My mother handled our household's economic matters, while my father was in charge of "upper-level development" . Our entire family's expenses for food and clothing rested upon my mother's frail shoulders. My mother, the college graduate, took care of everything from purchasing and preparing our three square meals a day to making sure that every family member had something to wear. Life in 1970s China was tough. If my mother was not hard at work preparing fried sausages or other dishes for the rest of the family, she was slaving over the sewing machine (even our shoes were made by her, one stitch at a time).
When I was young, I actually never thought of my mother as an intellectual. To me, she seemed more like a laboring housewife. It was only later that I learned about her long and tumultuous—albeit persistent—quest for an education. She finally graduated from college at the "ripe" age of thirty-three, which was actually the reason why my parents had children at such a late age. Female college students were even rarer than gold at that time. Learning these things came as a shock to me and gave me a feeling of deep reverence for her.
My father was responsible for our family's moral outlook. While my mother would often nag him about small things around the house, she still insisted on blindly following him when it came to more important matters. As far as she was concerned, my father's dignity and prestige within our household were beyond reproach. My mother worshipped her husband's talent, often extolling him as a man of letters, and she would self-effacingly remark that "those of us who studied the sciences have no faculty for writing." Even when my father would write an ordinary letter at home, she would gleefully read it out loudly before the entire family, praising each sentence as sublime and each turn of phrase as beautiful beyond words.
Come to think of it, my mother's faculty for deion always left something to be desired. Whenever she was talking about an attractive girl, she would always describe them as if reading from the same : "Round eyes, arched nose and a nice, melon-shaped face." My sister and I would look at one another in dismay.
Is that a girl she's describing? It sounds more like a horse!
My brother always occupied the role of idol and role model in our family. His journey from childhood to adolescence was as smooth as could be. Stories of his touching exploits circulated through our city until they nearly reached mythical levels. During our breaks between classes, my middle-school teacher loved nothing more than to extol the "Chronicles of Wang Ke" .
"… When Wang Ke took an exam, it wouldn't be enough for him to rank first—he'd be miles ahead of the student who ranked second…
"… While still in first grade of junior middle school, Wang Ke wrote a science-fiction story that was published inside the pages of adistinguished national newspaper…
"… Wang Ke was the top-ranked ping-pong player in the entire city…
"… Wang Ke was accepted at Beijing's illustrious Tsinghua University at the age of seventeen…"
My brother was an endless source of pride for me, and also an endless source of pressure. I have no idea if he ever felt exhausted from the effort of shouldering everyone's eager attention and expectations ever since his childhood. All I know is that more than two decades have passed since the day he began his architectural studies at Tsinghua, and that ever since then he has pursued his dreams of an architectural career with a religious fervor and a fearless attitude. During those fickle, impetuous days, when most people were searching for instant gratification, he showed me that people like him still existed: people who did not covet wealth and glory, who did not concern themselves with ephemeral gains and losses, who pursued their own ideals with all their heart and soul. These people were the conscience and backbone of society; they were the force that propelled humanity forward.
I have very rarely mentioned my sister in both my words and my writing. As a result, some people actually mistakenly believe that my brother is my only sibling. But in truth, compared to my relationship with my brother, my sister and I share a much more intimate friendship. My brother left home to pursue his studies while I was still very young, leaving only my sister to keep me company while I grew up. From the earliest days of my childhood, the two of us shared the same bed. We loved each other deeply, and we were inseparable.
Perhaps because I rarely had playmates of the same sex during my childhood, I constantly viewed the praise and approval of my female friends as my greatest goal. I was persistent in my eager search for a close female friend who shared my affection and interests. I was infatuated with this quest. Every time a female friend appeared in my life, I would heartlessly fling my sister aside. However, she never seemed to mind this. Whenever I faced "betrayal" in a friendship, my sister would always stand faithfully by my side.
I once heard of an author who was lonely her entire life before finally deciding to give birth to a child. Steeling herself, she swore that she would give herself a friend who would stand beside her, a loyal comrade-in-arms!
One thing in particular only made sense to me after I had already reached adulthood. My mother had prepared a friend for me before I was even born, one who would stay with me and remain loyal at all costs: my sister! This was a friendship that required no careful flattery or maintenance on my part, for it had long since seeped into our blood. It was impossible for us to abandon one another.
