Guardians of the Great Wall
Marianna Lu, Group 3: Fiction, Dulwich College, Beijing
ow are you? How was your day?” As Wang An Bao greets another unblinking resident, he
sighs, thinking of the loud laughter and greetings often heard in his village, where everyone
knew everyone and the history was so rich they were still living it.
The resident disappeared behind the elevator door. An Bao sat back into his chair, staring
absent-mindedly into space, and occasionally tapping his fingers on the marble desk in front of
him.
An Bao only earned 1,000 RMB per month as a security guard in this apartment complex in Beijing. He
thought fondly of his previous job – a chef at a one star hotel. He wouldn’t mind working there for the rest of
his life, but the boss had replaced him with a younger man. Now, even this meager income helped to make ends
meet for his family.
Finally, his shift ended. An Bao stepped outside into the smog. The pollution enveloped the city, wreathing
everything in grey. He missed the delicate white clouds floating across the azure sky in his home, a small village
at the foot of the Great Wall.
Ding ling ling ling! Was it his son asking him how he was? Or was it his father, telling him the news of the
village? With eager hands, An Bao fumbled for his cell phone.
“
Son!”
“
Oh father! How are you?”
“
Son, come quick. I am sick and at the hospital,” came the urgent reply.
There was a silence at the other end of the phone. An Bao’s father was already 75 years old; a feisty old
man with a quick temper and an impatient temperament. Although once the head of the village, he was now frail
and feeble.
An Bao stammered, “Y-yes, I’m coming b-back.”
Holding the round-trip ticket in his hands tightly, An Bao hurried to the train station. His boss had very
reluctantly permitted a 5-day leave with a harsh, “You’d better be back on time, or else you’ll end up losing
your job.”
The hospital was filled with the strong, foul smell of Chinese medicine. Nurses bustled about, doctors
shouted orders and relatives prayed nervously. Many patients lay on beds in the dark corridors, as proper rooms
were full.
His father was one of them.
As An Bao approached the bed, he saw his father, Wang Shou Cheng, with his head drooping lifelessly on
the dirty pillows. When he saw his son, Shou Cheng smiled with half-closed eyes, “My son, you’ve come to see
me.”
An Bao held his father’s hand tightly and asked, “Are you feeling better now?”
Luckily, Shou Cheng convalesced quickly. Within two days, he was able to walk without the help of others.
“
I want to go home now!” his father had insisted ever since he could speak without wheezing dreadfully. “It’s
too expensive here!”
Finally, the doctors succumbed to his constant nagging and he left the hospital on the third day.
Shou Cheng, although still coughing constantly and very feeble, was well enough to resume his daily
routines. This meant waking up at 7am precisely, practicing Tai Chi (although with his son accompanying him
lest he broke a bone), playing cards with old friends until noon and then sitting outside beside the main road
quietly (which was a new habit he had picked up) for the rest of the day.
An Bao accompanied his father on these blissful afternoons. They quietly stared out into the mountains,
with the Great Wall rising and falling with each slope. Behind them, the sapphire sky was dotted with snowy
clouds. The air carried with it the scent of spring.
An Bao would stroll through the village in the mornings. The imperial Ming army had built it to store food,
water, and armor. Although ruins of ancient buildings could still be found, the village had transformed since the
old times. It had also changed from when An Bao had last been here. His street hadn’t altered much, but many
young men had departed to find low-end jobs in the city, like he himself had done 20 years ago.
As he continued on his stroll, An Bao found several abandoned houses dotted here and there. All that
remained of them were mounds of discarded stone and bricks. Glass bottles and plastic bags had been thrown
casually on the ground, forming a trail of litter that ran alongside the main road. Wild plants had snaked onto the
paths, sometimes so unkempt that An Bao struggled to get through them.
“
H