Gold Mountain Blues - Ling Zhang [231]
It was then that Six Fingers began to weep as if her heart would break.
Years thirty to year thirty-one of the Republic (1941–1942)
Vancouver, British Columbia, and Red Deer, Alberta
As soon as Yin Ling got home from school she sensed something was different.
Her grandfather’s scratchy old gramophone was on as usual, but instead of the Cantonese opera that he liked so much, he was playing a record of Guangdong folk tunes he had bought at a Fundraising for Victory meeting. Dinner was ready and the table was set. The food was freshly made, not the usual leftovers from the restaurant. Yin Ling’s eyes widened when she saw the dish of tiger prawns with ginger and scallions. That was a rare treat that Yin Ling tasted only once a year. A soup was bubbling away in the saucepan. Yin Ling lifted the lid. Inside was a rich duck and bean curd broth. Her mother had the day off today, but even so, she would not normally spend it making fancy food like this. Her mother worked six days a week and could not be bothered with housework on her free day.
“There’s a letter from your uncle,” said her grandfather, handing over an envelope covered in stamps.
Her uncle Kam Ho had joined the army at the end of last year. At the time, the government of British Columbia would not allow foreign nationals to join up, so Kam Ho went to Manitoba. Although he had been gone for several months, this was the first letter they had received from him. Kam Shan had a foreboding about the whole business and had not dared to mention his brother to his father. But now, to their surprise, a letter had arrived.
Yin Ling opened the envelope, but before she had time to read the letter, her grandfather snatched it out of her hand. “You’ve hardly studied any Chinese. How d’you think you’re going to understand your uncle’s scribbles? Let me read it to you.”
He opened the letter, put on his reading glasses and recited the words slowly. He must have learned it off by heart, because as soon as he finished one sentence he carried on without looking at the paper.
Dear Father and all the family,
I have been with the troops in France for nearly six months, and we are constantly on the move. Our operations are secret so we have not been allowed to write home, but today I am in Paris on a mission so I am able to send you this letter. Please rest assured that I am well and in good spirits. Being in France has shown me the sufferings of ordinary people under the German occupation and makes me think of the sufferings of our family in China. I wish I could be back there, fighting the Japanese devils. They say that Hong Kong has been invaded and that no letters are getting through. I do not know how my mother and Kam Sau are managing. Since I joined up, the whole burden of supporting our family has fallen on my sister-in-law, which I feel very guilty about. I do hope my brother will make allowances for her and that you will only be good to each other.
Yin Ling glanced at her mother, who was standing with her back to them, stirring the soup. She saw her shoulders twitch, and guessed that she was crying—this was the first time ever that Kam Ho had called her his “sister-in-law.”
I hope my brother and sister-in-law are well. My good little niece graduates from high school this year, don’t you? Are you planning on going to university? Your father and I were very young when we came to Gold Mountain, but circumstances did not allow us to go to school there. Yin Ling, you are the third generation of Fongs in Gold Mountain, and I do hope that you will go to university so the family can get ahead in life. After I send this letter, I have to go to a small town in the south of France. Again we will be on the move and I do not know