Chapter 4

THE FROST ON THE TILED ROOF WAS MELTING in the morning sun. A great dark chunk of hill hung above the roof of the house. Every tree on the hill-side stood out in the sunshine, with the trunk reduced to a thin white line, all but invisible, and only the light green foliage showing, so that each tree was like a flat green spot of duckweed floating over the shadowy depth of the hill.
Moon Scent looked up to the hilltop where little feather-duster trees stood black against the sky. The hill caved in a bit near the top. A little white cloud nestled there. Last night, in her long walk toward home, she saw a light up there and she wondered if it was a lamp or a star. If there was really a house up there, then this white cloud must be the smoke of cooking. It was certainly dis-solving fast, she thought, faster than clouds usually did.
Last night, walking home in the dark, she had stepped on the droppings left by a stray dog. She wiped her cloth shoe with a wet rag and put it under the eaves to dry. The best thing would be to rub it with wine. She should go next door and borrow some. Big Uncle had always been fond of his cup.
But then, she thought, who would make rice into wine these days, when there was not enough to eat? She picked up her shoe and tackled it again with the wet rag.
If she had known what she'd found out during the previous day, she would have stayed on in Shanghai and tried to get Gold Root to join her out there. Of course it was very difficult getting a traveling permit to Shanghai. When she came back to the village, of course she had got her lu eiao, road pass, almost immediately after she ap-plied, because laborers were encouraged to return to the land. That was why one saw fewer pedicab drivers on the Shanghai streets, while ricksha coolies had almost en-tirely disappeared. However, if some people managed to hang on there in the city, she did not see why she and Gold Root could not.
If they both went back to Shanghai now, Beckon would have to stay with her grandmother for the time being. They would send some money back every month and her grandmother would be pleased with the arrange-ment. But Gold Root would never agree to go, not when he had just been given land. Once they left the village, they would lose their land.
And what if they could not find employment in the city? She might sit at a street corner mending nylon stockings. Perhaps she could borrow enough money from her former employer to purchase one of those kits con-taining the necessary tools. Nylons were still worn in Shanghai. They were either old stock or smuggled in. In summer, when nobody wore stockings, she and Gold Root could set up an open-air ironing stand, spraying water from their mouths onto the clothes they were pressing. She remembered that those stalls had done very good business last summer because they charged much less than the regular laundry shops, and nowadays every-body had to economize.
If all other schemes should fail, they would have to resort to picking cigarette butts from off the street to be made into new cigarettes, searching the garbage cans for marketable rubbish, lingering by bridges to help to push carts up over the hump, occasionally begging and even snatching foodstuffs from shoppers-which was not so serious an offense as snatching purses. They might per-suade Gold Root's cousin, who worked as watchman, to let them set up a mat tent in his alley. It was a bearable existence so long as it was regarded as a temporary state. Any moment their luck might change.
Then she remembered what she had seen one day on the street. She had been walking to the market when she noticed that all heads were turned in one direction and people were whispering, "Look, look! They are rounding up the vagrants!" Two policemen holding a man by the arms were hustling him along to a truck parked by the roadside. The policemen were both smiling broadly and tolerantly, as if they were dealing with a naughty little brother. With his feet off the ground and his skinny shoulders pushed up high, their ragged captive was also smiling, a bit sheepishly. She watched him curiously, knowing that he must know that he would be sent to one of the great work camps on the banks of the Huai River. There he would work on one of the new dams with great hordes of prisoners and conscripted laborers in water that reached up to the belly. She knew all about the Huai River; there were women living in her alley whose hus-bands were undergoing Reform through Labor.
However, here in her home village that was all very far away. She returned to the house and stood the mirror up on its stand, to comb her hair. She looked at her shiny black hair, cut to shoulder length and done up in a pompadour in front. This small oval minor she brought back with her had long been cracked right across the center and was held together by a strand of greasy red wool. Ordinarily she did not mind it so much, but today, as she moved her face up and down to avoid that strand of wool, she could not help feeling bitter. Ever since she had come as a young bride into the house of T'an they had never possessed a single decent-looking thing. Now they had had a good mirror but Gold Root had given it away and she still had to go on using this cracked one.
"Sister-in-Law Gold Root," somebody called from out-side. It was Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got peering in.
"Ai, Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got, come in and sit down.
"Where is Brother Gold Root?"
"Out in the hills cutting firewood."
Decorously, Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got stepped in-side only when she heard that Gold Root was not at home.
"Combing your hair?" she said. "Ai-yah, what a pity you cracked your minor." This reminded her of the other one, just as Moon Scent dreaded. Her faded eyes spar-kled as she bent forward and whispered, "Ai, you must go to Chou Village someday and see your mirror. Really beautiful." Looking around cautiously, she dropped her voice further. "The fact is, if you ask me, you people could have kept it for yourselves. Nowadays who bothers about dowries when we cannot even fill our stomachs? Brides do not even ride in sedan chairs any more. They all walk to the wedding. Yes, ten miles or twenty miles, they all walk." She laughed. She had not been very fortu-nate in her life but at least on this point she could feel smug-she had been borne here in a flowered sedan chair. "Your Gold Flower also walked. That is why I say the times have changed. Why bother about dowries?"
Moon Scent smiled. She knew that Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got was a simple soul and was truly indignant on her behalf. Still, she resented it very much—as if people all felt that Gold Root was more partial to his sister than to his wife.
"Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got,"-she said the name affectionately—"indeed the times have changed. But you see when our Gold Flower goes over there she is not the only daughter-in-law. Those who came before her, every one of them had a dowry. If we sent her away without a dowry, we might be able to say the times have changed but others would think differently. Wouldn't that make things hard for her?"
Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got nodded rapidly but ap-parently did not take in what had been said. When Moon Scent finished speaking she leaned close and breathed into her ear, "Of course at the time, you understand, I had no right to speak, being an outsider. And you were not at home."

Thoroughly annoyed, Moon Scent spoke louder and with a sweeter smile, "It makes no difference, really, whether I was at home or not. I have always said to him, I said, 'You only have this one sister. Poor as we are, when Sister marries it has to look proper.' Unfortunately it happens just now when it is a difficult time for all, and we have nothing good to give her."
Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got felt slightly stunned and hurt. Nothing good to give her! One would think that the mirror was nothing of value, from this woman's way of talking.
Moon Scent asked her about this and that person in the village, and they gossiped a little. But the conversa-tion soon languished. And yet Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got made no move to leave. Evidently she had some-thing on her mind.
"The two old ones told me to come and ask you—" she began haltingly, her face reddening. "Since they are your elders they feel too embarrassed to open their mouths about this, but--"
They wanted to borrow money. They had a good harvest but a great part of it was gone after they de-livered the Public Grain. There was only one tax nowa-days, this tax called the kung liang, the Public Grain, but it was very heavy. And their silk cocoons and tea leaves had to be sold to the government at a riciulously low price.
"And we have been unlucky with our ramie," said Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got.
She told Moon Scent how the old man had taken the ramie to town to sell it to the co-operative store. He arrived early, when the kan pu in charge was still in bed. Annoyed at being disturbed, the kan pu drowsily stuck out a head from under the padded blanket to let the old man place a strand of ramie in his hand.
"Below grade," he pronounced at once.
The old man went home dejected. Then another vil-lager, Li, told him that the kan pu didn't know what he was talking about and sometimes when the rejected ramie was sent there again it was accepted and even graded tung wai yi, first class above the normal grade.
So again the old man carried the ramie to town, in two big bundles dangling from his flat-pole. That day the co-operative was crowded with farmers, all bringing their ramie, and the kan pu were all extremely busy. One of them walked by and after a swift, sidelong glance at the old man's ramie gave it a kick and said impatiently, "Be-low grade. Take it away, take it away." And to make sure the old man would not bring it back again, they poured a bucket of red water over the white ramie. It was the new regulation.
The old man carried the stained, dripping ramie out of the co-operative and sat down with his load by the bridge. He sat there until nightfall and sighed loudly from time to time. Then he saw Gold Root coming out of the co-operative, a loaded flat-pole on his shoulder. Gold Root also had his ramie stained a bright red. His face was red, too. When he came over to the bridge, he threw his load angrily into the stream.
"What are you doing?" exclaimed the old man. "Not here, anyway. People will see you."
One of the kan pu had followed him outside and was yelling at him, "What do you think you are doing! Who are you trying to frame?"
"I threw it away because the stuff is useless now," shouted Gold Root. "I could have sold it to somebody else if you don't want it. But who can I sell it to now, when you've stained it red?"
"I know what you're up to!" cried the kan pu. "You start a row and try to get the government to pay you, is that it? I know you people! And you there, old man." He turned and yelled at Big Uncle. "Why are you still here? You've been sitting here all day. Who are you trying to frame? Such scoundrels, all of you!"
When Moon Scent heard the story, she said, "Gold Root never told me about this."
"He was very angry at the time," said Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got.
Then she went on to tell about that time when every-body made army shoes for the troops—every family had to turn in fifty or eighty pairs. They worked at it day and night. Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got said her fingers bled from drawing the thick flaxen strings in and out of the chien tsung ti, the thousand-layer rag soles. They paid for a standard strong cloth for the uppers and for a flimsier kind for the lining. Everything cost money, even the flaxen strings and the rags bought by the catty, to make the soles out of.
The kan pu visisted each family in turn, spurring them on where the work lagged, and where it was coming along nicely, talking them into another twenty pairs. 'Make the soles thick and strong," he urged. "Our warriors will go far in those shoes, thousands of /i away, to Korea, where they are fighting the American devils. If we don't drive the American imperialists back from the Yalu River, they'll be here at our door. And the first thing, your land will be taken away from you."
"Stupid!" Big Aunt had murmured when the kan was gone. "The American devils will never come to this little village. Besides, these kan pu have left us so poor that there's nothing for the foreign devils to steal any-way!"
When the shoes were made, there was the Support-Frontlines Contribution; always one thing after another. But the worst was the Contribute-Airplanes-and-Big-Guns Movement, when Chou Village was forced to "challenge" this village. Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got could not get the new terms straight but she gave a much clearer account than Gold Root had given last night. Gold Root was fumbling and evasive throughout, not because he did not want to tell her but because he was all mixed up in his own mind.
"Sister-in-Law Gold Root, what I told you you must not repeat to Brother Gold Root," cautioned Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got. "Not even to our two old ones. If they know I told you all this they would be frightened to death."
Moon Scent knew that they were afraid of Gold Root because he was a Labor Model. "If I had known it was like this in the country, I would never have come back," she sighed. It was her turn to tell of her woes. "You know how things are with us, Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got. The whole family depended on what little I earned in the city. And there I had to take care of my own clothes, shoes, socks, and bedding. And things are so expensive in Shanghai. How could I have any money saved up?"
"Better than us, anyhow." Again Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got brought her face close to Moon Scent's and whispered. "People used to say, The poor depend on the rich, the rich depend on Heaven.' At least in the old days when there was a famine we could go to the landlord to borrow some rice." Then she heard the folding doors creak in the courtyard and darted out to look.
It was Gold Root coming back with the firewood. He shouldered a flat-pole hung with two enormous bundles of leafy branches which, sticking out in all directions, came to the height of a man and a half. He looked as if he had a giant, untidy bird perched on his shoulders with shaggy wings outstretched. After several attempts he managed to edge in sideways through the door.
At his return Sister-in-Law Gold Have Got disap-peared. But all through the morning the people of the village came to greet Moon Scent at her house and every one of them tried to borrow money. They asked for very little, and they came without hope and left without rancor.
Moon Scent grew frightened. She told Gold Root, "You would think that I've returned after making a for-tune, the way everybody comes to me for money."
"It has always been like this," he said, smiling and on the defensive as usual. "Anyone who comes back from the city, everybody always thinks he's made a fortune."
He wanted her to wash sufficient rice for them to have a meal of properly cooked rice for lunch.
"No, we really shouldn't," said Moon Scent. "There is so little left as it is. It won't last us through spring if we don't watch out."
"It's only once in a while."
"But why today of all days? It's neither the New Year nor a festival, and your birthday is past now," she said, half-laughing. She wanted to hear him say right out that this was her first day home and called for celebration.
But he merely looked embarrassed and said stubbornly "No reason. I haven't had solid rice for a long time, and I feel like having some."
At last she gave in. But when she bent low into the great earthen jar to dip for rice, her hand faltered. She compromised by cooking a pot of thick rice gruel.
Before they sat down to lunch Gold Root went to close the door. "If people see us eating like this they would have more reason for coming to borrow money."
"Close the door in broad daylight!" she exclaimed. "What would people think? They would die laughing!" Doors were never closed except at bedtime, no matter how cold the weather.
So Gold Root ate standing up near the open door, listening to every sound outside. He suddenly grew tense. "Clear it away quick," he whispered, "Comrade Wong is coming!"
Already somebody was calling heartily from outside in the unfamiliar accent of another dialect, "Is Gold Root there?"
Thrusting his bowl into Moon Scent's hands, Gold Root hurried out into the courtyard. Moon Scent put both their bowls on the bed against the pillow, where the bed curtains hid them from view. It being rice gruel, however thick, she had to be careful not to upset the bowl and spill it. Then she turned to Beckon to snatch the bowl from her hand. But Beckon refused to let go and Moon Scent was afraid that the sticky gruel, scald-ing hot, would spill on the child's hands. By this time Gold Root had already walked in with Comrade Wong.
Wong was a small man over forty but his lean face still looked young under his cap and he had an attractive smile. His thickly wadded uniform made him look much stouter than he was, and with a tight waistband it gave him a bosom and a bustle.
"Well, is this Sister-in-Law Gold Root?" he said pleas-antly. "You people go on with your meal. Go on. Please. I have come at an inopportune moment."
They insisted that they had finished eating, and Beckon timidly set her bowl down on the chair. Wong grinned at her. "Finish your gruel before it gets cold, Beckon. Grown taller again." He held her up high above his head. Beckon continued to look glum though secretly she was thrilled.
"Please sit down, Comrade Wong," Moon Scent said, smiling. Rushing to the stove, she poured him a bowl of hot water. "No tea leaves even. Drink a bowl of water, Comrade Wong."
"Don't bother, Sister-in-Law Gold Root. Don't make me feel like I'm an outsider." Wong raised himself slightly in his chair in acknowledgment of the hot water. "Just came back last night? Must be tired after the journey."
Moon Scent showed him her "road chit."
"Hau, hau! Good, good," said Wong as he read it. "Good, good! 'Return to the Country to Produce'-very good." He drew up one leg and placed his foot on the bench, peasant fashion. "Sister-in-Law Gold Root, this time you came back you must have noticed that the country is different from before. You know the poor have stood up. Now the government is the people's own gov-ernment. All your own people. Any opinion you have, you can tell it to us. Now don't be afraid-you know the people have turned over!"
Then he praised Gold Root and said, "Now you have come back—very good. The two of you would co-operate in Handling Production. With production boosted up you would also Study Culture. Right now in winter, when there is not much work to be done, everybody goes to Winter School. We have Little Teachers who come here from the school in town to teach us. Sister-in-Law Gold Root, nowadays men and women are all the same; you two should compete with each other. Since he is a Labor Model you should be a Study Model." They all laughed together.
After a while Comrade Wong rose and left. Gold Root and Moon Scent saw him out of the courtyard. When they returned she said, "This Comrade Wong is really good. He did not even touch the water. Not like those officers in the old days, always wanting this and that. Once they stepped inside the door, they wouldn't be satisfied unless you killed a chicken for their dinner."
No stranger had ever spoken to her like that before, so pleasantly, taking such an earnest interest in her, and as a person instead of as a woman. She was very im-pressed.
"Comrade Wong is a good man," said Gold Root.
But she noticed that he was miserable all day because that bowl of thick rice gruel had been seen by Wong.
She explained to him that Beckon had held on to it and when she had tried to wrench it away she was nerv-ous about spilling the hot gruel on the child's hand. Then she lost her temper and said, "It is all your fault. You insisted on putting in more rice."
"If you really listened to me and cooked solid rice, it would have been all right-solid rice won't spill."
"All right, blame it on me." And she muttered, "It is you who want to eat. And it is you who are afraid."
"I want to eat solid rice, not this sticky mush."
"Don't eat it then. Who's forcing you?"
She slapped the cold gruel back to the pot and warmed it. He finished his portion in silence.
After lunch she went down to the stream to do some washing. Squatting at the bottom of the stone steps, she lifted her club and pounded the clothes. Suddenly the hills on the opposite bank boomed out the sound of a colossal drum. She remembered how startled she was when she first married into this village and came to wash clothes by the stream for the first time. It was incredible to think that this slow "Boom! Boom!" was only an echo of her pounding clothes. She always felt that something of great moment was happening on the other bank, high up in the hills, in the depth of the woods. It was as if the ancient gods were at war.
Two geese floated nearby in the stream. Their apricot-yellow legs trailed behind them like ribbons in the pale
green water.
"Ma! Grandmother has come!" Beckon came running, shouting from afar.
She was planning to visit her mother tomorrow but apparently her mother had already heard of her return and could not wait to see her. On the rowboat she had met two men from her native village. They must have told her mother.
She wrung her clothes dry and hurried home with Beckon.
Gold Root was sitting with her mother, keeping her company. Moon Scent had never been a favorite with her mother. But not having seen each other for some years, they both felt a little sad when they met. Her mother had aged. They talked about the births, deaths, and marriages in the family and among relatives. Her mother spoke of a cousin who died of "the sickness of vomiting blood." It turned out that he had become ill from being strung up by the heels and beaten with a stick by the village cadres. She got well started on the story before she checked herself. Then she sighed and merely said, "Your Comrade Wong is good."
After a while Gold Root went out into the courtyard and stood at the gate smoking his long pipe, to leave them alone together, as it was always assumed that a mother and daughter would have very private things to say to each other. He was sure her mother would want to borrow money from her. They were inside for a long time.
When her mother left they walked her to the mouth of the village. In this hilly country the temperature dropped sharply the moment the sun went down. A cold wind breathed forth from the gray-green bamboo forest. Husband and wife stood holding Beckon by the hand, watching the old woman disappear down the road. Gold Root guessed that Moon Scent must have lent her mother all her money and she was not happy about it.