misused. She kept complaining, complaining about how my brother and sister and their spouses would eat and drink at her expense, never ever paying a penny for their meals; then she grumbled about how my father had too many parties after work, coming home drunk almost every single evening.
She babbled on and on. “What a mess this family is!” she said. “It’s so exhausting, managing this kind of household!”
I waited till she had finished. Then I told her gently, “I want to go home.”
She looked blank for a moment, before realizing that the home I was talking about was not hers but my other one. Tears trickled from her eyes, but she made no effort to dissuade me. “Will you come back to see me?” she said, wiping her cheeks.
I nodded.
“Things have been difficult for you here,” she said sadly.
I said nothing.
After living in this new home for twenty-seven days, I took the train back to my old home. When I got off the train, I did not leave the station, but hauled my suitcase through the underpass and looked around for my father on one platform after another. I finally saw him at the far end of platform 4, and when I approached, I found he was giving directions to a confused traveler. When the man said “Thank you” and ran to catch his train, I called out to my father, “Dad.”
He froze, and it was only when I called a second time that he turned around and looked at me in astonishment, gazing in equal amazement at my suitcase. He saw that I was wearing the clothes I wore on the day of my departure. I had returned in just the same state as I had left.
“Dad, I’m back,” I said.
He understood what this meant. He nodded slightly and the rims of his eyes reddened, then he quickly turned around and continued with his work. Looking at the clock on the platform, I could tell that he would get off work in another twenty minutes, so I lugged my bag over to the steps leading down to the underpass and stood there watching as he applied himself to his various tasks. He gave directions to several travelers, indicating where their carriages were located, and he carried bags for an elderly traveler and helped him onto his train. Once the train had pulled out, he looked up at the clock and saw that it was time to knock off, so he came up to me and, picking up my bag, went down the steps. I reached out to grab it back, but he brushed me away with his left hand. It was as though I were still a child and not strong enough to lift such a large suitcase.
I was back in my own home. By this time we had already left the shack next to the railroad line and moved into a dormitory occupied by railroad employees. There were only two rooms, but they were rooms free of argument.
My father was quite composed, despite my sudden return. Since he had not expected me back, there was nothing much to eat at home, and he suggested that I have a shower while he went to a restaurant nearby and picked up some take-out food. He seldom patronized restaurants, and for him to come back with four dishes all at once was quite a novelty. He hardly said anything as we ate, concentrating mainly on putting bits of food into my bowl with his chopsticks. I didn’t say much either, telling him simply that I felt this home of ours was the right place for me. I said it wasn’t that difficult for university graduates to find work, and a job that I found here wouldn’t be significantly inferior to the job my birth father had in mind. My father nodded as he listened, but he spoke up when I said I would start looking for a job the next day. “What’s the rush?” he said. “Take it easy for now.”
I learned later from Hao Qiangsheng that after I went to bed that night, my father paid a call on them, bursting into tears as he came in the door and announcing to him and Li Yuezhen, “Yang Fei is back! My son is back!”
In his final days my father believed that the best thing he had ever done in life was to adopt a son named Yang Fei. By that
She babbled on and on. “What a mess this family is!” she said. “It’s so exhausting, managing this kind of household!”
I waited till she had finished. Then I told her gently, “I want to go home.”
She looked blank for a moment, before realizing that the home I was talking about was not hers but my other one. Tears trickled from her eyes, but she made no effort to dissuade me. “Will you come back to see me?” she said, wiping her cheeks.
I nodded.
“Things have been difficult for you here,” she said sadly.
I said nothing.
After living in this new home for twenty-seven days, I took the train back to my old home. When I got off the train, I did not leave the station, but hauled my suitcase through the underpass and looked around for my father on one platform after another. I finally saw him at the far end of platform 4, and when I approached, I found he was giving directions to a confused traveler. When the man said “Thank you” and ran to catch his train, I called out to my father, “Dad.”
He froze, and it was only when I called a second time that he turned around and looked at me in astonishment, gazing in equal amazement at my suitcase. He saw that I was wearing the clothes I wore on the day of my departure. I had returned in just the same state as I had left.
“Dad, I’m back,” I said.
He understood what this meant. He nodded slightly and the rims of his eyes reddened, then he quickly turned around and continued with his work. Looking at the clock on the platform, I could tell that he would get off work in another twenty minutes, so I lugged my bag over to the steps leading down to the underpass and stood there watching as he applied himself to his various tasks. He gave directions to several travelers, indicating where their carriages were located, and he carried bags for an elderly traveler and helped him onto his train. Once the train had pulled out, he looked up at the clock and saw that it was time to knock off, so he came up to me and, picking up my bag, went down the steps. I reached out to grab it back, but he brushed me away with his left hand. It was as though I were still a child and not strong enough to lift such a large suitcase.
I was back in my own home. By this time we had already left the shack next to the railroad line and moved into a dormitory occupied by railroad employees. There were only two rooms, but they were rooms free of argument.
My father was quite composed, despite my sudden return. Since he had not expected me back, there was nothing much to eat at home, and he suggested that I have a shower while he went to a restaurant nearby and picked up some take-out food. He seldom patronized restaurants, and for him to come back with four dishes all at once was quite a novelty. He hardly said anything as we ate, concentrating mainly on putting bits of food into my bowl with his chopsticks. I didn’t say much either, telling him simply that I felt this home of ours was the right place for me. I said it wasn’t that difficult for university graduates to find work, and a job that I found here wouldn’t be significantly inferior to the job my birth father had in mind. My father nodded as he listened, but he spoke up when I said I would start looking for a job the next day. “What’s the rush?” he said. “Take it easy for now.”
I learned later from Hao Qiangsheng that after I went to bed that night, my father paid a call on them, bursting into tears as he came in the door and announcing to him and Li Yuezhen, “Yang Fei is back! My son is back!”
In his final days my father believed that the best thing he had ever done in life was to adopt a son named Yang Fei. By that
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