Chapter Seven: Taking the First Step

“Nonsense, this kid is just a simpleton. Little darling, don’t let the fish bite you…” Hong Tao’s grandmother couldn’t be bothered with the fish anymore; shuffling her feet, she hurried after Hong Tao, afraid her grandson might get bitten. Whether the fish actually had teeth or could bite, she had no idea; to her, anything alive could bite.

“Mom! I’m home! What’s for dinner tonight? I’m starving! Hey, sis, whose fish are these? There are so many!” At that moment, another young man strode into the courtyard. He wore a green military uniform that was so oversized it nearly resembled a robe, and a blue cloth schoolbag hung loosely around his neck. One glance told you he wasn’t exactly a model student. This was Hong Tao’s uncle, currently in middle school.

“They’re ours, second sister brought them back. She also got sunflower seeds and hawthorn. Where have you been messing around again? Look at how filthy your pants are!” Hong Tao’s aunt treated Hong Tao and his uncle differently—after all, her own brother, troublesome as he was, still felt closer to her than her mischievous nephew.

“Mom… Dad… Let’s have fish for dinner tonight! Brother-in-law, big brother!” Oblivious to the state of his pants, Hong Tao’s uncle tossed his schoolbag onto the bed and climbed onto the table, reaching for the food.

“You rascal! Go wash your hands! There are sugar twists on the cutting board—Hong Tao saved them just for you. Even Hong Tao is more considerate than you, he remembers to leave you treats. And you, stop dragging him around on your wild adventures, you hear me?” Grandfather tapped his youngest son’s head with his chopsticks, simultaneously rebuking him and casting a sideways glance at Hong Tao’s father. The old man’s words were meant for Hong Tao’s father; everyone knew he feared his son would be led astray by his uncle.

“Brother-in-law, do you have any more of those big steel strips you gave me last time? Give me another, will you? I lost the last one!” Hong Tao’s uncle paid no attention to his father’s scolding, didn’t wash his hands, grabbed half a sugar twist, stuffed it in his mouth, and sidled up to Hong Tao’s father, shamelessly begging for things.

“That’s for sharpening kitchen knives at home. Do you know what it is? It’s a high-grade steel saw blade, meant for cutting iron. What do you want it for?” Hong Tao’s father was no fool. Hearing that the saw blade he’d brought home from the steel factory had been taken by his brother-in-law, he questioned him immediately.

“I just… use it as a ruler…” Hong Tao’s uncle’s eyes darted, and he lied without a second thought.

“Dad, you mustn’t let Shiming take that thing out. Once sharpened, it becomes a fine knife and can cut iron wire without blunting the edge. What does Shiming want it for?” Although Hong Tao’s father knew his words would likely change nothing, he had to say them. He was well aware of his brother-in-law’s character.

“Oh, Shiming doesn’t have the guts for that. Mother, are the dumplings ready? Shizhong, let’s eat! Time to eat!” Hearing his son criticized, Grandfather immediately grew displeased and ignored the issue altogether.

***

“Dad… Mom… I want to discuss something with you.” At the dinner table, Hong Tao finally remembered how to present his request not to attend kindergarten. For that, he had to thank his uncle; it was his uncle’s belongings that reminded him—specifically, the schoolbag.

From the time Hong Tao was old enough to understand, his father had talked to him about aspirations. Of course, Hong Tao didn’t fully grasp the concept, but he knew his father was asking what he wanted to be when he grew up. Hong Tao’s answer pleased his father greatly: he said he wanted to be a scientist. That reply was less a sign of precociousness and more the result of his father’s indoctrination. In Hong Tao’s father’s view, all trades are inferior to scholarship.

“This child, what have you been teaching him now? Why does he talk so oddly?” Hong Tao’s mother, though only just returned, was unaccustomed to her son’s manner of speaking and suspected his father of coaching him again.

“Go ahead…” Hong Tao’s father replied casually, stuffing dumplings into his mouth.

“I want to review lessons at home, I don’t want to go to kindergarten anymore… Please let me finish! I can study elementary school textbooks myself; my uncle has them. You can assign me homework. If I don’t do well, I’ll go to kindergarten on my own. If I finish the homework, then I won’t have to go. Is that alright?” As soon as Hong Tao uttered the first half of his request, his father’s eyes widened. Hong Tao quickly stopped his father from erupting, and finished his explanation. He wasn’t deliberately avoiding a childish tone—he simply couldn’t manage it, so he spoke as best as he could. Odd or not, it would have to do.

“I don’t have any books for you to read; I tore them up long ago. But I can borrow some for you. Brother-in-law, if Little Tao doesn’t want to go to kindergarten, let him be. I never went when I was young, and I still went to school just fine. None of the kids in my class who attended kindergarten were any better at studying than me.” Hong Tao’s uncle immediately voiced strong support for Hong Tao, citing himself as an example. His grades were indeed decent, at least above average.

“Shut up! If he doesn’t go to kindergarten, he’ll just play all day. Your lousy grades are nothing to brag about. Little Tao is going to university someday. Stop dragging him around on your wild escapades!” Hong Tao’s mother couldn’t hold back. Her words blamed her brother for corrupting her son.

“I think Little Tao makes sense. That useless kindergarten is nothing special, and it costs money. Better to spend that money on food for Little Tao; look how thin he is. Did any of you go to kindergarten? You all went to school or got jobs just the same.” Hong Tao’s grandmother had always opposed sending Hong Tao to kindergarten, mainly because she begrudged the five yuan fee. In her eyes, raising children at home was a duty, whether one or many—there was no need to waste money sending them elsewhere.

“Who taught you to say these things?” Hong Tao’s father stopped eating, stunned by Hong Tao’s words. He looked around, but no one seemed capable of instilling such thoughts. He could only ask Hong Tao directly.

“No one taught me. I just think kindergarten is a waste of time. All you do is eat and sleep, or play games in the courtyard. The other kids don’t like playing with me, either. I’d rather learn something myself, so I’ll be ready for elementary school.” In pursuit of his goal—to avoid kindergarten and its mental torment—Hong Tao didn’t care whether his words sounded appropriate coming from a four-year-old. It was better for his parents to suspect something than spend his days with snot-nosed, bed-wetting playmates.

***

“You really can study on your own? I… I…” Hong Tao’s father stammered. The words had moved him deeply; this was exactly the life he hoped his son would lead. But he simply didn’t have time to supervise his son’s self-study. To prevent Hong Tao from growing wild at his grandmother’s house and affecting his schooling later, he had no choice but to send him to kindergarten. Yet, his son, who had been mischievous just yesterday, suddenly changed overnight and spoke with such clarity—it was difficult to accept, and after pondering for a long time, he could not find an explanation.

“Let’s try it. No need for much—just three days. If I don’t finish the assignments in three days, I’ll go back to kindergarten on the fourth day. Grandpa can be my witness; I’ll keep my word!” Hong Tao saw his father wavering. In his later years, his father was always like this: if it involved learning, he would spend money, exert effort, even swallow his pride and ask others for help. As long as Hong Tao was willing to study, it was his father’s Achilles' heel—he could never resist.

“Alright, you don’t need to borrow books; Uncle Jin definitely has some. I’ll go borrow them for you, right now!” Hong Tao’s father finally surrendered to his son’s initiative. He dropped his bowl and stood up, heading out to borrow elementary school textbooks for Hong Tao.

Uncle Jin, whom his father mentioned, was the father of Jin Yue, the little girl who marched behind Hong Tao during the parade. They also had an older daughter, Jin Xing, about the same age as Hong Tao’s uncle. Girls, in general, took good care of their books, and with a younger sister at home, they probably kept the elementary textbooks.

After dinner, Hong Tao lingered at his grandmother’s house, refusing to leave. At last, under his grandparents’ intervention, he succeeded in sleeping in his grandfather’s bed. He didn’t actually enjoy sleeping beside his grandfather—the old man snored and rose before dawn, making restful sleep impossible—but it was preferable to sharing a bed with his parents, especially his mother. He wasn’t distant from his mother, but with the mind of a man in his forties, even in the body of a child, he would never want to sleep next to his mother.

The next morning, Hong Tao woke up early—not that he had much choice. Grandfather had snored all night, and as soon as the birds began to stir, he was up and out of bed. Years of rising early had ingrained a strict biological clock: in bed by 9:30 p.m., awake at 4 a.m., without need for an alarm.

In truth, there was no alarm clock to set. The household had only two timepieces: one was a wooden mantle clock in the main room, which chimed automatically at every hour and rang once at every half hour; the other was on Grandfather’s wrist, an old Shanghai watch, model A581, worn for nearly twenty years. Grandfather planned to pass this watch to Hong Tao’s uncle upon retirement, so he could wear it while taking over his job.

In the 1970s, a wristwatch was still a luxury. A domestic Shanghai watch, built with a Swiss Selka movement, cost seventy yuan in the 1950s—about half a year’s wages for Grandfather, if he spent nothing. By the 1970s, such a watch cost around 120 yuan, while Grandfather, now a master machinist with apprentices, earned just over seventy yuan a month.