floral-patterned yellow brick floor. For an entire year, until she left again, that sound of her high heels would periodically echo in Kong Mingliang’s head when he was thinking of something else, or even just staring blankly into space.
2. CHENG QING
Cheng Qing, who by this time was almost seventeen, was working as a secretary for the village board. Her responsibilities included wiping down the tables, mopping the floor, notifying people when it was time for meetings, and pouring water for the village chief.
As Zhu Ying walked out of the village board courtyard, Cheng Qing stared at her red leather shoes and resolved that she would also buy a pair and click her heels like Zhu Ying as she walked into and out of the village board building. But just as Zhu Ying was leaving, Cheng Qing noticed that the village chief’s face had turned orange, as though he was dehydrated from having sweated too much. She hurriedly grabbed a thermos of boiled water and went to pour him a glass, but when she entered the room she saw that his face was now as green as a spring bud. His eyes, however, appeared to be shrouded by an acute sense of loss. By this point the village chief had already turned away from the window and was gazing at Cheng Qing’s face, as though looking at a girl he had never seen before.
Cheng Qing went up to pour him a glass of water.
He grabbed her hand and asked in a trembling voice,
“Are you seventeen yet?”
“Not yet.”
Cheng Qing took a step back, pulling her hand from the village chief’s grasp, then dashed out of his office. As she entered the courtyard, she heard him yelling after her, “Do you think you’re as capable as Zhu Ying? … Go look at your brother’s grave—I can arrange it so that not even weeds will grow there!”
Cheng Qing stared blankly in the courtyard, and after Mingliang’s voice faded she left the premises. To the south of the village board building there was a small forest, and from there she took a path that looped around behind the building. As she was heading home she saw a house, recently built by a family surnamed Yang, which was as large and beautiful as a temple. She saw a family surnamed Zhu, who wanted their son to go to become an electrician, and his mother would go to the village chief’s house every day to bribe him with spinach, celery, hens, and eggs—to the point that she ended up giving him virtually everything they owned. WhenCheng Qing saw the Zhu family’s mother, the mother also saw Cheng Qing and smiled. Cheng Qing smiled back, but when she arrived at the graveyard she stopped smiling and remembered what the village chief had said. Her brother, having been one of the first martyrs to die while unloading goods from the trains, was buried in the southwest corner of the village square. It was because of her brother’s death that she had been hired to work as a secretary for the village board. The villagers and the village chief felt they should look after her, given that she was after all the sister of a martyr. Every day when she went to work, she had to pass by this square, and where there had previously been only one grave—that of Zhu Ying’s father, the former village chief—now there were several dozen. She had long since grown accustomed to this scene, so that walking through these graves was like walking through her own house, and she usually couldn’t be troubled to look around. But on this day, as she walked through the graveyard she was startled to notice that apart from several new graves with wreaths and bare soil, all of the older ones—which were really not that old, since the oldest of them was only three years old—had already become overrun with weeds and wildflowers, as though they had been painted in an assortment of different colors. White and red flowers, together with dark, dark yellow chrysanthemums, were blooming happily over the graves, singing and dancing, and even the bees and butterflies were hopping around, shouting
2. CHENG QING
Cheng Qing, who by this time was almost seventeen, was working as a secretary for the village board. Her responsibilities included wiping down the tables, mopping the floor, notifying people when it was time for meetings, and pouring water for the village chief.
As Zhu Ying walked out of the village board courtyard, Cheng Qing stared at her red leather shoes and resolved that she would also buy a pair and click her heels like Zhu Ying as she walked into and out of the village board building. But just as Zhu Ying was leaving, Cheng Qing noticed that the village chief’s face had turned orange, as though he was dehydrated from having sweated too much. She hurriedly grabbed a thermos of boiled water and went to pour him a glass, but when she entered the room she saw that his face was now as green as a spring bud. His eyes, however, appeared to be shrouded by an acute sense of loss. By this point the village chief had already turned away from the window and was gazing at Cheng Qing’s face, as though looking at a girl he had never seen before.
Cheng Qing went up to pour him a glass of water.
He grabbed her hand and asked in a trembling voice,
“Are you seventeen yet?”
“Not yet.”
Cheng Qing took a step back, pulling her hand from the village chief’s grasp, then dashed out of his office. As she entered the courtyard, she heard him yelling after her, “Do you think you’re as capable as Zhu Ying? … Go look at your brother’s grave—I can arrange it so that not even weeds will grow there!”
Cheng Qing stared blankly in the courtyard, and after Mingliang’s voice faded she left the premises. To the south of the village board building there was a small forest, and from there she took a path that looped around behind the building. As she was heading home she saw a house, recently built by a family surnamed Yang, which was as large and beautiful as a temple. She saw a family surnamed Zhu, who wanted their son to go to become an electrician, and his mother would go to the village chief’s house every day to bribe him with spinach, celery, hens, and eggs—to the point that she ended up giving him virtually everything they owned. WhenCheng Qing saw the Zhu family’s mother, the mother also saw Cheng Qing and smiled. Cheng Qing smiled back, but when she arrived at the graveyard she stopped smiling and remembered what the village chief had said. Her brother, having been one of the first martyrs to die while unloading goods from the trains, was buried in the southwest corner of the village square. It was because of her brother’s death that she had been hired to work as a secretary for the village board. The villagers and the village chief felt they should look after her, given that she was after all the sister of a martyr. Every day when she went to work, she had to pass by this square, and where there had previously been only one grave—that of Zhu Ying’s father, the former village chief—now there were several dozen. She had long since grown accustomed to this scene, so that walking through these graves was like walking through her own house, and she usually couldn’t be troubled to look around. But on this day, as she walked through the graveyard she was startled to notice that apart from several new graves with wreaths and bare soil, all of the older ones—which were really not that old, since the oldest of them was only three years old—had already become overrun with weeds and wildflowers, as though they had been painted in an assortment of different colors. White and red flowers, together with dark, dark yellow chrysanthemums, were blooming happily over the graves, singing and dancing, and even the bees and butterflies were hopping around, shouting
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