Vol 1 Chapter 1.1 (1/2)
Chapter 1: Those First Years
Yi Xiu, how is Xiao Ye?
How is s.h.i.+namon san? Is your Sunny Doll still there?
We all miss you very much.
[*Reference to a popular j.a.panese cartoon called Smart Ikkyu San (Yi Xiu) which was translated to Chinese and broadcasted from 1983-1988 and influenced a whole generation of children in China. ]
1.The Start of My Memories
Where is youth?
Every teenager’s eyes are like a black and white cinema screen.
Courage, impulsiveness, weak heartednees, curiosity, desire, confusion, sadness, disappointment, thinking…
Everything that is a part of the bright colors of youth is staged on that black and white cinema screen.
When they are on stage performing in an uncontrolled abundance, we are ignorant of them, even though they are right inside our eyes.
Because they are too close, close inside our eyes, we are unable to seem them.
Only when they gradually move further away are we able to see clearly. See clearly that everything is perhaps exciting, perhaps there are gains and losses behind the stories that aren’t exciting. However, everything is frozen on film. No matter whether we are smiling or crying, we can only stand far away by the side of time, quietly watching the glimmering moments on the screen gather and disperse, gain then lose.
This is youth. Only when it leaves are we able to see clearly.
[This part is really well written and quite deep so I had a difficult time trying to get the proper translations/meanings through without making it seem too confusing. I think this pretty much says that we are blinded by our feelings and actions as a teen and it’s only once we grow older than we are able to properly view our actions and memories like on a cinema screen. ]
I was born into a very average family that wasn’t rich nor poor. My parent’s level of education wasn’t high or low. In my memories, before the age of five, I have little recollection of them because when the little me was only one year and 5 months old, my little sister Luo Yuan Yuan was born so my parents sent me off to my grandfather [mother’s father].
At my grandfathers’, I was very happy. I was the apple of his eye; a typical ‘honeypot’ (living in comfortable/privileged conditions) child.
Grandpa was the best civil engineer in the area, he could draw circles freehandedly and wrote very beautiful calligraphy. In his later years, he liked to read Jin Yong [famous Wu Xia writer]. To this day, we still have his hand copied version of ‘The Heaven Sword and Light Sabre’, bound into a book like those exquisite ancient novels.
Grandpa was born into an affluent family who were the owners of a large tangerine farm. Because he was born in that era, he had gone through all sorts of hards.h.i.+ps but no matter what he went through, he treated it coolly with indifference. The only thing that he wasn’t able to treat indifferently was his divorce with grandma. After their divorce, grandma took mom far away and married another man. This man treated my mom very cruelly so mom had a very misfortunate childhood. The next time mom saw grandpa again, it was 20 years later. At their first meeting, mom had already become cold to the world and completely refused to say the word “dad” , leaving grandpa in tears.
It was grandma who wanted a divorce, so grandpa wasn’t to blame but he still felt remorseful and conscious stricken to my mom. Added to the fact that I was his only grandchild, his doting love for me was beyond anything.
According to my aunt’s recollection, when I was little, I was smug, arrogant and coveted petty advantages. Once, she bought me a pair of shoes. In the morning when she tried to help me put them on, I refused to wear them, saying that the shoes weren’t pretty enough. No matter how she tried, I still wouldn’t wear them, causing her to miss out on her breakfast for the sake of helping me wear the shoes. She grumbled a little and I immediately ran off to tattle to grandpa, wanting him to hit her bottom. Grandpa actually rolled up a newspaper and smacked her bottom twice with it.
Also, no matter who took a photo in the family, I had to be in it or else no one can even think of taking one. I even wanted to be a part of my aunt’s photo with her colleagues. So, in that era where photographs were a serious and uncommon thing, there were many many photographs of me before the age of five. Often, there would be a group of adults with a little kid sandwiched in the middle. They didn’t know whether to laugh or cry whereas I felt proud.
These memories were from my aunt’s recollections as I didn’t remember anything. In my memories, I only remember grandpa taking me fis.h.i.+ng. I didn’t like him carrying me and wanted to walk so he walked by my side. In that short distance, I picked flowers and caught locusts. It was normal for the walk to take up to 1 or 2 hours with grandpa accompanying me the entire time. Grandpa also bought me chocolate with alcohol fillings. Because I liked them, he didn’t care about others telling him that it wasn’t right to get children drunk. When I spilt ink over my grandpa’s collection of ancient books, aunt was heartbroken but grandpa only laughed. Early in the morning, he taught me ‘Spring Dawn’ [famous poem]; in the evening he sat in the rocking chair cradling me; rocking to the glow of the sunset.
Under grandpa’s doting care, I was obliviously happy.
—
At the age of 5, because I had to start primary school, my parents took me back to their side.
I remember when my mom first appeared, I refused to call her “mom”. I only sucked on a lollipop while suspiciously eyeing this woman who came from afar who looked heartbroken. As I loudly screamed, cried and kicked, my mother forcefully brought me on the train to return to my ‘home’.
From then on, my happiness ended and suffering started.
By grandpa’s side, I was a little princess. I had the best things and the most generous love. The entire world revolved around me. However, by my parent’s side, the other girl, my little sister was the actual little princess.
My parents were really busy with work and they gave all their spare time to my little sister. My little sister grew up by my parents side the entire time. She was a good speaker, acted spoilt and knew how to make my parents happy whereas I was a person who wouldn’t say “mom” and “dad” for a long time. We were only two years apart but we were both brought up spoilt so when we were together, we fought over toys and food. I was repeatedly told off by my parents who warned me: “You’re the sister, you have to give in to your little sister.”
Through my parent’s ‘sisters have to live in harmony, the older sister needs to give in to the little sister’ teachings, the funnest toys had to be given to little sister, the most delicious food had to be given to little sister and the prettiest dresses had to be given to little sister. In summary, as long as she wants and fancies it, I had to give it up without a sound.
After countless times of ‘older sister yields to little sister’, I started learning to be obedient. I often hid somewhere to play alone without caring about anything but now, I would voluntarily let my little sister choose the toy first and whatever she didn’t want would be mine. When eating, on the table, without saying a word, I would quickly eat and leave; their laughter and conversations had nothing to do with me.
I turned from liking to chatter to becoming quiet and reserved. I often longed for grandpa. At that time, whenever I felt painful from loneliness, I thought about how when I grew up and could go on the train alone, I would return to grandpa’s side. Only then would I feel like I still had something to look forward to in my life.
—
The picture that I remember the deepest is of the evening. Mom would be busy in the kitchen while I hid in the corner by the bookcase flicking though ‘Children’s Picture Magazine’. Dad came back from work, when he opened the door, his first words are “Yuan Yuan”.
My little sister would yell “dad” and happily jump into his embrace. He would pick her up, throw her high in the air and then catch her, the two of them laughing happily in the sitting room.