At the time, Dad was working as a driver at the Grain Administration. Each morning, he would cycle to the garage, where he’d change into his uniform, pull on his white gloves, start his truck with the Liberation plates, and drive his cargo of flour and rice through the city. When he had free time in the afternoons, he’d pick Mom up and take her for a drive. This was 1976, when trucks like this were rare, probably no more than twenty in the whole of Jinan. Mom would stand at the alleyway entrance watching Dad approach, then she’d jump on board as passersby watched enviously. Perhaps she believed she was the luckiest woman in the world. Sometimes work went on so late he didn’t have time to get back to the garage at the end of the day, so he came straight home. On these nights, Mom would joyfully rush to the vehicle with a sack and broom, and by the faint glow of the streetlights, she’d sweep the fallen rice into the sack. Then she’d run back and show off her spoils, telling Dad this would feed us for a week. He’d smile, maybe finding her adorable. Back then, her frugality was still something he admired.

Mom told me all this when Dad asked her for a divorce. There were a few days when she was sunk in memory, no longer a coarse, simple country woman. Sorrow made her transcend her usual level of comprehension, transforming her into a woman who knew what love meant. I’d never liked her so much as during that time, nor been so willing to do as she said. I’ve always liked people who understand love.

The first year of his marriage, Dad hardly saw his father. Then one day, my uncle came to visit out of the blue, saying Grandpa wanted to see him. Dad reluctantly went back home. Grandpa told him the government was bringing back university entrance exams, and Dad should take them. Dad retorted that he was very happy with how his life was going, and didn’t need anyone else telling him what to do. Later, Grandma visited Mom for the first and only time. Mom did as she asked and helped persuade Dad, something she regretted for the rest of her days. With her limited knowledge, she’d had no idea that going to college could cause such a big change in someone’s life.

It’s hard to say how much Dad was influenced by her to take the exam. Maybe he’d wanted to all along, and had only refused to spite his father. He didn’t want to become a doctor like Grandpa, but enrolled in the literature department. He’d initially thought of going to a university in Beijing, but ultimately stayed in Jinan—they’d have had nowhere to live in the capital, and he wouldn’t have known how to find Mom another job. Already she was holding him back.