Fate
Category: Novel Added Time: December 7, 2010, 8:09:06 PM Source: admin Clicks: 278
I don't know why my life is so unfortunate. Heaven didn't let me be born in the 1980s but instead in the 1970s; since I was born in the 1970s, why wasn't it in Western Europe or North America, but rather in China; being born in China, I was also born in Henan Province; being born in Henan, it would have been fine to be in a city, but I ended up in a rural area; being in a rural area, being a boy would have been better, but I turned out to be a girl. My fate was not only set at the bottom of society, but at the very bottom of the bottom.
Since I am a rural girl from Henan, China, I must do physical labor. However, God did not make me strong, but gave me a willowy figure that looks good but is useless when it comes to actual work. If I had been born in the city, this might have been advantageous, as it would have spared me from dieting and losing weight. But being born in the countryside makes it somewhat inappropriate. Once, when I went for a blind date, I didn't like their family, but they didn't like me either. The reason was: with such a frail physique, how could I possibly carry bundles of corn stalks or dig sweet potatoes in the fields? Thinking about it, I really had bad luck, and I don't know what wrong I did in my previous life to end up in such an environment in this one. For this, I was extremely distressed, especially when I saw those dirty and exhausting farm works that only oxen and men could handle. I was terrified. So, early on, I made a resolution, thinking that I must change my identity somehow, not stay at home wielding a hoe. If I were to repair the earth forever, my life would lose all meaning. I couldn't imagine, years later, being a farmer's wife, disheveled and unkempt, leading a bull with one hand and dragging a snot-nosed child with the other, shouting at the bull while scolding the crying child who has no money to buy a pencil. If that were to happen, I'd rather die.
Not only do I have high expectations for myself, but my father, this fourth-class element of the past, who barely finished primary school (not high school), also had high hopes for me. From a young age, he instilled in me the idea that if I didn't attend Qinghua University (Tsinghua University), then I should go to "Da Zhuan Xue Xiao" (a brick-making school). No matter what, as long as I could get into university, I would eat meat every day and have steamed buns every meal. At that time, I only understood Tsinghua and Da Zhuan as frogs in the river and bricks on the ground, not knowing their true meanings, but the prospect of eating meat daily was indeed fatally attractive to me. For this reason, I studied quite hard during my elementary school years, always ranking among the top students. Unfortunately, I am a girl and cannot escape the common rut of most girls: excellent in elementary school, mediocre in middle school, and completely lost in high school. I don't know why this happens, but my performance in junior high was still unclear, and I didn't even know what dating was. Yet, my grades weren't as good as before. This might just be a rule, something most people can't avoid. Just like my later efforts to change my rural identity and move to the city, which I couldn't accomplish either. Perhaps the pursuit of changing one's destiny is as difficult as climbing Mount Emei, as the saying goes in Christianity: Since God placed you here, it's His arrangement and will, just like Jesus being born in a manger, or humans being unable to escape Earth's gravity. To defy God's will would mean opposing Him. Therefore, enduring hardships, laboring physically, hungering, and impoverishing oneself might not even guarantee a change in fate.
I often think, if heaven allows gifts, in the next life, I would certainly give God a generous gift, asking Him never to place me in such a place again. A seed planted in barren soil, no matter how good the seed, without good soil, can only grow poorly, let alone become a towering tree. Or, transplanting oneself to fertile soil involves immense hardship and torment, which cannot be summarized in a single sentence. Boys enduring some hardship is acceptable, but for a girl, resisting her fate may lead to losing happiness while pursuing it. Listen to that overly clichéd saying, and you might understand the bitterness involved. That saying is: Behind every successful woman stands a group of men. If asked to choose the phrase you dislike the most, I believe I would choose this one because it insults and shows extreme disrespect toward women. It discriminates against successful women. Why does a man's success require only one woman behind him, while a woman's success requires a whole group of men? What does that mean? I believe only a society biased against women would say such things. Moreover, such words imply that if a woman isn't successful, she can only submit to her fate, and if she becomes successful, she must endure others' strange gazes. Whether successful or not, as a woman with aspirations, one bears much bitterness and helplessness, especially women at the bottom of society. Imagine if a high-ranking official's child or a city girl said she wanted to be an artist or scientist; people might believe or doubt it. But if a rural girl, standing in the paddy field with muddy hands planting rice while talking about wanting to be an artist or entrepreneur, you probably wouldn't believe it.
The concept of male superiority and female inferiority might merely be ideological in cities, but in the rural areas of the 1970s and 80s, it was far more serious. Its practical effect was that a girl's life was worth less than a blade of grass. People today, especially urban dwellers, may not fully grasp these realities, but in rural areas, the situation was vastly different. Even today, abandoned infants are mostly girls. Have you noticed that whenever you look through books, all the words with negative connotations have "female" as the radical, like "jian," "pin," "yao," "nu," and "xian." None have "male" as the radical. In the historically conservative rural areas, how undervalued were girls' lives? Let me illustrate with my cousin and neighbor Yan's story.
My cousin was the third child, and because there were already two girls, when she was born, her parents, longing for a boy, were utterly disappointed. She cried loudly, which annoyed her father—my uncle—who wanted to abandon her. My aunt didn't want to, but couldn't resist my uncle, so the baby was eventually thrown away. Afterward, my aunt cried at home, and when her mother-in-law came over and asked why she was crying, upon learning the baby had been abandoned, the grandmother wanted to retrieve her. My aunt said it had been hours outside in the cold, and she might not survive. The grandmother insisted on checking, saying to bring her back if alive, otherwise leave her. When they found the baby in a grass ditch by the roadside, she was already too weak to cry, with her eyes half-open and half-closed. The grandmother brought her back, fed her some rice water, and saved her life. During her wedding last year, when the host asked her to thank her parents, she only bowed to my aunt, refusing to bow to her father. To this day, she doesn't care much for her father.
Then there's my neighbor Yan, who was also the third child. Born prematurely at seven months when her mother fell on her way back from her maternal home, if she had been a boy, they would have tried desperately to save her. However, seeing it was a girl, they gave up, wrapped her in rags, and left her in a corner until she passed. After a day and night, when they checked, she was still breathing. Thinking this child had a strong fate, they decided to try feeding her, cooking some rice water, and surprisingly, she survived. Recently, Yan gave birth to a girl. On the day of her child's full moon celebration, while holding her baby outside in the sun, Yan said, "Even if I have to beg in the future, I won't let my daughter suffer. I'll never be as heartless as my parents were." Her mother was sitting nearby and showed no reaction upon hearing this.
Compared to them, my good fortune lies in being the eldest, favored by my father, so I avoided similar fates. Nevertheless, fate didn't favor me much. As a rural girl, avoiding physical labor was impossible, especially for someone like me, without older siblings, and physically frail, looking like a willow branch.
Although my father always treated me as his treasure and had high hopes for me, my academic performance was unsatisfactory. During the college entrance exam, due to the school's pursuit of admission rates, only a small portion of students were allowed to take the exam, and I didn't even get the chance. Thus, failing the exam was out of the question. Returning home, I felt heavy-hearted and lost, unsure of what to do next.
Let’s rewind to the time I first left school and see how my destiny unfolded as someone who defied fate. As a person insignificant as an ant or a blade of grass, I struggled against the tide in the midst of China's drastic social changes but ultimately sank beneath it. My story lacks the legendary flair of those great figures' biographies but is genuine, representing and reflecting countless blades of grass, echoing the voices of myriad rural girls. At the time, I was unaware of the tremendous societal changes happening in China and didn't realize that the path I chose would later be followed by most rural girls who failed their exams. Among them, some took different paths. The following diary entry records my mental journey shortly after returning home from school.
May 2, 1989
Last night, I didn't sleep at all, worrying about my future after returning from school. This morning, just as I closed my eyes, my mother woke me up. I was so sleepy I couldn't lift my head, but I still got up. Now that I'm not going to school, I have no excuse to laze in bed.
When we went to the field, my mother actually told me to herd the sheep along the way. I was utterly embarrassed, a young girl herding a flock of sheep, becoming the village's female shepherd. How would I face my classmates in the future? Doesn't she consider my feelings? Not being able to study anymore, does that mean I'm worthless enough to end up herding sheep? Mother, you are truly considerate! After being scolded a few times, I came to the field alone. Hmph, not only would I not herd sheep, but I wouldn't even if beaten.
Strictly speaking, today was the first time I did farm work. If I were still in school, my father wouldn't expect me to work. Thinking about how he hoped I would attend university, and now, not only am I not attending university, but I can't even participate in the college entrance exam due to the school's pursuit of higher admission rates—it's truly embarrassing.
Now, when I think about the gray inch-long wheat bugs wriggling on the ridges between the wheat rows, I feel fear and disgust. But when I think about my father's sweat-soaked shirt sticking tightly to his back, I can't bear to stand idly by.
We don't even have a fan at home. While writing this diary and sweating profusely, the red marks on my arms caused by the wheat awns sting painfully when soaked in sweat. Alas, life at home is truly tough.
May 3, 1992
Yesterday morning, I worked in the fields for half a day. By evening, I was almost exhausted. Every part of my body hurt—my legs ached, my arms were sore, and my waist stiff like a board. Blisters on my hands from the hoe handle had burst and bled, and every time I dug a hole, the pain made me wince. But I had to keep going.
Lying in bed last night, I couldn't find a comfortable position for my arms and legs, tossing and turning uncomfortably for half the night before finally falling asleep. Hence, I didn't manage to write yesterday's diary.
This morning, my mother called me early to cut wheat in the west field. I opened my eyes groggily, feeling it was worse than being hanged.
While working in the field, our neighbor Aunt Juan heard that I had dropped out of school and said that since I looked good, I could still have a good life without studying. I replied that looking good was useless; no matter how pretty, if I couldn't pass the exam, I'd still end up bending over and digging in the dirt like everyone else. We peasants can only earn our living from the land. She suggested finding me a good husband. Hearing this, I quickly declined, but my mother was unhappy, saying that since I wasn't studying anymore, I should find a husband soon, otherwise, all the good ones would be taken. It was as if I were outdated merchandise needing quick disposal. Truly ignorant and absurd—I was still so young, and even starting a business or career would be early, let alone marriage. According to her, if I didn't marry, I would have no future, perhaps even bearing a child within two years.
May 4, 1992
Yesterday, I thought plowing corn was the hardest task in the world. Today, cutting wheat made me truly understand what labor meant, why everyone says labor is glorious, and why facing the yellow earth and sky above is not just a phrase but a deep experience. No labor is heavier than farm work—it not only tortures the body but also tests the spirit and endurance.
Under the scorching sun, one bends over and sweats, exposed entirely to the burning heat. Not only does one's posture bend, but the spirit also becomes humble and submissive, wishing to shrink the head into the stomach and the limbs into the body, even hoping to find a crack in the ground to hide in. At such moments, thoughts of those who don’t need to toil like this make one feel somewhat inferior. Especially when thinking of classmates at school, the feelings are indescribable. Yesterday afternoon, while cutting wheat, I saw Li Xiaofeng from the same village riding a bicycle to the city. Suddenly, I envied him—not because of anything special, but because his father was the director of the county commerce bureau, and it was rumored that his family would soon move to the county town. Because of having a good father, despite both of us dropping out of school at the same age, he didn’t have to endure this hardship. Although he graduated from junior high school, and although I secretly looked down on people who rely on their fathers for meals, at that moment, as long as I didn’t have to labor under the sun, as long as I didn’t have to face the earth and bake in the sun, I would be content. Previously, in school, I didn’t feel happy during those days without labor, but today, I realized those were truly the happiest times.
May 10, 1992
These days, as soon as I reached the edge of the field and saw the endless expanse of golden wheat shimmering under the sun, I became afraid, filled with dread. I thought the composer of the line “the wheat waves flash with golden light” was absurd, and all talk of harvest joy and labor glory were complete nonsense. This season of harvest is one of pulling tendons and peeling skins, capable of killing a person. Everyone works tirelessly like machines, running around frantically, exhausted like logs, devoid of any joy. I believe the person who wrote this song must not have experienced the horror of the wheat waves, nor have harvested wheat at dawn and dusk; otherwise, he would never have used "wheat waves flash with golden light" as a song lyric. These days, while cutting wheat one stalk at a time in the vast field, I kept thinking of the myth of Jingwei filling the sea, feeling that I was as insignificant and powerless as Jingwei compared to the ocean, unable to even control my own home. If I could, I’d never plant crops or cut wheat, even if it meant starving.
With all this hard work, my mother still remembered Aunt Juan's matchmaking proposal, saying Aunt Juan had already spoken to her. The match was her maternal younger brother, who supposedly liked me enough to offer me to his only son, otherwise, with their newly built two-story house and status as an only child, many would vie for their attention. Ha, as if my value equaled that two-story house. Aunt Juan kept bringing it up even though I had already told her I wasn't considering it now, causing my mother to insistently plan a meeting right after the wheat harvest. Isn’t this creating unnecessary conflict? I told my mother, "Even if he had ten-story buildings, I wouldn’t go." My mother, busy kneading dough, grabbed the rolling pin to hit me, scaring me into fleeing the kitchen. Fortunately, my father returned, asking what happened. I explained, and my father sighed, trying to persuade my mother not to force me. Unexpectedly, this stirred up a hornet's nest, making my mother scream and curse, calling me and my father senseless. Since schooling was no longer an option, marriage seemed to be the only path, so why not take it? Am I dreaming of ascending to the heavens?
May 12, 1992
Last night, watching the thresher rotate and roar, swallowing bundle after bundle of wheat, I was scared, especially remembering how Big Guang from the village lost his hand to the machine a few days ago. I lacked the courage to step forward. Seeing my hesitant demeanor, my mother grew impatient, saying that if she had made me quit school earlier, I wouldn’t be so cowardly and incapable now. Her words made me feel terrible, too awful to describe.
Despite the discomfort, I continued working like a spinning top, switching tools repeatedly—dropping the pitchfork for a shovel, then grabbing a basket, wishing I had four arms. Still, I couldn’t keep up with the rhythm, nearly fainting from exhaustion when suddenly the power went out. The previously noisy threshing ground immediately plunged into darkness and silence. Others still had electricity, making my mother furious, but I preferred the outage—it gave me a chance to catch my breath. My father came with a flashlight to check the wiring, while my mother, in the dark, cleared the uncleaned wheat seeds, blaming my father again.
Sweating profusely, I hadn’t noticed the cold,