Fate
Category: Novels Added Time: December 7, 2010, 8:09:06 PM Source: Admin Clicks: 278
I don't know why my life has been so unfortunate. Heaven didn't let me be born in the 1980s but rather in the 1970s; since I was born in the 1970s, why wasn't I born in Western Europe or North America in the 1970s, but instead in China in the 1970s; being born in China, I was also born in Henan; being born in Henan, it would have been fine to be born in the city, but I was born in the countryside; in the countryside, it would have been better to be a boy, but I am a girl; not only was my fate fixed 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. But God did not make me strong, instead giving me a willowy figure, which looks good but is no help when it comes to work. If I had been born in the city, this might have been an advantage, saving me the trouble of dieting. But being born in the countryside, it's a bit out of place. I remember once going on a blind date, and while I didn't like that family, they didn't like me either. The reason was: with such a frail body, how could I carry bundles of corn stalks or dig up sweet potatoes in the fields? Speaking of it, I was truly unlucky, not knowing what bad deeds I did in a previous life to be reborn in such an environment. For this, I was very distressed, especially when I saw those dirty and tiring farm jobs that only oxen and men can handle. I was terrified. So, I made up my mind early on, thinking that I must change my identity somehow and not stay home wielding a hoe. If I were to repair the earth for a lifetime, my life would lose its meaning. I really couldn't imagine, years later, becoming a farmer's wife, disheveled and unkempt, holding a cow in one hand and a snotty child in the other, shouting loudly at the cow while scolding the crying child who has no money for pencils. I think if it were like that, I'd rather die.
Not only do I have high expectations for myself, but my father, this former member of the "four categories" who barely finished primary school (high-grade elementary school, not high school), a rural intellectual, also had high hopes for me. He instilled in me from a young age that if I didn't attend "frog university" (Tsinghua University) after growing up, then I should attend "brick university." No matter what, as long as I could get into college, I could eat meat every day and have steamed buns for every meal. At the time, Tsinghua University and vocational colleges only meant frogs in the river and bricks on the ground to me, and I didn't understand their true meanings. However, eating meat every day was indeed fatally tempting to me. For this reason, I studied quite hard during my childhood and always ranked among the top few students in elementary school. Unfortunately, I am a girl and cannot escape the common rut of most girls: precious eggs in elementary school, marginalized in middle school, romance like a flower, and everything ruined by high school. I don't know why this happens, but my grades were not as good as before in middle school. This might be a rule, something most people cannot avoid. Just like my later desire to change my rural identity and live in the city, but never succeeding in doing so. Perhaps the road to changing one's destiny has always been as difficult as climbing Mount Emei, akin to reaching heaven. To borrow a phrase from Christianity, if God placed you in this place, it was His arrangement and will, just as Jesus was born in a manger, and just as humans cannot leave Earth due to gravity. If you defy God's will, aren't you opposing Him? Therefore, your heart is tormented, your muscles are strained, your body is starved, and your spirit is exhausted. Whether or not your fate can ultimately be changed remains unknown.
I often think that if heaven allows gifts, in the next life, I will certainly give God a generous gift so that He does not place me in such a place again. A seed sown in barren soil, no matter how good the seed, without good soil, can only grow poorly. Don't expect it to grow into a towering tree, nor hope to transplant it to fertile land. The hardships and torment involved in this process cannot be described in a single sentence. Boys enduring hardship is acceptable, but for a girl, if she resists her fate, she may lose happiness in the pursuit of happiness. Listen to that cliché: behind every successful woman stands a group of men. If you were asked to choose the words you dislike or find most disgusting, I believe I would choose this one because it insults and shows extreme disrespect towards women, and discriminates against successful women. Why does a successful man have only one woman behind him, while a successful woman must stand with a group of men? What does that mean? I believe only a society biased against women would say such things. Also, these words imply that if a woman is not successful, she can only submit to fate, and if she is successful, she must endure others' strange gazes. Regardless of whether you succeed or fail, if you are a woman with aspirations, you must bear 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 become an artist or scientist, people might believe or disbelieve her, but if a rural girl stood in the paddy field, muddy hands planting rice, and said she wanted to become an artist or entrepreneur, probably even you wouldn't believe her.
The concept of male superiority and female inferiority may merely exist ideologically in cities, but in the rural areas of the 1970s and 80s, it was far more complex. Its practical effect was that a girl's life was worth less than a blade of grass. People born in the 1980s may not feel this way now, and urban residents feel it even less, but in the countryside, the situation was vastly different. Even today, abandoned infants are mostly girls. I wonder if you've noticed that all characters with negative meanings are related to the "female" radical, like adulteress, concubine, witch, slave, and disdain, none of which have a "male" radical. In rural areas where historical prejudice runs deep, how devalued were girls' lives? Let me explain using my cousin and neighbor Aunt Yan as examples.
My cousin was the third child, and since there were already two girls, when she was born, her parents, who desperately wanted a boy, were deeply disappointed. Since she cried and fussed a lot (though all babies do), my uncle, her father, became extremely annoyed and wanted to abandon her. My aunt, her mother, didn't want to, but couldn't resist my uncle. Eventually, she was taken outside and abandoned. Afterward, my aunt cried at home, and when her mother-in-law came over and learned about the abandonment, she went to retrieve the baby. My aunt said it had been hours, and with the cold weather outside, the baby likely wouldn't survive. Her mother-in-law insisted on checking anyway. When they found the baby in a roadside ditch, she was already too cold to cry, her eyes half-opened. The grandmother took her back, fed her some rice water, and saved her life. During her wedding a few years ago, when the host asked her to thank her parents, she only bowed to my aunt, refusing to bow to her father. Even now, she doesn't care much for her father.
Another example is my neighbor Aunt Yan, who was also the third child. She was born prematurely at seven months when her mother fell on the way back to her parents' house. If she had been a boy, they would have tried desperately to save her, but since she was a girl, they lost hope and wrapped her in rags, placing her in a corner to wait until she died before disposing of her. Surprisingly, after a day and night, when they checked, she was still alive. Thinking the baby had a strong fate, they decided to try feeding her some rice water, and she survived. Recently, Aunt Yan gave birth to a girl. On the day of the full moon celebration, while holding her baby outside in the sun, she said, "Even if I have to beg in the future, I won't let my daughter suffer. I will never be as heartless as my parents were." Her mother, sitting nearby, heard this and showed no reaction.
Compared to them, I was incredibly fortunate to be the eldest and favored by my father, avoiding such a fate. However, fate didn't favor me much. As a rural girl, avoiding physical labor was impossible, especially for someone like me, with no older siblings, weak and thin, looking like a willow branch.
Although my father always treated me as his treasured pearl and had high hopes for me, my academic performance was unsatisfactory. During the college entrance exam, the school, pursuing a high admission rate, only allowed a small number of students to participate, and I didn't even get the chance to take the exam, so I couldn't even fail. After returning home, I felt heavy-hearted and confused, unsure of what to do next.
Let's rewind to when I first left school, to see how my destiny unfolded as someone who refused to submit to fate. As a person insignificant as an ant or a blade of grass, how did I refuse to drift with the current in the midst of China's dramatic social changes, yet eventually sink? My story lacks the legendary quality of famous biographies, but it is true, representing and reflecting the voices of countless blades of grass and rural girls. At the time, I didn't realize that Chinese society was undergoing tremendous changes, nor did I realize that the path I chose would be the same as that taken by many rural girls who failed the exams years later. Of course, there were exceptions, and the following diary entry records my mental journey immediately after leaving school.
May 2, 1989
Last night, I didn't sleep at all. Since returning from school, I've been worrying about my future. This morning, just as I closed my eyes, my mother called me to get up. I was so sleepy I couldn't lift my head, but I got up anyway. With no school to attend, there was no excuse to stay in bed lazily.
On the way to the fields, my mother actually asked me to herd the sheep along the way. It was embarrassing enough as it was. As a girl, herding a flock of sheep made me look like the village's female shepherd. How could I ever face my classmates again? Didn't she consider that failing school doesn't mean I'm worthless and reduced to herding sheep? Mother, you're truly considerate! After being scolded a couple of times, I arrived in the field alone. Hmph, not only scolding but even beating wouldn't make me herd sheep.
Strictly speaking, today was my first day doing farm work. If I were still in school, my father wouldn't expect me to work. Thinking about my father's hope that I attend university, and realizing that not only did I not go to university, but I couldn't even take the college entrance exam due to the school's pursuit of a high admission rate, I felt ashamed.
Now, seeing the countless gray inch-long wheat bugs wriggling on the ground between the wheat ridges makes me scared and nauseous. But when I think about my father's sweat-soaked shirt, tightly sticking to his back, I can't bear to sit idly by.
We don't even have a fan at home. While writing this diary and sweating, the red marks on my arms from the wheat awns sting painfully when soaked in sweat. Alas, life at home is truly unbearable.
May 3, 1992
Yesterday morning, I worked in the field for half a day, and by afternoon, I was struggling. As twilight approached, every part of my body hurt—aching legs, sore arms, and a stiff back like a wooden plank. The blisters on my hands from the hoe had burst and bled, and each time I dug another hole, the pain from the hoe handle made me grit my teeth, but I had to persevere.
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 write in my diary yesterday.
This morning, my mother woke me up early to cut wheat in the west field. Half-asleep, I opened my eyes and thought it was more painful than being hanged.
While working in the field, Aunt Juan from the neighboring plot, hearing that I had stopped schooling, surprisingly said that with my good looks, I could still lead a good life even without education. I replied that good looks were useless; no matter how beautiful, failing the exam means bending over and working the land. We peasants can only earn our living from the soil. Farming isn't ideal, but there are plenty of farmers. Once I return, she'll find me a good husband, and I can still lead a good life. Hearing this, I quickly refused, but my mother was unhappy, saying that since I wasn't studying anymore, I should find a husband sooner rather than later. Otherwise, the good families would be taken by others. Listening to her, it seemed like I was surplus stock that needed quick disposal. Truly ignorant and absurd! How old am I? Even starting a business or career would be premature, let alone marriage. According to her, if I don't marry, I have no other options. Perhaps by next year, I'll have a child.
May 4, 1992
Yesterday, I thought pulling corn was the hardest job in the world. Today, cutting wheat taught me what real labor is. Now I truly understand why everyone says labor is glorious, and why people say “face the yellow earth, back to the sky.” Before, I just repeated these phrases, but now I deeply experience the essence and feelings of labor, which are deeply embedded in my bones. There’s no harder labor than farming. It not only tortures the body but also the spirit and perseverance.
Under the blazing sun, one bends over and works with a completely exposed back to the sun, burning and roasting under its heat. Not only does the posture reflect submission, but the spirit becomes humble and servile as well, wishing to shrink into the body to escape the heat. One wishes to find a crack in the earth to hide in. At such moments, thinking of those who don’t have to toil this way brings a sense of respect. Especially thinking of my classmates in school makes it hard to express the emotions inside. Yesterday afternoon, while cutting wheat, I saw Li Xiaofeng from the same village riding a bike to the city. Suddenly, I envied him—not because of anything else, but because his father was the director of the county commercial bureau, and it was rumored that his family would soon move to the county town. Because he had a good father, despite both of us being the same age and unable to continue schooling, he didn’t have to endure this kind of suffering. Although he graduated from junior high school, although I somewhat looked down on people who rely on their fathers for meals, at this moment, as long as I didn’t have to labor under the sun, as long as I didn’t have to bake in the earth facing the soil, I would be content. Previously, while in school, I didn’t feel happy about the days free from labor, but now I realize those were truly happy times.
May 10, 1992
These past few days, every time I reached the edge of the field and saw the endless golden wheat shimmering under the sun, I felt fear and dread. I thought the lyricist who wrote "golden waves of wheat" was absurd, and I realized that talk of harvest joy and the glory of labor were all lies. This season of harvest is one that stretches people to their limits, a season that can kill. Everyone works tirelessly like machines, running around nonstop, exhausted like blocks of wood without any feeling, numb minds devoid of any joy. I believe the person who wrote this song never experienced the terror of these waves of wheat, never harvested wheat at dawn or dusk; otherwise, they would never sing about the golden waves of wheat. These days, while cutting wheat in large plots of land, I kept thinking of the word "Jingwei filling the sea," imagining myself as Jingwei in relation to society, so insignificant and unimportant, so powerless that I couldn’t even control my own home. If I could, I’d never plant this land, never cut this wheat, even if it meant starving.
With all this busyness and exhaustion, my mother still thought about Aunt Juan setting up a match for me. She mentioned that Aunt Juan had already spoken to her, saying the other party was her maternal younger brother, that he specifically chose me for his younger brother because he liked me. Otherwise, given their newly built two-story house and their status as an only son, there would be countless proposals. Ha, as if my value equaled that two-story house. Aunt Juan is ridiculous; I’ve already told her I’m not considering it now, so why bring it up again, causing my mother to constantly remind me to meet the prospective partner right after the wheat harvest. Isn’t this creating unnecessary conflict? Today, I told my mother: even if he had a ten-story building, I wouldn’t go. This angered her so much that she grabbed the rolling pin to hit me. Frightened, I fled the kitchen, just as my father returned and asked what happened. I explained it to him, and he sighed, advising my mother not to force me too much. Unexpectedly, this stirred up a hornet's nest, angering my mother and causing her to shout curses, calling me and my father both ignorant. She said that since I had no hope of continuing my studies, the only path left was marriage. Why not take it? Do I want to ascend to heaven?
May 12, 1992
Last night, watching the wheat threshing machine spinning and roaring, swallowing bundle after bundle of wheat, I was afraid, especially remembering that several days ago, Brother Daguang’s hand was crushed by the machine. I lacked the courage to step forward. Seeing my timid expression