Chapter 2

Everyone in the village said that since Mom’s belly was pointy and she craved sour food, it must be a boy.

Dad always said it didn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl, but at dinner he told Mom, “Zhang Datou invited me to go work in Guangdong with him next year. He says there are more opportunities there.”

“If I work a few years and save some money, we can build a new house. Otherwise, we won’t be able to find a daughter-in-law for our son in the future.”

Grandma brought over two laying hens and reminded me:

“Xiaxia, the eggs are for the little brother in your mom’s belly. You can’t be greedy, okay?”

The village women asked me, “Xiaxia, do you want a little brother or a little sister?”

Without hesitation, I replied, “A little brother!”

The women laughed, “If you have a little brother, your parents won’t love you anymore.”

I got anxious, “That’s not true! I’ll always be Mom and Dad’s darling.”

The women laughed even louder, not realizing how much those words could frighten a four- or five-year-old child.

The one-child policy was already in effect then.

But the rule was: if you had a rural household registration and your first child was a girl, you could have one more.

When the time came, Mom went into labor.

She was in pain all day but didn’t give birth. Before dawn the next day, Grandma went to the village butcher and bought a big chunk of fatty pork and a pork bone.

By the time she came back with the meat,

Mom had given birth-it was a little sister!

Grandma stood in the yard with the bag of meat. The midwife called out to her, “Come in and see your granddaughter! She’s fair and chubby!”

“No need. The boys at my eldest’s house are still waiting for me to make breakfast!”

She left the pork bone behind and took all the meat with her.

Times were hard then, oil and fat were scarce, and every family loved fatty meat. Bones were actually cheaper.

I went inside to see my little sister.

She was all wrinkled, her face red like a little old man-not at all the fair and chubby baby the midwife described.

Mom lay weakly on the bed, staring at the thatched roof, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes.

Dad smoked his cigarette. “Don’t cry. What’s done is done.”

Mom gave birth right in the middle of the autumn harvest.

Grandpa and Grandma were busy at Uncle’s house, and Dad and I were busy harvesting rice.

Mom lay in bed for only three days before she got up to cook for us.

Because of that, she developed a chronic illness-her whole body ached whenever it rained.

That New Year, my two aunts from the city came home for the family dinner.

Aunt played mahjong with the aunts, while my little sister cried from hunger.

Mom was in the smoky kitchen with Grandma, preparing the New Year’s Eve dinner.

After a whole afternoon, the meal was finally ready.

Mom finally had a moment to nurse my sister, but when she finished, she found there was no seat for her at the table.

Dad and my second cousin got up from the table, but Grandma stopped them: “No need to make a fuss. We’ll just eat in the kitchen.”