that many had gone to work but never came back, and there wasn’t much hope for her husband to be the lucky
one in a million.
The next day, she worked on the farm day and night. Soon, her hands were calloused and bleeding, but
even as tears started to blur her vision, she kept working. When she wanted to give up, she thought about her
son, her husband and her brother-in-law. They were defiant and persevered, and even when they were forced to
work on the Great Wall by the Emperor, they stood strong for their loved ones. As her hatred of the evil, selfish
ruler grew, she ploughed harder and dug deeper, determined not to back down.
Another year later, the woman had taught her now seven-year-old son how to work on the farm. Together,
they had saved up enough money to travel to the part of the Great Wall near Qinhuangdao^ and the Yellow Sea
to visit their family. Though there wasn’t a big chance, she still believed that there was a slim possibility that her
husband and brother-in-law would be alive and healthy. Upon arriving, the twosome met a troop of peasants
sprawled on the ground, gulping mush from dirty, rough hands. Elsewhere, men were hauling bricks and
stacking them on top of the other. The stench of sweat and exhaustion hung in the air, so dense that it was
nauseating.
“
Excuse me, I’d like to see Ming Heshan and his brother, please,” she asked the peasants gingerly. These
men looked tough and menacing to her.
Some people looked at her as if she was crazy, and some pretended not to hear. A few men continued
snuffling down food like pigs, hardly glancing at the woman. Seeing that they didn’t care, she stalked off and
went on in search of her family.
Amber light washed over the sky like watercolour as the sun began to set. She wanted to give up asking,
but as the wife was about to leave, she encountered a party of six men coming their way.
A man, who looked as if close to his 50s, whispered to his friends. “You are looking for Ming Heshan,
your husband?” he asked in a Shanghai dialect.
“
Yes, where is he?” she inquired quietly, thankful that her husband had taught her how to speak a few
Chinese dialects.
As she asked her question, there was an instant change in the mood. The peasants’ eyes immediately
saddened, and some stood up quietly. The 50-year-old sunburnt man took her hands in his gently. “I’m sorry,
but your husband’s brother died of sickness, and your husband died soon after of sadness and exhaustion. We
sincerely offer our condolences.”
The woman nodded quietly. She had long suspected this would be the case, but hadn’t expected the news
to be so hard to bear. Gripping her son’s hand tightly, she smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you.
May I see his burial place?”
“
He is with his brother in a garden where the grass is green and white roses grow in their memory,” the
man answered hesitantly. Sharing a brief look of concern with his friends, he added: “It is in a graveyard far, far
away where all those sent to heaven are buried.” Though this couldn’t be further from reality, he didn’t want the
nice woman to be in a worse state than she already was now.