Hutong Town

Author: Gu Hua
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2004-05-01
Features: After the fall of the "Gang of Four," our Party and State entered a new historical period, and our socialist literature and art turned a new page. The speed of development and the intensity of change were so profound that it seemed like a different world. A large number of middle-aged and young writers inherited the realistic tradition pioneered by their older counterparts, confronting the complexities of society and life, and produced many brilliant and inspiring works. The new era put forward new demands for literature. For me, facing these new literary demands, there were issues of re-examining and analyzing life, as well as questions of artistic cultivation and expressive techniques. Therefore, I explored and tried to encompass the people and events I had been familiar with in the southern rural areas into a single work, embedding political turmoil in the tapestry of local customs and folk culture, using the fates of characters to depict the changes in rural life, and striving to capture the life color and mood of the southern countryside. This led to the creation of Furong Town.
Furong Town is situated in a flat valley at the intersection of Hunan, Guangdong, and Guangxi provinces. Historically, it was a strategic pass for merchants and travelers to rest, for heroes to gather, and for armies to contest. A stream and a river flowed around the town, converging outside its borders, forming a long, narrow peninsula surrounded by water on three sides. From the town, one could head south to the customs post in Guangdong or west across a stone arch bridge to a road leading to Guangxi. It is unclear in which dynasty, but the local mountain chief, known for his benevolent rule or perhaps seeking to immortalize himself in county and prefectural histories, ordered the planting of rows of vibrant, shade-providing wood begonias along the green streams and rivers, making them a symbol of the town’s fortune. He also had laborers dig large marshes at the foot of the back mountain into square ponds, planting water begonias, raising fish, harvesting lotus, and growing lotus roots as the “official property” of the mountain chief’s administration. During the blooming season of the lake’s water begonias or when the riverbanks’ wood begonias were in full splendor, this flat basin in the heart of the Five Ranges Mountains became a place of blooming flowers and prosperity, a land of elegance and wealth.
The roots, stems, flowers, and bark of wood begonias are all medicinal. Water begonias bear lotus seeds above and produce lotus roots below. Even their large, emerald-green, drum-shaped leaves that cover the lake surface can serve as perches for dragonflies and platforms for frogs, with dewdrops glistening on them. Harvested, they can be used by travelers to wrap meals, as lids for rice and wheat bundles, to cover merchants’ trade loads, to shield market women’s bamboo baskets, or as sunshades for cowherd children—versatile in their uses. The small river, the small stream, and the small town were thus named “Furong River,” “Juye Creek,” and “Furong Town.”
Furong Town’s streets are not large. A dozen shops and dozens of households tightly surround a cobblestone street. The shops are so densely packed that the aroma of stewed dog meat fills the entire street; if a child falls and loses a tooth or breaks a bowl, the neighbors all know; the private conversations of young women and the flirtatious banter of young couples are often overheard by the neighbors, becoming the town’s secrets, gossip, and entertainment. Occasionally, if a family feud or a marital dispute breaks out in a household, the entire street will stir, with people running back and forth to report and mediate, like a river of startled ducks, restless for hours. On days when the market is not held, the residents on both sides of the street will stretch long bamboo poles from their balconies to the balconies across the way to dry various textiles: clothes, pants, skirts, and bedding. The mountain wind blows, and the streets are filled with a “sea of national flags” fluttering in reds, greens, and all sorts of colors. Added to this are strings of red chili peppers and bundles of golden corn seeds hanging beneath the eaves of each house, and gourds with white and green hues, forming two colorful ribbons flanking the street. People pass below, chickens crow, cats and dogs dart about, creating a unique atmosphere and scene.
Throughout the four seasons and eight festivals, the residents of Furong Town value good relations and have the custom of exchanging food. On the third day of the third lunar month, they make Qingming flower dumplings; on the eighth day of the fourth lunar month, they steam rice cakes with millet; on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, they wrap glutinous rice zongzi and drink realgar and mugwort wine; on the sixth day of the sixth lunar month, if a household’s pear or vegetable gourds ripen early, they are sampled; on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, they taste the new rice; on the eighth day of the eighth lunar month, they make homemade earthen mooncakes; on the ninth day of the ninth lunar month, persimmons are harvested from the trees; in the golden autumn of October, weddings and engagements take place; on the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, they make “Lababu” (Eight-Treasure Beans); and on the twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month, they send the Kitchen God to heaven. Although the ingredients for these foods are largely the same, when clever housewives add various seasonings, the dishes vary from household to household in style and flavor. They delight in having neighbors praise their creations, as if secretly hosting a folk food exhibition and a comparison of color, aroma, and taste. Even on ordinary days, if a household consumes meat with eyes and claws, they always share a few pieces with the neighbor’s child, who happily returns home to show off their prize to their parents. After meals, the mothers must bring the children over to sit for a while, chatting and laughing about trivial matters, but their expressions are full of gratitude.