honeymoon, the burning between her legs made it painful for her to walk. When she stepped onto Tiananmen Square on their last day, it hurt so much that she had to sit down and rest on the concrete paving stones. As soon as Weiwei gripped her hand on the boat, the memory of that pain came back to her. She hates thinking of Weiwei now, and still hasn’t taken a look at the tortoiseshell glasses she snatched from him . . . She glances up and sees hanging down from the leaves of a shrub, three grey butterfly chrysalids. She hopes that one day she too will be able to break out of her shell and fly. During these last nine months, she’s barely had a moment to think of her own future. Sharp spikes of motherwort prick into her ankles. On the broad Huai River far away, boats are docked below a petrol station and large cargos are being unloaded. One boat has a triangular flag, indicating it can sail on foreign waters. Last week, Kongzi transported cargos of security doors and glass panels. He was paid thirty-five yuan a day, but after the cost of fuel was deducted, he was left with only twenty. He spent two hundred yuan when Kong Qing visited, taking him out for meals at the village restaurant. Meili was excluded from their secret discussions, but from the little she overheard she gathered they’re planning to set up a company to provide family planning information. Meili asked Kong Qing whether his wife suffered any after-effects from the forced abortion, and he said she contracted a pelvic inflammatory disease which has left her infertile. He said that women subjected to such abortions often develop this disease, and even if they do manage to conceive later, the babies are either miscarried or born with birth defects. He said the government deliberately chooses to perform forced abortions and IUD insertions in primitive places such as village schools, so that women will contract illnesses that will render them barren. Meili is relieved that although she suffered from cramps and heavy bleeding for a while after her abortion, she didn’t develop any serious complications. She runs her hands through the grass, searching for her favourite bitter-tasting wolfberry leaves, and for snails to feed to her ducks. For the first time in months, she feels safe and at peace.
Waterborn, Waterborn, she whispers, looking down at her bulge. Whether you’re a boy or a girl, you’re my flesh and blood, and I will love and protect you. Although the last thing I wanted was another child, now that you’re here, it all seems right. I have everything ready: scissors, antiseptic, muslin sheets, a plastic basin, nappies – the expensive disposable ones. I’ll give birth to you on the boat. You may not know this now, but in this country having a child can be a crime. That’s why we’ve had to hide in this wretched place. Your brother Happiness was about the same size as you are now when he was torn from me . . . In the centre of a vast field far below stands a frail, spindly tree that no one would notice were it not for the large crow’s nest in its upper branches. Indistinct figures are burning paper offerings on a grave mound in its shade. Meili thinks of her mother and grandmother. When she lived in Nuwa Village, she always longed to leave her family, but now that she’s so far from home, she wishes she could be with them. She’d like to comb her mother’s hair now, or scratch her back for her. She’d like to carry her frail grandmother into the garden and let her sit in the sun, or find a wheelchair and push her along the banks of Dark Water River or up to the temple on Nuwa Mountain. She forgets how many times she went up there on her grandmother’s back, clinging to her neck and bumping up and down as her grandmother struggled up the hundreds of stone stairs and finally stepped over the high threshold of the temple entrance.
Meili sees the ducks waddle downhill and head into a swathe of tall reeds. She pushes herself up onto her feet and chases after them, as fast as she can. At the foot of the hill the ground becomes soft and boggy. Through a gap in the reeds she glimpses a sparkling pond, with a cloud of white termites hovering