ‘You are my only love, Jun.’
“Jun started weeping and ran out of the house, never looking back. That evening, Shi collected his belongings and left the school to marry the wife and take care of the children…”
My four friends were uncharacteristically quiet. They looked at the water, the moon reflected on the river. No one urged me to go on. It was as though they just wanted to linger in the aftertaste of such tragic love.
A few long seconds passed. “Then what?” Mo Gong asked, casting a sorrowful look at me.
“The truth is,” I said, “I was so disappointed myself at that point that I threw the book away and never bothered to finish it.”
“Well, that was something. I can’t understand the young teacher. Do you think Jun jumped into one of the rivers?” Sen said dreamily.
“Maybe.”
It was midnight when we rode home again. Mom asked me where I had been and I told her I was with some friends.
“I know who you were with,” she said, “and you smell like you have been smoking.”
“They’re good boys at heart,” I defended them.
“Good guys or bad guys, you cannot smoke. Do you hear me?”
“But my brother smokes.”
“He’s older and a farmer. You are a student. Act like one.”
“Does that mean I can’t go out with my friends anymore?” I asked.
She paused for a moment. “It’s up to you to choose who to make friends with. You are grown-up now, I can’t watch you every second. But no matter who your friends are, do not forget who you are.”
From Mom, that meant yes. She was perceptive enough to see the change in my life. I was happier. But the biggest compliment of her tacit endorsement was her confidence in me to remain strong and good. I felt a rush of love and gratitude for her wisdom.
In school, I became sunnier and more confident. The results of last semester’s countywide examination showed I was the best student in fourth grade, putting group one and La Shan’s cronies to shame. In the hallways, the group one children still gave me dirty looks.
Once, when I passed the son of the party chief, he said, “Grades mean nothing. You are still a landlord’s son.” Then he laughed, showing his teeth like a vicious animal.
My teacher, Mr. Lan, took me aside and told me the same thing. “Don’t let your good grades get to you.”
It soon dawned on me that it was a sin to have scored so high and to have focused attention on myself. Now, in addition to the usual scorn, there was jealousy. I could do nothing right. But it no longer bothered me as much. When classes were over, I would see my friends again and would forget all about school. I no longer stayed up nights, plotting and scheming. Han, Quei, and Wang were still hateful but now they were only
small annoyances, little buzzing flies.
IN THE EARLY seventies, Ping-Pong became the rage of the country because Zhuan Zhe Don had won the World Cup championship for China. In PE class, instead of the regular running and jumping in the dirt field, we would sit in the classroom and listen to the live radio report of the World Cup match in progress. With each score gained by a Chinese player against a western player, we pounded our tables and cheered. When the games were over, we all sang, “The eastern winds blow and the drums of war echo. In today’s world, who is afraid of whom? We are not afraid of the Russian and American imperialists. It is they who are afraid of us.”
The success of this Ping-Pong diplomacy made us swell like hot-air balloons. We were finally winning something in the international arena.
The school had a carpenter build two Ping-Pong tables. A stone slab served as a third table. During break, hundreds of kids crowded around the three tables and took turns playing. We played a three-point game. Good players could stay in a game for a long time. Bad players were thrown out as quickly as they came. I became so involved that even after school I practiced at home. Gradually, I turned into one of the better Ping-Pong players on campus.
One day I said to Sen and Mo Gong, who were waiting for me at the low wall, “We should go play Ping-Pong today. I have three rackets with rubber facings.”
“C’mon, I don’t know how to play,” Sen said.
“That’s because you’re a stupid lefty,” Mo Gong joked. “It sounds like fun. Let’s go.” We flung ourselves back over the wall and headed for a table.
There was a small crowd already there, including my three enemies. Han seemed to be dominating the game.
“I don’t think we should take over this game,” I said, sensing Quei’s gaze.
“Why?” Sen asked.
“Because my enemies are there,” I replied. “Let’s go.”
“What?” Sen asked.
“Han and his guys.” I pointed my chin in their direction.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’d like to know these guys better,” Mo Gong said.
“Da, we’re playing right here,” Sen said. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
As the two famous personalities slouched their way to the head of the table, the crowd parted. Mo Gong hopped onto the end of the table where Han was standing.
“Stop the game, pick up your ball, and get outta my sight. Let us older men try the game, punks,” Mo Gong mocked in an old man’s voice. He pushed Han away from the table.
Han looked daggers at me. “You son of a landlord, you’ll be sorry you brought these hooligans. I’m gonna report this to the teacher right now!” He stepped aside, glaring at Sen and Mo Gong.
“Well, well, well, you little piece of shit. Who are you calling a hooligan, and what’s wrong with the son of a landlord?” Mo Gong’s eyes were getting red. He walked toward Han. “You’re just like your shitty dad. I haven’t taken him off my list yet.” Then he pushed Han to the ground and kicked him a few times.
“Let’s go. We’ll take care of him later,” Sen said. He was right. From the corner of my eye, I could see the principal striding in our direction.
“Run, the Frog is here,” I urged. “You’ll be in trouble if you don’t.”
“Shit, too late,” Sen said. “Mo Gong, stay calm, and don’t curse in front of the Frog, okay? Let me handle him. If we run, we’ll look like thieves.”
The principal was in front of us in a minute, breathless. His thick glasses were fogged with sweat.
“What are you doing here?” he barked, looking blindly at Sen and Mo Gong.
“Nothing, we’re just coming back to visit,” Sen said sincerely. “Hey, take a look at the Ping-Pong table, Mo Gong. I haven’t seen one this smooth for a long time.” He touched the top of the rough table.
“I heard you were beating Han up. Is that true, Mo Gong?”
“That’s not true. Where is the little piece of…”
“Stop it,” Sen said. “Listen, Principal. I know you’re having a hard time running the school. If our visit is so unwelcome, we’ll leave now.”
“Wait a second,” the Frog commanded, “Han is coming. I want you to hear from him.”
Han limped up to the Frog with tears in his eyes. “Mo Gong pushed me to the ground and kicked me. They came with Da, that son of the landlord.”
“Now what do you say?” the Frog asked, casting a brief look at me that said, I’ll take care of you later.
“Han is a big liar, Principal,” Sen said. “You can’t trust someone like that. In fact, his whole family are liars. Last time Han stole from his family, he told his no-good parents that I was the guilty one. I just happened to pass by his courtyard that day.”
“I’m not judging you, but the other students and I saw you guys roughing him up. I’m telling you, I could have you arrested for disturbing the peace at school. I’m sure the commune jail is no strange place to you two.” The Frog’s puffy face was red. “Now get out of here.”
I saw the blood shoot up into Sen’s pale face when he heard the word jail. He was grinding his teeth to try and control his anger. He saw Mo Gong getting ready to strike out at the Frog and quickly dragged him aside.
“Let’s go now.” Sen stared with his deadly, unblinking eyes at the Frog and Han for a good five seconds, then turned to leave.
“Da, did you bring them here?” the Frog asked me. Sen and Mo Gong paused.
“I did.”
“No, he didn’t,” Sen said. “We wanted to come here on our own. He just gave directions. There ain’t nothing wrong with giving directions, is there? Again, Principal, with all due respect, I wouldn’t trust that Han boy. He’s a liar.” With that warning, they departed and I followed them to the wall.
That night we gathered at Yi’s workshop and puffed on dry tobacco leaves.
“It’s time we loosened a few spokes on the Frog’s new bicycle,” Mo Gong said.
“We shouldn’t do that right now, but I wouldn’t mind taking a walk across Han’s family garden,” Sen said. “Let’s go.”
We were soon in front of the lush garden overgrown with leeks and delicate scallions and some other vegetables I couldn’t make out in the darkness. We waited to make sure there was no one around, then jumped in. I lagged behind, fearful and nervous.
“What’s the matter with you? He’s made your life hell in school. Don’t you remember?” Sen whispered in my ear. It worked. I felt the blood rush to my head and the old anger clawed inside me like a wild animal. I jumped in and danced wildly as if each plant I stepped on was Han’s head. Soon the whole garden looked flat, as if a typhoon had just blown through it. We fled, went straight back to Yi’s place, and looked for food in his grandpa’s kitchen. Grandpa gave us some dried peanuts.
It was Sen’s idea that we be seen by Grandpa, who then could stand in front of others tomorrow and say without guilt that the gang had been at his house, not at the Hans’ plot.
In the morning, when Han’s mother screamed like a hurt pig in the middle of the street, accusing the gang of the atrocity, Yi’s grandpa was right there to defend us. He was a hospital worker, old and respected. He swore to heaven that it was just another false accusation, she was attacking the wrong kids. This time, the ardent defense of Yi’s grandpa worked. People believed him. We stayed very quiet, peacefully smoking our cigarettes.
The next day, the principal met me at the entrance to the class. Behind him stood Han and his cronies.
“Da, my office, right now,” the Frog said angrily. He hadn’t scared me before; he didn’t scare me now. I stared at my enemies angrily until they silently looked away. I followed the Frog to his office.
“Where were we?” he asked, his usual opening line while he cleaned his desk.
“I forgot.”
He looked up, a little lost as usual. “I heard you are hanging around with those hooligans nowadays.”
“They are friends from my neighborhood,” I said firmly.
“They aren’t good people to be with.”
“At least they don’t beat me up and curse at me all the time, like my classmates Han, Quei, and Wang.”
He paused. Then he seemed to want to say something but didn’t because he had forgotten what it was.
“If I catch you with them in our school again, you will be expelled for good this time. Hear me?”
I nodded. “But if they come by themselves, I can’t be blamed.”
“You are nit-picking. Be careful. You are forgetting who you are. You think a few good grades can make you better? Think again.” It was an unexpected outburst.
On my way back to class, I thought about the spokes on his bike that Sen and Mo Gong wanted to do away with. I really wanted to see him plunge on his flat face.
I was expecting insults and curses from Han and company when I entered the class late. They knew I had been questioned. In the old days, they would do a war dance around me, laughing like hyenas to embarrass me in front of the whole class. But today they avoided my gaze and sat quietly. I walked in with a straight back, head high. In my mind’s eye, my friends at home were smiling at me.
ONE WEEKEND WE heard that there was a new movie being shown twenty miles away from Yellow Stone in the capital city of Putien. That was a whopping distance of hills and valleys, especially if you had to wheel yourself around. The young tractor driver of our commune had seen it on one of his trips carrying fuel to the big city. A small crowd gathered around as he told everyone about how good it was. When he came to the description of the leading lady, he stopped, looked into our faces as if to prepare us for a shocker, then slowly made a few curves in the air with his hands and whistled.
“Is she that beautiful?” someone whispered.
The driver nodded. “Simply beyond words. Go see it.” We were sold.