Ch 36 Mother's Letter

In this sorrowful evening, little Lyuba was handed from the postman of her father's death notice; in a student apartment on another street, a small window on the second floor lit an orange light. In a second, the light was quickly hidden behind the thick curtains. The young resident of this room just returned from the battlefront and for a moment had forgotten the rule among Moscow citizens. For the purpose of civil defence from air raids, one must close the curtains before turning up the light.

Lamp, curtain, desk and textbooks. Wang Yao gently brushed away the thin layer of dust that covered everywhere. They had kept the appearances before he enlisted, reminding him like faithful friends that this small and plain room had witnessed his three years of high school he spent in Moscow.

Wang Yao sat down before the desk and took out a letter from his chest pocket. They handed it over to him in the morning when he was running his errands. It had pressed against his heart for a whole day until he got back to the apartment and sat still, but his agitated fingers could no longer wait to open this letter coming from his homeland.

As this thick letter of five pages unfolded in front of him, what he recognized first were the fragrance of millet porridge and iris flowers. Wang Yao pressed his face on the paper. The water vapor of Yanhe river from thousands of miles away climbed onto the corner of his eyes in an instant. He quickly raised his head. His sister's immature handwriting on the first page dived into his heart like a lovely swallow.

At the beginning of the letter, his sister still called him "brother Yao" like a little girl and asked him when he would come back home. Then, like the letter before, she reported to him what new friends she made and new songs she had learned, and added somewhere in a serious tone, "Everybody is pulling together to fight the war. Brother, you focus on the war over there too. Don't worry about us."

Everytime he read his sister's letter, he would be able to guess the next sentence from the last, but the following paragraph caught him off guard. "…Mama said that you're already eighteen and become a man. So you must have found a person you love? What does that person look like? Good-looking? Prettier than me? Only the best of the best could match my brother. I've always believed that. Brother, don't try to hide from me. I'm almost twelve years old and you can't fool me anymore. You can love that person, but if you forget me and Mama, I'll never talk to you…"

Suddenly, Wang Yao was bewildered to find out that his little sister from faraway had seen right through him. It was as if she had lived inside his heart all along and saw all his tenderness and melancholy. "You will always be inside brother's heart."—on the day he left home when tearful Chunyan put her arms around his waist, not letting him go, wasn't it how he comforted her?

His chest hurt a little. He pressed his hand on it and continued reading. His sister only wrote less than a page. All four pages after that were from his mother's beautiful handwritings:

…Chunyan fell asleep before she finished. I saw what she was writing. She was a little girl after all. These days, she had been asking me about your father and wanted to know why I ended up with him back then. I never explained to you kids because I thought that you were too young, and that it hurt to recall. But just as she said, both of you have grown up.

Back then, I was like you right now, eighteen years old. Come to think of it now, eighteen is a dangerous age. As soon as you decided to love and trust someone, you would almost want to sacrifice everything you had. No matter how difficult it might be afterward, you wouldn't regret, because regretting means to betray your own youthful past…

I met your father during the May Fourth Movement. He was only twenty, but was already known as a student leader in Beiping*. I didn't know why, but I fell in love with him and wanted to believe in all the ideas he promoted, but I didn't expect the love in return. He was surrounded by so many intelligent, brave, energetic and well-learned girls, and I was only a quiet and muddle-headed student…Long after, he finally admitted that he fell for me in first sight, but had been restraining his feelings. "Forget me!" he said. "You will suffer with me, because I can't dedicate my entire heart to you alone, but to the entire country…"

If it was merely an affection beforehand, then, after those words, I decided to marry him. He was always on the run and the lives of the three of us haven't been easy. You know all that, since you have been such a good boy when you were little. For a while, you delivered newspaper after school to help with the money. Those little hands were red and swollen from the cold winter. How could a mother forget those things…But you never complained, and in turn comforted me. And I never complained either. Ever since the moment I decided to love him, there was nothing I would mind…except that I always felt that it's not fair for the two of you…Later, when he brought us to Yan'an and left for the Northeast to fight the war, he said to me before he left, "After the revolution succeeds…" I knew what he would promise me and I would very much love to wait, but he didn't allow me to continue waiting…

But if I could go back in time, I would still choose to be with your father without hesitaiton, because he was a true man. He already gave me enough beautiful and happy memories in our unfrequent gatherings so I have the courage to face the future. And he left me with two most beautiful, most lovable and most understanding children in the world…Yao, you are an adult. If you met a person worth of your love, then go loving. I only wish that you could be happier than me. Back then, your father had said to me, "When our kids grow up, they will never have to separate from the people they love. This is what I'm fighting for…"

You mentioned in your last letter that you joined the Soviet Red Army. I can't imagine what exactly you look like. But I often dreamed of you being injured and needed someone to look after. I would always wake up as I reached out my arms to hug you, then found that the pillows were wet…Forgive me, Yao! I should have written something more inspiring, but I can't help but to have those dreams. Don't blame me, no mother in the world is rational…All I wish is to have a person to love you and save you in dire situations. If my life could trade you such a person, then your mother would gladly sacrifice whatever she has…

Alright...I will say no more. Dear child, I wish you safety and happiness…

"Mama! Dear mama!"

He didn't dare to hold the letter against his face, fearing the hot tears would dampen it. So he pressed it on his heart, as if that was his mother's hand, roughened from years of heavy physical work.

Mother. It was the mothers during the war who courageously suffered the most tremendous distress—the almost horrifying worries and longings of their sons and daughters. Apart from thousands of miles of turmoil, she opened her arms to him again and again in dreams, but only to wake up before she could reach him. When he lay in the German commanding centre with body covered in wounds, there was a pair of rough chapped hands hugging him into her arms and sending cool water to his mouth, relieving his agony. Only mama had such power…He called out to her, "Mama, good old mama!"

It was a face of a plain Russian woman. Under the blue babushka there was a pair of sad violet eyes. When she was looking after him, she was still talking about his Vanechka. In his memory, this violet eyes of a mother superimposed with the other pair of dark eyes thousand of miles away.

At this moment, how much he wished to share this emotion with a good friend! But tonight, the only live thing he could converse with was the crackling fire. It clamoured in a good spirit like a clever, playful little girl. She knew everything, but wished to say nothing, only to lure others running after her with questions.

"Ah, you little fool. You don't know anything!" said he.

For the whole night, he sat there facing the fireplace. When the sky was about to light up, he pulled the curtain and opened the window, as if to receive the entire city of Moscow into this humble room, to listen to his talking.

Moscow granted him with a snowy sky. A man in army coat walked through the snow and down to the street.

"It's so early, where is he going?" he thought. "He's in a haste…should've popped up those collars. Otherwise, the snow will melt in his neck."

As the man walked nearer, Wang Yao covered his face with his two hands. After a moment, he took down the hands—his eyes glittered and a rosy color surfaced his pale cheeks.

Wang Yao ran down the stairs, not noticing when his coat had fallen from his shoulders. He pushed open the door, rushed into the snow, and finally caught up the man by the street lamp. He grabbed his arm, "Vanya!"

*Beiping: later known as Beijing