Let me teach you Gu Xiaosan
On a certain year and month, I am Gu Xiaosan. I have two hearts, one for resistance and the other for wandering.
My name is Gu Xiaosan, I am 19 years old. I am not the "third party" that people talk about. In my family, I rank third, the youngest. My name was given by my eldest sister. She carried me around outside, and when someone asked my name, she casually replied with "Xiaosan", and it stuck. Who cares since I don't have a mother?
Nineteen years ago, my mother gave birth to me and left with another man. It's said that man sold knives. But no matter what he sold, in my mother's eyes, he was better than my father. Over the years, I've been living with my father who slaughters pigs. The city folk call his profession "butcher". I always thought these two words were somewhat similar to the meaning of a hero. When I was in primary school in the village, the teacher said that heroes are all great, like Mao Zedong and Lei Feng. But the difference is, they're all dead, while my father is still alive.
Father is a rough person, everyone in the village says so. He has little patience and doesn't like to talk much. After my mother left, he became even more silent. I've never seen him slaughter pigs; I get dizzy at the sight of blood. Father goes out to sharpen his knife before dawn every day and comes back home in the evening. The grease on his hands can't be cleaned off by any brand of detergent. He doesn't smoke but loves drinking. If he gets drunk, he would soak himself by the river in front of our house for several hours until the alcohol wears off before going inside. He wasn't like this before. In the past, when he got drunk, he would vent his anger, grab his belt, and beat my sisters. Their bodies were always bruised. Once, my second sister was beaten so badly that she had a long scar on her forehead. Although it wasn't noticeable unless looked closely, her appearance was ruined. After my father sobered up, he knelt down and slapped himself multiple times, vowing not to drink anymore. In the following years, although he didn't stop drinking, his nature changed, and he stopped beating people after drinking. Strangely enough, my father has never hit me when he's drunk. He just stares at me deeply for a long time and mutters something to himself. Every time this happens, I cry, thinking he will beat me too. Perhaps it's because of my accumulated virtues from past lives, he has never hit me. I remember my father once said I look most like my mother among the three siblings. Could this be why my father has never laid a hand on me?
My mother didn't want me, but that doesn't mean my father doesn't want me. However, my father wanting me doesn't mean my grandparents want me either. My grandparents called me "zawaizi" (bastard). My mother's womb wasn't strong, giving birth one after another, three daughters in a row. Actually, by the time my second sister was born, my grandparents started showing disapproval, muttering complaints to my mother every day. My father tried to console her not to mind, but she refused to accept it, insisting on having another child. That's how I came into being. The two elders scolded her every day, so she cried every day. She left without even breastfeeding me. My elder sister said she was driven away after an affair, while my second sister claimed she was sold by my grandparents. I'm not sure which is true, but I told myself not to hate her. Since I've never met her, why should I hate her? All these years, I've never seen her, but I know she's in the neighboring village.
As the saying goes, "A girl changes eighteen times." I am the prettiest in my family. At the age of fourteen, many people came to propose marriage for me. My sisters were jealous. People offered dowries, but no matter how much, my father wouldn't let me marry, saying I was too young. On this point, I thank my father for saving me from unknown pain and torment. If I had married a few years earlier, my child could already eat by itself now. But I also hate my father because if he hadn't insisted on not letting me marry, I wouldn't have met the person who almost ruined my life.
Our family couldn't afford education, so all three of us only studied until junior high graduation. When I was fifteen, my elder sister smoothly married, and now she's pregnant. Next spring, I'll be an aunt. My second sister, who is a year older than me, isn't as lucky. She hasn't found a match yet, and if we wait a few more years, in our village, she'll be called an old maid. For this reason, she's argued with our father many times. She blames him for ruining her appearance, refusing to speak much to him anymore. It's understandable; as people grow up, they change. Despite reading the same amount of books, I am more clever. I recognize more characters than them and learned to sing a few songs. I remember my father once held me in his arms while I sang, and he laughed happily. Over the years, he rarely smiled.
It's retribution, my father killed too many animals, offending the gods and spirits above, now it's my turn to suffer.
Two years ago, on June 12th, I remember clearly, that day was the day my grandmother passed away. Coincidentally, my elder sister married on the 10th. Before that, an old master calculated the dates, saying from the 10th to the 13th were auspicious days suitable for weddings and joyous occasions. Indeed, the calculation was accurate, combining both red and white events. My elder sister's wedding went well, and her husband gave me a red envelope. So obediently, I called him "Brother-in-law" without looking at him much. Back then, I thought I was repulsed by men. On the day my grandmother died, I took all the leftover candies from my sister's wedding feast and gave them to the neighbor's children and a mute from the next door. I can't explain why, but I was exceptionally happy. I didn't go to kneel or cry in front of her coffin. I didn't shed a single tear to honor the elderly woman who passed away suddenly. At that moment, I thought if it were my father who died, I would certainly cry until I lost my composure.
That day, I met the son of a bitch who would later become a man. Back then, he was still a boy. His name is Wang Rihua, his nickname is Tie Gai. I only learned later that when combined, "Ri" and "Hua" form the character "Ye". His real name is Wang Ye, quite a cultured name given by his aunt who is from the city, educated, and full of knowledge. Tie Gai is from the neighboring village where my mother and that man lived. Tie Gai is two years older than me, so when I was 15, he was 17, nearing adulthood and approaching the age of marriage. I first saw him on the night we were holding the funeral banquet for my grandmother. He and a middle-aged man delivered fish to our house. I guessed that man was his father, though I wasn't sure if he was his biological father. Later, he told me that man was indeed his biological father.
Many live fish were in the bucket he carried, making him appear somewhat frail. While his father and my father talked at the door, two fish jumped out, landing right under my grandmother's coffin. He dared not pick them up, standing hesitantly until pushed by his father. Only then did he retrieve the fish and throw them back into the bucket. I was close enough to see his features vaguely, noticing regular features, similar to those heartless men on TV—two eyes and a nose. I faintly heard my father and the middle-aged man apologize, then they placed the fish down and left. Tie Gai noticed me peeking at them as he turned away, lowering his head and scratching it awkwardly.
Two days later, taking advantage of my grandfather burning incense at my grandmother's grave, I hid inside sorting through her belongings, checking for anything valuable. I wanted to sell it for some fabric to make new clothes for my second sister and myself. I wondered why I had such thoughts. Soon, I heard knocking and panicked, retreating into the firewood shed. I dared not breathe loudly as my second sister, freshly woken from her nap, opened the door. From the voices, I knew the visitors weren't familiar, so I stepped out of the shed to check. To my surprise, it was the two men who had come to deliver the fish. Surely, they weren't here again to deliver fish. Listening to their conversation with my sister, I learned that last time, my father said he hadn't the money to pay for the fish, and now they had come to collect the debt. That day, Tie Gai was dressed in good-looking clothes, probably bought in the city, costing a fair bit. Swallowing hard, I shifted my gaze from his clothes to his face, examining him carefully. He was more handsome than any man I'd ever seen. My second sister poured them water and invited them to sit and wait for my father's return. As she handed the water to Tie Gai, I noticed her eyes glimmering as if she wanted to devour him. Swallowing again, I pretended to be unaware and walked past her, sitting at the sewing machine, fiddling with it. Two things occupied my mind: new clothes and that boy. There wasn't much conversation among the four of us in the room, the atmosphere seemed somewhat awkward. I worried if the middle-aged man had any ulterior motives towards us sisters. What would I do if he did? Run or fight to the death? Just as I was lost in thought, the middle-aged man spoke: "Young lady, how old are you? You're so pretty." Without lifting my head, I answered instinctively: "Fifteen."
Only then did I realize my mistake, perhaps overstepping. It wasn't intentional, but could my second sister's face still be considered pretty? Naturally, I assumed he was asking me. Lifting my head, I found everyone staring at me, my sister's face clearly showing humiliation and anger. My face flushed red, wishing there was a hole to crawl into, but alas, there was none. Sensibly, I walked away and waited for my father outside.
Around five in the afternoon, my father returned, paid the fish money, and courteously invited them to stay for dinner. Coincidentally, my second sister had cooked extra portions for them, leaving no room to decline. The weather was hot, so my father bought two bottles of beer from the village store to cool off. He poured each of us a cup. The meal was pleasant, with lively conversations between my father and his counterpart about pig slaughtering and fish farming. Meanwhile, we younger ones felt somewhat awkward. It was then that I heard the boy say his first words. He softly asked: "What's your name? Is this your sister? What's her name?" My second sister responded in a fine voice: "Oh, me? I'm Gu Tingyu, call me Xiao Yu. She's my sister, Xiao San. And you? What's your name? How old are you? Are you still studying? Do you have any siblings?" Finishing, she exaggeratedly smiled at Tie Gai, a gesture that made me feel uneasy. Nevertheless, Tie Gai graciously reciprocated: "I'm Wang Ye, everyone calls me Tie Gai. I'm seventeen, graduating from high school next year. I'm the only child in my family." I initially thought he was a bookish person, always refined and honest. Later interactions revealed otherwise. That meal was enjoyable, time flew by in laughter. They left smiling. His father smiled because he had collected his debt, while Tie Gai, perhaps, because of my second sister.
Tie Gai's father said they lived in the neighboring village and invited my sister and me to visit whenever we had time. My second sister took it seriously. Every Saturday and Sunday, she found various excuses to drag me to the neighboring village to play with Tie Gai. Tie Gai studied in the city and often brought back delicious treats and toys for us. Before the summer vacation, we had already become close friends. He said he had never played so intimately with any girl. Jokingly, I teased him, "The girls in the city must be very beautiful, right? Have you seen anyone you fancy?" He grabbed a book and threw it at my forehead, causing me pain. At that moment, my second sister watched, laughing and telling Tie Gai, "How could you use so much force!" My second sister was always gentle with Tie Gai, unlike with me. At home, she was fierce, claiming anything she deemed hers, forbidding us from competing or seizing it. Otherwise, the consequence was a brawl, and the injured were always my elder sister and me. Eventually, I learned my lesson: whatever belonged to her, I avoided completely. From the day I met Tie Gai, I assumed he belonged to my second sister, so I kept my distance. I also believed that if it weren't for her insistence on dragging me to his house each time, I wouldn't have wanted to see him.
During Tie Gai's sophomore summer break, we spent the entire summer together. His father, seeing my second sister and me idle at home, hired us to watch over his fish pond, feed the fish, and guard the watermelon field. He paid us wages. Indeed, my second sister and I, having graduated for so long, had never left the village, never seen the world beyond. Our father didn't allow us to work hard outside, instead finding us small mending jobs to do at home, earning just enough for household expenses. My father said, "I may not be able to give you a rich life, but I won't let you live a hard one." Because of this statement, I had one less person to resent in my life. We called Tie Gai's father Uncle Wang, a kind-hearted man who always greeted us with a smile. Uncle Wang worked hard, striving to support his family and built a three-story house, leading a decent life. Unlike us, Tie Gai had a mother. Uncle Wang's wife was a good person, always appearing virtuous. Over time, I noticed she favored my second sister, as I often saw her secretly giving her delicious treats.
No wonder, I naturally look odd, ghostly, unappealing. Tie Gai once told me he knew my mother. Her home and his were on opposite ends of the village, quite a distance apart. Upon my request, he secretly took me to my mother's current home. Her house also had a new building, two stories high, well-decorated, indicating she led a comfortable life. We hid behind a sand pile in front of her house, and he pointed out my mother to me. My mother was vastly different from what I imagined. I thought she was thin, short, and perhaps frail. Instead, the woman before me had the appearance of a wealthy matron. Behind her trailed a boy of about eight or nine years old, constantly tugging at her clothes and muttering, "Mom, buy me a slingshot, it's cheap, please..." Seeing enough, I said nothing, just pulled Tie Gai back to his home.
During the day, we watched over the fish pond and fed the fish; at night, we guarded the watermelon field to prevent thieves. One night, a family in our village lost several baskets of melons, causing immense distress—it was money! Tie Gai also came, saying it was cooler in the fields than at home. What logic! The mosquito-infested fields were practically cages for mosquitoes. Still, he voluntarily endured this hardship, lying outside the shack with a pile of dry grass. We lay there, heads sticking out, gazing at the starry sky, reminiscing about childhood memories. A breeze picked up, rustling the tent as if mice were playing inside. For us, guarding the watermelon field had its perks—we could eat as many watermelons as we wanted. Tie Gai was skilled at selecting the best melons. Each day, he tapped on the melons in the field and managed to pick the reddest and sweetest ones. Sometimes, we could eat several in one night.
By midnight, the need arose to relieve ourselves. The dark fields were intimidating. My second sister and I always went together for safety. That night, as usual, I intended to wake my sister to go together, but I couldn't rouse her. Urgently needing to go, I decided to venture alone, emboldened. Just as I stepped out of the tent, Tie Gai called out, "If you trust me, let me accompany you. It's unsafe for a girl alone at night." Not thinking much, I just knew I needed to go urgently, so I proceeded. Walking to a slightly flat area, I instructed him to turn around, "Don't look at me, or I'll gouge out your eyeballs!" Tie Gai chuckled, "What's there to see? It's pitch black anyway." Saying that, he turned around, and I relieved myself. Rising,