At first, Abing’s mother thought that I was a customer in search of a seamstress, but once I said I had come for Abing, she immediately understood that I was not from the village. As everyone else in the town knew, since it was still morning, Abing would not be at home; the reason being his sensitive ears. Every night as the townsfolk drifted off into a quiet slumber, the sound of silence would torment Abing immensely, preventing him from sleeping. In order to find the rest he needed, each night he would make his way to the mulberry orchard at the edge of town; only there could he find the quiet he needed. He would normally return home in the early afternoon. The caretaker in charge of the mulberry orchard was Abing’s mother’s cousin. Each day he would give Abing wood from a mulberry tree to take home with him. The wood was important as it served as the fuel for Abing and his mother to cook their daily meals; it was the only thing that he did for her. But that day, in his haste to hurry back home and greet me, Abing had forgotten to bring along the wood. It wasn’t until an hour later, with the two of us already having boarded the barge and set off for the city, that he remembered it. Turning back towards the docks he shouted as loud as he could: ‘Mum, today, I forgot … I forgot to bring along the firewood. What … what can be done?’

Since the barge was still quite close to the dock, I had time to place 20 yuan in a cigarette pack and throw it towards the shore.

When I told him what I had done, Abing burst into tears and said, ‘You’re a good man.’

I realized then that Abing wasn’t an idiot; he was just different from the rest of us.