chapter 3

After that, I visited Li Fang’s home more often, dropping by every few days.

I stopped bringing gifts. Instead, I brought lightbulbs and plumbing supplies.

When Li Fang came to see me at the restaurant, she would sometimes mention a light at home that no longer worked, a leaking pipe, or a bed board that creaked.

I knew how to fix those things, so I used my breaks to repair them.

Li Fang’s mother was a homemaker and usually stayed home. Her father was a skilled worker at a state-owned electromechanical factory and was always at work when I visited, so our schedules rarely overlapped.

Perhaps because I came so often to help, her mother’s attitude toward me improved greatly. One afternoon, after I replaced a pipe, she brought me a warm towel to wipe my face and hands.

“My, Xincheng, you’ve worked hard. Whenever I ask your uncle to fix something, he puts it off forever. Now you’ve repaired everything for us.”

Shy by nature, I said only, “No one eats at the restaurant in the afternoon. Once the dishes are done, I have nothing else to do…”

Her mother looked at me and gave a soft sigh.

“You’re a good boy. Li Fang told me that when you got into that fight, it was because the man was mistreating her. You were defending her. At heart, you’re a good child.”

I felt deeply ashamed.

No one had looked after me since I was fifteen. I spent my days drifting through streets and alleys. I had never imagined that one day a parent would call me a good child.

Just then, the lock clicked, and I heard Li Fang’s father.

“I’m home. The factory handed out New Year provisions.”

He entered carrying rice, cooking oil, cured pork, and celebratory candy.

We came face-to-face.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

I suddenly went mute.

I had always been afraid of him. I supposed every young man was afraid of his girlfriend’s father before marriage…

Li Fang’s mother stepped in to smooth things over.

“He has been coming during his afternoon breaks to help around the house. Did you think those broken lights, pieces of furniture, and pipes repaired themselves? You come home and watch television every day and never touch the housework. Xincheng did it all.”

Her father’s brow tightened as he inspected me again.

Uncomfortable, I found an excuse. “Um… there may be more dishes now. I—I should go back to work.”

I turned to leave.

“Hey!” he called.

I froze in fright.

Then he said something I never expected. “Come back for dinner after work. My factory gave us cured pig tongue.”

First I was nervous, then astonished. Once his meaning sank in, joy swept over me, followed by an inexplicable urge to cry.

I spun around and bowed.

“Thank you, Uncle.”

He waved his right hand up and down, speaking with equal parts impatience and affection.

“All right, all right. Go on, then.”

When I raised my head, I saw Li Fang smiling from behind her mother. Our eyes met for a moment before I returned to work.

Truly.

I was happy.

So very happy.

Even many years later, this happiness remained one of the tenderest memories in my heart.

…

I spent the last day of the lunar year of 1997—New Year’s Eve—at Li Fang’s home.

At first, when she invited me, I did not dare accept.

It was New Year’s Eve, when every family ate its reunion dinner. I feared my presence would ruin the atmosphere.

But Li Fang told me, “My father asked you to come.”

I was stunned and delighted. The month before, when I ate cured pig tongue at their home, her father had kept his head down and said nothing. I had thought I spoiled his appetite. I never expected another invitation.

“That’s simply how my father is,” Li Fang explained. “He’s impulsive, sharp-tongued, but softhearted. He always says he’ll never agree to us being together, but he respects my choices. Otherwise, how would I have dared bring you home as soon as you left prison?”

Then she added, “Here’s what you do. On New Year’s Eve, buy two cartons of Hongtashan cigarettes. My father likes that brand, and seeing them will improve his mood. Bring my mother a jar of honey. She always thinks it’s too expensive and refuses to buy it, though it really costs only a few yuan.”

That New Year’s Eve, I followed her instructions exactly: two cartons of Hongtashan and one jar of honey.

Her parents’ faces truly brightened.

When I entered, her father, who was watching television, grunted and stared pointedly at the cigarettes.

I nodded quickly and offered both cartons to him.

“Yes, Uncle. Happy New Year.”

“Good, good. Sit down.”

I pointed toward the kitchen.

“I brought something for Auntie too.”

“Good, good. Go on. Come back and watch television with me afterward.”

I went to the kitchen, placed the bag beside the chopping board, and said, “Auntie, someone came to the restaurant selling wild mountain honey. I bought you a jar.”

One look at its clear amber color made her eyes widen with delight.

“Oh my, look how clear it is. This is…”

“Black locust honey,” I supplied quickly.

“Oh… yes, yes. Good stuff! This must go in the refrigerator. Xincheng, you came for a meal and brought something so fine.”

She carried the jar toward the refrigerator. I exchanged a look with Li Fang, who was cutting vegetables nearby.

She smiled as though asking, See? It worked, didn’t it?

I nodded enthusiastically.

I remember the dinner clearly.

The television was in the living room, playing the news before the Spring Festival Gala. No one was in the room, but her father insisted on leaving it on so he could hear it.

We sat in the dining room. Her father opened a bottle of baijiu, told her mother to bring two cups, and asked if I could drink.

I held my thumb and forefinger in a C shape.

“A little.”

Perhaps I made the opening too wide. His eyes lit up.

“That much? Three or four liang, at least.”

Then he poured.

Naturally, I stood and held my cup. How could I sit there while an elder poured for me?

The reunion dinner had six dishes and a soup. The sliced braised pork knuckle was especially delicious, and Li Fang piled plenty into my bowl. At first, I was embarrassed.

Her father said, “You need to eat. Don’t drink on an empty stomach. It’s bad for you.”

I nodded and drank with him. Whenever we clinked cups, I used both hands and kept the rim of mine a finger’s breadth below his, still worried I was not showing enough respect.

When I finished one cup, he filled it again. The liquor rose above the rim without spilling.

Before lifting it, I had to bend down and sip some off the top.

At that moment, I knew the man had practice.