Volume One, Chapter One: May I Take a Look at That Little Girl First?

In the bitter winter of nineteen sixty, in Willow Mountain Village, nearly the entire village had gathered beneath an ancient tree that had long since lost all its leaves and now stood with only its trunk remaining.

Everyone had their hands tucked deep into their sleeves. The knife-like northern wind could not hide the sallow pallor on their faces. Some were already so cold that their noses were running, and one of them spoke toward the man seated on a stone beside the tree trunk.

“Village head, in this freezing weather, what on earth is so urgent that you had us all come to a meeting? Everyone’s here now, isn’t there? If there’s something to say, can’t you say it quickly? We’re cold—freezing cold!”

The village head of Willow Mountain Village, who showed no sign of getting up, shook the long pipe in his hand and glared at the speaker. “What’s the rush? At every meeting it’s always you making the most trouble! If I called you here, of course there’s business!”

“If there’s business, then say it quick. This weather’s frozen the snot right out of my nose!”

His words won instant agreement from the crowd. Some even pinched the numb tips of their own noses in sympathy.

The village head cleared his throat and quickly pressed down the restless murmuring. “I called you here today for one matter!”

“These past few days, you’ve all heard about the children being taken in by the villages, haven’t you?”

The crowd fell silent, but the meaning in everyone’s eyes was plain enough.

How could they not have heard? In these years of famine, whole stretches of land had been left with people starving to death. Some children had lost their parents and were sent either to the county relief station or to the orphanage. But there were so many dead that children were being sent in by the wagonload. Word was that there was no more room for them, so quotas were assigned to each village. No matter what, every village had to take in one.

One child did not sound like much.

But who in any household had extra grain now to feed someone else, let alone a nursing infant? In times like these, merely surviving without starving to death was already a blessing beyond measure.

“In these hard times, I know everyone is suffering. But every village has been given a quota. The other villages have already sent their children. If our village refuses to take one now, it truly won’t be right. So today, let’s discuss which household should adopt this child!”

The crowd was silent again. Still, someone with a taste for gossip finally asked, “Village head, is the child a boy or a girl?”

“A girl. Three months old.”

“Oh my! That’s just the age for nursing!”

“Exactly. People can barely find enough to eat these days—where would anyone get milk for a baby?”

...

“Why is no one speaking? You must understand that this is a task assigned by the county. Today, we must choose someone. Otherwise, none of you will get the county grain allotment!”

Perhaps no one could take in the rest, but these words hit like a hammer, crashing hard into everyone’s heads.

Everyone was living on the small ration the county provided. Without it, there would be no question of survival.

Someone grew anxious and blurted out, “Village head, why don’t you take her home? Is there anyone in the village more suitable than you? Your family has eight mouths to feed—surely you can raise this girl!”

The village head’s face stiffened, and he did not spare the speaker a pleasant look. “I’m the village head. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to take the child home.”

“What’s inappropriate about it? Village head, your family has the most people in the village. Besides your house, who else could spare the grain for another person?”

“Exactly! Village head, why don’t you just take her?”

“Yes, yes. You’re the head of the village, after all. You ought to set an example, shouldn’t you?”

The village head had never imagined that this burden would be shoved onto his own head.

Perhaps seeking an escape, perhaps needing a way down from the ledge, he scanned every face in the crowd and finally let his gaze settle on one figure. First he nodded quickly, then cleared his throat with emphasis. “All right, all right, stop arguing. How about this—Liu Qiaohui, don’t you already have an infant at home? She doesn’t need ration grain anyway. Feeding one is feeding, feeding two is feeding. Why not show some spirit and take this child in?”

The woman he named, Liu Qiaohui, was a widow. Her husband had died in the famine of nineteen fifty-six, when Liu Qiaohui was already carrying a child.

She had struggled and at last given birth to that son.

Alone, with no one to help her, she had to run back and forth across the fields all day long.

The grain from her little patch of land had all been turned over as tribute grain. What food could she have left? Without food, she had no milk.

That child of hers had been raised entirely on mouthful after mouthful of rice gruel she fed him.

Even now, she could only struggle to maintain the bare state of not starving.

But not starving was, in the end, only not starving.

If she were to add another child?

She could already imagine the difficulty.

No—more than difficulty. It was a question of whether they could live at all.

No one had expected the village head to set his sights on Liu Qiaohui.

Beside her, Li Gai’e, wife of Xu Gǒuzi, nudged her husband and lowered her voice. “That village head is just despicable. Who in the village doesn’t know Liu Qiaohui has it the hardest? How could he say that? On ordinary days he’s the one who trips her up the most. Now look at him—he’s just thrown a live grenade straight onto her head.”

Xu Gǒuzi coughed hard. Only after making sure no one nearby could hear did he lower his voice as well. “You don’t understand. That’s called using public office to settle a private grudge. You know how Liu the widow’s husband died? He fell off a cliff and died while transporting grain for the village head’s family. Because of that, the county criticized the village head. I heard they even fined his family ten bushels of grain!”

“Oh my, ten bushels? That’s no small amount!”

“Of course it isn’t. Otherwise, why would the village head be going after Liu the widow like this?”

“But someone still died!”

“Exactly. All right, all right, stop talking. Let’s see what Liu the widow says!”

Liu the widow felt as though a mountain had been pressed down onto her head. She feared starving to death, and she feared her child starving to death as well. But back then... on the night before her husband died, he had said that if only there were a little girl in the family, that would be wonderful. Girls were affectionate and sweet; if he went through this life without a daughter, he would regret it forever.

Her husband was dead.

For her to bear another little girl now was absolutely impossible.

But... if she adopted this girl, would that count as... as fulfilling one of her husband’s wishes?

Her fingers twisted and circled restlessly in her lap. The crowd had been buzzing for quite some time, and only after she felt the village head’s frightening gaze shoot toward her once more did she gather enough courage to say, “I... could I first see that little girl?”