On May 18, 2020, at 2:59 p.m., I boarded train K1440 from Pingdingshan to Huainan, heading back to school.

A Long Spring at Home

The first half of that year had been dry and repetitive. I was preparing for the retest of my graduate admission. I knew it would be a hard fight, so I never let myself relax. Then, because of the special circumstances that year, the initial exam counted for 70 percent, and the retest still cut a large number of candidates, at a ratio close to 1:4. I failed. It was over. I had done everything I could, and I did not think my score was poor, but I still lost.

For a long time I had written nothing except technical summaries. That day I wanted to put down what had happened. I had spent the whole half-year in my hometown. It was the longest stretch I had been home since first grade. Because I was preparing for the retest, I never went out to play. In a way, it gave me a chance to finally meet the neighbors around my family's door.

The Country and the Century

The first half of 2020 was hard for everyone, for every person, for the country, for the whole world. It was a time when the entire globe was fighting the same thing. What happened made it obvious that humanity is one community, yet politics kept dividing that community into smaller and smaller households. Politics is a disgusting thing, especially the kind of national politics that carries a sense of superiority. I was not talking about the United States. Really, I was not.

In 1999, the Chinese embassy in Yugoslavia was bombed by the U.S. military in what was called a mistake. I was one year old. Everything I know about it came from my elders or from wiki pages. China endured humiliation and swallowed its anger. Everyone knew how deep the calculation behind that mistake must have been. The rapid modernization of our weapons came out of the huge shame that generation carried.

In 2001, the collision over the South China Sea happened, and China again endured humiliation. At that time, neither our economy nor our defense could compete with the United States. The only thing we could do was hold back.

In 2003, SARS came. I was in kindergarten. My impression of it is simple: one day the teacher suddenly said we did not have to go to class, and I was happy. Later, during the time at home, I vaguely remember my grandmother would not let me go outside. I did not know what was happening. Only years later did I learn that it was called SARS.

In 2008, China hosted the Olympics. My memory of that year: a cousin of mine left junior high before finishing and went alone to Beijing to try his luck. My childhood friends and I were still little kids. On the evening of August 8, I called them to go swimming in the river. They all refused. They said they wanted to stay home and watch the Olympics. That is my memory of that year.

In 2013, I was in the third year of junior high. Japan openly provoked the Diaoyu Islands dispute, and protests rose across China, because the islands are our inherent territory and that cannot be questioned. But in our actions there were also many improper forms of protest. I clearly remember that a teacher at our school, who I think later went to work in the county education bureau, always had spit on his Toyota. It was the work of troublemaking students. Those kids probably just wanted to join the excitement; they did not know what the Diaoyu Islands meant. Another thing I remember: my homeroom teacher, who was not a very responsible teacher, came to class drunk one day. It was a writing class. He stood on the platform and cursed the Japanese. We all laughed quietly below. He cursed in very ugly terms for two class periods. We could all understand his patriotic feelings, but as a teacher of socialism with Chinese characteristics, I thought his behavior was somewhat rude.

In 2020, the novel coronavirus broke out in Wuhan, China. The origin of the virus is still not certain, and politicians are still attacking each other. The ones who suffer most are ordinary people. In this international disaster, the hypocrisy of politicians is completely exposed. I kept thinking: can the communism Marx imagined really be achieved? When there are no countries, no police, no prisons, no government, what would that scene be like? We really cannot imagine it now. Maybe it is like the ancients a thousand years ago being unable to imagine today's internet.

May our nation do better and better, may our country become stronger, and may the world have peace.

The Accident at the Crossroads

On April 20, a very serious traffic accident happened at the entrance to our village. A grandmother, not very old, was riding an electric bike with her granddaughter through the intersection when they collided with a truck. The little girl, only a few years old, died on the spot. She was decapitated at the scene. The grandmother was sent to the hospital and her life was saved.

What did that small life do wrong?

Do those so-called gods and Buddhas really exist? If they do, why could they not open their eyes and look at this little girl?

I am not in a position to discuss responsibility, because I did not see what happened. I have heard many versions, and I do not know which one is trustworthy. I only know that a small life, a little girl, was very clever, and though she was young she had a sweet mouth and was very likable. Then suddenly she was gone. I could not accept it. Why does a person who is fine suddenly disappear? She was so small. She had just begun to enjoy life, and then... What did she do wrong?

I did not know what to say. My heart hurt. I thought her family must hurt even more. But no one can turn back time. After the accident, the guard belt beside the intersection was removed. But what use was that?

My Grandmother and Her Sister

My grandmother is eighty-eight this year. She is a stubborn person, truly stubborn. It is already 2020, and in her daily life she does not use a single electric appliance. That sounds like a simple sentence, but as a person of this era, can you imagine what life without electric appliances is like? In the past she used two electric things, a flashlight and a small alarm clock, only those two. But she used them because the family forced her to. In recent years she has stopped using even those.

In recent years my grandmother's mind has sometimes been unclear. She has a bit of dementia and often makes a fuss at home. But one good thing is that her body is very healthy. She does not need the family to take care of her. Every day she cooks for herself and lives independently.

I never met my grandfather, or at least I have no memory of meeting him. He died in the year I was born. I know about him only from what my uncles and my father have said.

On April 20, 2020, my grandmother's younger sister came to visit her.

The first moment the two saw each other, my grandmother could hardly believe it. From the time my great-aunt got out of the car, my grandmother held her sister's hand and did not let go for a long time. The two did not say much, but tears were circling in their eyes. My grandmother is eighty-eight; her sister is seventy-six. A sisterly bond across a century.

Honestly, I do not know how many more times the two old people can meet.

My great-aunt's health has not been good in recent years; it is worse than my grandmother's, and she needs her children around to care for her. Fortunately, her daughters are very filial. Two of them brought her to see my grandmother that day.

While the two sisters talked, several of us younger family members sat nearby and listened. That day I learned for the first time that my grandmother had a sister. When they were little, the three of them went out together to beg. At the gate of a wealthy household, the family took a liking to my grandmother's second sister. The one who came to visit was the third. So the second was left with that household. It was that casual: no contract, no agreement. We cannot even imagine how people lived in that era.

Later the family went out to look for the second sister, but it seemed the household had passed her on to someone else, and the search came to nothing.

My grandmother never told me about life in their era. Every time I asked, she would smile and say, It is all past, all past, and then she would stop, her face full of melancholy.

My grandmother was born in 1932. She lived through the Republic of China, the civil war, the War of Resistance Against Japan, the Liberation War, the founding of New China, reform and opening up, and the takeoff of China in the new era. My family is already four generations under one roof.

Later I joked with my buddy in Baofeng. I said, if we are still sitting together at eighty-eight and bragging to each other, then we will be true brothers for life, and I will have no regrets even if I die.

The Dog Who Didn't Come Home

On April 26, 2020, our dog went missing. Missing is not quite the right word. I do not believe that a dog who had been with us for thirteen years would just wander off. I had thought he could spend his old age at home with us.

Our dog was very obedient. I had been studying away from home since I was young, but no matter how long I was gone, every time I came home and opened the door, the first one to rush over and welcome me was always our dog.

He was not a valuable breed, just an ordinary local dog. I got him from a neighbor when I was in the fourth or fifth grade. He was only a few months old then, so small.

In the blink of an eye, so many years passed. I finished primary school, junior high, high school, and university. I never expected our dog would stay with my family for so long.

I also never expected my feelings for him to run so deep. When he was small he was not obedient, and my parents scolded him plenty. Later, as he grew older, he became more and more obedient and smarter. When we said simple things to him, together with simple gestures, he could understand our meaning or our mood.

The first night after he was lost, I could not sleep. I blamed myself. If I had locked the door that day and not let him out, would this not have happened? The next morning I got up after five. It was not to review my major courses for the retest; it was to open the door and see whether the dog was at the gate. How I hoped that the day before he had just been playful and had gone off to see some neighbor's female dog. But I never saw him again.

For those days I was very negative. I did not want to accept the fact. For several nights in a row I dreamed that when I opened the door in the morning, I saw our dog. The dream was so real, so real that I did not want to accept reality.

I could not understand. He was so smart, so likable, so important in our family's hearts. Why, in the eyes of others, was he just a dish? I had never publicly cursed anyone online, but I really wanted to curse those people, the thieves who steal other people's dogs, the beasts who treat humanity's most loyal companion as a delicacy in their mouths.

After our dog was lost, I was eager to get to school, because I thought that way I would not miss him so much. But in the end I have to go home. The next time I go home, when I open the door, I will never see him rushing over again.

I miss him very much, but there is nothing I can do. Nothing at all.

For me and my family, our dog was only thirteen years. For our dog, we were his whole life.

Dog, go well. Remember to come home. Don't be too playful.