Chapter Seven: This Matter Must Be Addressed

Chen Qingshan described the situation in the village: many families had married Vietnamese brides. Our village was called Fudi Gully—the name alone hinted at a small mountain settlement. Fudi Gully carried the label of poverty, and outsiders had a saying that captured it perfectly: “People from Fudi Gully are so damn poor that when a mosquito flies through their village, it loses two legs—where do they go? Someone eats them, of course!”

Poverty bred a direct problem: young men in our village struggled to find wives. Even if they managed to scrape together the enormous bride price, it was usually borrowed, leaving them in debt. Few women were willing to marry into our village. In recent years, a trend emerged: spend fifty or sixty thousand yuan and bring home a Vietnamese bride, with no additional expenses. After a few years, more than a dozen eligible young men had married this way.

When I first returned to the village, I brought up the matter with Chen Qingshan. He gave me a lesson, picking his teeth as he spoke, “Yezi, I know you’re a college student and understand the law, but let me tell you, theory is theory and practice is practice. Some things have to fit the reality. So many young men can’t find wives—what else are they supposed to do if you don’t let them go about it this way? We can’t all stay bachelors, can we? If the village committee tried to intervene, everyone would come demanding wives. What would we do then?”

Chen Qingshan thought I wanted to meddle in the business of buying wives, but I clarified, “Village chief, let’s overlook the others, but Chen Shitou’s case is different. The Vietnamese wives—well, it’s like Zhou Yu beating Huang Gai, one willing to hit, one willing to be hit. But the girl Chen Shitou bought, I’ve seen her; she wears designer clothes and looks like a student. Who in China is so poor they’d sell their daughter? What family wouldn’t be frantic if their girl was trafficked? The police are bound to investigate, and it won’t be hard to trace it to us. And that’s not all—those three brothers defiled the girl. If that’s true, it’s gang rape, which is even worse than rape! If you, as village chief, know and don’t report, what will be the consequences?”

Sure enough, it was that last point—failure to report while knowing—that struck Chen Qingshan’s soft spot. He slapped his thigh, exclaiming, “Yezi, you educated folk see things clearly. I knew something felt off about this! All right, I’ll go find Chen Shitou right now and get that girl sent back!”

Worried about the issue, I waited at Chen Qingshan’s house. Before long, he returned, and I hurried to greet him, asking, “Village chief, what did they say? Are they willing to send her back?”

He handed me a cigarette, saying, “The girl claimed she was Chen Shitou’s distant niece, here in the village for inspiration.”

“You believe that? Why would she need to be tied up with rope if she’s just here for inspiration? She’s scared to tell the truth!” I replied.

“Believe him? Hell no! I told the girl to speak honestly, not to be afraid—I’d stand up for her. But she insisted on her story, making me feel like I was meddling unnecessarily!” Chen Qingshan said angrily.

“She was bought by villagers. Urban girls like her have prejudices against us rural folks, thinking we’re all the same and not trusting us. But they trust the police. Should we report this?” I suggested.

“Report? Are you crazy? If you call the police, the whole family will end up in jail. And if this gets exposed, other families with Vietnamese brides will suffer too. And those three Da Kui brothers—when they get out after a few years, won’t they kill you? Do you really expect to reason with three mad dogs?” Chen Qingshan retorted.

“So you just won’t do anything about it?” I looked at him.

He replied, “Don’t worry. I checked—the girl at Chen Shitou’s house seems fine, no injuries. We need to figure this out. If it doesn’t work, I’ll visit a few more times. As soon as she admits to being trafficked in front of me, I’ll make sure she’s sent away. Is that enough? But I have to say, that girl is really beautiful.”

I said nothing more. Though I knew Chen Qingshan was being too simplistic—it’s not just a matter of sending her away. Even if she’s released, she might report it, and the police would still come after Chen Shitou’s family.

Leaving Chen Qingshan’s house, I returned to the village committee office. As I approached, I saw a girl standing at the entrance from a distance.

The moment I saw her, I knew she was waiting for me.

Her name was Han Xue, same as a celebrity, and she was the substitute teacher in the village.

Han Xue was very pretty—delicate features and, even more striking, her skin: fair and soft, the kind that made you want to reach out and pinch it. It was clear to me that her teaching in the village was purely a hobby for a wealthy girl. Her background was obvious. I’d glimpsed her clothes drying outside her dorm once, and the brand was one my university friends used to discuss—a single dress cost as much as her monthly salary. So she wasn’t here for the money.

The village’s previous teacher, Mr. Liu, had grown too old to teach, leaving Han Xue as the sole instructor. I was the only college graduate in the village, though I served as a village official, and often helped out at the school without pay. You could say I did it out of goodwill, or you could say I was motivated by the chance to spend time with Han Xue. After all, coming straight from university to the village, she was the one person I felt I shared common ground with.

It would be dishonest to say I didn’t like her, but that feeling was buried deep. A toad dreaming of eating swan meat is ambition; and I was a toad without ambition. I’d dated a girl in college, and during a summer break in my third year, I nervously brought her home to the village. Afterwards, she gave me the “good guy” card. I couldn’t blame her—my circumstances were poor. Since then, I’d developed a deep sense of inferiority around girls, especially after graduation, when I became a village official—a job with bleak prospects. How could I dare pursue Han Xue, knowing she was a rich heiress?

Han Xue had strong empathy. Most of the children’s clothes in the village were bought by her. When we chatted, she’d urge me to work hard to change the village’s poverty, ending with teasing that I lacked ambition, while I’d sigh at her naivety, not realizing how difficult change was. Lately, rumors about Chen Shitou’s family had spread, and I knew Han Xue was coming to talk to me about that matter.

Sure enough, as soon as she entered the office, she urged me to handle the situation immediately.

I smiled, “We really are in sync—I just came from the village chief’s place about this very issue.”

“So what’s the situation?” Han Xue asked.

I explained what had happened on Chen Qingshan’s end, and she grew anxious, “How can we wait? That girl must be suffering terribly. No, I’m calling the police now.”

“Don’t rush. The village chief has a point—if you call the police, they’ll come and uncover the other cases of Vietnamese brides. Not to mention the chief and I will be held jointly responsible, which doesn’t matter much. But think: if those Vietnamese women are deported, what about the children and families left behind?” I said to Han Xue.

“That’s true,” Han Xue replied immediately.

That was why I enjoyed talking with her. Sometimes her empathy overflowed like a young girl’s, but she could also be rational. Other girls might insist on reporting to the police, but Han Xue quickly understood my concerns.

“But we need to act fast. The longer that girl stays, the more she suffers,” Han Xue said.

I nodded. My thoughts matched hers—let Chen Qingshan try to negotiate first. If that didn’t work, reporting was the only option. As mentioned before, even if Chen Qingshan convinced the Chen Shitou brothers to release her, she’d likely report it anyway. The nature of the crime wouldn’t change. Still, I hoped the Chen Shitou trio would release her of their own accord—at least then, if they were prosecuted, it might count as a mitigating circumstance.

No matter how little I liked those three, they were struggling villagers too.

Who could have predicted that early the next morning, trouble erupted—the fool’s grave had been dug up.

As a village official, Chen Qingshan phoned me first thing and asked me to come. Together, we headed to the grave, with Chen Qingshan cursing along the way, “Damn it, who’s blind enough to dig up the fool’s grave? Everyone knows she was buried without a coffin—Chen Shitou just wrapped her in an old mat and buried her. What could they possibly find?”

“Maybe Chen Shitou and his brothers made enemies?” I asked.

Chen Qingshan pondered, then smacked me on the head, laughing, “You really are educated—got right to the point. Those Da Kui brothers are like mad dogs, and plenty of people don’t like them. They’re overdue for a beating!”

“Offending the living, then digging up their mother’s grave—whoever did it isn’t much better,” I said.

Chatting as we walked, we arrived at the fool’s grave, which lay beside Chen Laogen’s. Chen Laogen’s grave was intact, but the fool’s had a large hole.

When we arrived, quite a few villagers had already gathered, including the respected Third Grandpa, who stood by the hole with a worried frown. The villagers were abuzz, speculating that no one would dig up the fool’s grave—surely it was the fool herself who had crawled out.

Hearing this, I remembered the time when Chen Shitou carried me, a three-year-old, to dig up the fool’s grave. My breathing grew uneven.

But I didn’t believe their talk. Even if the fool had once risen as a corpse, twenty years had passed; the body would have long since decayed. How could she come back?

Third Grandpa saw us arrive and nodded, then said, “Qingshan, come here.”

Third Grandpa was highly respected in the village. Even though the role of clan leader was out of fashion, his standing far exceeded that of us village officials. He called Chen Qingshan aside for a few words, and then Chen Qingshan came over and squatted by the hole to examine it.

I went over quietly and asked, “What did Third Grandpa want? Why so secretive?”

Chen Qingshan tugged at me, signaling me to look at the hole. His face was pale as he said, “Look at this hole—it was dug by hand. See the fingernail marks and the direction of the grooves? They go from inside out. Do you understand what that means?”

I looked and understood, but still didn’t want to believe it, stubbornly replying, “Remember your role—you’re a Communist Party member, a materialist!”

Chen Qingshan waved his hand, “Give it a rest. When the fool rose as a corpse, you were still a child. I saw it with my own eyes.”

I smiled wryly and said nothing, thinking to myself: If I told you what I’d experienced, it would scare you half to death.