APPRECIATION OF CHINESE LITERATURE(3)

The Songs of the Village

Xiang Jing

Shandong Pictorial Publishing House

August 2021

56.00 （CNY）

This is a collection of stories written by Xiang Jing， a youth critic， based on scenes of life from her hometown， Fu Village. It is also an ethnography in novel form. Different characters form an unnamed group in the novel. Sometimes they are critical， who sail with the wind and could not finish a story even if their life depended on it; sometimes， they are full of soft feelings and obscure emotions. And those who left their hometown， Fu Village， are with no exception described as living tough lives. In their mental world lies something invisible that keeps them alive.

Xiang Jing

An author and critic， associate professor at East China Normal University， visiting research fellow at the National Museum of Modern Chinese Literature. Her major works include The View of Han Shaogong --- Views of Chinese Modern Writers， The Traveler in the Belly， The Facial Expressions in Our Times， etc.

There were two teachers， a man and a woman， at school. They were regarded as the lighthouse of culture. The female teacher， the daughter of Liang Hanmin， secretary of the production brigade， was a substitute teacher whose salaries were distributed by the village. The male teacher， assigned by the school district， was a privately employed teacher whose salaries were given by the financial department.

As the female teacher had been born and grown up in the village， villagers had nearly seen every day of her childhood： Her hair was as dishevelled as hay; she nibbled dry buns on the stairs by the door; she went to school with her hands hiding in her sleeves and snuffled; she ran like a butterfly flapping its wings. Before the villagers were aware， the girl grew up as if the steamed buns were laid on the table in a split second. Liang Ying wore tidy short hair in all seasons. In the summer， she wore a blouse with black dots and a Shanghai Brand watch. The dial was flanged platinum in color， shining brightly under the sun. When people neared her， they could hear the second hand ticking like heartbeats. She was rigid and strict as a teacher. She made big steps with her right hand in her trouser pocket， just like a soldier. When she walked through the classroom， nobody dared to look into her eyes， in case the bamboo pointer in her hand would fall on their waist or back with a crash. But the parents didn’t value her very much. As she taught the primary school students just after her graduation from middle school， the parents treated her as a nurse and called her by her full name. Liang Ying taught Grade 1， both literacy and math， and she could manage it. She was also in charge of ringing the bell. She would check the clock and pull the rope on the hour. The bell rang rashly. At this time， the students darted out of the classroom and dispersed in the yard.

The male teacher was surnamed Liu， but nobody knew his full name. He was of medium height and slump shape. His shaggy hair curled naturally， which made him look taller. He was kind and often smiled shyly. As soon as he smiled， he would lower his head. He behaved well. On the first day， he came by bicycle. As soon as he arrived in the village， he got off the bike， saying hello to the older men and women who got up early. He told them he was Mr. Liu， the new school teacher. The older man pointed to the red brick wall and told him to go on ahead. He walked on towards the school with his bicycle. Someone asked what he came for， and he just introduced himself again. The man said the school was a few steps ahead. From then on， it became his routine. As soon as he entered the village， Mr. Liu would get off his bicycle and walk" with it. As he walked， he would stop from time to time， chatting with the villagers. Everyone praised Mr. Liu as polite and modest.

In the summer， Mr. Liu wore a white polyester short-sleeve shirt， with a nylon vest in it， shaping his clear figure. In the spring and autumn， he wore a gray coat. In the winter， he was often cloaked in a military coat and sometimes wore a blue cotton coat with a fur collar. The villagers called him Mr. Liu out of respect. Mr. Liu was like a majestic hunting dog among a flock of goats， watched by every goat with curiosity. He taught Grade 3 language， math， nature， geography， Chinese calligraphy， and morality. There was no curriculum. When he came into the classroom， the students would take out the textbook as he requested. He felt as if he was a free hunting dog.

Liang Ying went home for lunch. On the first day of work， Liang Ying asked him， “Mr. Liu， shall we have lunch together at my home？”Mr. Liu said， “No， thanks. I’ve brought my own lunch.” Liang Ying went through the finished teaching plan， put away the pens and bookmarks scattered on the desk， and organized two teacher’s books， making a “dong”out of relief when they were finally put in order. Her dress swept across the door frame and her steps dragged along the floor. The door was clattered by the wind. Mr. Liu was left alone in the office as if a concerto had come to an end. He ensconced himself in the chair for several minutes and then raised his spirits. He added new blocks of coal into the half-out stove fire， unpacked the prepared pots and pans， and cleaned them one by one with his towel. Then he put the white aluminium lunch box on the food steamer， waiting for the water to boil in the pot. He closed the door and had lunch carefully. For two hours， he stayed alone in the room. He had a bite of the steamed bun with some dish taken by chopsticks. At last， all the food was finished. After lunch， he heated and cleaned the lunch box and spread the tableware on the southern balcony to dry them...