Gold Mountain Blues by Ling Zhang

than a year, long enough to see his bride safely delivered of a son. Only then did he make preparations to go back to Gold Mountain.
    And this time he took with him a companion—Fong Yuen Cheong’s son, Fong Tak Fat.
    The idea of going to Gold Mountain first occurred to Ah-Fat the day he saw Red Hair’s porters arriving in the village with those weighty Gold Mountain trunks slung from their shoulder poles. In the beginning, the idea was only a vague one but he kept it tucked away in his breast and would not give it up. It had no shape but it grew on him till he felt like he was going to explode. Eventually, he sought out his old teacher, Mr. Auyung.
    â€œDo you have any idea what life is like in Gold Mountain?” asked the teacher. Ah-Fat shook his head. “Uncle Red Hair doesn’t want to talk about it.” After a moment’s hesitation, he went on: “I don’t know what it’s like there but I do know what it’s like here—a tunnel with no light at the end.” Mr. Auyung struck the table with his fist. “That was what I was hoping you’d say. There’s nothing for you here. Over in Gold Mountain you can at least fight for your life.” Suddenly Ah-Fat’s vague idea took form and substance. He had got the advice he wanted.
    He still needed the money for the journey so he mortgaged the family’s remaining quarters in the compound for a hundred silver dollars. When he ran over to Red Hair’s home with the dollars bundled in a handkerchief, Red Hair sighed. “If I say I don’t want you coming along, your mum will say I’m refusing to take care of Yuen Cheong’s son.” After a pause he said: “OK, OK, if you’re not afraid of hardship, then you can come.”
    Ah-Fat was up early on the day of their departure. He had a cloth bundle packed and ready: it held just one new suit of clothes, three pairs of cloth shoes, five pairs of thick cotton socks and a few ordinary items of clothing. He also took a few tins of salt fish to eat on the ship. His mother had spent night after night painstakingly sewing the shoes for him. By now she was almost blind and the stitching was all over the place. “Don’t wasteyour time,” Red Hair told her. “Cloth shoes won’t see Ah-Fat through a Gold Mountain winter, it’s far too cold. He’ll need to buy leather shoes.” But Mrs. Mak made the shoes very loose-fitting so Ah-Fat could wear three pairs of socks inside them. She could not imagine there was anywhere on earth where three pairs of thick cotton socks would not be warm enough.
    Awake before dawn, Ah-Fat kicked out at his little brother who was curled up fast asleep at his feet. Since the epilepsy, Ah-Sin slept almost round the clock. Ah-Fat kicked out again, this time with more force. Ah-Sin grunted, then turned over and went back to sleep again. His brother gave up and got quietly out of bed, pulling the thin blue-patterned quilt over the child. Ah-Fat could not know that this would be the last time he would see Ah-Sin. Even before his ship arrived in Gold Mountain, Ah-Sin was dead. As he cut grass for the pig, he was taken with a fit and fell down the grassy slope to his death. For years after, Ah-Fat regretted not having woken Ah-Sin up that morning. He would like to have said a few kind words to him.
    Ah-Fat felt at the top of the bed for the cloth bundle, then groped his way to the door. There he tripped over something soft. It stirred and he heard a snuffling sound. By the faint light of the stove, he saw it was his mother, wiping tears from her eyes. She had already heated up the green bean porridge for him to eat before he left.
    She blew her nose and, in a muffled voice, told him to light the oil lamp.
    Ah-Fat did not move. “It’s getting light, I can see without it.”
    He did not want to see his mother’s face. It was hard to believe that her eyes, reduced now to two tiny holes, had