Bonus Chapter: Letter from the Stars
[A letter to Yangyang that Xingxing kept in her little cloth bag.]
Yangyang:
By the time you read this letter, the stars will probably be gone. Don't cry, let me finish.
Wherever you are, Yangyang, take good care of yourself.
There are some things I can't say to your face. You always look up at me with that dirty little face, your eyes shining like the brightest star in the night, waiting for me to speak. But every time I open my mouth, my throat feels like it's stuffed with the ash from Yang Tieshuan's pipe, choking me so I can't say what you want to hear.
You never call me brother.
It wasn't that you didn't want to call, it was that I wouldn't allow it. Remember?
Once, you were chased by a stray dog in the village and fell, scraping your knee. Sitting on the ground, tears welling in your eyes, you called out to me, "Brother Xingxing." It was the first time I'd ever gotten angry with you. I told you never to call me that again. You were terrified, your eyes welling up with tears, and seeing that made my heart feel like it was being whipped by thorns from the hillside. But I hardened my heart, turned away, and left you sitting alone on the ground.
You never called me that again.
Yangyang, I'll tell you why now. Because the word "brother" sounds awful to me.
It's connected to the broken bed with the missing leg in Yang Tieshuan's room, to the smell of alcohol emanating from his mouth, to the shadows that come and go in the middle of the night, to the smell I can't wash off no matter how much I wash. It means that you and I share the same dirty blood, the blood that came from that man.
The thought of it makes me nauseous. My stomach feels like it's filled with a frozen, hard lump of manure dug out of a pigsty—cold, heavy, and sinking downwards. I hate this blood, I hate the sound of it flowing through my veins, I hate how it's making me look more and more like the man I want to strangle. And I hate even more… that it's made you his son too.
You are so clean. Even when you're covered in mud, crawling on the ground fighting with pigs for food, you're still clean. Your eyes are bright, your heart is soft, and you still remember the numbers Aunt Lu taught you, and the way she danced. You are the only warm stone I can touch in this stinking mountain valley.
That's why I won't let you call me that. I'm not worthy.
How can someone who was pressed down on that broken bed and torn and rubbed like a rag have the nerve to be your brother?
I wish I could peel off this skin, dismantle each bone, drain the blood from inside, and even burn the name "Yang Bawan" to ashes, scattering them into the deepest cave in the back ravine so that even wild dogs wouldn't bother to smell it.
But in my heart... Yangyang, I am thinking of him.
I want to be your older brother, I want it so badly.
I want to be like the older brother of those naked kids under the old locust tree at the village entrance, carrying you across the summer flooded ditch, you clinging to my neck, your little feet splashing in the water. I want to tuck your feet into my arms to warm them in winter, even if I'm only wearing a tattered rag. I want to be able to stand tall in front of you when Yang Tieshuan kicks you over, yelling at him, "He's my brother, don't touch him!" instead of like now, where I can only wait until you've crawled far away, then secretly shrink into a corner, hating myself for not being taller or stronger enough.
I want to hear you call me that one more time, just once. In your slightly stuttering but soft voice, call me "Brother Xingxing".
But I can't. At least not here, in this man-eating mountain. That name is tainted, tainted by me, by this place. It doesn't deserve to come out of your mouth.
Tomorrow, you're leaving. I'll hide you in the pig cart; that's your only chance to escape.
The path along the river was one I secretly memorized when I was taken out to "run errands" before. The paper in that small cloth bag was leftover paper money I stole from the stove, and I wrote on the back with charcoal. I wrote crookedly many times, erasing and rewriting, afraid the police wouldn't understand.
Fortunately, Aunt Lu taught me to recognize characters, recite poems, and read, although I didn't learn very quickly. But at least I can still write letters to you now.
Yangyang, you're smarter than me. Even though you started talking later, I know you understand everything. You need to go out, to a place with main roads, police officers, and people wearing pretty dresses like your mother.
You need to tell the people outside what's here.
Don't look back at me.
I lied to you when I told you to bring the police back to me. Just like I lied to you and said I'd see Aunt Lu when it got dark. This time, Xingxing won't be able to wait until dawn.
My legs hurt terribly, and my whole body aches. The pain is unlike anything I've experienced from a flint strike or a fall. It feels like worms are crawling out of my bones, gnawing at me every day.
I might... soon become a star in the sky, just like my mother and Aunt Lu.
Don't be sad. This is the path I've already planned. Now that you're gone, I have nothing to fear.
I'll find a clean, secluded place where no one can find me. I won't let them bury me in the Yang family's ancestral graveyard; I find it filthy. I'd rather have my bones carried away by wolves and scattered by the wind than stay with those people.
From now on, you will have no stars.
But you will have the sun. Yangyang, remember, your name is Lu Chenyang, Chen as in dawn and Yang as in the sun.
Aunt Lu gave you such a beautiful name. The sun is so wonderful, hanging high in the sky, bright and warm, unreachable and unhindered by anyone. Everything hiding in the darkness shrinks back when it sees the sun.
You should be like that sun.
Don't be like me. I'm dirty, and my heart is broken. No matter how I try to patch it up, the wind still keeps blowing in. You're different. You're a seedling that Aunt Lu and I nurtured and protected, pulled from the dung heap. You have to grow tall, grow big, bloom, and let everyone see you.
If... if one day you find yourself in a brightly lit place, well-fed, warmly clothed, with real shoes on your feet, and surrounded by kind people... If then, you suddenly remember the stars...
Just look up at the sky.
The brightest star at night is Aunt Lu, and the one next to it, slightly dimmer but trying its best to shine, is me. Aunt Lu and I will hang there side by side, watching over you.
If you really miss him terribly, just secretly call out "brother" in your heart.
Even though I'm far away, I'm sure I can hear you. Once I hear you, I'll blink.
Finally, recite Aunt Lu's words and what I taught you one more time. Once you've memorized them, they will hang in your heart like stones and stars, accompanying you on your journey through the night.
I have nothing to leave you. That coat was the last thing my mother left me, and now half of it covers your feet, hoping it can protect you from pebbles and keep you warm. I'll keep the other half. And this five-pointed star I polished with a stone—I polished it for a long time, but the edges are still a bit prickly. You can wear it and play with it.
Don't blame me for being heartless and pushing you away. Yangyang, letting you go takes more effort than keeping you by my side. I've used up all the strength I have in my life for tomorrow night.
Okay, I'm stopping now. The charcoal's almost gone, and my handwriting's getting worse. You need to learn to recognize many characters and write beautifully in the future, unlike me.
Go to sleep. You have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.
—Brother, Chen Wanxing
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