Free Gold Mountain Blues by Ling Zhang Page A

was just for starters, so we heard.” “I scrimped and saved for ten years and more,” said Red Hair. “Why shouldn’t I kill a few chickens?” But no one believed him. They crowded around and tried to pull his trousers off, shouting: “Lets see if there’s a gold nugget in your crotch!” Red Hair flailed and shoved until he finally fought his way out. He stood up, holding his trousers up and said: “Ah-Fat, write a letter for me to my old woman. She’ll run off with another man if I don’t write.”
    The oil lamp was hurriedly twiddled so it gave more light. Someone ground ink in the ink stone, spread out the paper, chose a quill and handed it to Ah-Fat. Of all the men in the room, only Ah-Fat had done a year or two in a tutor school and could write a few characters, so writing everyone’s letters home fell to him. Ah-Fat took the pen, smoothed the tip to a point on the ink stone and waited for Red Hair to speak. Red Hair clutched his head and scratched his cheeks for a long time, and finally said: “Are Mum and young Loon both well?” There was an uproar in the room, and shouts of “Rubbish! You should ask your old lady if she’s all right! We all know she’s the one you miss.” But Red Hair just told Ah-Fat to get on and write, and ignored them.
    â€œDid you get the bank draft for twenty dollars I sent with Uncle Kwan Kow from Bak Chuen village?” he continued. But before Ah-Fat had put pen to paper, Red Hair started to swear: “Fuck it, you received it and you didn’t write me a word in reply. You’re so lazy, you’ve got maggots growing under your feet.” “Is that what you want me to write?” asked Ah-Fat. “Yes! That’s what I want you to write!” Ah-Fat smiled: “You finish talking, and then I’ll write it all down at once, so you don’t change it later.”
    Red Hair thought a bit more and finally continued: “‘I’m still living at Ah-Sing’s house, and I haven’t been ill. Next time I send a dollar draft back to you, look after it carefully. The streets of Gold Mountain are full of“piglets.” There are too many people and too little work, and when the winter snows come, there’s fuck-all to do. You look after Mum and young Loon at home. And don’t let your sister Six Fingers slack off. Send her out to do lots of work.’”
    Ah-Fat laughed at this. “How big’s Six Fingers then? You’re not telling me a child of three can do real work!” “Pah!” Red Hair snorted: “When I was three, I used to go with my dad to catch loaches. Write this for me too, ‘Before I left, Wet Eyes from Bak Chuen village came and borrowed three measures of rice grain. Get a move on and press him to repay it. But he’s a loser with fuck-all to his name, so if you really press him and he doesn’t repay, then wait a bit. That way he won’t go throwing himself in the river or hanging himself. And for Mum’s back pain, there’s a good decoction that’s made in Gold Mountain. Next time someone goes home, they can take some. Brew it up for Mum.’”
    â€œFinished?” asked Ah-Fat. “Yes, yes, I’ve finished!” So Ah-Fat wrote out the letter:
    Dear Suk Dak:
    I hope that you have no worries at home, and that all the family are at peace. I think of you a great deal. I assume you received the twenty silver dollars which Uncle Kwan Kow from Bak Chuen village took with him for you the last time he returned. I am still living at the same address as before, at ease in body and soul, so do not worry about me. The weather is gradually getting colder and it is not easy to find work, so I hope you are making careful plans for the dollars I send and spending as little as possible. Please take all possible care to look after Mum, our son Loon and Six Fingers. You do not need to press for repayment of the