Mother - Chapter 2 (Part 1)

Liu Family

This was the person Mr. Liu is based on. Photo taken around 1949.

[ This chapter is too long for a post in email. Part 2 is posted online only. All updated excerpts are at https://appleanbooks.substack.com/s/mother ]

Mr. Liu had been born in Shandong Province in 1890. The Chinese famine of 1906–07 forced many people from the southern regions, such as the Anhui and Jiangsu areas, to move to the middle regions, including Shandong. Mr. Liu’s family had run out of options to make a living, and his father took him to migrate to the northeast region. He would never see his mother and big sister after that, and within two years, his father became ill and died.

Young Mr. Liu moved around to find odd jobs to support himself. After a few years, he settled in Chifeng. Not only did people seem kinder there, but there were more opportunities. The malnutrition in his early life hadn’t seemed to affect his growth. He was a strong young man, taller than most men in his generation, with broad shoulders and a square-shaped face, plus those double eyelids rare among Chinese. He also had a gentle temperament. Altogether, he was a handsome and manly man who became well-liked, even popular.

When a family had no sons but only daughters, they could “recruit” a man to become their son by having the man marry their daughter and live with them. Any children from that marriage would carry the family’s, or the mother’s, last name.

At 24, Mr. Liu became the family-blood-carrying son (in-law) by marrying the only daughter of his widower boss, a shop owner, whose last name was Liu as well, a common surname in China.

When his father-in-law retired, the younger Mr. Liu took over the shop. Although he never went to school, he was a quick study. He had no trouble managing all aspects of the business. That he was handsome and well-liked also helped him earn an excellent reputation and make connections. The business prospered.

Mr. Liu’s father-in-law had owned a two-room house behind the shop and some land surrounding the area. Two years after joining the family, Mr. Liu expanded the small house into a compound with four sections and a courtyard. In Chinese tradition, principal houses, or the houses with the highest value, should sit on the north side and face the south. Mr. Liu’s North House had three rooms: one for sitting or gathering, one for cooking and dining, and one bedroom with a big kang. A kang was a built-in bed made of bricks and mud that covered a significant portion of a bedroom for the entire family to sleep in. It had to be heated by the cooking stove in the cooking room daily to ensure people didn’t sleep in a cold kang.

The two rooms on the east side were called the East House, which had a separate entry and the potential for cooking or heating its kang. Mirroring the East House was the West House. On the south side was the Gate House. It had an arched gate in the middle and a room on each side of the gate. Mr. Liu and his wife lived in the North House. His father-in-law lived in the East House. He rented the rest of the houses for people he hired. The courtyard was where clothes were laundered and hung to dry and where children would play—though Mr. Liu and his wife had no children. There was a pressurized well (which had a handle that needed pumping to get water out) toward the corner between the North House and the West House.

Unfortunately, Mr. Liu’s father-in-law died from an illness, and his wife’s death followed soon after. By then, Mr. Liu’s shop had become the only one of its kind in this part of the city. He had learned the hard way to not stock anything perishable. If a product was hardy, long-lasting, and commonly used, he would have it in the shop.

Two years after his wife’s passing, Mr. Liu was ready for another wife. Through a matchmaker, at age 40, he found a young lady from a working family of eleven children. The marriage proposal was highly desirable for the young lady and her family. A sole wife was the most respected. Other roles could be an additional wife (men could marry more than one woman), a concubine (not considered a member of the family even though she might live with and belong to a man), or a mistress (who may have relationships with more than one man). The families of these women would carry the same respect. Mr. Liu made sure his offer was higher than anyone else could make.

At 18, the new Mrs. Liu was quite a beauty by any standards. Slightly shorter than her husband but much taller than her peers, she had a ballerina’s body with a straight back, long arms, and long legs. She moved as gracefully as a dancer, airy and flowing. Her abundant black hair was often braided and drawn up at the back of her head, making her long neck even longer and more gorgeous. Her rosy cheeks could warm up a room and everyone in it.

And Mrs. Liu was more than just eye candy. She carried out her domestic duties with ease: cooking, sewing, cleaning, and childbearing and raising. The only thing she refused to do was to appear in her husband’s shop or interfere with any part of the business. “The store is his world,” she’d always say. Most shoppers hardly ever saw her.

Four children had kept her busy. Her firstborn, Xichang, came in 1930 before the first anniversary of her wedding. A handsome and mild-natured boy, he had been the apple of her eye since he was a young boy. In a way, Xichang was secretly more important to her than her husband. Her affectionate glance frequently alighted on Xichang, and she’d save delicious and rare food for him and him only. The most noticeable signs that she was protective of her oldest son were her strong objections against several girls the matchmaker offered as potential brides for him. Even Mr. Liu thought her reactions were unreasonable—he thought many of those girls would be fine choices for their son’s bride.

The second son, Xidan, came two years after Xichang. Also handsome in his own way and eventually even taller than his brother, Xidan was naughty and carefree, the opposite of Xichang. Full of ideas, he’d often do things behind his parents’ backs and deny it when caught. As a result, Xidan got many complaints from his teachers and the grownups in the neighborhood. “That boy of Mr. Liu’s,” they’d say, shaking their heads and sighing. Half of the time, Mrs. Liu didn’t see such things as bad. To her, Xidan was a good boy—not as good as Xichang, but better than the neighborhood boys. Mrs. Liu became a safe shield for Xidan whenever Mr. Liu lost his temper with him.

“Ma Maaa…” Xidan would cry, rushing to his Mama. His eyes were tear-filled and his voice soft, as if he’d been the victim of a crime. He wouldn’t dare face his father’s red face and flaring nostrils, a wooden stick in his hand.

“You go easy on him. He’s a boy. Boys need to make mistakes and learn from them,” Mrs. Liu would insist, pulling Xidan behind her.

“You! You’re spoiling him.” Mr. Liu would lower his voice and turn away. That would be the harshest thing he’d say to his wife. He truly adored her and considered himself the luckiest man in the world to be married to her. She gave him two sons, which made him love her even more.

As it happened, two girls came into their lives, too. But what adventures they brought.

(to be continued)