Male graduate student dormitory

Author: Cao Song
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-05-01
Features:
1 Field. Dawn. A tall girl struggles to carry a heavy load of seedlings on her shoulders, entering the frame. Her pale feet stumble on the field path, and with a cry of "Ouch," she slips into the paddy, falling directly into the water. The girl doesn't stand up but sits down instead. She instinctively lifts her slender hand to pick out the mud from under her fingernails. Her name is Wang Damei, 23 years old, with a shoulder-length lock of hair hanging over her face. She is beautiful, pure, and sorrowful, her gaze fixed, eyes brimming with tears. "Oh—, so early in the morning, what lady is playing in the water? Oh, your fingers are as green as scallions—how can you plant rice like this?" With teasing laughter, a short, plump woman carrying a bundle of seedlings walks over. Wang Damei's face flushes. She slowly turns her head, her lips trembling, revealing a look of helplessness.
2 Night. Dim kerosene lamp light. A pair of rough, brown hands drape a wet towel on the forehead of Wang Damei, who lies in bed with a haggard face. This is Wang Damei's home. Earthy, sordid. Her hunchbacked, farsighted mother (58 years old) speaks earnestly: "Damei, people are laughing so hard their mouths are twisted: this girl staying at home, 'not good enough for culture, not strong enough for war.' I just met your second auntie by the embankment just now—she's still asking if you agree? If you change your mind now, it's not too late. She'll go home and say it right away." Xiao Heidan—Wang Damei's younger brother (13 years old)—sits listlessly on the earthen threshold. Mother: "Ah, Xiao Heidan didn't pass elementary school and didn't get into middle school either." She picks up a loose-lace cloth shoe from under Damei's bed, about to take it off. Mother finds a needle and thread: "How much good can he do when he grows up? At least he's a bricklayer, can handle home chores, and can even stir the pot for others—he's a versatile worker." A woman's singing voice from the next room, "It's You Who Gave Me Love," drifts in. Mother steps to the lamp, squints, threads the needle, and says: "As long as you agree, break off the engagement, and Xiao Heidan can learn a trade from him. The work won't be heavy, and the pay won't be lacking." She tries several times but fails to thread the needle. Wang Damei listens, tears glistening in her eyes. Xiao Heidan suddenly runs to Wang Damei, pushing her arm pleadingly: "Third sister, they're going to Northeast China this time, and they can earn a lot of money in a year. Will you agree? Otherwise, no one will take me with them." Mother, seeing this, her nose fills with tears, her voice cracking: "Your father, who used Chairman Mao's name to be a village head for decades, now works alone—he doesn't take care of anything anymore, just drinks." At a corner of the earthen wall, a gaunt father (64 years old) sweats profusely, holding a tall wine and drinking loudly. Mother: "You have so many brothers and sisters, some are born on time, some are poor. Xiao Heidan relies on me to build him three brick-and-tile houses, to marry properly like others—fear it's just a daydream in broad daylight." She drops the unthreaded needle and thread, crying uncontrollably. Wang Ermei—Wang Damei's younger sister (18 years old)—comes out humming a tune from the next room, walks to the lamp, and examines the photo in her hand. The photo shows: in a field of golden rapeseed flowers, a handsome young man—Wu Junsheng—holds Wang Damei in his arms, spinning