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

had broadcast his own fantasies tothe villagers and then used the ensuing gossip to reinforce his own illusions.
    As he awaited the new title of “Father of a Fallen Hero,” Sun Kwangtsai decided his home needed a makeover. Such a disorderly household, he realized, might compromise the government envoys’ assessment of our credentials. The makeover began in the clothing department: with money he had borrowed, my father had a new outfit made for each of us. This made me an object of attention, and how to deal with me became a real headache for Sun Kwangtsai. More than once I heard him say to my brother, “It would all be so much simpler without him in the way.”
    After ignoring me for so long, my family now acknowledged my existence, only to discover that I was a millstone around their necks. Nonetheless, one morning Mother came up to me, a set of new clothes under her arm, and asked me to put them on. Absurdly, we all wore the same color. Accustomed as I was to going around in tattered old clothes, I felt ill at ease the whole day through in this stiff new outfit. After gradually having faded from the consciousness of my neighbors and classmates, I once again was noticed. When Su Yu said, “You're wearing new clothes,” I was thrown for a loop, even though he delivered this line so calmly as to make me feel that nothing was wrong.
    A couple of days later my father realized that his approach had failed to reap the expected dividends. He now felt that thrift and fortitude were the family virtues that ought to be showcased, and the most threadbare clothes in our possession emerged from hiding. My mother sat bent over under the oil lamp for a whole night, and the following morning we donned clothes with patches all over, like scales, and like four ridiculous fish we ventured out to greet the new dawn. When I saw my brother set off reluctantly forschool, for the first time I felt that there were moments when he and I had the same reaction to things.
    Sun Guangping lacked Sun Kwangtsai's unswerving confidence in the arrival of good fortune. He was the butt of so many jokes for wearing his ragged clothes to school that he refused to go on wearing them, even if their continued use should qualify him to become emperor. My brother thought up a compelling justification for his abandonment of this costume, telling my father, “To wear the kind of clothes that one could find only in old China is an insult to the new communist society.” This remark left Sun Kwangtsai quite rattled, and for the next several days he was constantly explaining to the villagers that we had just one purpose in dressing as we did and that was “recalling the bitter to think of the sweet”: “When we think of the miseries of the old society, we are all the more aware of how wonderful life is in the new society.”
    The government representatives, so eagerly awaited, failed to show even after a month had passed. As a result, public opinion shifted, and this boded ill for my father and brother. Now, in the slack season, the villagers had more than enough time to get to the bottom of things, and they realized that all the reports they had heard ultimately emanated from my family. My father and brother came to be seen as comic figures and were made the target of their banter. Everyone would ask Sun Kwangtsai or Sun Guangping, in tones of exaggerated solicitude, “Did the officials come yet?”
    The fantasy shrouding my family began to come apart at the seams. Sun Guangping was the first to retrench. With the ruthless practicality of youth he felt, sooner than my father, that none of it would ever materialize.
    In the first few days of his disenchantment, Sun Guangpingseemed glum and subdued, and often he just stayed in bed. Since my father remained firmly ensconced in the fantasy world, relations between the two of them became increasingly distant. Father had developed the habit of sitting by the radio with a foolish expression on his face, saliva