Cries in the Drizzle by Yu Hua, Allan H. Barr Read Free Book Online

them came my mother, still sobbing, still clutching her scarf, and a swarm of villagers.
    As my father ran, his head gradually lolled back, he breathed more and more heavily, and his pace slowed. Finally he came to a complete stop and called Sun Guangping. My big brother slung Sun Guangming's body over his back and set off again at a smart pace. Sun Kwangtsai, now falling behind, shouted in short bursts: “Run … Don't stop … Run!”
    My father had seen drops of water falling from my little brother's downturned head and he thought Sun Guangming was perhaps coughing up water, not realizing that my little brother was already gone.
    After running some thirty yards or so, Sun Guangping began to stagger but Sun Kwangtsai kept on shouting, “Run! Run!”
    In the end Sun Guangping collapsed on the ground and Sun Guangming tumbled down beside him. Sun Kwangtsai picked uphis son once more and set off again at a running pace. Though he swayed from side to side, he was able to maintain an astonishing speed.
    By the time Mother and the villagers arrived at our doorstep, it was already clear to my father that his son was dead. Utterly spent, he knelt on the ground retching. Sun Guangming's body lay sprawled underneath an elm tree whose leaves shielded it from the fierce summer sun. Sun Guangping was the last to arrive, and when he saw Father retching he fell to his knees not far away and followed suit.
    At this moment, only Mother was expressing grief in a normal fashion. As she shrieked and sobbed, her body bobbed up and down. My father and brother, their retching over, remained on their knees, dumbly watching her ululations.
    My dead brother was laid on the middle of the table, an old straw mat underneath him and a sheet on top.
    As soon as my father and brother recovered, the first thing they did was to go to the well and fetch a bucket of water. Taking turns, they drank the whole bucketful and then each grabbed a basket and headed into town to buy bean curd. As he left, Father, grim faced, told the bystanders to take a message to the family of the boy whose life had been saved: “I'll go and see them when I come back.”
    That evening the villagers sensed that something bad was likely to happen. When my father and brother returned and invited everyone to the wake, practically all the villagers went. Only the family of the rescued boy failed to make an appearance.
    It was after nine o'clock that evening that the boy's father finally arrived. He came alone, without any of his brothers in attendance, prepared, it seemed, to bear all the consequenceshimself. He entered the room with all due ceremony, knelt in front of the body, and knocked his head on the floor three times. Then he stood up and said, “I can see everyone is here.” He acknowledged the presence of the production team leader. “Team Leader is here too. Sun Guangming died rescuing my son, and I am deeply grieved. There is nothing I can do to bring Sun Guangming back to life. All I can do is give you this.” He groped in his pocket and thrust a wad of bills in Sun Kwangtsai s direction. “This is a hundred yuan. Tomorrow I will sell everything in the house that is worth anything and give all the proceeds to you. We're neighbors, and you know how little money I've got—I can only give you as much as I have.”
    Sun Kwangtsai stood up and found a stool for him, saying, “Please sit down.”
    My father began to speak in impassioned tones, like a town official. “My son is dead, and nothing can bring him back to life. No matter how much money you give me, it cannot compensate for the loss of my son. I don't want your money. My son died saving someone else's life. He is a hero.”
    Sun Guangping elaborated on this theme with equal fervor. “My brother was a hero, and my whole family is proud of him. We don't want anything you could give us. All we want is for you to spread the word so that everyone knows about my brother's heroic deed.”
    Father rounded things off