Fate
Category: Novel Added Time: December 7, 2010, 20:09:06 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 in the 1970s; since I was born in the 1970s, why wasn't I born in Western Europe or North America during that time? Instead, I was born in China in the 1970s; being born in China, I should have been born in Henan Province; being born in Henan, it would have been fine if I were from a city, but I was from a rural area; being from a rural area, it would have been better if I were a boy, yet I am a girl. My fate was not only fixed at the bottom of society but also at the very bottom of the lowest class.
Since I am a rural girl from Henan, China, manual labor is mandatory. However, God did not make me strong but instead gave me a slender figure like a willow tree. It looks good, but when it comes to actual work, I become overwhelmed. 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 makes it somewhat inappropriate. I remember once going for a blind date, and while I didn't fancy the family, they didn't fancy me either. The reason was: "With such a frail physique, how could you possibly carry bundles of corn stalks or dig sweet potatoes in the field?" Thinking about it, I really feel incredibly unlucky. I don't know what bad deeds I did in my previous life to be reborn in such an environment in this one. For this, I am extremely distressed, especially when I see those dirty and tiring farm works that only cattle and men can handle. I am terrified. Therefore, I made up my mind early on, feeling that I must change my identity no matter what. I cannot stay home holding a hoe. If I spend my entire life cultivating the earth, my life would truly lose its meaning. I can't imagine becoming a farmer's wife years later, with messy hair and disheveled clothing, leading an ox with one hand and dragging a snot-nosed child with the other, shouting at the ox while scolding the crying child who lacks money to buy pencils. If that were the case, I'd rather die.
Not only do I set high standards for myself, but my father, a former member of the "four categories" (a term used during the Cultural Revolution), who barely finished primary school (high-grade primary school, not high school) as a rural intellectual, also had high expectations for me. He instilled in me from a young age that unless I went to Frog University (Tsinghua University) or Brick University, I wouldn't achieve much. As long as I could get into university, I would be able to eat meat every day and have steamed buns with white flour every meal. At that time, I only understood Tsinghua and colleges as frogs in the river and bricks on the ground, without fully grasping their meanings. However, eating meat daily was a fatal attraction to me. Because of this promise, I studied very hard in my childhood and always ranked among the top few in primary school. Unfortunately, being a girl, I couldn't escape the common pattern: shining stars in elementary school, fading in middle school, and completely gone by high school. I don't know why this happens, but my grades did decline in middle school. This may be a rule that most people can't avoid, just like my later attempts to change my rural identity and move to the city were ultimately unsuccessful. Perhaps pursuing a change in fate is as difficult as climbing Mount Emei, akin to the Christian saying: "God's arrangement and will placed you here." Just like Jesus being born in a manger or humans being unable to leave Earth due to gravity, defying God's will would mean opposing Him. So, enduring hardship, physical labor, hunger, and deprivation might not even guarantee a change in fate.
I often think that if heaven allows gifts, in the next life, I would definitely give God a generous gift to ensure I'm not reborn in such a place. A seed planted in barren soil, no matter how good the seed is, without good soil, it's already a success if it can grow at all. Don't expect it to grow into a towering tree or hope to transplant it to fertile land. The hardships and torment involved are beyond description in a single sentence. Boys enduring some suffering might be acceptable, but for a girl, resisting her fate could likely lead to losing happiness in the pursuit of it. Consider that cliché: "Behind every successful woman stands a group of men." If you choose the phrase you dislike the most, I believe this would be it. This is an insult and extreme disrespect towards women, as well as discrimination against successful women. Why does a successful man have only one woman behind him, while a successful woman needs a group of men? What does that mean? I believe only a society biased against women would say such things. Moreover, these words imply that if a woman isn't successful, she can only submit to her fate, and if she becomes successful, she still has to face others' strange gazes. No matter whether you succeed or fail, if you're a woman with aspirations, you bear many sorrows 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 in the future, people might believe or doubt it. But if a rural girl stood in the paddy field, covered in mud, planting rice while saying she wants to be an artist or entrepreneur, probably even you wouldn't believe it.
The concept of male superiority and female inferiority might merely exist ideologically in cities, but in the rural areas of the 1970s and 80s, it was far more complicated. In reality, a girl's life was worth less than a blade of grass. People born in the 80s might not feel this deeply now, and urban residents feel it even less. But in the countryside, the situation was vastly different. Even today, abandoned babies are mostly girls. Have you noticed that looking through books, all the characters with negative meanings are related to the "female" radical, like "jian," "pin," "yao," "nu," "xian," etc.? None are related to the "male" radical. To illustrate how undervalued a girl's life was in the historically heavy rural areas, I'll use my cousin and neighbor Aunt Yan as examples.
My cousin was the third child, and because there were already two girls, her parents were disappointed when they saw her at birth. She cried loudly, which annoyed her father—my uncle—to the point where he wanted to abandon her. My aunt didn't want to, but couldn't resist my uncle. Eventually, she was taken out and abandoned. Afterward, my aunt cried at home. Fortunately, my cousin's grandmother came by, asked why my aunt was crying, learned about the abandonment, and decided to retrieve the baby. My aunt said it had been half a day, and with the cold weather outside, the baby might not survive. The grandmother insisted on checking anyway. When they found the baby in a roadside grass pit, she had stopped crying but her eyes were still half-open. The grandmother took her back, fed her some rice water, and saved her life. At her wedding a few years ago, when the host asked her to thank her parents, my cousin bowed only to my aunt and refused to bow to her father. Even now, she doesn't care much for her uncle.
Another example is my neighbor Aunt Yan, who was also the third child. She was born prematurely at seven months when her mother tripped on the way back to her maternal home. If it had been a boy, they would have done everything to save him. But seeing it was a girl, they lost hope, thinking premature babies usually don't survive. They wrapped her in old cloth and left her in the corner until she died, then planned to discard her body. Surprisingly, after waiting a whole day and night, they checked again and found her still breathing. Thinking the child had a strong will to live, they decided to try feeding her. They cooked some rice water and fed her, and she survived. Cabbage Superhero - Episode Seven: Cabbage Farting
Ever since Cabbage gained the ability to emit odorous farts, he dreamed of the day Rose would encounter trouble and come seeking his help. One day, however, he realized how unimpressive he looked with his stinky reputation, even if he became a superhero. He began to feel troubled.
Cabbage's special skill wasn't as convenient as a weasel's farting. Recently, Aunt Yan gave birth to a girl. During the baby's full moon celebration, while Aunt Yan was basking in the sun with her baby, she said, "Even if I have to beg, I won't let my daughter suffer. I will never be as heartless as my parents were." Her mother was sitting nearby but showed no reaction upon hearing this.
Compared to them, I consider myself fortunate as the eldest child, favored by my father, thus avoiding similar misfortunes. However, fate doesn't favor me much. As a rural girl, avoiding manual labor is impossible, especially for someone like me, without elder siblings, and physically weak, looking like a willow branch.
Although my father always treated me like a precious pearl and had high hopes for me, my academic performance was unsatisfactory. During the college entrance exam, the school pursued a high admission rate and allowed only a small number of students to take the exam. I didn't even get the chance to sit for the exam, so there was no talk of failing. After returning home, I felt heavy-hearted and lost, unsure of my future direction.
Let's rewind to the time I first left school. Let's explore the fate of someone who refuses to succumb to destiny. As a person insignificant as an ant or a blade of grass, how did I resist the flow in the midst of China's drastic social changes, only to eventually sink? My story lacks the legendary quality of famous figures' biographies but is true. It represents and reflects the lives of countless blades of grass and voices of thousands of rural girls. At the time, I didn't realize the massive changes happening in Chinese society, nor did I foresee that the path I chose would become the road most rural girls who didn't attend college would follow in the future. Of course, there are exceptions. The following diary entry records my inner journey right 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 woke me 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 surprisingly asked me to drive the sheep along too. I was utterly embarrassed. As a girl, driving a flock of sheep made me look like a shepherdess. How could I face my classmates? Didn't she understand that not attending school didn't mean I was worthless? Reduced to herding sheep, my dear mother, you are too considerate. After being scolded a bit, I arrived at the field alone. Forget the scolding, even if I were beaten, I wouldn't herd sheep.
Strictly speaking, this was my first time doing farm work. If I were still in school, my father wouldn't expect me to work. Thinking about how my father hoped I'd go to university and how I couldn't even participate in the college entrance exam due to the school's focus on admission rates, I felt ashamed.
Now, thinking about the gray half-inch-long wheat bugs wriggling on the ground between the wheat rows, I still feel scared and nauseated. But seeing my father's shirt drenched in sweat, tightly stuck to his back, I couldn't stand 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 when soaked in sweat. Alas, life at home is truly tough.
May 3, 1992
Yesterday morning, I worked in the field for half a day, and by evening, I could hardly bear it. Every part of my body ached—my legs hurt, my arms were sore, and my back was stiff like a board. Blisters on my hands from the hoe handle had burst and bled. Each time I dug with the hoe, it rubbed against the blisters, making me wince in pain. 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 hours before finally falling asleep. Thus, I didn't write yesterday's diary.
This morning, my mother called me early to cut wheat in the west field. Half-asleep, I opened my eyes and thought this was worse than being hanged.
While working in the field, Mrs. Juan from the neighboring plot heard I had dropped out of school and said that with my good looks, I could still live a decent life. I replied that good looks were useless; no matter how pretty I was, not getting an education meant I was still bent over, digging in the dirt. In our village, if you don't dig in the dirt, where else would you dig for food? Farming is hard, but there are still many people farming. Wait till I find you a good husband, and you can still live well, Mrs. Juan said. Hearing about matchmaking, I quickly declined, but my mother was unhappy. She said since I wasn't studying anymore, I should marry early, otherwise, the good families would be snatched by others. Her words made me feel like a leftover product that needed to be sold quickly, which was both ignorant and absurd. I was still young. Even starting a business or career was too early, let alone marriage. According to her thinking, if I didn't marry, I had no future, and I might even have a child within two years.
May 4, 1992
Yesterday, I thought pulling corn was the hardest job in the world. Today, after cutting wheat, I truly understood what labor means and why everyone says labor is glorious. Facing the yellow earth with my back to the sky was something I only said casually before, but now I deeply experience the essence and feelings of it. There is no heavier labor than farm work, a labor that not only tortures the body but also the spirit and perseverance.
Under the blazing sun, bending over and leaning forward, my entire back exposed to the sunlight, I was roasted and scorched. Not only was my posture bent over, but my spirit also became humble and submissive. I wished I could shrink my head into my stomach and my limbs into my body. I desperately wanted to find a crack in the ground to hide in. At such times, thinking about those who don't have to toil in the soil for a living, I couldn't help but look up to them. Especially thinking about my classmates at school, the feelings were indescribable. In the afternoon, while cutting wheat, I saw Li Xiaofeng from the same village riding a bicycle to the city. Suddenly, I envied him, not for any other reason, 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. Due to having a good father, despite both of us not continuing our studies, he didn't have to endure such hardship. Although he graduated from junior high school, deep down, I still looked down on him as someone who relied on his father for sustenance. But 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 endure the heat, I would be content. Previously, in school, I spent many days without laboring and didn't feel happy, but today, I realized those were truly happy times.
May 10, 1992
These past few days, whenever I reached the edge of the field and saw the endless golden sea of wheat shimmering under the sun, I feared and dreaded it. I thought the composer of the song "Wheat Waves Shimmering Golden Light" was ridiculous, finding joy in harvest and glory in labor to be complete nonsense. This season of harvest is the time when people's strength is drained and their skin peeled off, a season that could kill someone. Everyone works tirelessly like machines, rushing around, exhausted like wooden logs without any sensation, numb minds devoid of joy. I believe the person who wrote this song hadn't experienced the terror of these wheat waves, hadn't gotten up at dawn and worked until dusk cutting wheat; otherwise, he wouldn't have turned the shimmering wheat waves into a song. These past few days, while cutting wheat in large plots of land, bending over and cutting one stalk at a time, I kept thinking of the myth of Jingwei trying to fill the sea. I felt like Jingwei facing the vast ocean, so insignificant and powerless. If I could decide, I would never plant this land, and I would never cut this wheat, even if I starved.
Despite all the fatigue, my mother still thought about the matchmaker Aunt Juan mentioned. She said Aunt Juan had already spoken to her, and the suitor was her younger brother from her maternal side. She said they chose me because they valued me, otherwise, with their newly built two-story house and an only son, they would have many suitors. Haha, as if my worth equaled those two floors. Aunt Juan was annoying; I had already told her I wasn't considering this now, so why bring it up again? It caused my mother to constantly think about arranging a meeting after the wheat harvest, creating unnecessary conflicts. I told my mother today: "Even if he had a ten-story building, I wouldn't go." My mother, angry while kneading noodles, grabbed the rolling pin to hit me, scaring me enough to flee the kitchen. Luckily, my father returned at that moment, asking what happened. I explained it to him, and he sighed, advising my mother not to force me too much. Unknowingly, this stirred up a hornet's nest, causing my mother to scream and curse, calling me and my father senseless. She said since I had no hope for schooling, marrying was the only option. Why wouldn't I take it? Was I dreaming of ascending to heaven?
May 12, 1992
Last night, watching the threshing machine roaring and swallowing bundle after bundle of wheat, I was afraid, especially remembering how Village Brother Daguang's hand was crushed by the machine a few days ago. I lacked the courage to step forward. Seeing my hesitant expression, my mother grew anxious and said if she had made me quit school earlier, I wouldn't be so timid and incapable, making me feel terrible.
Enduring the discomfort, I continued working like a screwdriver—dropping the pitchfork to grab the shovel, dropping the shovel to pick up the basket, wishing I could sprout four arms. Despite all this, I couldn't keep up with the rhythm. Just as I was about to faint from exhaustion, the power went out, plunging the previously noisy threshing ground into darkness and silence. Others, whose electricity was still on, made my mother furious. I, however, liked the power outage—it gave me a breather. My father came with a flashlight to check the wiring. My mother, meanwhile, fumbled in the dark to clean up the unfinished wheat seeds and started blaming my father again.
Previously, I didn't feel the cold despite sweating profusely. Now, after this brief pause, my rain-soaked clothes suddenly felt wet and chilly, making me shiver uncontrollably. The night was so dark that we couldn't recognize faces even from close range, and the flashlight, with weak batteries, emitted almost no light, requiring occasional tapping to function. My father checked for a long time but couldn't find the issue, growing increasingly irritated. They started arguing loudly.
Amidst the sound of rain mixed with my parents' yelling, I felt my mood as chaotic as the scattered wheat straw on the ground. Exhausted and cold, I couldn't help but fall asleep leaning against a wheat stack. In my dream, I found myself back in the classroom, listening to the teacher explain and write on the blackboard, producing a soft scratching sound. I listened attentively and took notes. Suddenly, I heard someone calling me. Opening my eyes, I saw the threshing machine, the wheat stacks, my mother, and the softly drizzling rain. Realizing I was still at the threshing ground waiting to thresh, I felt an indescribable bitterness knowing I would never return to the classroom.
May 25