Chapter Five: Departure

After a year, Wei Hua had come to understand his circumstances thoroughly. The small mountain village where he lived was fifty li away from the nearest railway station, and even that was only a freight station, with no passenger trains passing through. If one wished to travel by train, it was necessary to journey more than a hundred li to another station. Yet Wei Hua had few alternatives; it seemed his only option was to take the train. As for the fare and other expenses, Wei Hua did not even consider them—there was nothing he could do about it, and he could not possibly obtain what he needed from his sisters.

On June 8, 1971, at dawn, Wei Hua left his house as usual. But instead of heading for school, as he typically did, he avoided the villagers’ gaze and set off on foot toward the small railway station fifty li away. It wasn’t until evening that his sisters discovered his disappearance. The entire village scoured the hills and valleys in search of Wei Hua, unaware that, by then, he was already hundreds of li away in a southbound freight car. The villagers searched the whole night but found no trace of him. Upon returning home, his sisters found the letter he had left for them, which read:

“Sisters and brothers-in-law, don’t look for me. I’ve gone! I want to venture into the outside world and make something of myself. Just wait for me. Since Heaven has granted me a second chance, I cannot squander this opportunity. I will be fine—please don’t worry. In ten or fifteen years at most, I will return to see you all. Take good care of yourselves, and don’t fret about me! Xiao Jiu.”

Although his sisters had found his letter, they did not give up searching for him. For half a month, his sisters, brothers-in-law, and other relatives scoured an area of two to three hundred li around the village, but by that time, Wei Hua was already a thousand li away. Only after half a month did his sisters finally abandon their search, left with nothing but hope that his promise in the letter would come true.

Wei Hua had never realized how slow trains of this era were; they might as well have been ox carts. The carriages were crowded, the sanitation appalling, and the staff’s attitude was even worse. He rode the train to Shenyang, then managed to sneak onto a southbound train. His destination was Guangzhou. His plan was to reach Guangzhou first, then find a way to get to Shenzhen—known as Bao’an County at that time—from which he would attempt to sneak across to Hong Kong. Only in Hong Kong would he have any chance of reaching America. Wei Hua’s initial idea was to go to America to study, openly and legally, if possible; if not, he would have to sneak in and then find a way to get a green card. In any case, his plan to study abroad could not change, as it was vital for his future.

This time, Wei Hua boarded a train heading to Tianjin. Upon arrival, he had to slip off the train and look for another heading south. In this era, the state exercised strict control over the movement of people; every hotel required a letter of introduction for lodging, and even farmers needed official proof from their commune or brigade. Those without such letters were either sent back or considered class enemies. Wei Hua knew these things from research he had done for his writing in the past, but what he didn’t know was that public order in big cities was poor at the time. No sooner had he slipped out of the train yard—meaning the area where train cars were parked, not a building’s parking lot—than he was confronted by a group of boys about his own age (Wei Hua looked fourteen or fifteen). Their clothes were ragged. Seeing Wei Hua acting furtively, the leader, with a roguish air, called out:

“Hey, kid! Stop! Where are you from?”

Wei Hua was surprised to encounter local hooligans in this era. He glanced around, saw no one in particular, and calmly replied:

“Are you talking to me? I’m from the Northeast. And who are you?”

“Who we are doesn’t matter! Kid, ran away from home, huh? Tell us why you left. Don’t tell me your whole family died? These days, plenty of people die—no one cares anymore!”

“It’s your family that’s dead! I ran away behind my family’s back. I didn’t want to study, and there’s nothing fun in the countryside. I heard the city’s exciting, so I hopped on a train and came here. What about you? You still haven’t said who you are.” Wei Hua made up a story.

“Us? We’re pickpockets working for the boss!” the leader replied.

“What? What did you say? I didn’t catch that.” In fact, Wei Hua understood perfectly well that these children were petty thieves, but he pretended not to know. Hearing the leader mention their ‘boss,’ an idea suddenly occurred to him. If this idea worked, some of his problems would be solved. He needed food and drink on his way south, but without money or ration coupons, how was he to get by? As for a place to sleep, he could manage in the station’s waiting room—it was summer now, so the nights were not too cold.

Wei Hua’s thought was simple: these boys must have someone behind them, directing their actions. During the Cultural Revolution, many people from the so-called “underworld,” who had vanished after the founding of the People’s Republic, had resurfaced. Many literary works from the eighties mention such people. Wei Hua felt no guilt about taking money from them. With their money, he would no longer have to worry about funds for his southbound journey.