Chapter 8: The Elmwood Block
After the snake gourds were planted, the first thing Tangtang did every morning was check on their growth. Every three or four days, she would use a ladle to water the vegetable patch. At first, they were just finger-length sprouts, which slowly grew into seedlings, and then finally, the snake gourd vines began to climb the trellis.
In June, the Su family had their first taste of stir-fried snake gourd.
The gourd had a clean, sweet flavor and a crisp, tender texture. It was delicious whether stir-fried, served as a cold salad, or boiled in a soup.
But even the most delicious food becomes tiresome when eaten continuously. A single snake gourd was enough for a large platter, and they grew incredibly fast. For the entire summer, the Su family’s dinner table was never without snake gourd, to the point where Tangtang eventually lost all strength to even pick it up.
After three straight months of snake gourd, September finally arrived. Following a spell of drizzling rain, the weather cooled considerably, and the 1964 fall semester began.
Only Su Juesheng and Tangtang were left at home, and now it was their turn to start school. A few days prior, Yu Juanfang had crocheted two schoolbags from a pile of scrap fabric—one for Su Juesheng and one for Tangtang.
Although Yu Juanfang had thrown cold water on the idea when Su Huimin first mentioned sending Tangtang to school, she had ultimately agreed.
The thought of finally starting school filled Tangtang with an indescribable excitement.
She climbed out of bed at the crack of dawn, changed into her yellow floral outfit, and skillfully braided her hair into two pigtails. Many girls in the village had bangs, but Tangtang didn’t. For one, she wasn’t used to them, and for another, she didn’t know how to cut them herself and was afraid of messing it up.
Besides, with her delicate features and full forehead, she looked prettier with her forehead exposed than she would with bangs.
She knew that if she had stayed in Waguan Village, she would never have had the chance to go to school. It was only because of her uncle and aunt, because she had become a daughter of the Su family, that she now had the opportunity to learn to read.
Breakfast was a watery corn-grit porridge with old pickled vegetables. Before they left, Yu Juanfang stuffed two candies into both Tangtang’s and Su Juesheng’s pockets. “Since you’re going to school now, you must study hard and make something of yourselves.”
She re-fastened a misplaced button on his shirt and instructed him with a plain expression, “Juesheng, you’re the older brother. You need to look after your sister at school.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll never let anyone bully Tangtang,” said Su Juesheng, who had been tanned dark by the summer sun. He puffed out his chest with the air of a little man.
Although Tangtang wanted to say she didn’t need anyone to look after her, a warm feeling spread through her heart.
…
The village primary school was only half a li from their home. Yuhuai Village had about five hundred households with a mix of surnames. Most of the students were from the village itself, with a few from neighboring villages. The first-grade classroom had about twenty children.
The first-grade teacher was a woman with the surname Tian. Teacher Tian was from a nearby village, with a round face and chubby fingers. After handing out the textbooks, she took out the registration list to take attendance.
“Su Juesheng.”
Su Juesheng immediately shot up from his chair, his voice booming, “Here!”
“Tian Wenwen.”
The girl in front of Tangtang stood up. “Here.”
“Sun Xiangrong.”
A girl with phoenix eyes wearing a red floral dress stood up. “Here.”
…
Teacher Tian glanced at the list and read the last name. “Su Xintang.”
Tangtang felt that her name sounded even more beautiful when spoken in Teacher Tian’s clear, standard Mandarin. She rose from her chair. “Here.”
Since it was the first day, there were no lessons. The morning was spent distributing books, and the students were left to chatter amongst themselves. Those who lived nearby went home for lunch. The Su family home wasn’t far, but they didn’t usually cook lunch, so going back would mean returning to a cold stove.
Tangtang was hesitating when she heard Brother Juesheng say, “There might be some leftover dark flour buns from last night in the cupboard. We can go back and toast them.”
Su Juesheng had only had two bowls of thin porridge that morning, and after sitting in the classroom for hours, his stomach was empty.
Tangtang thought it was a good idea. The two of them went home and, sure enough, found the bread basket in the cupboard with two hard, dark flour buns inside. Su Juesheng started a fire while Tangtang reheated the buns. She sliced them thickly, dipped the slices in salt water, and then pan-fried them in the wok. Reheated this way, the buns were not only soft but also had a hint of saltiness that made them less dry.
After eating, Tangtang drank a large bowl of water, and they hurried back to school just in time for the first afternoon class.
Before the lesson began, Teacher Tian went over the classroom rules: listen attentively, answer questions actively, raise your hand before speaking, and complete homework on time.
“Today, we will learn a poem from the Tang Dynasty poet Luo Binwang, ‘Ode to the Goose’.”
“É é é, qū xiàng xiàng tiān gē. Bái máo fú lǜ shuǐ, hóng zhǎng bō qīng bō.”
(Goose, goose, goose, you bend your neck and sing to the sky. Your white feathers float on green water, your red feet paddle through clear waves.)
Teacher Tian read it once, then led them through it twice more. Tangtang couldn’t resist reciting it again herself in a very low voice. She loved the feeling of reading the text in Mandarin; the words seemed to dance on her tongue, and the sound was beautiful.
…
The family’s main cooking oil was rapeseed oil, though they would occasionally buy pork fat to render for lard to improve their meals. They had a small half-bowl of lard cracklings left over from the last time, and for dinner, they were stir-fried with green vegetables, adding some much-needed fat to everyone’s diet.
Dinner was sorghum rice, stir-fried greens with lard cracklings, and old pickled vegetables. The family lacked many things, but never pickles. When there was nothing else to eat, a thin slice of salty pickle was enough to help you wolf down a large mouthful of rice.
The children had no homework. They sat on the kang reading their new books. Su Juesheng was in the fourth grade, in a class taught by his own father, Su Huimin. School was a daily misery for him; he was like a mouse that had seen a cat whenever his father was around.
“Write properly! Your handwriting looks like chicken scratch. If I catch you whispering in class again, you can go stand in the hallway. Don’t disturb the other students!”
Forced to do his homework, Su Juesheng wore a look of utter despair.
Tangtang and Su Juesheng exchanged a look, grateful that their father didn’t teach first grade. Otherwise, they’d be in for a hard time too.
“Time for bed,” Yu Juanfang said, carrying in a basin of hot water and urging the children to sleep.
Hearing this, Tangtang quickly closed her book, lay down, and shut her eyes.
The room wasn’t large, only about a dozen square meters. The big kang already took up more than half the space. There was little furniture besides a table. The chest from Yu Juanfang’s dowry was stacked in a corner, piled with books. The floor was also cluttered with items, making the room feel cramped and oppressive.
Su Huimin put his feet into the basin of hot water. Yu Juanfang sat at the table, kneading her tired shoulders before picking up her needle and thread to mend a tear in the knee of Su Juesheng’s trousers.
Children of that age were rambunctious, and no clothes could withstand their rough play. The trousers needed patching every couple of weeks.
The wooden door creaked loudly. Su Huimin glanced at his wife. “I’ll get some oil to fix that later…”
“What’s the use of fixing it? We still have six people crammed onto one kang,” Yu Juanfang said, looking at the sleeping children. “Juesheng is getting older; it’s not right for him to keep sleeping with us. And Tangtang is a girl; she should have her own space. But look around this room. Where is there space to put another bed?”
Yu Juanfang knew that building a house right now was an unrealistic dream. Bricks and sand cost money, wood for windows cost money, and hiring craftsmen cost money. These were all expenses they couldn’t possibly afford.
“From your monthly salary, you should at least keep one or two yuan for yourself. We don’t have a single bit of cash on hand. If I want to buy a few needles, I have to ask Mother for the money.”
“But Mother, after all, has worked hard for us brothers her whole life…”
Whenever Yu Juanfang brought up his salary, Su Huimin would bring up Old Madam Zhu. Yu Juanfang let out a bitter laugh. She abruptly picked up his basin of foot-washing water and flung it out into the courtyard. “I have never seen such an elmwood block like you!”