Obviously, the fox fairy had learned her lesson and grown up. Secretly overjoyed, Yumi moved Yuxiu’s bed out of the kitchen and turned everything over to her at night except for breast-feeding. The major task, of course, involved diapers, and Yuxiu’s reaction to them pleased Yumi. Yuxiu didn’t mind the dirty diapers. Diapers are a good measure of whether one genuinely likes a baby or not. Most women can ignore the filth only when it is their own baby; if it’s someone else’s, they find it intolerable. But Yuxiu acted like a loving aunt and, in fact, seemed more like the baby’s mother than Yumi in some ways. She had virtually grown up overnight. Her overcoat was sometimes soiled while she was changing the baby, but she simply wiped it off with a damp cloth and said nothing. It got so dirty that it was nearly unrecognizable. To get Yuxiu to wash it, Yumi tried to give her a wool coat belonging to Guo Jiaxing’s first wife. But each time Yuxiu merely turned and clapped her hands at the baby.
“Baby’s shit is aunties’ sauce, and aunty wants it at every meal,” she said.
She and Yumi had grown closer, chatting during lulls in the day’s busy schedule like true sisters. This had never happened before. Yumi marveled at the change in their relationship. They were sisters who, by definition, ought to be close and yet had been mortal enemies, and now they were growing close like sisters ought to be.
As they cared for the baby, there was no end to what they talked about. Yumi even brought up Yuxiu’s prospects for marriage.
“Don’t worry. As your older sister, I’ve been keeping an eye out for you,” Yumi said. Yuxiu rarely responded when that subject came up. “Nothing to worry about. It’s something every woman has to go through,” Yumi said as she tried to console Yuxiu, because she had experienced it all herself.
Touched by her sister’s concern, Yuxiu nearly wept; she felt like burying herself in her sister’s embrace, telling her everything, and having a good cry. But she held back each time. She was worried that one day she might break down and tell Yumi, whose temper she knew too well. Yumi could be as nice as a bodhisattva when things were going well, but if she learned the truth, she could turn against her. Yumi had the capacity to do cruel things.
On the surface, the baby Yuxiu carried in her arms was Yumi’s, but she treated her as if she were her own, hers and Guo Zuo’s. It was a puzzling illusion. Yumi’s daughter slept soundly in her arms while her own unborn baby was as good as dead, even though it was alive and kicking inside her at the moment. Yumi and Yuxiu were sisters, and both of their babies had been fathered by men of the Guo family. Yuxiu could only sigh. What disconcerted her most was when her baby moved while she was holding her little niece. With a baby in her arms and another one in her belly, she was disturbed and taunted by the churlish, clinging, willful movements inside her. At moments like that, she felt as if she were falling apart; but she didn’t dare cry. All she could do was open her eyes wide and look around, even if she had no idea what she was searching for. She just kept at it, but in vain, since there was nothing for her.
Yuxiu decided upon death after all. What’s the point in clinging to life like this? How could you be so gutless? How could you have so little self-respect? Only death will save face for you and your child. Yuxiu, have some self-respect, will you? So she went to the pier once more. The weather was not good that night, with winds howling all around her, turning the night even bleaker and more savage than before. Some of her determination evaporated the moment she stepped out the door, but this time she was calmer, imbued with an approach befitting someone who was not afraid to die. Having been there before, she calmly stood at the water’s edge. The first time is hard, the second time easier. She truly believed she’d be successful this time. It occurred to her that she ought to untie the sash and set the little one free to run a bit; not to do so would be too cruel. But her foot had barely touched the water when violent spasms erupted in her belly. The little imp, startled, incensed, and outraged, was wreaking havoc. She pulled her foot back and blurted out, “My poor baby.” The baby was hurling its anger at Yuxiu, who froze and felt her steely determination soften bit by bit. The fetus kept moving, but its movements then turned gentle as if it were helplessly pleading with her. She sensed a knot tighten inside as something surged up into her throat; she opened her mouth and threw up. Yuxiu backed up onto the bank, vomiting until there was nothing left. The look in her eyes hardened. Suddenly angry, she looked up and said with a contemptuous ferocity, “I haven’t an ounce of self-respect. I’m not going to die. If you think you can put a knife in me, go ahead and try.”
Life gets easier when your heart is dead or paralyzed. No knife falls from the sky, and life goes on. Life is not a millstone that requires daily turning; it keeps going on its own, and you must simply follow along. Yuxiu treated herself as if she were the baby’s bed and blanket, telling herself that even deities cannot do anything to you so long as you don’t call yourself human.
The third month soon arrived. Trying to keep her mind blank, Yuxiu often dozed off sitting behind the scale. One afternoon, her father arrived at the purchasing station, having hitched a ride on a boat from Wang Family Village. With a faux leather briefcase in hand, he stood before Yuxiu smiling broadly. She looked up and snapped out of her somnolence the moment she saw him. Craning his neck forward, he beamed proudly at his daughter. Not expecting to see him there, Yuxiu was puzzled but nonetheless happy. Even so, she did not want the others to see her father’s affectionate look, so she pulled a long face and asked, “What are you doing here?”
Without answering her question, Wang stepped on the scale. “See how much I weigh.”
She looked around and said, “Get down.”
He ignored her. “Come on, tell me how much I weigh.”
“I said get off that.” Yuxiu was clearly unhappy, but her father would not relent. He just kept smiling.
“How much do I weigh?”
“Two-fifty,” she said, using a term that meant dimwit, which only made him smile even more broadly.
“Little tramp,” he said. Without getting off the scale, he turned and explained quite redundantly to the people around them, “She’s my daughter, number three.” He sounded proud, with a hint of tenderness. Then he stepped off the scale and began to chat with her coworkers as he passed out cigarettes. He asked about their family backgrounds, their ages, the year they joined the revolution, the number of their brothers and sisters. He was smiling the whole time and seemed pleased by the answers he got. Making a circle in the air with his arms, he rallied everyone: “You must stand together.” He sounded like a man giving a report on current affairs and political missions. Everyone puffed on the cigarettes and wordlessly turned to look at Yuxiu. This had no effect on Wang, who, still smiling, took out his cigarettes and passed them around again.
Wang Lianfang stayed at Yumi’s place in the government compound, which upset Guo Jiaxing, though he could not say so because Wang was, after all, his father-in-law. So Guo moped around with a long face; but as that was his customary look, it was hard to tell what he was thinking.
Wang did not care that Guo Jiaxing ignored him or that Yumi did as well. His granddaughter was the only one whom he wanted to talk to, reading People’s Daily to her as she lay in her cradle. She gradually got used to Wang’s voice and would cry and fuss if he stopped reading the paper. She would quiet down only when he resumed this important activity. Whenever he could, he’d sit down beside the cradle and wave the paper in his hand. “Listen up, comrades. Ah—be good. Let the meeting begin. The meeting is called to order.”