Daffodil

Author: Feng Deying
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2001-01-01
Features: Excerpt: In the second lunar month, the wilderness began to shed its yellow cloak, and various plants woke up from hibernation, desperately pushing through the thawed ground, spitting out green buds. The most sensitive to the arrival of spring were the willows on both banks of the river embankments. Those rows of branches swaying in the wind, revealing pale green, had become flexible. In the early spring of the Jiaodong Peninsula surrounded by three seas, although still suffering from the cold brought by the sea breeze and cold dew falling at night, the newly reborn plants were not afraid of them. Instead, they used the sea breeze as motivation and the cold dew as nutrient like milk, accelerating their growth. Thus, the spring fields were filled with the musty smell of rotten grass and fallen leaves soaked in snow, mixed with the fragrance of wheat seedlings, trees, and wild grasses.
On the eve of the Qingming Festival in 1947, a man walked from the northern bank of the Huanglhe River. He walked hastily but set his steps extremely lightly, constantly glancing left and right. When he reached the river, he took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants, and gently waded through the knee-deep water to the south bank.
This man walked onto the embankment, left the main road, and slipped into the woods. Leaning against a tree trunk, he panted heavily, drawing out a towel from his belt that smelled of sweat, and struggled to wipe the hot sweat from his face and neck. Then, he widened his eyes and looked south. The Huanglhe River, originating from the western foot of Kunshan Mountain, flows south into Rushan County, makes a big bend, and heads eastward to the sea at Languankou. The banks of the river are flatlands, though even the widest plains are only a few miles long, they are blocked by rolling mountains and ridges, making this mountainous area a rare land of grain and rice. Perhaps for this reason, the villages here are particularly dense and large, like two strings of pearls, densely scattered along the north and south riverbanks.
At this time, the southern bank of the river was dimly lit. The undulating peaks stood faintly against the starry night sky. In front of the mountain base, a series of villages were completely shrouded in gray mist, their outlines indistinct. When the three stars tilted to the western side of the southern mountain peak, midnight had passed, and all was silent, with no sound in the world. The night traveler let out a sigh of relief at the sight. He drew out the pistol tucked in his belt, checked the safety, then descended from the embankment and followed the path through the wheat fields toward the village to the south.
He arrived at the edge of a vegetable garden behind the village and suddenly heard a barking sound from the southern end of the village. He quickly crouched down, pressing his body close to the fence. After the barking stopped, he stood up and glanced at the tall house in front of him; the lime wall behind it glowed with a sinister white light. He carefully stepped over the fence made of twigs and crept through the vegetable garden to the back window of the house. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the window was tightly sealed with mud bricks, just as sturdy as the original wall. It was clearly built to guard against the north wind in winter and had not been removed yet with the arrival of spring.
The man felt frustrated and muttered, "Damn lazy," before leaving the vegetable garden and cautiously creeping into the alley. He glanced left and right for a while, then pressed against a tiled gatehouse and tried to push the door. Suddenly, as if stung by a scorpion, he jerked his hand back and took a step back, nearly falling off the steps. After a moment, he went forward again and touched the wooden plaque hanging on the doorframe, smiling to himself, "Glory plaque, heh! Honored family member of the army." He pushed the door, but it remained motionless. He knocked lightly a few times, but there was no response inside. Then, he pressed his lips to the door and called in a low voice:
"Zuo, zhuozi!"
Suddenly, the donkey in the courtyard bellowed, "Aha—aha—" The night traveler turned around quickly and stared at the dark alley. Then, the sound of the inner door opening came, followed by a series of footsteps and the voice of a young woman, half-asleep:
"You old thing, always wanting to eat! They’re sleeping soundly, and you’re disturbing them. What, give you?"
"Zhuozi, zhuozi!" The man hurriedly called.
"Who is it? Knocking at the door at this hour?" The woman replied irritably.
"It’s me, your uncle. Open the door quickly!" The door opened soon after. The night traveler slipped inside and locked the door behind him. The woman stared at him in astonishment and asked:
"Uncle! Why are you here at this hour?"
"Keep it down, let’s talk inside."
The kerosene lamp lit up. Wang Zhuozi looked at her husband’s uncle with suspicion. He was in his forties, with a face covered in stubble and thick veins in his eyes. He was short and fat, appearing clumsy and awkward. Seeing that his black overcoat was soaked with sweat, Wang Zhuozi took off his beige hat and noticed steam rising from his hair. She asked nervously:
"Uncle! Where did you come from? You—"
"Don’t ask so quickly," the uncle interrupted her, throwing his hat onto the table in front of the bed. "Let me catch my breath first! Sigh, I’m exhausted!" He climbed onto the bed and lay down on the flowered quilt that his niece had just slept on.
Wang Zhuozi was slightly displeased that he hadn’t answered her questions twice, but seeing his exhausted state, she sighed with sympathy and said:
"Uncle, you can have some food."
"Mm," he opened his eyes and glanced at his niece. "Okay, I’m really hungry!" But then he added, "Ah, don’t bother. There’s smoke outside!"
"What’s the matter?" Wang Zhuozi asked, noticing the tense look on his face. "It’s no problem. Our house is at the back of the village. At this hour, with the fog, even smoke wouldn’t be visible."
"Good," the uncle relaxed. "Do you have any alcohol?"
"Yes."
"Then cook something, I’ll have a few drinks. No need for a meal, just some dry food will do."
After finishing two bowls of wine, the night traveler’s face gleamed with oil. Only then did he feel slightly at ease and realize how uncomfortable it was to wear his sweat-soaked clothes. He took off a small bundle tied around his waist and handed the overcoat to his niece to dry.
Wang Zhuozi took the coat and hung it on the in front of the bed. Suddenly, she was drawn to the glinting pieces of something on the collar. She lowered her head and exclaimed in shock:
"Hey! Blood—"
Then she stopped, staring at the pistol on her uncle’s belt with fear and said:
"Ah! Something’s happened?"
"Mm, something’s happened," he replied lightly, taking another swig.
"They’re fighting us again?" Wang Zhuozi’s eyes widened.
The uncle, seeing his niece’s panicked expression, chuckled and said:
"Zhuozi, this time it’s not them fighting us—it’s us fighting them!"
Wang Zhuozi was confused and didn’t understand his meaning. She looked at his chest, red from the wine, covered in stubble, and said:
"You’re drunk. Stop drinking and eat."
The uncle put down his cup, his eyes filled with tears, and the veins in his eyes were even more pronounced. He roughly grabbed her wrist and pulled her to sit beside him, laughing heartily:
"Child, don’t worry. Uncle’s not drunk. Not drunk. Hahaha, now I can avenge Wang Huachang’s revenge!"
"Uncle, what’s going on?" Wang Zhuozi asked anxiously.
"It’s like this, child!" Wang Huachang swallowed a mouthful of fried eggs and chewed on a piece of white flour cake, saying with satisfaction, "Last night, a few landlords from Wang Huachang Village who were persecuted were all involved and killed three cadres in the village!"
"Aha! Killed three?"
"Mm, not just that. The instructor’s family had their roots cut—they were all seven of them, dead!" Wang Huachang was still laughing and chewing his food.
"Aiyah, isn’t that terrifying!" Wang Zhuozi trembled and leaned against the wall.
Wang Huachang glanced at her and said:
"What’s there to be afraid of? You should be happy to hear this news."
Wang Zhuozi blushed and argued in a coquettish voice:
"I’m afraid, afraid of seeing dead people. Not that I pity those Communist cadres—hmm, I wish they were all dead!"
"Heh, that’s right! Uncle knows Zhuozi has talent."
"Uncle, did you guys get caught?" Wang Zhuozi asked worriedly.
Wang Huachang looked at the wine and smiled:
"Haha! What a silly question. If they had caught me, how would I be sitting here drinking?"
"What about them? Did they all run away?" Wang Huachang said, stroking his beard and speaking carelessly.
"Two militia members were killed by the militia. The other five escaped by boat to the sea."
"Why didn’t you run?"
"I wanted to go to Qingdao by sea too, but the militia chased me so fiercely that they left first. I hid in the mountains all day, cold and hungry, and only dared to come out after dark. Sigh, those forty-something miles nearly killed me!"
Wang Zhuozi grew tense again, looking at Wang Huachang with fear and said:
"This is terrible. They know we’re relatives and might come looking for us here!"
"It’s fine, don’t worry," Wang Huachang reassured her. "The militia searched the mountains but didn’t find us, so they assumed we all fled by sea. Otherwise, I wouldn’t dare to come to your house."
"Oh, that’s good, that’s good!" Wang Zhuozi clasped her hands to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she asked:
"Uncle, why are you doing this now?"
Wang Huachang raised his head but didn’t answer immediately, squinting his eyes to examine his niece. Wang Zhuozi was wearing a close-fitting blue floral dress with short sleeves, revealing half of her pale, chubby elbows, adorned with a pair of silver bracelets on her wrists. Her hair was messy, with silver hair clips studded with fake gems slipping down the back of her hair, one on each side of her ears, shining in the light. Her delicate, chubby face had bright eyes, with faint eyebrows and sparse eyelashes, making her look bare.
"Zhuozi, how old are you?"
"Twenty-four."
"Ah, I say you’re too childish to ask such silly questions!" Wang Huachang stroked his stubble like a senior, frowning. "Child, it’s not that your uncle doesn’t want a good life or that he likes killing and causing trouble—it’s the Communists forcing us to do it! Since our ancestors, who has ever seen the Communists come up with such harmful ideas? Which ruler in power has ever oppressed the rich? Since the world began, the rich have enjoyed luxury, and the poor have suffered—it’s the will of heaven, the way of nature! But now, the Communists have come, wanting to turn things upside down, make the world upside down, and let the poor thrive!"
"Ai!" Wang Huachang’s words resonated with Wang Zhuozi, who sighed in agreement. "But they’re not fighting us now, so let’s just live in peace for a few days and avoid setting the fire to ourselves."
"What! Now? When?" Wang Huachang grew angry, his veins in his eyes bulging as if ready to fight, but realizing he was speaking to his niece, he took a breath and said resentfully, "Zhuozi, do you really not understand? Under the sky of the Communists, we’re like a piece of meat hanging on the wall—when they want to cut us, they will, and when they’ve eaten us, they’ll be done. The world is theirs! Zhuozi, think about it—since the Communists and the Eighth Route Army came, have we had a single day of peace? When fighting the Japanese, they implemented rent reduction and interest reduction, fair burdens; the Japanese just surrendered, and then came land reform, reviewing the land and mountains our ancestors had settled, and they took it all away! You say they’re not fighting us now, but will there be anything good for us in the future? Child, the Communists and the poor are fire, and the rich are water—when fire and water meet, either the water dries up or the fire goes out, water and fire cannot coexist!"
Wang Zhuozi listened to Wang Huachang’s lecture, her face tightening, looking at him with admiration and saying enthusiastically:
"Right, Uncle! You’re right!"
Then she sighed:
"Ai, I hope the Central Army comes soon. I hear from the newspapers that the Liberation Army is winning every battle—this is driving me crazy!"
"You shouldn’t listen to that," Wang Huachang said confidently. "The Communist newspapers are just blowing their own horns."
"I don’t fully believe them either, but the Communists are really powerful!" Wang Zhuozi lamented in anger. "They’ve ruined our families. My brother hasn’t been heard from for over three years—he’s either dead or alive, I don’t know. My mother came crying yesterday. She said she trusted what my older uncle, Dongshan, said—that the instructor, Cao Zhende, was trustworthy, and if my brother came back, the government would be lenient and it wouldn’t be a death sentence. My mother got moved and wanted to find my brother, but she doesn’t know where he is. And there’s Chengzu too—he joined the army and hasn’t been heard from since."
"Hahaha!" Wang Huachang laughed happily, looking at his stunned niece and said:
"You don’t need to worry about Chengzu anymore—he’s already part of the Nationalist army!"
"Aha!" Wang Zhuozi exclaimed in shock.
"How do you know?"