Wu (Without)

Wu (Without)

Note: This is an entry to Yubbie's 5-Prompt Contest. The prompts themselves are highlighted in bold. This is just pushing the 3,500 word limit, so sorry that it's long. I hope you enjoy.

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It was finally over. After six punishing hours of the rocky, dust-filled roads, the bus that had taken me deep into the western mountains of Hubei jarred to a stop. Everyone pushed forward, grabbing their overloaded bags and hurrying to leave the cramped space. I found my way through the crowd and stepped out into the clear, mountain air. This was Tongshan, a small rice town that rested in the wide arms of a secluded valley. It was Late July, and the sticky heat pressed down on both me and the insects that hovered over my head.

I wandered through the streets, passing by a small stand that sold dumplings wrapped in banana leaves and foggy Cellophane. Their spice tempted me, but I had little to spend, and it was time for me to stop avoiding the hike that lay in front of me. Tongshan was not my destination, I still had a two-hour walk further up into the mountains. Our village was there, still without roads, hidden from the world.

-

So I began the climb.

-

Some people might have found the isolation romantic, a quiet retreat from the noise and haze of the city. But the silence haunted me. It left me alone to my thoughts and I began to ask myself if I had made the right choice.

-

It was growing dark by the time I reached Guangshou. My journey had been during the midday heat. Now the clouds on the horizon shone in the sunset. Their underbellies glowed gold and pink in the darkening sky. From where I stood on the high, winding path, I could see the whole valley spread out below me. Houses scattered here and there, little yellow lights blinking in the dusk. The water in the rice fields glinted with reflected light, forming a perfectly still, gray mirror. The wind brought a familiar scent of cedar trees, cicadas purred in the cool breeze. I breathed deeply and realized how much I had missed home.

-

I made my way down to the center of town, consisting of nothing more than a courtyard, shrine, and fabric shop. Grandmother Meing lived some distance from the square, and when I reached her house a welcoming light spilled out from the open windows. She is “grandmother” to me, even though we are not related, because of Ren. As friends we became inseparable like siblings, and she insisted I call her the same thing that Ren did. Besides, half the village called her “grandmother” anyway.

-

I had spent nearly half my childhood here, and it had barely changed. I found Grandmother out behind the house, pulling something from her garden.

“Grandmother Meing,” I said. “How are your onions growing?” (Which is what you always ask when visiting gardens in Guangshou.)

Grandmother looked up from the radishes she was cleaning off and her mouth fell open in surprise.

“Liu?” she asked. I stood there, beaming as she promptly dropped everything and ran over to where I stood. She wrapped her arms around me and practically lifted me up from the ground. Grandmother was short, with strong shoulders and bony hands. Still, I had not remembered being taller than her when I had left, six years ago.

“Let me have a look at you,” she said, holding me back and shaking her head. “You grew so tall Liu.” Then she smiled, so big it caused her face to fold up in deep wrinkles. I laughed and returned the embrace.

“You must stay for dinner.” Grandmother said suddenly. “How long are you going to be here?” she handed me a basket of beans. “Here, take these inside.” Then: “Is that all you brought with you?” and, “I have not seen you in so long, little Liu.”

-

So, in a habit so comforting and nostalgic to me, I joined Grandmother in the kitchen to cook. She pestered me with questions about my life as a student (Had I been eating enough? Where had I lived? Had I made friends?) while we worked, and it seemed like just a few minutes had passed before dinner was ready.

She set the soup and rice out on the table, along with three bowls.

“Is someone else coming?” I asked.

“Ren… Who else?” she seemed puzzled by my question. I was surprised. Ren still lived with her then, he had not moved off or out, like he said he would.

“He’s still here?” “I thought he went to work in Beijing.”

Grandmother sighed. “That was a long time ago. Ren never wanted to work in the city, even though he would have made more money at a factory.” She said. “He stayed here. He farms Chou’s old rice field now.” Grandmother’s hands stopped moving when she said this, and I wondered if she had suddenly remembered something about her long-passed husband. “He reminds me of him, you know.” She murmured quietly.

-

I was about to ask her what she meant by that, when we were interrupted by Ren himself. I heard him stomping in the entryway and whistling as he came in, but I was not ready when he suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Grandmother, what—” he stopped when he saw me, and his expression changed. All at once I felt sad, this was not the Ren I remembered. But if a part of me missed the old Ren, another part of me caused my heart to jump. He had changed so much; his boyish features were all gone now, even though his face was still smooth. His skin had darkened to a dark bronze and I would not have recognized him except for his black eyes. His eyes, at least, were the same.

“Isn’t it wonderful Ren? Liu has come back!”

“…To visit.” I quickly added. Ren looked between me and Grandmother, then smiled, though not as widely as Grandmother.

“It’s good to have you back.” he said.

Grandmother brought her hands together.

“We can talk after dinner.” She said. “But food comes first.” We all sat down at the table, and despite Grandmother’s admonition, food took second place to the friendly, lively conversation.

But before we began to eat something strange happened. Ren folded his hands in front of him and Grandmother did the same.

“Lord Father, give us this day our daily bread, and bless those that made it.” He prayed. I gave Grandmother a questioning glance and she said:

“Ren is Christian now.”

And even though it seemed like nothing in my old town had changed, I encountered something very new that day.

-

After we finished, Grandmother spread her hands out and smiled.

“We need to talk.” By which she meant I needed to talk. So I told them about my studies, the city, how I had spent the last few years. At last she asked me what I was doing back here, in the mountains. I sighed, knowing that I would have needed to tell her this sooner or later.

“I came back to visit my father’s grave.” I said. “And to say goodbye.”

Ren, who had been staring down at the table for most of the time, looked up at this.

“Goodbye?” Grandmother asked. “Where are you going?”

“I am going to America. To marry a man in… Washington.” I pronounced the word carefully.

“Why?” Grandmother asked.

“Because I don’t have enough money to go there on my own.” I said, feeling almost ashamed as I said it. “This is the easiest way. I can finish my degree there, get a job there… it will be better for me there.” It was odd, repeating out loud what I had so often rehearsed in my mind.

“I see.” Grandmother said. A long time passed where no one said anything.

“I suppose you plan to visit the cemetery sometime before you leave.” Ren finally said, trying to clear the awkward silence. “If you want, tomorrow, I can take you to see the rice fields.” He offered.

“I would like that.” I said.

-

-

We went to the fields the next morning. There was a light rain, thinly spreading a misty blanket over everything. The water in the air stung my cheeks, and my breath made little clouds of steam. Everything felt so alive. Ren pointed out which plants were full of grain, which ones would be ready in the next two months, how the water was directed from the irrigation cannels. He walked steadily over the thin walls that divided the paddies, while I stumbled a bit behind and tried not to lose my balance. It was clear by the practiced way that he moved and talked that Ren spent a lot of time out here. I remembered when we were little and used to run over the boardwalks, pretending that we were bears and deer or Chin horsemen. I smiled. All the playfulness was gone. Ren now carried himself seriously when talking about his work.

--

By the time we headed back to Grandmother’s house the rain had cleared and the sun was pouring out a golden, humid heat. We stopped on the side of the road that led to town. There was a crooked little maple tree that grew here among the rocks and dust.

“Do you remember this?” Ren asked. I looked up at the old tree and smiled.

“You mean the time you fell trying to rescue that little white cat?”

“And when we hid the stolen rice cakes here.”

“Until the mice ate them, anyway.” I laughed.

“And when I let you fly my kite…” he started.

“That wasn’t my fault. It was the wind!”

We started to share all our old stories, laughing and talking. I had not seen him in so long. He seemed content with himself, and happier than before.

Somehow, our conversation became more serious. We talked about old dreams, old friends. How it was after my father died.

“You always told me you would go to America someday.” Ren said quietly. “That you would have a house to yourself and be able to buy whatever you wanted…”

“But Liu, is this what you wanted? To marry someone you don’t know, to never come back?” He was studying me, watching my expression, and I turned away. His face was so open, his eyes were so honest.

“What if things don’t turn out the way you hope?”

“Ren, I don’t want to talk about this.” I said. “Please.” Not about my future. That was a looming unknown, like the clouds of fog that had obscured the narrow paths in the fields.

“What made you decide to become Christian?” I asked, changing the subject. Ren smiled, half to himself I think, and thought for a long moment before he said:

“Do you remember, I was maybe ten I think… that night when I couldn’t stop crying?”

I did. I remembered feeling scared and helpless as Ren had curled up on the floor and screamed.

“I cried because I was afraid. I was terrified, and I didn’t know why.” He talked steadily, but I knew it hurt just to remember.

“There was something that I was missing, like I only had half of my heart.” He said. “Do you know what something like that feels like Liu? The inside of my mind was crying out for something to hold me, to tell me I would be all right. I felt so broken. Empty.”

I knew how that felt exactly. That hole in your soul. A sinking, hollow feeling. Like you’re worthless. Like no one would care if you existed or not. My uncertainties and doubts welled up inside of me, and I had to look away.

“A missionary came here two years ago.” He said. “He told us about God, about love. It gave me a peace… I can’t explain it. It’s like being filled up again. And he gave me this.” Ren pulled out a small book from his pocket. It was thick and bound in soft, brown leather. “I try to live by this book.” He said. “But it’s hard to do everything that’s in it.”

“Let me see.” He handed me the book and I thumbed through it. It was old, or at least written long ago, and contained verse and poetry and history. But it was not Chinese, even if it was written in Chinese, and I was instantly curious.

“Is it American?” America meant opportunity. I had read books from there about democracy, freedom, great things.

The missionary was American.” He replied. “But that book… I don’t think it was written for any one country. It is true for anyone.” I nodded, but did not reply. The new Ren was still strange to me.

“Why don’t you come to church with me tonight?” he asked after a while. “It’s a place to worship God together with others, and to read that book.”

I wanted to escape from myself here, not read a book that would point out the “truth” about me. But I wanted to be with Ren, to find out more about him. Mostly to find what had really made him into something he had not been before.

-

And so I went to church with him.

-

It was not what I had expected. They prayed together, talked together, laughed together. Everyone there seemed content somehow. They were full, like Ren had said. Some people spoke to us, teaching from the book. Ren spoke the longest of all, which surprised me. The quiet, reserved Ren I knew who would never even smile around strangers now spoke passionately in front of a crowd of people. He looked alive. It felt strange watching him, because for the first time I was jealous of him. Jealous, but maybe I also longed for the same thing he had found. That fullness.

-

The next day Ren and I went to visit my father’s grave. The cemetery was quiet, no one besides us was there. I placed a garland of white flowers in front of my father’s headstone and burned incense and grave money. My father had been a doctor, and I had promised him that I would become educated. That I would not fail his expectations. And now I told him that I had fulfilled my promise. He would have been pleased. But for some reason, I did not feel as content as I should have. I remembered the living, breathing voices of all the church members from the night before. This was not the same feeling. It could never be the same feeling, I thought.

-

-

“Grandmother,” I said when we were alone one day. “What is it that makes a person full?” she smiled that same, ear-touching smile.

“Good food.” She said. “Only the kind made with love. Love makes a person full.” I didn’t say anything after that, and she finally asked: “Liu, are you content?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I’m… I’m afraid, grandmother. What if I am making the wrong decision about America… about everything?” I did not tell her what I felt about my home here. Or about Ren. “What if I should stay? How do I know what I should do?”

“You can’t.” she said simply. “Everyone faces time like this, little Liu. But if what you choose will tear out a part of what makes you yourself-- that can never be right.”

“But about Ren?” I asked. “He chose to be something that he never was before. Was that right?” Grandmother looked at me, and there was a spark of sudden understanding in her eyes.

“Ren changed, yes.” She said. “But it is a different kind of change. His soul is whole now. He is not angry anymore.” Grandmother placed her hand on my shoulder. “Listen to me Liu, there are things that kill you inside. Like death, or desperate longing, or depression, or addictions. And there are some things that heal you on the inside. That give you life, hope, contentment. Ren found those things. You can find that too Liu, if you look hard enough, and if you give up the part of you that is always wanting what others have and you cannot.”

-

I thought about what she said for the rest of my two weeks home. The time flew past, and I spent most of it with Ren. We went everywhere together, like we used to. And I found that what grandmother had said about him was right. He was different, but only in ways that made him better. I remembered how he used to be angry and twisted on the inside, hurt because of being left here by his parents when he was young. He was not like that anymore. He lived in such a way that made you think he couldn’t run out of love. It was a simple, unassuming love. The love of living itself.

I also learned he was part of something much bigger than anything I thought Guangshou would have ever seen. There was a pastor and his wife coming from America. They were going to start a church in the mountains, in Tongshan, and wanted Ren to become their partner. I knew why. Everything Ren said had meaning, and he never went anywhere without that book.

It made me almost bitter. Here I was, going off to another country to be a part of something bigger. And yet something bigger was happening right here where I had never expected big things to happen. All of the things I had worked towards these past years: education, going to America, had been nothing more than a chance to spite my own heritage. To put myself above such a lowly, unimportant town as Guangshou. I wondered if I was feeling bitter then, because in the end I actually loved this old, isolated town. But why? Because of Grandmother? Because of Ren? And it was then that I realized that what I loved most about this town, or maybe what I loved despite this town, was Ren.

If I stayed, could I learn to love the mountains? Learn to love the things Ren loved? I thought I could, but it didn’t matter now. My mind was made up. I would be leaving the next day.

-

We ate our last dinner together in a sort of sad silence. I could no longer give any more reasons to stay, and so they accepted the fact that it was simply time for me to leave. Grandmother, like always, never showed what she felt on the inside. As for me, I could barely swallow my food. And Ren was quieter than usual.

“Come with me.” He said after we finished eating. He took my hand and led me outside. Into the crisp night air.

We walked in silence, and I did not ask where we were going. But at last we passed the rice fields, and I found that we stood under the old maple tree again. For a long moment neither of us spoke. We stared still at the canvas of milky white stars above us. Listened to nothing but the song of wind and crickets.

“I wanted to give you something before you left.” Ren said suddenly. With that, he pressed something into my hands. It was his bible, the book he never went anywhere without. I was shocked, too stunned to say anything.

“Ren, you can’t give me this!” I said “It’s yours, it means too much to you.”

“I want you to have it.” He said. “You need it more than I do.”

“But— ” I started.

“Please, just take it.” I thought, for a split second, that I had caught a catch in his voice. “For me.” He added. “To remember this place.”

I did not know what to say to him, what I should do. I wanted to say “thank you,” but that did not seem like enough to me. I said it anyway.

“Thank you.” Only it came out as a whisper.

Then Ren took my face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed me. At first I was frozen. My heart jumped into my throat and I did not know what I should do. So I kissed him back. Then, before he could see me blinking back tears, I turned away and we walked back to Grandmother’s house.

-

-

In our language, "Wu" means “nothing” or “without.” As I sat watching the blue hues of the mountains fade into the dust from the road, I realized what I had given up. The hollow place in my soul had grown, threatening to swallow me. Did I think that chasing dreams that did not belong to me could really be worth leaving it all behind? I thought of Ren as the bus slowed to a stop. Tongshan was now far behind us, but I did not care. I paid for my ticket and turned my face back towards the mountains. To the land that I knew and loved. To the one person I couldn’t live without.