Fate

Fate

Column: Novel Added Time: December 7, 2010, 20:09:06 Source: admin Clicks: 278

I don't know why my fate is so bad. 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 of the 1970s, but instead in China of the 1970s; being born in China, it was also in Henan province; being born in Henan, it was also in a rural area rather than a city; being born in a rural area, if I had been a boy, it would have been somewhat better, but I am a girl; my fate was not only fixed at the bottom of society, but at the very bottom of the bottom.

Since I am a girl from the countryside of Henan, China, I must do manual labor, but God did not let me grow strong, but gave me a willowy figure, which looks good when seen, but when it comes to work, I'm at a loss. If I had been born in the city, this would have been good, sparing me from dieting and slimming down. But being born in the countryside makes it somewhat inappropriate. I remember once I went for a match-making meeting, I didn't like that family, but they didn't like me either, the reason being: with such a frail build, how could I possibly carry bundles of corn stalks or dig sweet potatoes in the field? Talking about it, I was truly unlucky, I don't know what bad deeds I did in my previous life to be reincarnated into such an environment in this life. For this, I was extremely distressed, especially when I saw those dirty and tiring jobs that only cattle and men can handle, I was scared to death. So, very early on, I set my mind to change my identity, no matter what, I couldn't stay home wielding a hoe. If I were to cultivate the earth for my entire life, my life would truly lose its meaning. I really cannot imagine, after several years, I would become a farmer's wife, disheveled, improperly dressed, one hand leading an ox, the other holding my snot-nosed child, shouting loudly at the ox while scolding my crying child who is crying because there’s no money to buy pencils. If it were to come to that, I'd rather die.

Not only do I have high demands on myself, but also my father, this fourth-class element from back then, who barely finished primary school (high-grade primary school, not high school), this rural intellectual, also had high expectations for me. From a young age, he instilled in me the idea that if I didn't go to Qinghua University (Tsinghua University) when I grew up, then I should go to Dazhuan School (vocational school). As long as I could get into university, I could eat meat every day and have white steamed buns for every meal. At that time, I understood Tsinghua and vocational schools merely as frogs in the river and bricks on the ground, not knowing their true meanings, but the idea of eating meat every day was indeed fatally tempting to me. For this reason, I studied very hard when I was young, always ranking among the top few in elementary school. Unfortunately, I am a girl and cannot escape the common rut of most girls: a treasure in elementary school, standing aside in middle school, and completely finished by high school. I don’t know why this happens, in middle school, I was still naive, unaware of what dating was, yet my grades were already not as good as before. Perhaps this is a rule, something most people cannot avoid. Just like my later attempts to change my rural identity and live in the city, but I just couldn’t make the change. Maybe the road to changing one's fate has always been as difficult as ascending to heaven, borrowing a phrase from Christianity: God made you be born here, it is His arrangement and will, just like Jesus being born in a manger, just like humans cannot leave Earth due to gravity. If you defy God's will, aren't you opposing God? Therefore, your heart will be troubled, your body will be labored, you will hunger and thirst, and even then, you may not know if your fate can ultimately be changed.

I often think, if heaven allows gifts, in the next life, I will definitely give God a generous gift, asking Him not to let me be born in such a place again. A seed planted in barren soil, no matter how good the seed is, without good soil, it can only manage to survive, never expecting to grow into a towering tree, or expecting to be transplanted to fertile land. The hardships and tortures involved are not something that can be summarized in a single sentence. Boys enduring some hardship might be fine, but for a girl, if she does not accept her fate, she might very well lose happiness while pursuing it. Listen to that overly cliched saying, you might understand a bit of the bitterness within. That saying is: behind every successful woman stands a group of men. If you were to choose the words you dislike most, or find most disgusting, I believe I would choose this sentence. Because this is an insult and extreme disrespect towards women, as well as discrimination 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, these words also indicate that when a woman is unsuccessful, she can only submit to fate, and when she is successful, she must endure others' strange gazes. In short, whether you succeed or not, as long as you are a woman with aspirations, you will bear much bitterness and helplessness, especially women at the bottom of society. Imagine, if a high-ranking official's child or a city girl says she wants to be an artist or scientist in the future, people might believe it or not. But if a rural girl, standing in the paddy field, hands covered in mud, planting rice while talking about wanting to be an artist or entrepreneur in the future, probably even you wouldn't believe it.

The concept of male superiority and female inferiority may just be an ideological thing in cities, but in the rural areas of the 1970s and 80s, it was far from simple. In essence, a girl's life was worth less than a blade of grass. People born after the 1980s may not fully understand these things now, and urban dwellers feel it even less. However, in rural areas, the situation was vastly different. Even today, among abandoned infants, girls still outnumber boys. Have you noticed, if you flip through books, all the words with negative meanings are related to the "female" radical, such as "adulteress," "concubine," "witch," "slave," "resent," etc., none are related to the "male" radical. In historically conservative rural areas, how devalued a girl's life was, I'll illustrate with my cousin and neighbor Aunt Yan.

My cousin was the third child, because there were already two girls above her, when she was born, her parents, who had wanted a boy, felt disappointed. She cried loudly, and children usually cry, but her father, my uncle, got annoyed and wanted to abandon her. My aunt didn't want to, but couldn't resist my uncle, so she was eventually taken out and abandoned. After she was thrown away, my aunt cried at home. Coincidentally, my cousin's grandmother came, asking why my aunt was crying, upon hearing that the child was abandoned, the grandmother went to retrieve her. My aunt said it had been half a day, and with such cold weather outside, she probably wouldn't survive. The grandmother said, "Let's check anyway. If she's alive, we'll bring her back. If not, it can't be helped." The grandmother found the spot, a small ditch by the roadside, where my cousin was lying, unable to cry anymore, her eyes half-closed and half-open. The grandmother picked her up and fed her some rice water, saving her life. During my cousin's wedding last year, when the host asked her to thank her parents, she only bowed to my aunt, not to her father, and she still doesn't care much for her uncle to this day.

Then there's my neighbor Aunt Yan, who was also the third child. When she was born, her mother fell off a bike on the way back to her parents' house and gave birth prematurely at seven months. If it had been a boy, they would have tried desperately to save her, but seeing it was a girl, they lost hope, thinking premature babies wouldn't survive anyway. They wrapped her in old cloth and left her in a corner until she passed away, then they would throw her out. But after waiting a day and night, the next morning they found she was still breathing. Thinking this child had a strong fate, they decided to try feeding her, so they cooked some rice water and fed her. Surprisingly, she survived. Recently, Aunt Yan gave birth to a girl. On the baby's full moon celebration, while holding her baby outside in the sun, Aunt Yan 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 was sitting nearby, hearing this, showed no reaction.

Compared to them, I was the eldest and favored by my father, so I was spared such a fate. However, fate didn't favor me much more. As a rural girl, avoiding physical labor was impossible, especially for someone like me, with no older brothers or sisters, and physically weak and thin, looking like a willow branch.

Although my father always treated me as his favorite, and placed high hopes in me, my academic performance was not satisfactory. During the college entrance exam, the school, in pursuit of higher admission rates, only allowed a few students to take the exam, and I didn't even get the chance to sit for the test, so I couldn't even fail. After returning home, I was burdened with heavy thoughts and confusion, unsure of what to do next.

Let's rewind to the time I first left school, to see how the fate of someone who refuses to submit unfolds, how I, as insignificant as an ant or a blade of grass, struggled against the tide in the midst of China's drastic social changes, only to eventually sink. My story lacks the legendary qualities of great figures' biographies, but it is real, representing and reflecting countless blades of grass, echoing the voices of millions of rural girls. At the time, I was unaware of the significant changes happening in Chinese society, nor did I realize that the path I chose would become the common route for most rural girls who failed their exams in the following years. Of course, there were exceptions, and the following diary entries record my mental journey right after I returned home from school.

May 2, 1989

Last night, I didn't sleep a wink. Since coming back from school, I've been worried 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 still got up. There's no longer any excuse to stay in bed lazily since I'm not going to school anymore.

When heading to the fields, my mother actually told me to herd the sheep along the way. I was so embarrassed! I'm a girl, and herding sheep makes me look like the village's female shepherd. How will I ever face my classmates again? Doesn't she consider that failing school doesn't mean I'm worthless? To fall to the level of herding sheep—my dear mother, you're too considerate! After getting scolded a couple of times, I walked to the fields alone. Hummph! Not only will I not herd sheep, but even if I get beaten, I still won't.

Strictly speaking, today is the first time I've done farm work. If I were still in school, my father would definitely not expect me to work. Thinking about how my father hoped I could attend university, and how I couldn't even participate in the college entrance exam due to the school's pursuit of high admission rates, it's truly embarrassing.

Now, when I think about the gray, inch-long wheat bugs wriggling on the soil between the wheat rows, I'm still afraid and disgusted. But then I think about my father's sweat-soaked shirt, tightly sticking to his back, and I can't bear to stand idly by.

We don't even have a fan at home. Writing this diary in sweat, 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 fields for half a day, and by the afternoon, I was already exhausted. By evening, there wasn't a single comfortable part of my body—my legs hurt, my arms ached, my waist was stiff like a piece of wood. The blisters on my hands from the hoe handle had burst and were bleeding. Every time I dug a hole, the hoe handle rubbed against the wound, causing me to grit my teeth in pain, but I still had to keep going.

Lying in bed last night, I didn't know where to put my arms and legs—whether stretched out or curled up, it was uncomfortable. I tossed and turned for half the night before finally falling asleep. Thus, I didn't bother writing yesterday's diary.

This morning, my mother woke me up early to cut wheat in the west field. I opened my eyes groggily, feeling that this was worse than being hanged.

While working in the field, Mrs. Juan from the neighboring plot heard that I had dropped out of school and surprisingly said that with my good looks, I could still have a good life. I said that good looks were useless; no matter how beautiful I was, failing school meant I was still bending over and digging in the dirt like everyone else. We farmers, if we don't dig in the dirt, where else can we dig for food? The land isn't good, but there are still plenty of people farming it. Once I find you a good husband, you can still live a good life, Mrs. Juan said. Hearing that she wanted to arrange a marriage for me, I quickly refused, but my mother was unhappy. She said that since I wasn't going to school anymore, I should find a husband sooner rather than later. Otherwise, all the good families would be taken by others. Hearing this, it seemed like I was some kind of leftover item that needed to be sold quickly. It was truly ignorant and absurd. I was only a teenager. Even if I were starting a business or a career, it was still too early, let alone getting married. According to her thinking, if I didn't marry, I would have no way forward, and I might end up having a child in a couple of years.

May 4, 1992

Yesterday, I thought threading corn was the hardest job in the world. Until today, cutting wheat taught me what labor truly means. Now I understand why everyone says labor is the most glorious thing, and why they talk about facing the yellow earth and the blue sky. Before, I only used these phrases casually, but now I deeply experience the taste and feeling of labor. There is no heavier labor than farming. This is not only a torture of the body but also a torture of the spirit and perseverance.

Under the blazing sun, people bend their heads and waists, exposing their backs entirely to the sunlight, allowing themselves to be scorched and baked. At this moment, not only does the posture become bent and submissive, but the spirit also becomes humble and subservient, as if wanting to shrink the head into the stomach and the limbs into the body. One wishes to find a crack in the ground to hide in. At such moments, thinking of those who don't have to struggle with the land for survival gives one a sense of admiration. Especially when thinking of the classmates at school, the feelings are indescribable. While cutting wheat in the afternoon, I saw Li Xiaofeng from the same village riding a bicycle to the city. Suddenly, I envied him—not for anything else, 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 being the same age and both having dropped out of school, he didn't have to endure such suffering. Although he graduated from junior high school, although I secretly looked down on him for relying on his father to eat, 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 soil facing the yellow earth, I would be content. In school, I spent many days without laboring and didn't feel happy, but now I realize that those days were truly the happiest times.

May 10, 1992

These days, whenever I reached the edge of the field and saw the endless expanse of golden wheat shimmering under the sun, I was afraid, filled with dread. I thought the composer of the line about the golden waves of wheat was absurd. I thought all the talk about the joy of harvest and the glory of labor was pure nonsense, because this season of harvest was one that drained people's energy and peeled their skin—it was a season that could kill a person. Everyone worked tirelessly like machines, running around endlessly, exhausted like wooden puppets without any sensation, their numb minds devoid of any joy. I believe the person who wrote this song must not have experienced the terror of the wheat waves. Had they risen early and worked until dusk cutting wheat, they would never have turned the shimmering wheat waves into a song. These days, while cutting wheat in large fields with rolling wheat waves, I kept thinking of the word 'Jingwei filling the sea'. I felt that I was as insignificant and unimportant to society as Jingwei was to the ocean. I was so small that I couldn't even control my own home. If I could, I would never plant this land, and I would starve rather than cut this wheat.

With all this busy work, my mother still remembered what Aunt Juan had mentioned about arranging a marriage for me. She said Aunt Juan had already spoken to her. The suitor was her younger brother on her mother's side, and they were considering me because they liked me enough to offer me to their own younger brother. Otherwise, with their newly built two-story house and status as an only child, there would be countless proposals. Ha ha, it seems my value equals that two-story house. Aunt Juan is annoying. I want to be famous, and if I don't become famous soon, I'll jump off a building. I've already told her I'm not considering this now, so why bring it up again? Isn't she creating conflict by making me meet potential suitors immediately after the wheat harvest? Last night, I told my mother, "Even if he has a two-story house, I wouldn't go if he had a ten-story building." My mother, who was kneading dough, picked up the rolling pin to hit me, and I fled the kitchen, covering my head. Fortunately, 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 shout and curse, calling me and my father unreasonable. Since there was no hope for schooling, I had only one path left—to marry. Why wouldn't I take it?

May 12, 1992

Last night, while threshing wheat, watching the thresher roar and spin, swallowing bundle after bundle of wheat, I was scared, especially remembering that a few days ago, Big Guang's hand was crushed by the machine. I didn't dare to step forward. Seeing my hesitant expression, my mother became anxious, saying that if I had quit school earlier, I wouldn't be so cowardly and incapable, which made me feel terrible, given my already poor mood.

Despite the discomfort, I had to work like a spinning top, switching from pitchforks to shovels, from shovels to baskets