Nearly all the families in Fanzai Wood had given up cultivating the land; instead, they went out foraging for wild potato leaves, wild spinach, and other mountain herbs to assuage their hunger. Lanmei, who had once been hale and hearty, was now visibly aged and feeble. In three years she had suffered the death of a son, the devastation of a typhoon, and now the pangs of hunger. Although she was only fifty-seven, she looked more like seventy. Every day she gritted her teeth and without a sigh went out and cut firewood and carried it home. The fearless expression never disappeared from her face, even when she was alone. Hunger made her back numb, and time seemed to weigh on her, giving her an aged stoop. She had always disliked old crones with stooped and bent backs, and this was a fate she had always hoped to avoid. She would rather have been laid out flat in her coffin than end up a bent-over old lady. Thinner by the day, she tried her best to keep her straight posture.

  Peng Aqiang was also getting thinner and his skin darker, and he was losing his hair. But he seemed not to have lost his health and looked to be in better shape than when Renxiu had died. After the typhoon and rains had wiped away his fields, he was disconsolate and seemed disoriented for a while. But soon he acted as if filled with a sense of liberation and exhilaration.

  Peng Aqiang thought of how they could no longer be robbed; no one could take anything from them. Heaven had taken it all. He laughed to himself and then wondered why he was laughing. After the storm had passed, he had gone with a hoe on his shoulder to examine his fields and terraces. The topsoil had been washed away, leaving only gravelly subsoil.

  Everyone agreed that the subsoil would not yield anything for a year or two. But by the far the biggest shadow hanging over them was that the land had been officially tenured to Ye Atian. If they wanted it for themselves they would have to struggle to pay the taxes in addition to rent. How could they manage that with such poor soil?

  Renhua once again suggested that they give up. Peng Aqiang slapped his son’s face. That night Renhua quarreled with Qinmei, who had recently given birth to a daughter. The next morning he said he was going to Great Lake.

  Two weeks later, the Fan and Xie families slipped away from Fanzai Wood without saying good-bye to anyone. Three days later, as Peng Aqiang and Renjie were working in the fields, they saw Qinmei, baby on her back, walk by carrying a large bundle. Peng Aqiang and his son crossed the stream to the road, where they came face to face with her just after she had finished praying to the gods at the temple.

  Taken by surprise, Qinmei went white.

  “What are you doing?” Peng Aqiang tried without much success to control himself and keep his voice down.

  Qinmei raised her eyes and gritted her teeth. “I’m going to look for Renhua.”

  “We will look for him,” said Renjie.

  “Why bother? Just pretend he’s dead,” said Peng Aqiang.

  “No, he’s not dead. And he can’t just abandon us here,” said Qinmei, regaining her composure.

  “My brother and I will deal with it. You go home.”

  “You’re going to deal with it? He’s gone and you don’t know where he is. How are you going to deal with it?”

  “We won’t let you or your children starve.”

  “But you want me to be a widow?”

  “Be quiet,” shouted Peng Aqiang.

  “Why do you insist on provoking him?” said Renjie, also annoyed.

  Qinmei was fit to be tied and her temper flared. “If Renhua doesn’t want me, I can go. If he can run away, why can’t I? My name is not Peng!”

  “You are married to a Peng, so you are a Peng,” said Renjie, looking away.

  “Very well, Zhang Qinmei, you can leave.” Peng Aqiang was furious; his neck swelled and his white hair seemed to stand on end. “But leave your little bastard child here, she belongs to the Pengs.”

  Qinmei was stunned and speechless.

  Renjie just stared at his father in astonishment.

  Peng Aqiang seemed to sway on his feet. “She is shameless.”

  “All right, Dad, leave her be. Let’s go,” said Renjie, steering his father away. “Get out of here, Zhang Qinmei, and take your bastard with you. Be out of Fanzai Wood by noon. I want never to lay eyes on you again. If I do, I’ll strangle you both.”

  “Fine. I’ll go with my little bastard.” Qin Mei was not ashamed to leave on her own. She cried but faced her future calmly. “I’ve never lied to anyone. You Pengs just couldn’t find an unblemished woman for your daughter-in-law. You had to take me with my child. We have all suffered.”

  Qinmei did leave her daughter, Jinmei, behind in Fanzai Wood, but carried her three-year-old son, Desheng, along on her back.

  The drought lasted until the fifth month. The small vegetable plots, the paddies, and the fields were all parched and cracked. Even the grasses and the stubborn weeds died for lack of water. The riverbeds were dry and exposed, the cliffs were grayish white, and the land all around was brown. But just after the Double Fifth, a sweet rain began to fall. It seemed too little, too late. Pale green shoots emerged from beneath fallen leaves and withered roots after the parched, cracked soil had been moistened by the light rain.

  Relief seemed to be at hand, and everybody sighed as if a weight had been lifted from them. Everyone in Fanzai Wood was busy. It soon became apparent, however, that the Pengs were short of manpower.

  Renxing’s wife, Azhi, was big with child and expecting soon. Good-natured Renxing was excited but also fearful. He knew there was nothing he could do, so he redoubled his efforts at tilling the soil. In spite of the typhoon and the drought, he was still strong as an ox. Not hunger, not hard labor, not even his wife’s condition could dampen his spirits. Since moving to the Xus’, he seemed to have become even more good-natured. With Azhi he was perfectly happy. But even with her intoxicating smiles and the pleasures of the marriage bed, something still troubled his heart. He always felt he owed something to his own family. He tried desperately to think of something he could do for them. One day he came up with an idea, and that night he told Azhi his plan.

  “Your father has me working during the day, but he has said nothing about the nights.”

  “Yes, but no one works in the fields at night.”

  “I work all day, but I still have a lot of energy.”

  “I don’t want you to,” said Azhi as she snuggled against Renxing.

  “I’ll just do a little work in my father’s fields at night. They are really short of help.”

  Azhi was silent for a moment. “Who do you mean when you say your ‘father’?”

  “My real father,” said Renxing loudly.

  “Then is not my father also your father?”

  “I didn’t say that. I was talking about my father who lives over there.”

  “Does that mean that the father living here is only my father?”

  “He’s my father too, but it’s not the same. Peng Aqiang is the man who fathered me and raised me.” Renxing was growing hoarse.

  “All right, all right! I was just joking.” Azhi couldn’t bear to tease him any longer. “If you want to help out over there, that’s up to you. Just remember that a man isn’t made of iron. If you exhaust yourself from working too much, then what?”

  “I won’t overdo it.”

  “Going without sleep to go work in the fields at night, isn’t that overdoing it?”

  “I won’t work the whole night—I’ll still get some sleep.”

  “I won’t agree to it,” said Azhi firmly.

  “I want to go.”

  “If my parents knew, they wouldn’t be pleased.”

  “If you don’t tell them, they won’t know.”

  “And if I tell?”

  Renxing took several deep breaths. “You won’t tell, will you? You’ve got to think of me.”

  “You’ve got to think of me and the baby.”

  “I’ll work hard. Don’t get me wrong.”

  “I’m thinking of your health, Renxing.”

  In order to help his father, Renxing frequently overworked himself at night. Often he would not stop and go home until first cockcrow, especially on nights with a full moon. Within a few days, Renxing’s father and brothers became aware of his nighttime activities. Peng Aqiang scolded him several times and said he would not tolerate such behavior, but Renxing continued to help out at night. Peng Aqiang threatened to expose him to Xu Shihui, but Renxing remained as stubborn as ever, refusing to listen to all objections and persuasion.

  One night under a silvery moon, he plowed one furrow after another in the potato field. But cutting firewood and pulling stumps during the day must have taken too much out of him, because he kept yawning and could hardly keep his eyes open. I was no good, he thought, but he still wanted to finish five or six more furrows before turning in for the night. But he just couldn’t go on; he had to stop and rest, just nap, as he had done more than once before.

  He put down his mattock, stood up straight, and stretched as he yawned. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by dizziness and fell heavily to the ground. As he fell, he heard a scream from across the field. He passed out as a shadow rushed toward him. It was Azhi. Being so big with child, she had stumbled and fallen into the ditch between the fields. Holding her belly, she struggled out of the ditch. Renxing was still lying motionless in the field. She crawled to him, shouting his name. He had fainted. He was lying face down; Azhi wanted to turn him over, but she couldn’t budge him. She burst into tears.

  Xu Shihui and his sons suddenly appeared behind her. “What’s the matter?” Her father’s words startled her. She was crouching in the furrow, crying. With the help of his sons, Xu managed to turn Renxing over. He put an ear to his chest; his heart was still beating—faintly.

  “He won’t die,” said Xu, turning to his daughter. “He’s been ruining his health at the Pengs’ for a long time now, hasn’t he?”

  Azhi shook her head.

  “No? Don’t you care what happens to him?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “You mean to say you didn’t know that he was ruining himself, and us in the process?”

  Renxing came to as the old man was scolding his daughter.

  “I’m all right now. Go on home, Father.”

  “All right? Just like that?” said his father-in-law.

  “Are you saying that you’re not coming home?” asked one of Xu’s sons.

  “I’ll do my work as usual during the day.”

  “You might as well go back to work for the Pengs during the day.”

  “No, this won’t interfere with work on the family’s fields.”

  “Which family is it that you’re referring to?”

  “My family, the Xus, of course.”

  “Right, the Xus and not the Pengs.”

  “For one more year,” he blurted out without thinking.

  “That’s in one more year,” roared the old man. “How are we to settle accounts tonight?”

  “Let’s go home now,” pleaded Azhi. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “No, we’re going to get things straight right now.”

  “Helping my father at night won’t affect my work during the day.”

  “You yourself just said ‘one more year.’ Don’t forget that one year also includes the nights.”

  Perhaps exhausted from scolding Renxing, Xu Shihui finally allowed himself to be coaxed and persuaded by his sons to go home.

  “I’m sorry, Renxing. It wasn’t me who told on you.”

  “Let’s go home. It was my own fault.”

  “Your health is important, Renxing.”

  “I know. I won’t work at night anymore. The dew is so heavy.” Renxing walked over to help Azhi to her feet.

  Azhi stood up with some effort, but she screamed as she felt a stabbing pain in her abdomen.

  “My stomach hurts!”

  “Did your fall hurt the child?”

  The stabbing pains continued. Renxing was in a panic. It was well past midnight, but Azhi agreed when Renxing insisted that they wake her mother. They were both afraid that the fall had injured the child, because it wasn’t due for another nine or ten days.

  “It’s all my fault,” said Renxing. “What are we going to do?”

  “What can we do? It’s all your fault. If anything happens to Azhi, we’ll see how you manage.”

  “It’s all my fault. I beg you, Mother, is there anything you can do?” Sweating in fear, Renxing knelt before his mother-in-law.

  “Mom, don’t scare him,” said Azhi. “Look at what a state he’s in.” She tried to comfort him in spite of her own pain. “Don’t worry. Even if the baby’s early, it’s just a few days. It’s not important. Stop being a nuisance and go to bed.”

  Azhi’s pains came more quickly. The labor pains were normal, but the incessant bleeding was not. It couldn’t be stanched. Quite clearly it was the result of her fall. Her first delivery was not going to be an easy one.

  Xu Rixing’s wife, the midwife at Fanzai Wood, had died of hunger during the famine. No one had come to take her place. Renxing knew that his own mother had delivered many babies. In the darkness, he went for her and brought her back to the Xus.’

  The sky was growing light, and Azhi’s pains had increased, but the baby still had not turned.

  “This is bad.”

  “If she can’t deliver within three hours …”

  Peng Aqiang had also hurried over. The sky was bright, and the parents decided to send four men to Great Lake for a midwife. They were also charged with obtaining from the temple there two paper talismans of the kind that are burned and the ashes swallowed by women in labor. Renxing begged to be allowed to do something to help, but his mother-in-law refused his pleas. His own father said he could be of no help.

  Xu Shihui had no energy to argue with Renxing. His resentment was slow to fade, and every time he laid eyes on Renxing’s helpless, puppy-dog look, his temper would flare up anew. When no one was looking, he grabbed Renxing by the collar and dragged him outside behind the house.

  “If my daughter dies, what are you going to do?”

  His mind calm, Renxing replied without a moment’s hesitation, as if he had long since made up his mind: “I’ll die with her.”

  Xu Shihui was completely taken aback. Dumbfounded, he stared at him. He felt ill at ease, but also grieved, perplexed, and displeased. His feelings soon gave way to anger and annoyance. He was suddenly his old self again, and barked, “There’s nothing for you to do here. Go and do some weeding in the sorghum field.”

  “I have to stay with Azhi,” stammered Renxing.

  “There’s no need! If and when the child is born, someone will fetch you. If the child is not delivered, don’t bother coming back.”

  Renxing dared not talk back. Without stopping to look in on Azhi, he set off with a hoe to weed the sorghum field. His father-in-law’s words rang in his ears. His loud voice had softened as he spoke; his command ended more like a plea. But it wasn’t a plea, either. How could he describe it? The old man, he decided, wasn’t all that fierce. He was just angry or very worried.

  As he was thinking, Renxing put down his hoe and sat in the middle of the field, flattening a stalk of sorghum on which a head of grain had just set. On this day, he’d do no hoeing; for once in his life, he was going to be disobedient. He was going to sit down and think. But think about what? There were too many things on his mind, making it impossible to think anything through to his satisfaction. The sun was hot and shimmered on the long, swordlike leaves of the sorghum, illuminating the tender green. Where the leaves grew thickest, the green was of a much deeper shade. The south wind blew, momentarily transforming the leaves into thousands of brightly fluttering ribbons.

  He thought back to the year before, to when he lay bare-chested on the rain-moistened grass and Azhi came to him as if in a dream and lay with him. She was so soft and warm. He recalled how at that wonderful moment he felt himself at one with the earth. After that, whenever he was having difficulties or he was so tired he felt ready to drop, he would think of that sensation. Strangely, whenever he thought of that moment his difficulties would vanish and his weariness would retreat.

  “Hey, Renxing! What are you doing?” Someone yelled from behind him. “It’s a boy!” It was Renjie shouting. “Mother and child are fine. What are you sitting around for? You’d better get back.”

  The sweltering heat of summer was once again upon them. Would there be another typhoon and flood? No one was willing to make predictions. The families of Fanzai Wood had more or less rebuilt their houses; they had thrown them together using old materials, so the houses were not nearly as strong as before. Another natural disaster and there would be no recovering for the people of Fanzai Wood. But the signs were good: the pigeons and crows had built their nests high in the trees, there were few spiderwebs among the rafters of the houses, and the hornets swarmed in great numbers and showed no signs of dispersing. These things indicated that there would be no excessive wind or rain.

  Summer also brought success on another front: the people of Fanzai Wood happily arrived at a satisfactory agreement over rights to the land after several months of bitter haggling and negotiating. Shortly after the typhoon had passed, Ye Atian sent his steward, Renxian, to inspect the damage to the fields. After Renxian departed, the villagers, with the exception of Chen Afa, decided after much discussion to send Xu Rixing to negotiate with Ye Atian. They felt that if he wanted to take possession of the land then he would have to put up money for each family to help them restore it. If he did produce the silver, they would acknowledge his position. Otherwise he had best just leave them to their poverty-stricken slopes, and they would willingly compensate him for the losses incurred in obtaining the land patent.

  At first Renxian refused the plan. “Our master does not pay out silver for no reason.”

  “Will the boss leave us alone, then?” asked Xu Rixing.

  “So you do acknowledge your position.”

  “So what? We can just as easily abandon the land and open up fields in aboriginal territory near Big Southside.”