The Game of Life

Huiqin, my beloved wife:

I don’t know if all is well in Jinling. Father and I have arrived in San Francisco a few days ago. The sights and sounds along the way are not convenient to detail in a letter, but I deeply feel my own insignificance and impotence. The ship I boarded set out from Guangdong Province, passing through Hong Kong. Yet the majority of Chinese on board were human traffickers and the young girls they had tricked. Upon arriving in San Francisco, people were weighed and sold like livestock, a heartbreaking sight that left me feeling powerless. I had thoughts of abandoning my pen and taking up arms, but I could only hate my own weakness and inability.

By the time you receive this letter, you should be setting out for Guangdong Province. Father asks that you take good care of Mother and Elder Sister. Second Sister has passed away, and Fen is missing. After boarding the ship, you must keep a watchful eye on them, and don’t let them wander about and become upset upon seeing the abducted girls. Mingqing may be a man, but he is timid and indecisive, and Mingzhe is prone to ludicrous antics. In the face of significant matters, they still need your careful attention. I don’t know if there’s news of Uncle yet, but you need not worry too much. Father has already arranged for people in Jinling to respond, and I believe you will be reunited soon.

In these past months, I often find myself thinking on the deck at night, as the ship cuts through the waves and the sound of the sea against the vessel’s heavy hull seems like mourning to me. In these months, only the thought of you brings me joy. The horizon is vast at sea, and looking up, I can see a sky full of stars, but none shine as brightly as you. I miss you more with each passing day, and my love for you grows stronger.

I’ve bought a pot of your favorite Chinese roses, awaiting only the thawing of winter’s snow and the blossoming of spring, ready to bloom for you upon your arrival.

Li Mingyi, December 17th

*

Huiqin, my love:

Last week you complained in your letter about Mingzhe causing trouble and displeasing Mother, so I’ve written to scold him. He meant well. Ever since Father’s passing, Mother has been in low spirits. Although Mingzhe often behaves foolishly, his intentions are always good.

I took the initiative to sell the property in Cloud High, as the situation back home is now very promising. Together with a few friends, I’ve donated two hundred thousand dollars to aid the war effort. These days, life at home may be more difficult; I hope you’ll forgive me. The climate here in Cloud High is pleasant, with cool summers despite the cold winters, and although there are many Caucasians, they are not as unfriendly to Asians as in San Francisco. I’ve mentioned it many times to Mother, but she has always been reluctant to come. Now that you’ve completed your studies, I hope you can join me in persuading Mother, for the climate in San Francisco is truly unsuitable for her.

Oh, I have another piece of good news. I’ve obtained the contact details of Margaret Mitchell, whom you’ve always admired. I’ve written to her and believe it won’t be long before I receive a response.

Today is the Qixi Festival, but alas, I cannot be by your side. These years we have been like the Cowherd and the Weaving Maid, only able to meet once a year. I’ve planted many flowers, a pity you cannot see them. If only these flowers could, like the magpies, form a bridge to take me to your side, I would plant flowers every day and do nothing else. Regrettably, I can’t express my yearning for you in person and can only write it in a letter.

Every time I look at the Chinese roses I’ve planted, I feel as if I am seeing you. Huiqin, in this life, you are the only one I cherish. Do you know that?

Li Mingyi, on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month

*

My husband Mingyi:

Today is the Qixi Festival, and if Mother hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have noticed that more than ten days have passed since we parted. During this time, numerous matters have intermingled, keeping me so busy that I’ve hardly noticed the passage of time.

Recently, I heard that the situation back home is improving, and everyone is encouraged. After discussing with Mother, I decided to donate all the extra money from our home, hoping you won’t blame me. I’ve found a new job. The pay is not much, but it’s enough to get by. You don’t have to send more money, and please don’t tire yourself out. Take good care of your health.

Mother’s health has been poor lately. She often wakes up coughing in the middle of the night and frequently mourns Elder Sister. Whenever she mentions Elder Sister’s suicide, she can’t help but weep bitterly. Mingzhe has finally matured, occasionally trying to cheer up Mother without causing any more trouble. Although it’s not always effective, it eases my mind somewhat. Time always flies by especially fast when you’re not here. I wanted to tell you how much I miss you, but when my pen touches the paper, I find myself unable to write. Perhaps I’m not good at writing, and only when you are in front of me can I speak out. You’ll be back soon, I dearly miss you.

Liu Agu from Chinatown is returning to China. Her youngest son died in the war, and she wants to retrieve his body, saying she cannot let him become a lonely wandering ghost without a tomb. I too wish to return home. The ashes of Elder Sister and Father are still in the house, waiting for us to bury them back home. I still have no news about my older brother and seven nephews. Even though I fear we may never meet again in this life, I still hold on to hope. I often think, if they are still alive, how could they ever find me across the vast Pacific Ocean?

I only wish for the war to end soon, God bless China!

PS: I love you.

Jiang Huiqin, on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month

*

Mingyi:

Mother is gone.

Ever since you left last month, Mother’s health has been declining. Dr. Cao said it was homesickness that had become a serious condition, beyond the help of medicine. I wanted to write to you, asking you to come back, but Mother refused. She snatched my letter and burned it, not willing to worry you.

Mingqing is in Europe, Mingzhe is in New York, and you are in Cloud High. The house is no longer filled with laughter, leaving me alone with an extra urn. Before she passed, Mother always talked about wanting to go home, to return to Beiping. I too long for Beiping. According to the newspapers, Japan is about to surrender. The war is finally coming to an end, and we can finally go home. If only Mother had held on a little longer, she could have seen Beiping City with her own eyes. Before she left, she instructed us to bury her ashes in the yard of our old house, if the house is still there.

Let’s go home.

Jiang Huiqin, December 5th

*This chapter serves as an extra, having taken me over 4 hours to write. I’m balding o|^—|_