Read Online China's Son by Da Chen - Free Book Online

of the star. Siang was so drawn into the plot and carried away by the beautiful goddess that he forgot to smoke and almost burned his fingers.
    We got home at nine in the evening, hungry and tired. Mom had cooked a pot of delicious noodles with vegetables and had kept it warm for me. With her approval, I took it to Yi's workshop and shared it with my buddies. First there was surprise that my mom had allowed me to do this; then there was a fight among my hungry friends to scoop up portions into their bowls. We slurped those long noodles silently. When we put down our chopsticks, full and relaxed, a warm feeling of being together like a family swept over us. We celebrated the good time with loud and long burps, laughing until our stomachs hurt.
    Though we sat in a humble mud hut with a flickering kerosene light, it felt as if we had the whole world within our hearts.

EIGHT

    “Open your schoolbag,” Teacher Lan demanded.
    “Why, Teacher? There are only books in it,” I protested, sensing the eyes of Han, Quei, Wang, and the rest of the class searing into my back like the hot summer sun.
    “Someone saw you smoking outside school,” Teacher Lan said. “I think you've got cigarettes in your bag.” I held on to my bag and shot a long, cold stare at Han, who sat with his feet on his desk, smiling acknowledgment. His cronies flanked him, grinning and showing their unbrushed teeth.
    Teacher Lan snatched the bag from my hand. At the bottom lay an unopened pack of Flying Horse. I'd used the half yuan Mom had given me to buy them from Liang, the cigarette merchant, on my way to school. I had planned to share them with my friends over a good story at Yi's workshop.
    “What is this?” Teacher Lan waved the pack in front of the whole class. “I helped you come back to school and make all that progress and now you want to throw awayeverything you have achieved. You are very stupid. You do not realize how people around here think of you. Some of them still want to throw you out of school. You just gave them good reason, and to tell you the truth, I am beginning to see their point.
    “Those hoodlums will drag you down to the bottom again, even lower. Do you realize that? To the bottom.” He threw the cigarettes on the floor, spat on them, and stomped them with his feet until they were totally crushed.
    I had never seen the mellow, awkward Mr. Lan so forceful or so angry before, and I was shocked. He knew everything about my friends and me. I felt torn with pain at having our wonderful friendship trashed in front of my classmates and enemies. My head was becoming numb and my temples throbbed, but this time, instead of the old fear, I felt anger, anger at my enemies, who still picked on me at every opportunity, whose mission in life seemed to be my complete destruction.
    They were ignorant of the beautiful, honest friendship those “hoodlums” offered me and would never be able to fathom the depth of our devotion to each other. Nor could Teacher Lan. He did not know how terrible school had been for me for so many years. I wanted to yell back at him and make him understand, but he had gone back to his podium, opened his book. Class had begun.
    As my fury receded into a trickle of dull pain, I tried to digest what Teacher Lan had tried to tell me. There were people out there who were still trying to get me. Why didn't they leave me alone and let me just be like the rest of the kids? Who were they?

NINE

    In the middle of the semester, a young teacher named Sing organized the yearly elementary school Ping-Pong match for the purpose of qualifying for the commune and eventually the county championship event. He was a decent guy with a head of salt-and-pepper hair.
    I had always admired him for his many talents—calligraphy, basketball, writing, and he could play all kinds of musical instruments.
    Each time he passed me, he greeted me readily. In fact, he was the only teacher who joked with me. One afternoon he came to my class and