Chu Ju's House by Gloria Whelan

Author:Gloria Whelan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061975806
Publisher: HarperCollins

seven

It was time to plant the winter crop—radishes, cabbage, sweet potatoes, melons, and squash. When spring came, the paddy would be flooded and the rice planted again. As we worked in the field, it saddened me to see how easily Han Na tired. If she stood up suddenly, she became dizzy and I would have to steady her. Though I begged her to leave the work to me, she would not return to the house and would only rest for a bit in the shade of the bamboo.

The rains had long since ended and the weather was pleasant. I often looked at the hills and wondered how Ling’s orchard was doing, for it was cooler there, and then one day Han Na said, “It is time to visit the Zhangs.” Han Na was not one to accept charity. Though the Zhangs’ gift of wheat flour was kindly meant, the gift weighed on her. “I must take them something in return,” she said. After that she fell upon our fattest chicken and imprisoned it in a basket.

I washed my hair, leaving it fall to my shoulders with no ponytail.

Han Na looked at me with surprise. “Now you are more a young woman than a girl,” she said. She was in her best jacket and trousers, and I wore my new blue jeans. Together we set off with the restless chicken. It grew cooler as we went up the hill, climbing slowly so as not to tire Han Na. The winter wheat on the farms we passed trembled in the light winds. The bamboo groves swayed and rustled. Many of the farms on the hill had pigs, and one or two, like the Zhangs’, had a water buffalo. The houses were as large as three rooms. Everywhere there was stone that had been cleared from the land. The houses were made of stone, the fences were of stone, and wherever you looked there were piles of stone waiting to be put to some use.

The Zhangs must have been prosperous, for they lived in one of the three-room houses. Ling and his parents hurried to greet us, apologizing for the climb up the hill and for the disorder of the house, which in truth was as neat as Han Na’s house.

They made much of Han Na’s gift of a chicken. We were given bowls of tea to drink and pickled ginger and dumplings in broth. It was a mystery where Ling’s height came from, for his parents were like two dolls, small and very neat in appearance.

While the Zhangs talked with Han Na about Quan, Ling offered to show me his orchard. On the way we passed the stable where the Zhangs’ water buffalo was tethered. I stopped to stare at the great animal. “Is he dangerous?” I asked, looking at the beast’s curved horns.

“He is a great baby,” Ling said. He reached over and patted the beast, who rolled his eyes at us. “I have ridden him since I was five years old and had to be tied onto his back to keep from falling off.

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