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Beijing Lights: Every Day a New Yearning for Life
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This post is part of an ongoing series by the Spittoon Collective that aims to share some of the voices that make up Beijing’s 21.7 million humans. They ask: Who are these people we pass in the street every day? Who lives behind those endless walls of apartment windows? These interviews take a small, but meaningful look.
Note from Kuang:
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I’m not a “violin seller.” I would never play just because a customer asked me to. I don’t play the violin for others, I play it for myself. I always like to make sure my hands are washed and that my mind is at peace before I play.
My daughter is the same as me, passionate about violin. Even when she was little, I never had to remind her to practice. I never tried to preach to her, instead leaving her to figure things out by herself. Unlike most parents, I don’t center my world around my child, but try to have my own life. The day when my daughter was born, I looked into her eyes and whispers: “You are you, I am me. We are not one. We are separate individuals. We will respect one another.” All this time, we’ve been more like friends. Whatever she has on her mind she likes to share with me.
Last year, we stayed home together for a few months during the pandemic. She told me about a boy she had on at her high school. She said that the boy was an avid runner and he often ran on the school’s sports fields, lap after lap. She said one of the biggest joys of high school is having someone to think about every day.
Her dad was a runner too. Back then he was tall and thin, never hunching, always full of energy.
We were neighbors growing up, living in the same hutong. I married him at 34. When our daughter was 1 and 2 months old, he went to the United States by himself to pursue his American Dream. People called him heartless for leaving me and my daughter behind. But I can understand. Going to America was his dream. I know that he was willing to sacrifice everything for freedom.
All these years he hasn’t come back once. I’ve never asked him for money. I raised our child all by myself, filling the shoes of both mom and dad. I helped take care of my parents-in-law too.
When we call, he never talks much about his life in America, and I don’t ask. I know that life isn’t easy for him. It took him 20 years to get a Green Card. He’s worked mostly low-end jobs. He used to be a driver, but lost his job due to the pandemic. He now works as a bagger at a vegetable market, five days a week, eight hours per day, making 17 USD per hour.
Even though he is not earning much money, he is happy. He said life there is simple. His relationships with others are simple, no need for unnecessary disputes. You work a day, you get paid a day. Pork and shrimp is cheaper than in Beijing. He often asks me to come and join him.
It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. In the early years, my daughter was too young. Now that she’s grown up, my mom is getting old and I need to take care of her. Maybe one day after she’s moved on, I’ll go to America and reunite with my lover.
Yes, I still refer to him as my lover. I’ve waited for him for over 20 years, nobody here can understand. My older sister says that he has another woman in America, probably more than one. But I think as long as we never got divorced, I still have responsibilities toward him, toward our marriage.
I don’t resent him. I don’t resent anyone. Hatred is a bloodstain. Hating someone is equal to killing them. Instead of hating him, I’d rather love him.
The mug I use every day is a souvenir from our church’s one-hundredth anniversary. On it is a line that reads: “I love you with an eternal love.” I think to myself, this is how God loves us, and so it is how I’d like to love others, how I’d like to love everything.
Edited by Dan Xin HuangREAD: Beijing Lights: Every Day a New Yearning for Life
Image: Wei Wenqi
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