Chapter Fifty-Seven: Suffering

Xu Fei explained the purpose of his visit. This time, he needed to speak with the village chief, hoping to procure some rice from the township, since the first batch of grain from Little Zhang Village had been almost entirely bought up by him.

After a few casual words with Zhang Liang’s father, Xu Fei handed him twenty yuan.

“This won’t do. Last time Zhang Liang told me, no matter what, we mustn’t take your money again,” Zhang Liang’s father protested.

But Xu Fei pressed the money into his hand. “Uncle, please don’t be polite with me. This is rightfully yours.”

With that, he and Old Third An left the house.

Zhang Liang’s father wanted to chase after them, but there was nothing he could do. Looking at the twenty yuan trembling in his hand, his eyes welled up with tears.

At the Little Zhang Village committee office, the building had three rooms, but two were used as classrooms, and only one remained for the village office.

Old Third An parked the car on the playground. It was class time, and the sound of reading drifted from the two classrooms. Xu Fei glanced over. The classroom windows had no glass, just paper pasted over them, already tattered and worn by the wind and sand.

When they entered the office, Village Chief Zhang was writing something inside.

“Chief.”

“Xu Fei! Old An,” the village chief said with a smile, standing to welcome them and inviting them in. He made them some large-leaf tea—a brew not unlike ordinary tree leaves.

“What brings you here today?”

Xu Fei smiled. “The last batch of rice sold well. We’re here to restock.”

“That’s wonderful! Last time, quite a few families didn’t get a chance to sell. This time, I’ll have them bring their rice over,” the chief said, rising to go make an announcement.

“Chief, wait,” Xu Fei interjected. “We might need a lot more this time.”

“More?” The chief’s eyes lit up.

“That’s great! If there’s one thing Little Zhang Village has in abundance, it’s rice.”

But Xu Fei shook his head. “I’m afraid the amount we need this time might surpass what your village can provide.”

“Oh?” The chief was taken aback. “How much are you asking for?”

Xu Fei held up two fingers. “Twenty thousand.”

“So much?” the chief exclaimed in surprise.

He nodded. “In that case, Little Zhang Village really doesn’t have that much.”

“That’s why I came to you, hoping you might have a solution.”

The chief, who had made a firm promise last time, thought for a moment and said, “Don’t worry. If I said I’d help, I’ll see it through.”

He asked Xu Fei and the others to wait, then went to announce over the loudspeaker for all villagers with rice to sell to bring it to the committee office. After several calls, most of the villagers got the message—after all, Little Zhang Village wasn’t very big.

The chief said, “I’ll head to the township and see how much I can arrange for you.”

Xu Fei had Old Third An drive the chief to the township. The two of them left, while Xu Fei stayed behind to receive the villagers.

The bell for the end of class rang.

A group of children spilled out of the two classrooms, some older, some younger. They spotted the big car and chased after Old Third An’s vehicle, running a long way.

Xu Fei stepped outside. The village school had only two teachers. The elder, Qi Qingming, was fifty-seven and close to retirement, having taught at Little Zhang Village Primary School for thirty years. The other was a newly assigned, twenty-year-old female teacher, beautiful, with two long braids and a bow in her hair, living in the township.

She was a little shy speaking to Xu Fei. While Xu Fei chatted with Teacher Qi, she sat by, looking at the books on the table, occasionally sneaking a glance at Xu Fei.

“Little Ma, go make your Brother Xu a cup of tea,” Qi Qingming said with a smile.

Ma Li nodded, tossing a braid behind her shoulder. The tea that Qi mentioned was brought back from a county meeting a few years ago—though it had lost its flavor, he only brought it out when important guests visited.

“Brother Xu,” Ma Li said, handing the tea to Xu Fei.

This tea was far better than the large-leaf tea. Xu Fei blew the leaves away and took a sip. “This is quite good.”

Qi Qingming nodded proudly.

Xu Fei looked at Ma Li. “Tell me, Teacher Ma, don’t you get homesick here?”

Ma Li shook her head.

“Little Ma is a good comrade,” said Qi Qingming. “There are so few female teachers willing to come to a poor mountain village like ours nowadays.”

Xu Fei agreed. Little Zhang Village was desperately poor. Even basic necessities were hard to come by here. For a young woman, life in the village was truly tough.

“Would you like to teach in the city someday?”

Ma Li shook her head again, not one for words.

But Xu Fei had heard her teaching; her voice rang out clear and strong, as if she were a different person in front of the class.

“Why?” he asked.

Ma Li looked up, a glimmer in her eyes. “Because this place needs me.”

Xu Fei felt a jolt. Needs? How old was Ma Li, really? When those two words came from someone her age, they took on a depth of meaning—filled with a sense of unwavering resolve.

If Ma Li never left, her youth would be spent here, devoted to this patch of land. The primary school had only twelve students, from first to sixth grade. She and Qi Qingming split the grades, each teaching three.

Xu Fei nodded. “Teachers Qi and Ma, if you need anything, let me know. Next time I come, I’ll bring it for you.”

Qi Qingming thought for a moment. “If you could bring some newspapers, that would be wonderful.”

He was hoping to paste them over the windows before autumn, so the students wouldn’t suffer when the cold weather came.

Ma Li considered, then took five yuan from her drawer—coins and small notes gathered painstakingly, filling a whole lunchbox. She placed it before Xu Fei. “Brother Xu, could you help buy us some books?”

“But Little Ma, isn’t this your salary?” Xu Fei glanced at the lunchbox and pushed it back to her.

“Brother Xu, you…?”

“Keep it for yourself. Buy something you need. I promise, next time I’ll bring both newspapers and books for you.”

Ma Li smiled and nodded at his words.

Just then, several villagers entered. “Is Xu Fei here?”

Seeing him, they smiled and approached. “Xu Fei, we’ve brought our rice.”

Xu Fei followed them out to weigh and pay for the rice. For about two hours, he worked, collecting over nine thousand jin.

Old Third An returned with the car.

“How did it go?” Xu Fei asked as the chief leapt from the vehicle.

“Xu Fei, I’ve collected ten thousand jin from several villages in the township for you.”

“That’s fantastic!” Xu Fei exclaimed, shaking the chief’s hand.