From the Improvement Era, March 1968 –

Lullabies and Warm Rice

By Janis P. Hutchinson

Chen clutched his sister’s small hand and hurried through the crumbled pagoda, then out the opposite side into the deserted street.

Stopping abruptly, he yanked at the resisting pull on his arm.

“Stand up and walk, Su Ying! It is not much farther.” Chen sighed and stooped over. “Look, your clean dress has a spot on it. They will not take you if you are dirty!”

Standing, he pulled his sister to her feet, only to have her trip and fall; then he heard the rip.

“Oh, Su Ying,” he said sharply. “What would our mother say if she were here now?”

Plopping down on a segment of broken concrete, he covered his face for a moment, sighed a deep sigh, then looked at his two-year-old sister.

Su Ying’s chin quivered and tears filled her eyes. “Su Ying hungry!”

She began to cry, and Chen covered his ears. His face was weary, and his eyes mirrored a sadness that should not have been, for a boy of 12 years.

He quickly pulled Su Ying onto his lap, and with his arms gently but firmly wrapped around her, began rocking back and forth. He had seen his mother do it many times in exactly this way, but his throat tightened, and it didn’t seem to work as well anymore — especially the last few days, when Su Ying’s crying had been more persistent.

“Hush now, my sister.
Soon you will not cry anymore.
Shhh, and I will sing our mother’s song.

“Hush the night is coming on,
Rest upon my breast;
Hush, my little baby child,
Close your eyes and rest.”

Continuing to hum, he looked down and watched his sister’s face, hoping this time the lullaby would work — perhaps for both of them.

Su Ying’s crying finally softened to faint sobs and an occasional hiccup while Chen continued rocking back and forth, humming the familiar tune. His sister’s eyelids closed and he sighed with relief. This time it had worked.

Lullabies were nice, he thought wistfully, but he was too big now to be sung to. However, he was glad he remembered this one for his sister.

Looking about him, he tightened his hold on Su Ying. He wiped her tear-stained cheeks with the torn edge of his cuff, then straightened her dress that he had managed to wash clean in a bucket of rainwater the day before. Then he carefully raised himself to standing position, holding Su Ying tightly to his chest so as not to awaken her.

Moving slowly, Chen passed down the long street strewn with debris, reached the outskirts of the village, and sloshed through a muddy rice paddy. Su Ying stirred and began to cry again.

“Shhh . . . we are almost there,” he said, pointing to the lights ahead.

He shifted her into one arm, straddling her on his hip. Su Ying sobbed softly, then laid her head upon his shoulder and closed her eyes once again.

Reaching the village, Chen walked down the dark street and passed by two ragged peasants, who were hunched over in a corner of an abandoned building. At the end of the street he saw the place: a large building with a small sign over the entranceway.

After looking about him for a moment, he turned, went down a side street, and entered the alley behind the building. His steps were slower now, and his throat was tight as he gently shook Su Ying.

“Wake up, little sister. We are here.”

Placing Su Ying beside him, he sagged down and leaned against a massive wall. He stared across the alleyway at the huge, arched doorway, which marked the end of his journey. His heart was beating rapidly, like the wings of frightened birds.

He felt Su Ying move closer to him. and he glanced down the dark and quiet alley, then at the closed door. His voice sounded strange, but he managed to speak in a matter-of-fact tone.

“You must look nice,” he said. He brought out a small comb and ran it through her short black hair.

Su Ying smiled up at him and patted her hair with her small hand. Tears quickly came to Chen’s eyes, but they were briskly brushed away.

“Your dress will be all right.” He spoke abruptly while smoothing the wrinkles as well as he could.

Then taking a folded paper from his pocket, he slowly began to write in the dim light that came from beneath the door.

“Please take care of my sister. Our parents are dead many weeks. I am twelve and can no longer find food for this small sister. To my ears came news of your House, so I bring Su Ying to you.”

He reread the note twice, then gently pushed it into Su Ying’s hand.

“You must stand there, by the door.” Chen moved away, and Su Ying started after him.

“No, no, little sister.” He pushed her gently back. “I will just be a few minutes. Wait for me here and I will return . . .” The last word caught in his throat. He hoped his parents would someday forgive him for disgracing them with this lie.

Stooping down, Chen kissed her cheek, then pried loose the tiny arms that clung about his neck. He sniffed hard, picking up the sweet scent of jasmine. The fragrance seemed to calm him, and he tried to smile.

“Little sister, we have a great blessing here.” He pointed toward the massive door of the building. “In there they will give you food, and you will not cry at night anymore when you go to sleep.

“And you will have a bed — think of it, Su Ying — with warm covers! These honorable people will see that you are taken care of. Maybe they will even send you to America. This I have heard is possible!” Chen bowed his head slightly.

“America is a great land, for it has many, many bowls of rice — all you could want to eat. And maybe some lady — a very nice lady — will put shoes on your cold feet and mend this tear in your dress.”

Su Ying looked down at the rip, and her eyes began to fill. Chen smiled quickly and took her hand.

“But do not worry about the rip now. They will love you anyway, for you are a good little sister. Maybe the lady will even rock you and sing the lullaby. Chen is not good at this. It is for women to hold children and sing lullabies.”

Su Ying stood with the note still clutched in her hand, listening intently as her brother continued.

“To my ears have also come sayings of much happiness among these people in America. They have whole families who are happy together, and do you know why? They are glad because their mothers can sing to them and mend dresses and fix warm bowls of rice.” He sadly shook his head. “I cannot do these things, Su Ying.”

Su Ying looked very serious for her two years, and Chen stepped back a few steps.

“Oh, little sister,” Chen sighed, “you do not know what I am saying . . . and you will not remember.” His throat hurt and it was hard to swallow.

“May you gaze up to much happiness, Su Ying . . .”

He quickly blinked a tear away and moved over to the doorway. Raising his arm, he gave a few soft knocks, then quickly ran toward the far end of the alley. Su Ying, her eyes wide, let out a cry and started after him. Chen whirled around quickly and spoke sharply.

“No, Su Ying! You cannot come!” Firmly he pointed back toward the door.

“Look, little sister — someone will open the door soon. Give them the paper . . . watch the door!”

Su Ying’s head turned for a moment, her chin trembling, and she looked at the door with the yellow light. Those few seconds were all Chen needed. Swiftly he ran a few yards, then ducked to one side within the shadows of a small moongate.

Peering from his hiding place, Chen watched breathlessly as the door opened, letting the light from inside fall upon Su Ying. Chen swallowed hard as he watched Su Ying look up into the faces of two women. One of the women knelt in front of Su Ying and very gently put her arm around her. He knew the lady was speaking softly to Su Ying, and he thought he saw her smile in return. Chen smiled too, a little.

Su Ying held out the note. The second lady took it, and Chen seemed to stop breathing as she read it. The lady turned as she finished reading, motioning toward someone in the building. Other women appeared, and Chen could now hear their excited voices echoing surprise and concern. The first lady, still kneeling by Su Ying, gently gathered her into her arms and reentered the building with the others following. The door swung shut, leaving the alley once more in silence.

Chen straightened himself from his hunched position and sat for a few minutes leaning back against a large barrel. The stillness somehow seemed very acute, and he glanced now and then down the darkened alley where Su Ying had last stood. He pressed his shirt together where a button was gone, and brushed an imaginary speck from his pants.

Chen was glad the lady had put her arm around Su Ying. He hoped she could sing the lullaby. He glanced upward. The silver river of heaven was fading away as hints of dawn began to touch the sky. He stood slowly and ambled up the alley, pushing a small rock with his foot.

Hesitating, he turned for a moment and looked back at the door with the light. He nodded slightly. Su Ying needed lullabies and warm rice. He took a long deep breath, straightening himself as tall as possible. The night’s shadows slowly dissolved with the morning rays, which now began to poke their way between the buildings.

He was glad that the news of the house had come to his ears. Yes, Chen decided, this was truly a day of thanksgiving. He tried to feel happy, but as he moved down the lonely street, his feet dragged, and there was an emptiness inside that hurt.