Chapter 3: What Kind of Father Is That?

The neighboring room was incredibly cramped. The small eight-square-meter space housed four people and contained two narrow beds and a wooden table. Cooking was still done in the alley, and meals were even simpler—most of the time, they ate there. When the alley became too crowded, they would bring the food back into the room, placing it on the wooden table; some would sit on the beds to eat, others would stand.

Zheng Fei, being something of an orphan himself, had long been accustomed to eating meals at other people’s homes. The neighboring family of four had three working adults who, as migrants without city household registration, could only take on piecework as temporary laborers within the local production group. Together, they barely earned two yuan a day, six or seven mao each, and with no work on Sundays, their monthly income was at most around fifty yuan.

This family lived very frugally, rarely eating more than a few dishes a week. Zheng Fei had talked with them before; they planned to earn more money in the city and then return home to build a house. But today, with Zheng Fei added to the household, Aunt Huang, who was in charge of cooking, bit her lip and took down a strip of cured meat hanging from the beam, slicing a few pieces.

“You’re so thin, here’s an extra dish for you.”

“No need to be so polite; something simple is fine. I just need to eat a little.”

“That won’t do—you’ve grown up right in front of us.”

A middle-aged man in a vest in the room raised his thumb: “Mom, I’m jealous. Sometimes I feel like Fei here is really your own child.”

Aunt Huang glared at him and retorted, “I originally picked you out of the trash heap.”

Hearing this, a little girl with twin ponytails froze for a moment, furrowing her brow as she asked, “Granny, does that mean I was picked up from the trash too?”

“Only your father was; you weren’t.”

A young woman dressed in work clothes, sleeves rolled up, patted the girl’s head. “You were born after your mother was in labor for two days.”

The little girl, Hong Xiaoyun, patted her chest confidently. “Good, that scared me.”

Seeing this warm scene, Zheng Fei smiled broadly, but inside he felt a complex mix of emotions. A bowl of rice, stir-fried cured meat with green garlic, and boiled mustard greens made up their entire dinner. Though simple, for someone who had been eating sweet potato noodles for half a month, the meal was truly delicious.

Noticing Zheng Fei finished quickly, the little girl slowed her own eating pace and pushed her bowl toward him. “Big brother, I think you’re too thin. You need to eat more.”

Zheng Fei was deeply touched and gently stroked her head. “I’m already full. You’re still growing and need to eat more to get taller.”

After dinner, next door, Hong Laisheng asked, “Want to come with me to the production group for some temporary work? The pay’s low, but at least you won’t go hungry.”

“My father’s issue hasn’t been sorted out yet, so the group won’t take me.”

Hong Laisheng frowned. “What’s wrong with your father? The paperwork was approved long ago. Why hasn’t he come back to update his records? It’s dragging you down.”

“I... don’t really know.”

“What kind of father is that?”

Zheng Fei fell silent for a moment. Because of his father’s unresolved past and absence, wherever Zheng Fei went, he was met with the same rejection: “Your father’s history is problematic,” and then dismissed.

Right after finishing his meal, a few childhood friends who had heard the news came over. One, a bare-chested youth, immediately threw an arm around Zheng Fei’s shoulder.

“Fei, you’re finally back! We missed you so much.”

Zheng Fei had only been back for half a month, but his memories were filled with their faces. He had expected that such closeness might feel uncomfortable, but to his surprise, it didn’t. These two had grown up with him, playing in the streets, sneaking into the paint factory, swimming in the Suzhou River, even poking at swallow nests together.

They had been lucky to avoid being sent to the countryside during the urban youth relocation because of their young age. The one holding Zheng Fei’s neck was Zhu Xiaotao, whose family worked as dock laborers near the Suzhou River. Two years ago, he cracked a front tooth on a bet, and now he spoke with a lisp, getting overly excited and spraying saliva when he talked.

“You’re dribbling all over me.”

The other, Wang Qiusheng, looked honest and dependable, working alongside his father as a sanitation worker handling waste. When Qiusheng approached, wanting to get close to them, Zhu and Zheng Fei both nervously asked, “Have you showered?”

“Already, otherwise you can come smell how bad I am.” Qiusheng waved his hands toward their noses.

“Get lost!”

Though scavenging waste was the lowest job in the social hierarchy, even such work was highly sought after in the shantytown. Many fought to get these jobs, but someone like Zheng Fei, with his questionable background, couldn’t even qualify for such work.

Zhu Xiaotao said, “Fei, you’re back and it’s almost dark. How about we go to the old spot tonight?”

“Sure.”

Zheng Fei was full of questions. Where was this ‘old spot’? What was so fun about it?

In this post-reform era, others entertained themselves by dancing in the square with cassette players or going to dance halls to shake and sway. But those activities were for workers on their bicycles holding secure jobs. For poor, unemployed youths like them, even pooling their money would barely make a few mao—not enough to afford anything.

There was nowhere good to go. At the time, a bottle of Shanghai beer cost three mao, and the cheapest Brave cigarettes two mao—clearly beyond their means.

“Wait, it’s too hot there. I’ll buy two popsicles.”

Wang Qiusheng pulled two mao from his pocket and bought three popsicles at the state-run grocery store on the corner.

Zhu Xiaotao said, “I want red bean.”

Wang asked, “Fei, what flavor do you want? Red bean or orange...?”

“Orange, then.”

Led by the two, the three climbed up to the rooftop of a nearby factory. Once there, Zheng Fei’s memories updated. They had come here to spy on a widow.

Xiaotao and Qiusheng stealthily watched a lit window in the adjacent alley.

“Here she comes, here she comes.”

“The curtains are being drawn—she’s about to take a bath.”

Zhu Xiaotao was utterly excited.

Qiusheng didn’t speak but kept his gaze fixed on the narrow gap in the curtains.