Sichuan girl · Jiangsu wife · Taiwan grandma

Author: Liu Aili
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: I was born with a cross on my back, a cursed soul. The days dragged on, from summer to autumn, then from autumn to winter. Despite her husband urging her to return to her hometown to bring her mother to Chengdu for a reunion, the teacher's wife remained unmoved. Changshun didn’t give up on persuading her and frequently visited the Liu family, with the help of an elderly man who was a believer, guiding and urging her. It wasn’t until she was seven months pregnant that she finally agreed to hire a maid who didn’t require payment and decided to go to Zigong with Changshun. In early 1932, a heavily pregnant woman, after days of arduous travel, returned to Zigong, her hometown, her home. Winter snow was falling in the sky, not heavy but gently drifting down like white flower petals. The ancestral home of the Hu family, a three-hall six-courtyard complex, lay before her. The gate was painted brown, freshly renovated, but the old windows, steps, bricks, and tiles were so familiar! Green bamboo grew lushly by the wall, its leaves still green and lush beneath the thin snow, exuding a charming elegance in the cold wind. Servants gathered around the only daughter of the Hu family who had attended school—the fifth young lady! Shouts came from all directions. The pregnant woman stood in thought as the laughter of the fifth young lady echoed around her. Suddenly, an unfamiliar old man appeared before her, carrying a water pipe, strolling and smoking leisurely. He pulled her back from her thoughts. "This must be Hu Da Niang’s fifth daughter!" the old man asked. Changshun didn’t answer but greeted politely, "Hello, Lord Li!" and helped the fifth young lady into the back courtyard. The Hu family mansion, lost to the eldest son’s gambling debts, had been sold to the son of the water pipe-smoking old man. It was out of sympathy for Hu Da Niang that the Li family left the back courtyard’s (woodshed) and maid’s room for her to live in, and Hu Da Niang relied on doing laundry and housework for the Li family to sustain herself. The mention of the "fifth daughter" snapped the pregnant woman back to reality. Facing the former Hu family mansion, she broke down in sorrowful tears. The humble (woodshed), slightly reinforced with additional planks to cover its dilapidated walls, barely welcomed her return. A sliver of bitterness and helplessness filled her as she reunited with her mother, while shame and humiliation overwhelmed her as she saw her mother reduced to such a state. Seeing her home now belong to others, her heart ached with a deep sense of loss and sorrow. After the shock, the pregnant woman began to tremble uncontrollably. A wave of resentment, like a thick black mist, surged over her. Her anger swelled, filling her nerves as if a thousand horses charged into every cell of her body, straining every nerve, flooding her mind. Suddenly, the world spun, and she fainted! Changshun and Hu Da Niang rushed her inside, lying her on the bed. Lord Li also hurried into the inner room, asking the women to bring hot tea and some ointment. After a series of agonizing contractions, the unconscious pregnant woman began to bleed from below. Everyone scrambled to help, and Changshun rushed out to find a midwife. After hours of toil, on the second day of the Lantern Festival afternoon, the pregnant woman gave birth to a preterm female infant—the second daughter of the Liu family—in the (woodshed) of her hometown in Zigong. The mother, still unconscious, had a high fever that wouldn’t break. The premature infant was frail and difficult to care for. The elderly mother, upon returning to pick up her daughter, felt even more guilty. She not only cared for her severely ill daughter day and night but also had to protect her young granddaughter, a preterm baby who couldn’t cry or call out, like a tiny kitten. That unlucky premature infant was me. From the moment I was born, I carried a heavy cross. Mysteriously entangled in the conflicts of the previous two generations of relatives, I became a shield for my mother’s arrows. She would intentionally or unintentionally shoot one, piercing me, burning me, wounding my heart, forcing me to run away, leave, and wander far from home! My unhappy childhood was deeply hurt by my mother. The tragedy of our Liu family was caused by my willful and stubborn mother. Although my grandmother asked me to swear never to mention the past in front of my mother, it could never fade from my mind or heart. Sixty years have passed since my grandmother passed away, and my longing for her has never ceased. Every year, I pay homage to her from afar, burning a large red envelope as a token of my gratitude. Without my grandmother’s care, I wouldn’t have survived. Without her compassion and guidance, I wouldn’t have survived after running away. Without her encouragement, I wouldn’t have left, nor would I have what I have today. The mother, suffering from postpartum illness, saw her beautiful home now belong to others, and her heart ached immensely. She believed her eldest brother, who had gambled away the family fortune and become a bandit, was destroying himself through his own actions. But she couldn’t forgive her own mother for allowing her brother to sell the entire home, leaving her with no place to return to. Yet, she overlooked that under the old societal system, women were taught to endure the foolish notion of "obeying father at home, obeying husband after marriage, and obeying son after husband’s death." They had long been raised to be gentle, kind, and resigned. P25-26