Yan learned later that “Old Sun” was the one who had suggested that they take her to the field hospital. He and a couple of others carried her there on a wooden board. She felt grateful to him and all those who had helped her. She sighed with relief thinking about such reliable friends. After all, friends were all she had there. Still, she wished that she wasn’t thousands of miles away from home. Being away from her father and little brother was hard. Yan felt weak and helpless. She desperately needed a hug from her family to assure her that everything would be fine. Yan moved her body to touch the wall. Feeling close to something was better than nothing. The feeling of contact gave her a sense she was somewhere, and that her body and mind were still intact.

  The month she spent in the hospital was long and tedious. Gradually, she was able to sit up and get out of bed without help. Energy started to seep back into her scarred body. The better food she got in the hospital helped her recover. As soon as she could take solids, she was given surprisingly good things to eat, like chicken, pork, and rice—things she had missed so much since she arrived in the northwest. She ate as much as she wanted. Her days were punctuated by three meals, but otherwise her life was monotonous. There was very little of interest beyond the two-page local newspaper or eavesdropping on the gossip in the nurses’ office next door. Yan got so bored that she started thinking about giving up the good food and returning to the dorm where she belonged.

  Her friends and colleagues surprised her with a couple of visits and showered her with treats, the most precious of which was a parcel from her father. Although it contained just a few words and knick-knacks, Yan felt the presence of her family. Hugging the package hard, it occurred to her that she could have died, and her family would not even have found out. Maybe the authorities would have eventually mailed her dad the ash-box? What would Ho De have done then? Yan remembered her father begging her not to leave after Jin Lai succumbed to TB, saying he could not live.

  Tears welled up in her eyes. Yan wished she had never left Ho De and her little brother. At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter at all.

  It was during one of her friends’ visits that Yan had learned some surprising gossip: An Chu’s possessive girlfriend had abruptly abandoned her love affair with him, gotten engaged to a local official, and planned to be married in a matter of months. An Chu, people whispered, had turned to stone. No one could help him because he fell silent and refused to speak to anyone.

  “Poor An Chu, he shouldn’t take it so hard.”

  “Why shouldn’t he? Who would have thought she was a fox fairy put here to tease him to death?”

  “Love is blind.”

  “Old Sun looked so strong and powerful. Who knew he was so delicate?”

  Everyone had an opinion but no matter how sympathetic they were, An Chu was still suffering. His second love seemed to be full of hope and promise. In fact, his girlfriend’s jealousy and eagerness to be intimate had assured him that she was madly in love with him. He was confident that, soon, they would be married and have a family. But she left him just like that, as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them.

  It was a nightmare for An Chu. He had no idea who the spoiler even was. His girlfriend avoided An Chu so completely that he began to believe it would be easier for him to find a pin in the desert than to find her in this tiny city. Frustrated and forlorn, he finally found and confronted her. She just shrugged her shoulders and said that it was ridiculous of him to be so serious. Looking at him sideways out of the corners of her eyes, she denied that she was ever in love with him. Why would she marry a man like him with no social position, money, or education?

  “You look good if people don’t know about your background,” she said, barely moving her lips. “But who wants to marry you and live in a shantytown? You’ve got to be kidding.” She then slowly pushed her left sleeve back just enough to reveal a shiny gold watch, impatiently kicked the dirt between the two of them, and before An Chu could find the words to say anything further, turned and walked away. An Chu just stood dumbfounded until he realized that he was all alone under a darkening, gray sky. He shook his head and walked away, accompanied only by his own empty shadow.

  Chapter V

  A Friend in Need

  Is a Friend Indeed

  A low-grade fever kept Yan from being discharged from the hospital. The doctor’s refusal to let her go frustrated her hopes to be reunited with all her “sisters” at the dorm. She missed them for they were her only family here, the people who knew her best and cared for her. The medical staff had healed her. Now, she needed her friends to comfort her and make her feel better.

  Finally, Yan decided to outsmart the nurses. For three straight days, she managed to feign a normal body temperature by removing the thermometer from her mouth as soon as it reached the right point and only inserting it back under the tongue when she detected the presence of a nurse in the corridor. The cover-up worked. Her doctor finally granted her wish and handed her the discharge paper.

  “You may leave the clinic now,” he said, delivering the good news in his usual loud, bored voice. “But you can’t go back to work yet. I’ve prescribed two weeks of bed rest. If you need more days off to recover, please let me know. Good luck with everything, Comrade Gu.”

  My trick worked! Yan couldn’t believe her ears. She wanted to grab the doctor’s hands and shake them violently to express her gratitude and celebrate her triumph. Yet she couldn’t even look at him, afraid that their eyes would meet and he would sense her little deception. How could she lie to someone who had just saved her life?

  “What’s the matter?” The doctor was puzzled by Yan’s silence. “I thought you were eager to go back to the dorm. Aren’t you happy I’ve released you?”

  “Yes, I’m happy, doctor.” The words finally found their way out of Yan’s mouth. “I’m very happy, and I want to thank you, thank you very much for giving me my second life.”

  “You shouldn’t thank me. You should thank our great leader Chairman Mao. It’s a great honor to serve my people. That’s why we are called the People’s Liberation Army.” With a pat on her shoulder, the doctor was gone.

  Yan stood like a baked-clay figurine, mulling over the doctor’s words. For some reason, his mentioning the “People’s Liberation Army” brought back the memory of the anonymous Nationalist Army officer who saved her and took her back home on his bicycle after she ran away. It happened so long ago, when she was only a child, but she could still see the uniformed officer in front of her, although his face was now blurred. He was kind-hearted, too, although he wasn’t supposed to be. The Chinese Communist Party always portrayed the Nationalists as ruthless, cold, and greedy. Overwhelmed by many confusing thoughts, she wiped her eyes and started packing her things. She couldn’t wait to get back to her dorm.

  “Comrade Gu has been discharged. She is leaving us!”

  The news spread through the little clinic in no time. Nurses stopped what they were doing and filed out to say goodbye to Yan. They called her their “miracle girl” and wanted to wish her well. When her dorm sisters arrived with the donkey cart, they found Yan surrounded by a group of white uniforms.

  “Let’s help our girl into her limousine!” they shouted, and everyone carried Yan onto the cart, filling her ears with cheerful wishes and laughter. As the donkey clumped away, kicking up a cloud of dust, Yan turned back and, behind the curtain of her moist lashes, saw a crowd of waving hands.

  Yan looked forward to normal life again. It was a relief to go back to the dorm and be surrounded by familiar faces. But she soon found herself as much a captive as she was at the hospital. She was practically pinned down on the bed by her well-intended dorm mates. Everyone wanted to do something for her, from fetching her water and doing her laundry to trimming her nails and washing her dishes.

  Yan was happy to be with her big family again. For the moment, even her daily staple of millet porridge tasted better, served up by the caring hands of a roommate. Someone from down the hall brought Yan her own transistor radio. “Take it, little sister,” she said. “It receives only a couple of stations, but it will keep you company when we are gone. Just hand it back to me when you return to work.” Music, news, and opera programs filled the long hours when everyone else was at work in the store and the dormitory was deserted.

  One afternoon, Yan was alone as usual, accompanied only by the sunbeams that crept in through the dusty window panes. To pass the time, she turned on her radio and soon found herself mesmerized by a famous tragic opera.

  It happened that An Chu came by for a visit. He had not seen Yan since he helped carry her on a stretcher to the clinic. He had been occupied by his lost love and own troubled life. Since it was a dormitory for women only and he had never been there, he had no idea where to find her room. An Chu cautiously walked along the corridor, ears open, listening for any sign of someone there. He then heard music and followed the sound.

  Yan was so absorbed in the drama that she didn’t hear the footsteps in the corridor even though her door was ajar. When she felt a tap on her shoulder, she jumped into the air.

  “I am so very sorry. Really, I did not mean to scare you,” An Chu muttered apologetically. He began nervously unwrapping a lumpy bundle covered in cloth.

  “My friends brought me some apples,” he said. “I thought you needed them more than anyone in the company. So, here I am …”

  Six shiny, red-cheeked apples fell into her lap. How lovely! How precious! Yan had not seen an apple since she left Shanghai. She was even more grateful that An Chu saved these rosy prizes just for her. He could have eaten them all by himself. You didn’t need to be starving in the desert to be tempted by these luscious, sweet-smelling apples.

  She searched for the words to thank him but felt overwhelmed by her own thoughts and feelings. After a few minutes of hesitation, she looked tenderly into his eyes and uttered just two words.

  “Thank you.”

  She was touched by his thoughtfulness and generosity as she accepted the first present she had ever taken from a man. It was also the first time Yan and An Chu touched each other, gently, almost accidentally, like two lonely water lilies, rootless, aimless, drifting, and helpless. Theirs was not the spark of romantic love, for they were each too injured to indulge themselves in such heavenly, luxurious thoughts. They were drawn toward each other just by gravity, sympathy, and a need for comfort.

  For Yan, who felt she was living a second, borrowed, life after the horror of her surgery, An Chu brought a sense of security and physical strength. He was reliable, sincere, and down to earth. If she ever needed him, he would be there for her. Between his physical power and quick, open mind, she suddenly felt that there was nothing he could not do.

  An Chu also felt an unexplainable attraction to her. She was different from any of the girls he had ever known. In fact, she stood out from all the other women in the department store. She belonged to a world apart. He admired her gentle, graceful manner and elegant yet firm speech on those rare occasions when she made comments, for she was usually quiet and observant. He respected her quiet, educated air. And she offered him the possibility of female companionship without pushing him into another relationship, as had all his other lady friends. Something told him that Yan was traditional and conservative. She was not the kind of girl who would date just for fun and then leave her men behind with broken hearts. In fact, Yan seemed too shy to start a relationship. To An Chu, she appeared to be pure, fairytale-like, almost unreal.

  An Chu was relieved by the feeling that Yan would never put him in the tragic situation of loving him wildly and abandoning him without explanation, leaving him feeling naked and humiliated. He had already been hurt twice. Being with Yan gave him a sense of comfort, whether it turned out to be a friendship or turned into romantic love. An Chu was content just to be with her. He was willing to take a chance, knowing that Yan would not hurt him.

  They read each other right and, without saying a word, took on the responsibility of keeping the other going through the extreme physical hardships of living in the desert. He relied on her sharp wits, while she leaned on his strength and confidence. In a way, Yan and An Chu picked each other out of an instinct for survival. Each saw that his, or her, weaknesses could be compensated by the other’s strengths. They needed each other—a good man and a good woman, bound together, if not by love, then by shared strength.

  Chapter VI

  Engagement and

  Consummation of a Marriage

  “ Yan got engaged? Tell us it’s just a rumor!”

  “Who is the lucky man?”

  “Come on, tell us!”

  “When will they be giving out the wedding candies?”

  Poor Da Jie found herself cornered by a curious mob outside the dorm. Everyone knew she was the oldest one in Yan’s room, the legitimate spokesperson, the “little mother,” and they weren’t about to let her go until all their questions were answered. Da Jie wanted to protect Yan’s privacy, but she also knew that rumors were the only spices in dorm life here, and the crowd would stampede if she tried to hide anything. An engagement is cheerful news. Why should I hide it? she thought. So, she cleared her throat, put on a mysterious smile, and made an announcement.

  “Sisters, quiet down! To answer your questions—no, I’ll make you guess first.” There was an instant uproar. “Okay, okay … yes, Yan did get engaged! She got engaged to An Chu Sun, the comrade in charge of the warehouse.”

  More chaos, shouts, and squealing made it hard to know who to answer first.

  “No, no wedding day has been set, as far as I know. Well, I’m the oldest sister … of course I know! Now, please let me go or I’ll be late for work.”

  She squeezed through the excited crowd before more questions were asked.

  The dorm was like a spy network. How did everyone find out things so quickly? She was impressed, for Yan and An Chu had only gotten engaged the day before. Their quiet promises were followed by the simple procedure of going to the City Hall, getting a marriage license and visiting the small photo studio across the street to have their picture taken side by side, both looking at the camera instead of each other. A terse statement was inscribed on the top of the picture: “Taken for engagement—1957.”

  They wore everyday clothes. Yan had two pigtails hung high with ribbons—she looked like a schoolgirl. Her lips were gently pressed together to conceal a smile. An Chu’s untamed, black wavy hair stood up like a thicket on the top of his head—as always, he looked like he needed a haircut. His eyes shone. His back was straight and he looked pleased. The picture captured a rare moment of simple, genuine happiness between two young people.

  At twenty-five, Yan was considered to be rather old for getting engaged. Most girls got married at eighteen, maybe twenty. People who knew Yan well were very surprised by the engagement, for they had often heard Yan declare she would remain single all her life. They had even teased her about sending her to be a nigu—a nun—if only she believed in Buddhism. Nevertheless, they were happy for her.

  “Congratulations, Sister.”

  “Congratulations to you and An Chu.”

  “Happiness and long life!”

  Yan was surprised at how many people stopped by, leaned over her glass countertop, and whispered the same magic words to her that day. She couldn’t believe that everyone seemed to know about her secret, even though she only shared it with a handful of her closest friends. She was even more surprised when the Communist Party Secretary summoned her to his private office that afternoon.

  “Comrade Yan Gu,” he said as he paced around the room. “I’ve heard that you got engaged with An Chu Sun yesterday. Is that correct?”

  Yan looked at him as she tried to figure out where he was going.

  “Paper can’t wrap fire. The northwest wind here is strong enough to blow everything to my ears. So did you?”

  “Yes, Comrade Party Secretary.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “We’ve known each other for about half a year.”

  “Half a year? That’s not very long, isn’t it?” The Party Secretary had a serious look on his face, and his pointing index finger swirled around and around as if trying to dig into Yan’s conscience. “That’s not long enough for you to bet the rest of your life on someone. You’re too young and naïve. You should have asked the Party leaders for advice.”

  Yan’s face turned red.

  “What’s the matter? Embarrassed? The Party leaders are your substitute fathers in this home away from home. We protect you and care for you deeply.”

  Starting when did the Communist Party mind its people’s private lives here? Yan wondered. I never heard about needing its permission to get engaged.

  “Here … I can tell you everything about An Chu Sun.” The Party Secretary’s voice became gentler and more persuasive. “I’ve got his personal file right here.” He picked up a stack of crumpled paper on his desk and leafed through it. “Do you know he’s from a shantytown, the poorest kind of city people? He was a wanderer and never held a steady job. We don’t know what he thinks about our new socialist motherland. And do you know what he did to his last girlfriend?” His voice suddenly shifted, betraying contempt and rage. “He got her pregnant, and then dumped her! Who knows how many young women he has turned to trash and thrown out!” He was pleased by his own choice of words and Yan’s shocked face. “Think again, Comrade Yan Gu. An Chu Sun is not the right man for you. He is irresponsible in every way. You should be engaged and married to a comrade with a higher social status, like a local government official or cadre, maybe a supervisor within the department store … at least a Communist Party member to ensure your bright revolutionary future. I can personally recommend some to you.”