Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [227]
By the time Mr. Auyung and Amy emerged from the nursing home, it was dusk. Mr. Auyung pulled out his cell phone and was about to call their driver, when Amy asked: “Can we walk for a bit?” He put his phone away. The town streets were beginning to come to life and gaudy neon lights flared against the night sky. They walked back to the guest house in silence.
“You seem to know my great-uncle very well,” said Amy, halting for a moment.
Mr. Auyung nodded.
“Our family has been teachers for generations. My great-great-grandfather taught your great-grandfather. My grandfather taught your great-uncle and great-aunt. When your great-uncle was young, he nearly went to join the army with my grandfather.”
The email Amy sent that evening was very brief, just two sentences:
“I went with Mr. Auyung to see my ninety-year-old great-uncle today. I think I’ve killed the old man off.”
Mark’s email back was even shorter. A single sentence:
“There’s light at the end of the tunnel, then.”
Year twenty-eight of the Republic (1939)
Spur-On Village, Hoi Ping County, Guangdong Province, China
Six Fingers was sitting in the courtyard combing out her hair.
It was just past the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival and the intensity of the sun had blunted somewhat although there was still a languorous warmth in its rays. Six Fingers’ hair was very long. She released it from its bun, and filled a wash basin full of water. The grey hairs were showing through but the hair was as thick and strong as ever. By the time she had finished washing it, it was thoroughly tangled. It was troublesome to comb out but still she did it herself. In the past she had tried getting her daughter-in-law to comb it for her but Ah-Hsien was clumsy and pulled so hard that Six Fingers had a sore scalp for days afterwards.
Six Fingers moved the stool to catch the breeze and waited for her hair to dry. She had her hair ornament ready, a jade hairpin with an agate pendant in the shape of a flower dangling from one end. Ah-Fat had got someone to buy it for her somewhere in South-East Asia. She had had many years and the hair oil she used had gradually turned the agate dark red. It was a suitable colour for a woman of sixty-two, flattering but discreet.
Once she had done her hair, Six Fingers picked up a hand mirror and looked at herself. Ah-Choi had trimmed the hair around her face this morning and the skin gleamed white. Six Fingers had put on weight with the years, and the taut skin of her face plumped out her wrinkles. Today was neither New Year nor a holiday and Six Fingers had no plans to go out or receive visitors. Nevertheless, she always made sure she was nicely turned out even if she was just going to sit at home alone all day. How many times had she told her daughter-in-law that, even when her man was away, woman should take care of her appearance? But she might as well have been talking to herself.
In the corner of the courtyard, the widow Ah-Lin sat embroidering shoe. Ah-Lin’s husband had died many years before. When he was alive, Ah-Lin used to receive a dollar letter every two or three months, but after he died the family circumstances went from bad to worse. They had sold off all their own fields and now rented a few mu of poor land. Six Fingers got her in to do some needlework for the household. This was partly an act of charity, but Ah-Lin, although a few years older than Six Fingers, still had excellent eyesight and nimble fingers. She was a first-class needlewoman.
Ah-Lin was embroidering a pair of children’s shoes. The material of the uppers was black twilled satin. She had drawn the design and was just choosing the embroidery