Chapter 2 Part 1

There wasn’t much to say about Yang Shun’s life. For as long as he could remember, he had lived in Pingshan Village. The man who shared a roof with him and whom he had once believed to be his real father was called Yang Laizhong.

Of course, hardly anyone used that name in daily life. Most people probably didn’t even know it. In the village and beyond, everyone called him by his nickname: One-eyed Yang — one of his eyes was blind.

The countryside is a sprawling acquaintance society. It may seem lively on the surface, but only the people living inside it know that while warmth and kindness do exist in every village and hamlet, not everybody gets to enjoy them.

Families with thriving numbers naturally won’t be bullied. Those who stand alone, however, become grist for the gossip mill and the occasional object of casual mockery.

This kind of talk wasn’t necessarily blatantly insulting. Most of the time it was just jokes and laughter, seemingly harmless jesting that didn’t cross any lines. But everyone understood very well that nobody ever made the village chief’s sore spots the butt of a joke.

It was obvious — Yang Laizhong’s position in Pingshan Village was far from good.

Yang Laizhong was the eldest brother, but the least successful among his siblings. Any villager in Pingshan could lecture him with an air of authority. Even when people laughed at him right to his face, he had to plaster on a smile and laugh along.

No one knew why he had bought a son. According to a few especially gossipy aunties in the village, it was because Yang Laizhong’s youngest brother had thrown a one-month celebration for his child in town. When he returned, everyone teased Yang Laizhong about having no son. He hadn’t said a word.

On the fourth morning after that banquet, at the first glimmer of dawn, Yang Laizhong, with a sleeping little boy strapped to his back, walked two full laps around the village. From morning till evening, he proudly announced to everyone he met: “Take a look, this is my son!”

The man was neither particularly good nor particularly bad to the son he had bought.

When the boy fell ill as a child, the man would carry him overnight to the clinic in town to get medicine worth a few or a dozen yuan. But that was it. If the illness dragged on, there was no more treatment. There was no other way — that was simply how things were.

Yang Shun had been a sensible child from a young age, learning to help with chores, washing clothes, tidying the house inside and out, tending the fields. An unbelievably obedient boy.

Before Yang Laizhong died, every once in a while, maybe once or twice, when he came back from work in a good mood he would praise Yang Shun and give him a cheap, nearly melted fruit candy.

Did that count as being good to him? Yang Shun didn’t know either. In any case, Yang Laizhong was dead.

The man had even dragged on for nearly two years before actually dying. Once, when coming back from work, it suddenly started raining. The ground was too slippery and he lost his footing, tumbling down a slope. He broke his spine and became paralyzed. What could be done? He just lay there.

Yang Shun had just entered middle school back then. He had to hurry with homework, rush about the house and fields, and take daily care of Yang Laizhong — turning him over, wiping his body, feeding him, enduring a temper even worse than usual. He was so busy he didn’t even have time to complain about being tired.

The year Yang Laizhong died, Yang Shun was thirteen.

That day held no special omen. In the morning, he’d even felt a small sense of relief because the man was much quieter than usual. When he came back from school in the evening, the man was already gone. Yang Shun looked at the motionless, cold corpse, thought for a few seconds, then turned and went to find the village chief. The village committee handled the rest of the procedures. He didn’t ask further.

On the third day after Yang Laizhong passed away, another household in the village seized the land that originally belonged to the Yang family. Their excuse sounded especially nice — they said the land had always been theirs, and they’d only lent it to them to use.

He couldn’t fight them. Couldn’t out-argue them. There was no way. That family, after all, had a relative who was a minor official in the county.

As for why he stopped going to school after middle school, the reason was simple: because that was just how things were. Not only for Yang Shun, but for the other village children too. No kindergarten, elementary school in the village, middle school in town. After finishing the nine years of compulsory education, they went out to work.

After graduating, Yang Shun had also wanted to go out to work. He just wanted to save up a little more money first, otherwise he wouldn’t feel at ease.

In that more than half a year, he not only grew vegetables and sold them to save money, but also helped others with odd jobs. The farthest place he’d ever been was the county seat, where he worked as a temporary laborer when traveling merchants held trade fairs.

He saved and saved, and he had almost saved enough.

“How much do you have to save?” a staff member from the Family Search Program crew asked curiously.

Yang Shun didn’t directly tell him the exact amount. Instead, he countered with a question of his own. “When you came into the village, did you see two really big fish ponds?”

“Yeah.”

“The owner’s family name is Liu. They have three kids. After the two elder ones graduated, they went to Guangzhou with a friend from the next village to work, I think in a clothing factory? … Another family in the village has a child who went to an electronics factory in Shenzhen. When he came home for New Year’s, he was carrying all sorts of big bags. I couldn’t decide where to go, was hesitating between Guangzhou and Shenzhen. I don’t really know other places.”

Yang Shun picked up a sharp stone and scratched numbers one by one onto a stone slab by the door.

“From the village to town, the shuttle bus is 5 yuan a trip. From town to the county seat, 28 yuan. The county passenger station has coaches to the city, only 35 yuan, but the city has no direct trains to other provinces. So you can’t go to the city; you have to first take a coach to Chongqing — the ticket is 153 yuan…”

“From Chongqing you can go directly to many places. Chongqing to Guangzhou is a twenty-hour train ride. A hard seat ticket is 180.5 yuan. Chongqing to Shenzhen is also nearly twenty hours, ticket 189.5…”

“If I go to Guangzhou, all the travel costs are 366.5. To Shenzhen, 375.5. Hmm… that’s just the fare. Food and lodging on the way are unknowns. And I’m not sure I’d find a job as soon as I arrive. I have to give myself at least a month of buffer. They all say expenses outside are high, a bowl of noodles can cost dozens of yuan. So I need to leave myself more financial leeway…”

“Wang Qiang, who used to be in the same class as me — when he went out to work, his family gave him a thousand. If it wasn’t enough they sent more from home. My situation is different. I have no family to send me money, so I have to prepare a bit more myself…”

“My target is fifteen hundred, ideally two thousand. Right now I’ve saved over one thousand and eighty…”

“Actually, you guys came at just the right time. If you’d come a month or two later, I’d probably already be out working. They say wages during New Year’s are higher than usual, that’s why I planned to wait until then to leave…”

Yang Shun’s tone was flat and matter-of-fact — no joy, no sorrow, no emotion at all. His eyes were so numb they didn’t look like they belonged to a fifteen-year-old youth.

Just how much hardship had this child endured over the years? Everyone present was struck speechless. Director Guan, who was closest to him, had noticeably reddened eyes. He took a deep breath, turned his head, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Good boy, you don’t need to work so hard anymore. Here’s some good news: your birth parents are very rich…” Director Guan, wanting to lighten the mood, deliberately adopted a mysterious tone. “You’ll understand once you get there…”

Several other crew members chimed in eagerly, agreeing yes, yes, congratulating him on finally finding his family, telling him his suffering was over and good times had come.

Yang Shun echoed none of it. He tossed aside the sharp stone he had been clutching, brushed the dust from his hands, got up, and headed toward the earthen stove in the side room.

The Camera Boy filming him immediately followed. The youth’s voice drifted over, carried by the scent of cooking rice.

“Have you eaten yet? I just steamed some egg custard. If you don’t mind, come have a little. There isn’t much else in the house…”

The program crew stayed in Pingshan Village for one day.

Partly because Yang Shun had to deal with family matters — like the dozen or so chubby poultry that were clearly raised with great care, the vegetables in the field that were ready to harvest but hadn’t been yet, and the odd jobs he’d promised to do but could no longer attend.

Also, the crew wanted to use this chance to film some of the village where Yang Shun had lived for over ten years and his past life there. They even conducted random interviews with the people around.

Time passed quickly. The night before they were to leave, Yang Shun didn’t sleep a wink. He closed his eyes, and scene after bizarre and fantastical scene flashed through his mind.

He thought about how the chickens had already been sold. About how the ripe vegetables in the field had all been given away, and those that still needed more time — he had told Granny Zhang about those, so she could pick them when they were ready.

He thought about the work he had previously agreed to. He had specifically told the bosses he couldn’t go anymore. The wages they’d been holding had been retrieved with the program crew’s help. The director had promised that tomorrow, once they reached the city, he could first buy himself a set of new clothes…