Black Gold 1983

Chapter 96

By the end of December, Tian Sui'er had written a 30,000-word first draft. She showed Ren Ye a section about the early days of the West Second Mining Area in 1958. Back then, there were no winches; coal was carried up from the mine in baskets on their backs. The miners carried coal from morning till night. Each basket brought up a red welt on their shoulders, and after carrying a hundred baskets, their shoulders would be covered in calluses. She wrote about a miner named Lao Zhou who carried coal for twenty years, from baskets to mine carts, from his youth to middle age, from a full head of black hair to graying temples.

After reading that section, Renno put down the manuscript. "Is this person real?"

"It's true," Tian Sui'er said. "Ma Dehou told me that when Lao Zhou retired, the mine held a farewell party for him, and he stood on the stage and said one sentence—'I've dedicated my whole life to coal.'"

Renye didn't speak, but took the cigarette from his mouth and squeezed it in his hand. "Write this sentence in."

As the New Year's bells rang, Renno and Tian Sui stood at the door of their rented room, gazing at the distant mining area, its lights twinkling like an inverted Milky Way reflected on the ground. Fireworks rose from the direction of the mining area, exploding in the air, red, green, and yellow, illuminating the night sky moment by moment.

"Happy New Year," Tian Sui'er said.

"Happy New Year," said Jinye.

He reached out and took her hand. Her hand was cold, but his palm was warm. The fireworks continued, one after another, illuminating their faces, then dimming, then brightening again. The two stood in the doorway, watching the fleeting lights, for a long time. The flowers on the windowsill swayed gently in the wind, their pink petals changing color in the reflection of the fireworks—one moment red, the next golden, then back to their original gentleness.

On the third day of the Lunar New Year, a stranger came to the mine. A jeep stopped outside the mine shaft, and a middle-aged man in his fifties got out, wearing a dark gray jacket, black-rimmed glasses, and carrying a briefcase. He stood by the mine shaft, looking at the wooden sign that read "800 meters underground" for a while, then took out his camera and took a picture.

Ma Tiejun was on duty at the wellhead when he saw a stranger. He walked over and asked, "Who are you looking for?"

The man put down his camera and nodded to Ma Tiejun. "I'm looking for Tian Sui'er. I'm a reporter from the Provincial Daily, my surname is Chen. I'd like to interview her."

Ma Tiejun paused for a moment, then turned and ran towards Tian Sui'er's room. Tian Sui'er was writing an article inside when she heard Ma Tiejun calling from outside. She put down her pen and came out. She saw the middle-aged man with glasses standing by the wellhead, holding a camera and taking pictures of the winch.

"Are you Comrade Tian Sui'er?" The man walked over, took out his press card from his pocket and handed it to her. "I'm a reporter from the Provincial Daily, and I'd like to interview you."

Tian Sui'er took the press pass, looked at it, and handed it back to him. "Interview me?"

"An interview with you and your book." Reporter Chen smiled. "Your book has received a very good response in the province, and our newspaper would like to do a special report on it."

Tian Sui'er hesitated for a moment, then glanced at Ren Ye. Ren Ye came out of the house and stood beside her. "Go ahead, they made a special trip for you."

The interview took place in Tian Sui'er's room. Reporter Chen sat at his desk, a notebook open in front of him, a voice recorder in his hand. Tian Sui'er sat by the window, a pot of pink flowers blooming behind her. Reporter Chen asked many questions, about how she came up with the idea to write the book, her experiences working in the mines, and her feelings about interacting with the miners. Tian Sui'er answered each question, her voice soft but clear.

"How did you come up with that line in your book—'Dedicated to all those who mine coal in the dark'?"

Tian Sui'er thought for a moment, then her gaze fell out the window. "After I went down the mine, I realized what darkness really is. That kind of darkness isn't the darkness of turning off the lights; it's real, endless darkness. But those miners work in that darkness every day, from morning till night, from youth to middle age. They're not just working in the dark; they're shining in the darkness."

Reporter Chen's pen flew across the paper. He wrote down the sentence, then looked up and asked, "Will you continue writing about the mining area?"

"Yes, I will," Tian Sui'er said. "I'm writing my second book, about the changes in the mines."

After the interview, reporter Chen stood at the mine entrance for a while. He took several photos of the workers going down into the mine, and then a few more of the coal piles and winch. Finally, he stood in front of the wooden sign and asked Ma Tiejun to take a picture of him. He turned around, looked at the mining area, and at the dusty rooftops and black coal piles.

"This place is worth writing about," he said. "You did the right thing."

On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, the provincial capital's daily newspaper published a special report. It filled a whole page, accompanied by several photos, and was titled "Eight Hundred Meters Down the Mine—A Female Writer and the World of Miners in Her Writings." Tian Sui'er held the newspaper, sitting by the window, reading it over and over again. She folded the newspaper and placed it next to her hardcover book; the two stood side by side, like two quiet sisters.

When the news reached the mine, all the workers knew that Tian Sui'er was in the newspaper. Ma Xiaojun, carrying Hu Xianfeng, ran back and forth at the mine entrance, telling everyone he met, "Sister Sui'er is in the newspaper!" Ma Tiejun pasted the newspaper on the wall of the workers' shed so that even illiterate people could see the photo of Tian Sui'er. Ma Dehou squatted by the wall, smoking his pipe, staring at the newspaper for a while, then stood up, dusted off his trousers, said nothing, and turned to inspect the mine entrance. Ma Maocai also came over and looked at the newspaper, but didn't speak. He stood at the entrance of the workers' shed for a while, then went down into the mine.

In February, the mining area was still cold. But the heating in Tian Sui'er's room was strong, and the flowers on the windowsill were in full bloom. She sat at her desk, continuing to write her second book. The poplar trees outside the window were still bare, but tiny buds were already swelling on the branches, waiting for the arrival of spring, one after another, like a string of silent musical notes.

When Renye returned from the well, it was almost dark. He placed his canvas bag by the door, took off his coal-dust-covered coat, and hung it on a nail by the door. The aroma of pork rib soup wafted from inside, and the pot on the stove was bubbling away. "Where did I get to today?" Renye sat down at the table and poured himself a glass of water.

"I've been writing for six or five years now." Tian Sui'er didn't look up; the pen was still scratching on the paper. "That period of history is very complicated; I have to write it slowly." She looked up at him briefly, then looked down again. "You're covered in coal dust. Go wash your face first; the soup will be ready soon."

Renye didn't move, sitting there watching her write with her head down. After a while, he stood up, walked to the basin, scooped up a handful of water, splashed it on his face, washed it, and dried himself with a towel. He came back and sat down, ladled out two bowls of soup, placed one in front of her, and held the other in his own hands. "Drink the soup first, and finish writing tomorrow if you can't."

Tian Sui'er put down her pen, picked up her soup bowl, blew on it to cool it, and took a sip. She put the bowl down. "Renye, do you think anyone will read this second book?"

Renye also took a sip of soup. "Yes. If people read the first book, people will read the second one too."

Tian Sui'er didn't speak, picking up her bowl and continuing to drink her soup. Night had completely fallen outside the window, dark and gloomy, with scattered lights from the mining area shining in the distance like eyes that refused to close. The flowers on the windowsill bloomed quietly beside the radiator, and the hardcover book leaned against the flowerpot, its gold lettering gleaming softly under the lamplight.

In late February, a heavy snow fell on the mining area. It snowed all night, and the next morning, when she opened the window, everything outside was a blanket of white. The winch at the mine entrance, the coal piles, the workers' sheds, and the wooden sign were all covered with a thick layer of white, as if the world had been re-laid out as a sheet of paper. Tian Sui'er stood by the window for a while, then turned and put on her cotton-padded coat and hat, opened the door, and went outside. She walked step by step through the snow to the mine entrance, stood before the wooden sign, and brushed the snow off, revealing the dark brown wood and golden lettering beneath. The snow fell on the back of her hand, cool and refreshing; she wasn't wearing gloves.

Renye walked over from behind, holding a broom, and stood beside her, clearing a path through the snow around the well. "It's so cold, why aren't you indoors? Why are you out here cleaning the sign?" Tian Sui'er didn't turn around, looking at the words on the sign, the gold shining brightly in the snow. "I'm afraid it'll freeze." Renye didn't speak, continuing to sweep the snow, the broom making a soft rustling sound on the snow, sweeping away the snow around her, leaving a clean patch of ground.

In March, the snow melted. The mining area revealed its original colors, a dull gray. The snow-soaked ground became muddy, and the workers' rubber boots left deep footprints with every step. Tian Sui'er's second book was nearly 100,000 words long, about the origins of the mines and the earliest people who carried coal in baskets on their backs. She showed Ren Ye a chapter about the miners' dormitory. A large room, shared sleeping quarters, dozens of people crammed together. They couldn't sleep in the winter because it was too cold, and they couldn't sleep in the summer because it was too hot, but no one complained, because having a place to sleep was already a blessing.

Renye finished reading the chapter and put down the manuscript. "When you were writing this, did you go to one of those old dormitories?" Tian Sui'er nodded. "Uncle Dehou took me there. The old dormitory is still there, but it's used as a warehouse now. He stood in the middle of the room and told me about living there when he was young. He said that when it was cold in winter, everyone would stack their quilts together and then put cotton-padded coats on top to sleep."

In late March, the provincial writers' association announced its award results. Tian Sui'er's book won the annual outstanding work award. She didn't go to the provincial capital to receive the award; the trophy was delivered to the mining area by someone from the publishing house. It was a small, transparent trophy with the book's title and her name engraved on the base. She held the trophy, turning it over and over in her hands for a while, then placed it on the windowsill, next to the hardcover book.

She looked at the trophy, without smiling, her expression calm, as if she had simply completed a task she was supposed to do. Renye stood beside her, also looking at the trophy. "What do you want to say?"

Tian Sui'er turned to look at him. "I want to show this trophy to the miners."

Renye nodded. "Show them. This trophy isn't for you, it's for them."

Tian Sui'er took the trophy to the mine entrance. The workers were changing shifts; those who had just come up from underground, covered in coal dust, were wearing safety helmets and preparing to go back down. She held up the trophy so everyone could see it. "This award belongs to each and every one of you. Without you, there would be no book."

Ma Tiejun stepped out from the crowd, approached the trophy, touched the words on the base, then withdrew his hand and rubbed it on his trouser leg. "Sui'er, you wrote 'us,' so this award should be yours." Tian Sui'er didn't speak, but placed the trophy under the wooden plaque beside the well, securing it against a stone. Sunlight shone on the trophy, the transparent glass refracting tiny rays of light, falling on the workers' faces like little stars.

In April, the mining area warmed up. Tian Sui'er had written nearly half of her second book. Every day, she still went to the archives to look through the materials, sometimes staying there all day. When Ren Ye brought her food, he saw her sitting among the piles of yellowed papers, the light shining in from the high window and falling on her, like someone living in a crack in time.

One day, she returned from the archives with a yellowed newspaper in her hand. She walked up to Renye and handed it to him. "Look at this." Renye took it and glanced at it. It was a mining area tabloid from 1962. On the front page was a short news item: "Roof Collapse in West No. 2 Mining Area, Three People Killed." Just a few lines, no names, no details.

"This is the earliest report of the roof collapse accident." Tian Sui'er's voice was very soft. "Only a few lines, and three people were gone."

Renye handed the newspaper back to her. "You plan to write this in your book?" Tian Sui'er nodded. "Yes. But I will write their names, their stories, not just these few lines."

In late April, Tian Sui'er found the names of those three people. She found a list in the mine's old archives; three lines of text were written on the yellowed paper: three names, three ages, and three places of origin. She copied it down, sat at her desk, and stared at the paper for a long time. Then she picked up a pen and wrote the first line on the paper—"They came from out of town, went down the mine, and never came up again."

Renye stood in the doorway, watching her back as she bent over writing. The flowers on the windowsill swayed gently in the breeze, their pink petals gleaming warmly in the spring sunshine. The book and the trophy still stood side-by-side on the windowsill, like quiet witnesses, watching the ink slowly dry on the paper, watching one forgotten name after another be rewritten. The poplar trees outside the window were already full of new leaves, lush and green, rustling in the wind like someone gently turning the pages of a book.

In May, the mining area was thoroughly warm. The poplar leaves beside the mine shaft were a vibrant green, rustling in the wind. Tian Sui'er had written 150,000 words for her second book, covering the 1970s and the busiest years of the West Second Mining Area. She sat at her desk, a pile of old files and photos spread out in front of her, pen in hand, writing slowly and deliberately, as if conversing with a distant past. Ren Ye would sometimes sit beside her and watch her write, not disturbing her, just sitting there, taking the cigarette from his lips, squeezing it in his hand, and then putting it back. After watching for a while, he stood up, tiptoed out, and closed the door behind him.