Sheng Keyi - Northern Girls - Life Goes On

The shape of her sister’s worn-out bra was visible through her silky-thin blouse. She sighed, not knowing what to say.

The older sister pondered for a long time and finally added in a hesitating tone, ‘You’re already twenty. You shouldn’t still be developing.’

‘Alright, alright. Let them grow. Let’s see how big they want to get,’ Xiaohong answered irritably.

Thinking she had angered Xiaohong, her sister closed her mouth and silently stared at their father’s coffin on the other side of the room where the wake was being held. There were three photos of the household’s deceased. They were arranged in order, Grandfather’s first, then Grandmother’s then Father’s. Only Mother’s was missing. They wondered why her photo was not hung with the rest. They had never thought to ask their father while he was alive. He was the only one who knew the reason and now he would never be able to sit down and explain it all to them.

‘Have you started making plans with your boyfriend yet?’ To her sister, Xiaohong was no longer young. After all, when she was Xiaohong’s age, she was already a wife and mother.

Xiaohong searched her mind for a moment, thinking through her relationships with the men who were close to her but she could not reach a satisfactory conclusion. She could not even think of one worth calling a boyfriend, so how could she make any plans? She wasn’t even sure what sort of plans she should be making. Maybe her sister had asked the wrong question. She should have just said, Have you slept with other men? That was a question with a clear answer.

Finally, she settled on an answer. ‘ Jie Jie , when I decide to make plans, I’ll bring him here to meet you.’

Xiaohong was a little depressed. She suddenly felt her sister’s life was a happy one. Even though her brother-in-law liked to have his fun, the couple always slept side by side, quarrelled with one another, made love and worked together in the fields.

A clucking sound bubbled over. A hen that had just laid an egg hopped out from the coop, proudly singing. It strutted about the empty ground with its head held high. It greeted the sun and the sun dropped the colours of youth upon it. Recalling for Xiaohong the warmth of her grandmother’s lap, it shone onto the canopy that sheltered her father’s wake. Tears began to fall, streaming down her cheeks.

‘Don’t cry. Save your tears for the funeral procession.’

The voice was that of the bearded Jin Haishu. He pulled a hemp rope over the coffin, preparing to carry it out of the hall where the wake had been held. The veins on his arms protruded with the heroic level of effort it required. About thirty-five, Jin had been a soldier for ten years. After his demobilisation, he had returned to the village and entered the ranks of the cadres. He was a powerful man, in a position of authority. Practically every woman in the village idolised him.

Jin’s words did not seem to be coloured with emotion but Xiaohong heard in them the concern of the village leaders. Her tears seemed to shut off like a tap. She looked at Jin and he averted his gaze from her bust. He caught her eye and smiled vaguely, his longing turning to affection. A dizzy feeling flowed from Xiaohong’s mind to her chest, making several rounds of her body’s private places and giving rise to warm fluids.

‘When you were little, I used to carry you,’ Jin said.

Xiaohong did not answer, picturing in her mind the image of Jin holding her.

‘I’d often pick you up with one hand, or throw you into the air. You’d laugh so sweetly. Ah, and here you are now, all grown up in the blink of an eye.’ When he said ‘grown up’ his eyes fell to Xiaohong’s chest, as if to indicate the growth of her breasts.

Xiaohong looked at his big hands but didn’t say anything.

‘What day is my dad’s funeral procession?’ she asked, suddenly thinking of it.

‘Tomorrow. If there are still other relatives we need to wait for, we can hold off until the day after tomorrow. Tonight, we’ll keep vigil.’

‘I’ll stay up.’

‘You should.’

IV

As Specs was leaving the newspaper office, he felt he was like a ball, bouncing rhythmically and reaching a great height.

A newspaper reporter had prepared an interview concerning Sijiang’s situation. He hoped that, when the report appeared, it would stir up public interest and build some momentum, finally resulting in a wave of public opinion that would help Sijiang reach a favourable outcome to her case.

When the reporter came to their flat, Sijiang did not want to speak to him, feeling that sacrificing that much of her privacy would be unbearably embarrassing. She was even more reluctant to reveal her real name. She evaded him for some time, while the reporter emphasised over and over that by making her name known publicly, she would get better compensation. Sijiang began, reluctantly, to answer the reporter’s questions. When he asked her about how she felt after the surgery, she wept as desolately as if facing her own father with this news. She cried until her throat was raw. Gasping, she answered, ‘I wanted to die. I desperately wanted to die. If it hadn’t been for him standing beside me every minute, every second…’ She could say no more. She stopped, burying her face in her hands.

‘Go on, let it out.’ As she cried, Specs reached over and patted her back, as if doing so would speed up the grieving process. The reporter, turning his attention to Specs, asked how they’d met and fallen in love. He sighed a lot, recognising the sincere feelings of stress expressed by Specs.

‘Simple working class folk with such a deeply moving love story. It’s the paper’s obligation to report this. It’s our duty to spread light and love. People everywhere need to know the truth.’

Even the reporter seemed to be moved nearly to tears. He looked back over his notes, thinking carefully, afraid of missing anything and considering whether there was any additional little nugget he could dig out.

Specs smiled humbly, as if to say that it was a small thing. If you love someone, isn’t this how it should be?

As the conversation between Specs and the reporter went on, Sijiang gradually stopped crying. It was like she was stepping into a role. Perhaps it was as the reporter had said and she was indeed the heroine in this love story. She no longer felt it was a stigma. Her eyes brightened and she found the courage to face the reporter.

‘You can’t have children. What do you plan to do?’ the reporter asked, turning first to Sijiang, then to Specs.

‘We’ll adopt,’ Specs said.

‘It’ll be just like having our own,’ Sijiang added. The reporter looked from one face to the other, feeling they looked pretty unconcerned, considering all that had happened. He nodded as he took a glance around at the environment, looking just a little envious of their love nest.

As the reporter was leaving, Specs seized the opportunity to ask him a question. ‘How much do you think is appropriate for us to claim?’

The reporter turned back and thought a moment before replying. ‘I’ve never seen a situation like this before, but I’d say sixty or eighty thousand should be possible. Of course, there are some things that cannot be compensated.’

‘Well, we’ll settle for eighty thousand, then, and we won’t stop till we get it,’ Sijiang said to Specs after the reporter had gone.

She suddenly found that Specs had a cigarette in his mouth, and he was acting like he knew just what he was doing with it. She didn’t know where it had come from. She cried sharply, ‘You smoke? How come I didn’t know?’

‘It’s not mine. That reporter gave it to me just now. Seems a pity to waste it. Can you find a match for me? I’m going to smoke it,’ he said.