Chapter 1700 - Letters Home
Take the Li family right here in Lingao County seat—they'd held the exclusive right to collect nightsoil from the entire town for hundreds of years, sitting back and collecting money. Wasn't that all because their ancestors had followed the old Zhu family when they founded their dynasty? Besides, they—these northbound cadres—didn't have to risk their lives on the battlefield like common soldiers to make their way.
Yet Tan Xiaoqin felt somewhat uncertain. She was a woman who would eventually marry. This glory and status—whose would it ultimately be? The Tan family's, or some yet-unknown future husband's family's?
Never mind, she thought—no point worrying about that now. Better to focus on preparing for the days ahead.
On her bed lay the recently issued equipment. The weather in Guangdong would be several degrees cooler than Hainan. During the Little Ice Age, extreme temperatures in Guangdong could drop to zero degrees, so warm clothing was essential. The equipment issued to the northbound cadres included a waterproof and cold-resistant wool short overcoat—the military version with all decorations removed—as well as oiled canvas ankle boots and woolen socks, cap, and gloves.
These were all rare items seldom seen in Hainan. Although Hainan was much colder nowadays than during her parents' childhood—occasionally even snowing—most winters, a padded jacket with a thin layer of cotton was sufficient. As for boots—in Hainan, only soldiers wore those.
A thin wool blanket and a dog-skin sleeping pad—when laid on the ground, it insulated against cold and moisture, a godsend for anyone who needed to sleep outdoors—were rolled together in a canvas carrying bundle. A canvas backpack held personal changes of clothing. A canvas satchel contained emergency rations, a first-aid kit, and a complete set of stationery: dip pen, ink bottle, nibs, and specially issued notebooks and letterhead bearing the "Yuan Council Guangdong Military Control Commission" header. Everyone had been issued a personal round name seal, kept in a matching case with built-in ink pad.
Since they were heading to a war zone, the northbound cadres were issued the new model revolver and twenty rounds of ammunition. The holster and ammunition pouch hung from Y-shaped canvas webbing, along with a bamboo canteen.
The issued equipment was comprehensive in every way—even toilet paper wasn't overlooked. Female cadres were additionally issued hygiene supplies. After Tan Xiaoqin checked off every item on the list, she couldn't help but sigh inwardly: "The Chiefs are truly so thoughtful."
"What are you writing?" Lu Cheng noticed the paper and pen spread out on her desk.
"Didn't the Chiefs instruct everyone to write a letter home?"
Though the stated reason was "you'll be away for quite some time; if there's anything important to say or do, discuss it with your family"—everyone knew that "discussing important matters" was really a euphemism for writing a will.
"You haven't written a single word."
"I can't think of what to write." Tan Xiaoqin felt somewhat vexed. These past few years she had grown estranged from home. Family affairs seemed to have little to do with her—in fact, the family only told her about things when they needed her help. Over these years, her younger sister getting married, her brother taking a wife, building a new house...she had contributed money to all of it, but as for how these things were actually handled, it seemed to have little to do with her.
"Write at least a few lines. This trip will be half a year or a year at minimum," Lu Cheng advised. "Even with leave, round trips take several days."
Tan Xiaoqin asked in return: "Have you written yours?"
"I wrote mine long ago. Just a few sentences, no big deal." Lu Cheng looked relaxed. "What worries me more is how to carry out work in a new area. It's all uncharted territory."
"Ah, perhaps I should think about the same thing." Tan Xiaoqin sighed. "I'll just write 'All is well, don't worry.'"
Not far from their barracks building stood another dormitory, where Tian Liang—newly appointed commander of the 3rd Line Company, 10th Infantry Battalion—sat staring blankly at his desk. He chewed on a pencil, scribbling and scratching on the paper before him, having started over countless times.
He still wore the old Year One Pattern uniform. The newly issued Year Five uniform hung on the wall behind him, freshly brushed by his orderly. New equipment lay spread on his bed.
Though Tian Liang was poorly educated and had mediocre military aptitude—with no outstanding performance throughout his years of combat service, truly the embodiment of mediocrity—his consistently cautious and unobtrusive conduct, while unimpressive, had kept him from making mistakes. His seniority had accumulated to the point where, as a senior first lieutenant in the First Battalion, he rode the expansion wave to become a captain company commander. Though he was a step behind his peers, becoming a battalion-level officer was no small thing—naturalized officers at the major level were still rare. Tian Liang, plodding along like a slow horse pulling a broken cart, had caught up with most of his cohort.
With his promotion, Tian Liang found his thoughts turning restless once more amid his satisfaction. He had never stopped thinking about Guo Fu. Yet he had lost contact with her long ago. He had gone to Bairren General Hospital looking for her without success—the gatehouse said "Nurse Guo" had been transferred to Sanya. Later he had written her several letters, but not knowing her exact address, they either vanished without response or came back stamped "Address Unknown." During this latest expansion, before his promotion to company commander, he attended the officer training program and met a naturalized officer who had served in Sanya. From him he learned Guo Fu's whereabouts.
As it turned out, Guo Fu was no longer in Sanya—she had returned to Lingao for advanced studies. Tian Liang wrote to Bairren General Hospital and soon received a reply from Guo Fu.
Brother Liang, reading your letter is like seeing you:
I received your letter. After years without exchanging letters, knowing you are well gives me great comfort.
You mentioned old times in your letter. Thinking back to those days, it was like a nightmare. Now, when I reflect on it, the kindness shown to us by the transmigrators exceeds even that of our parents. We can only repay a fraction of this debt through diligent study and work, striving to serve the Yuan Council.
Regarding your proposal to meet, the hospital work is very busy, and I am still continuing my advanced studies with no free time. Perhaps we can meet again when opportunity allows.
All is well with me. Don't worry.
Surgery is about to begin. I must go bathe and change, so I'll end here.
Wishing you
Peace in your service
Guo Fu
Though the reply contained only a few brief lines and didn't agree to meet, for Tian Liang, who had long harbored feelings for Guo Fu, these few lines were like sweet rain after a long drought. Some words he didn't understand, but he didn't want to show the letter to anyone else, so he copied them out and asked around.
He kept the letter hidden in his officer's ID wallet, carrying it close to his body. In idle moments when he was alone, he would often take it out to look at, caressing this crumpled piece of "Bairren General Hospital" letterhead with the same tenderness one would use to touch a maiden's skin, breaking into a foolish smile.
Now, spread before him was a letter to Guo Fu. He had no relatives in this world—the letter the Chiefs had instructed him to write to family, he had no one to write to. After much thought, only Guo Fu remained.
Yet compared to Guo Fu's beautiful penmanship with her dip pen, Tian Liang's handwriting was too poor to present. His education had always been a struggle. To write a letter—at this parting that might mean no return, he had too much to say—conveying his feelings to Guo Fu through ink and paper was too difficult for Tian Liang. At first he didn't dare use a dip pen, using pencil instead to draft and redraft until he finally pieced together a letter.
Younger Sister Fu, may you be well:
Today we received formal orders and are about to move out. The Chiefs told us to write letters home, to speak of important matters. Thinking it over, you're the only one I can write to.
Younger Sister Fu, we are both orphans. When we fled the famine together, we walked together, shared what food we had, shared what water we had. When it rained and we found a broken umbrella, you gave me one shoulder, I gave you one shoulder—we could only shelter our heads.
You said the past was a nightmare, but thinking back, there were many happy moments too. Do you remember when we caught grasshoppers in the fields and roasted them in that ruined temple?
Though we suffered back then, we depended on each other, helped each other along the way, and survived.
In Hainan, you at the hospital, me in the army—we never had a chance to meet. Years have passed, and I still think of you often. You must know my feelings.
When I write, I always think of you. I wonder what you look like now—surely even prettier than before.
We're both getting on in years, with no elders to arrange things for us. If you're willing, when I return from this expedition, I'd like to meet and discuss our future together.
You know what kind of person I am. Slow-witted, not clever—becoming a company commander was all thanks to the Chiefs' cultivation. But I have no bad intentions. I'm a decent man. I would never mistreat you, and I would never fool around with other women outside. If I can keep serving in the army, this salary is enough to support a family. If I'm injured and can't continue, the Chiefs will find me a way out when I'm discharged—at worst, I'd still be a local cadre.
If I don't come back, don't be too sad. War always takes lives. The Chiefs say everyone dies eventually. If you hadn't cleaned out my festering sores and washed my wounds back then, I probably would have died on the road. I never would have met the Chiefs or become this company commander. Living this long is already more than I deserved. As for repaying the Chiefs' kindness—giving my life wouldn't be enough. I only hope to live a few more years, to fight more battles for the Chiefs, to protect the Yuan Council's rule.
If I don't come back, I've already written my will, leaving my accumulated pay and a few sets of uniforms to you. When you marry someday, you'll need money. The clothes are old but good fabric—they can be worn by your future husband.
That's all I'll say. I need to go inspect the company's preparations now. My military mail number is 9417. Write to me when you have time.
Tian Liang
Tian Liang finished copying the last character in his crooked dip-pen script, then examined it once more carefully. He blew the letter dry, placed it in an envelope stamped "Military Post," wrote the address of Bairren General Hospital, and finally: "To Comrade Guo Fu."
(End of Chapter)