In the summer of 1982, the sudden appearance of a Xiao Muma completely changed the fate of an entire city.
That same year, Deng Lijun’s twelve-year-old song “Xiao Muma” suddenly became all the rage, echoing through every street and alley of Fengtan County.
Yu Renjie was eight that year, riding a brand-new, heavy-duty bicycle, pedaling so fast the “ding-ling-ling” of the bell was drowned out by Deng Lijun’s gentle, flowing voice.
He zipped along the steam-filled cobblestone road all the way home without a hitch.
Only after setting the kickstand did he notice a few wilted, dirty pumpkin leaves hanging from his bike basket.
Glancing back, he saw the rear wheel wasn’t spared either.
Yu Renjie knew exactly who did it.
Normally, he’d have stormed back for payback, but today there was a flashy four-wheeled car parked outside his house—clear sign of guests inside.
He quickly tidied up the pumpkin leaves and tossed them at the door to feed Da Huang, then rushed eagerly into the house.
***
“Grandma! Dad! Mom! I’m back! I learned how to swim!”
Yu Renjie shouted as soon as he stepped inside, eyes darting around until he spotted a few unfamiliar faces in the main room.
One of the visitors glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and said offhandedly, “This your kid?”
It wasn’t until years later, when Yu Renjie himself became a father, that he understood the deeper meaning of those four words.
Because when someone genuinely praised your child, they’d say: “This your kid? Grows up well! I heard he just won some big contest? Such good fortune, Yu Boss.”
Back then, Yu Renjie would downplay it—“Just a small, silly competition, nothing important”—but only later did he realize what “this your kid” really meant.
His father, Yu Shifu, nodded awkwardly, then shot him a sharp look to hurry into the inner room.
In Yu Renjie’s memory, his father had built a solid reputation as a carpenter in town for half his life.
Anyone who came to him accepted his rules—he might not command respect everywhere, but rarely did he ever have to bow and scrape like this.
He sensed these visitors weren’t ordinary, so he shuffled into the back room, glancing back every few steps.
There, he found his grandmother, Yu Wanjuan, quietly weaving bamboo strips in the corner by the stove.
That year, his grandmother was still young—barely sixty—but in those days, sixty seemed a foot in the grave.
Yet Mrs. Wanjuan could still eat two bowls of rice in one sitting.
The children thought she ate too much, so they agreed to take turns caring for her.
This month, it was Yu Shifu’s turn.
Yu Renjie crept up, ready to startle her, but his mother caught him with a smack from behind.
She carried a plate of fruit, glared at him fiercely, and whispered, “Did you sneak off swimming again? Aren’t you afraid of drowning?! Did you take the bike? Your dad just spent ages looking for it and was late for work. Just wait till he gets his hands on you!”
His grandmother turned too, using both index fingers to indicate a long, narrow space, threatening, “This long, this thin—I just saw him make it.”
Yu Shifu started out weaving bamboo mats, his craftsmanship no less skilled than his carpentry.
Over time, his bamboo strips got thinner and longer, and getting hit with them hurt more and more.
Yu Renjie was terrified, already planning to slip out the back door.
Just then, the guests in the main room finished their tea, stood up, and bid farewell to his father.
One said solemnly, “Yu Shifu, I hope you’ll reconsider. This came up suddenly—we didn’t mean to break your rules.”
Yu Shifu replied, “I won’t hide it from you. My schedule’s packed for the next month. I’ve never made what you’re asking for, so I’d need time to study it. But you’re in such a rush, and if I force it, the work will be shoddy. I won’t ruin my own reputation.”
Seeing his father’s resolve, the visitor realized he was dealing with a stubborn, principled man and didn’t press further.
“Really not going to do it?” his mother asked regretfully as she put away the fruit plate.
“That job pays more than several of your usual ones. They’re loaded, spending so much just for a kid’s toy. The deposit alone is a stack of ration coupons.”
“What do you know?”
She fell silent, quietly clearing the leftovers from the table.
His mother usually endured things quietly, which made Yu Renjie the “rebel” of the family.
Yu Wanjuan was his shield.
When his father was about to beat him, he’d hide behind his grandmother—his father never dared go too far then.
He had to admit, strict discipline really did raise dutiful sons.
He’d heard Grandpa was even harsher when they were young.
Sometimes, Yu Renjie envied his little sister, since family rules never allowed girls to be beaten.
But his sister would say she didn’t mind being punished—as long as it was fair.
Fairness in a family is something no dynasty has ever measured equally.
Yu Renjie was thick-skinned and always clashed head-on with his old man.
Yet his father was most partial to him—though to this day, no one, not even the old man himself, could explain exactly why.
But Yu Renjie was sure of one thing: at least he wasn’t ugly.
***
That day, Yu Renjie got a real beating, sprawled out on his father’s bamboo mat, and made a decision—no matter what, he would become a father, a big father, a father to ten kids.
Only then could he beat others without holding back.
But the next morning, he was jolted awake by the piercing cries from the yard.
Da Huang was dead.
By the time Yu Shifu tried to make it vomit with soapy water, it was too late.
His younger siblings wailed, and his mother wiped her tears in silence.
“It must have been those people. Last time, they tried to take Da Huang, but your father caught them.”
Suddenly, Yu Renjie remembered something.
Without a word, he grabbed an iron rod from the door and charged out, only to be yanked back by Yu Shifu, who grabbed his collar, “You think things aren’t messy enough? Who are you going to fight? Can you take on those dog-meat eaters?!”
Yu Renjie struggled in silence but couldn’t break free.
He was like a chick in his father’s grip, and finally, unable to hold it in, he shouted, face red, “It wasn’t them! It was Li Wusheng and his gang!”
His father was stunned.
“How do you know?”
Yu Renjie confessed about the pumpkin vines.
Yu Shifu realized it too—if it had been those dog-meat eaters, they wouldn’t have left Da Huang behind.
“I’ll kill those brats!”
Yu Renjie, nearly hysterical, tried to rush out again.
This time, Yu Shifu let go.
His siblings clung to the door, afraid he’d cause trouble, until their father said, “If you only know how to solve problems with your fists, go ahead.”
Yu Renjie found it funny and confusing.
His father never pulled punches when beating them, but now, when it counted, he said violence wasn’t the answer.
The Li Family only bullied others because they had more brothers.
Before the Yu family could seek revenge, the Li Family showed up first.
The youngest, Li Wusheng, barged in and kicked over Yu Shifu’s prized bicycle, sending the wheels spinning like a fan and making Yu Wanjuan’s heart sink.
She rushed out at the commotion and was about to cry out in distress when she saw Li Wusheng glaring at his little sister.
“Where’s your brother?!”
With Da Huang’s death weighing on her, the little sister, tough as nails, refused to say a word.
Unexpectedly, the youngest brother blurted out, “Brother went out to ‘Boat Gold Fishing.’”
Back then, those who could swim well would grab the boat’s anchor and ride the current through the most treacherous stretch of the Fengtan River.
If lucky, they might find treasures to exchange for ration coupons.
But if unlucky, they could lose their lives.
Elders generally forbade kids from “Boat Gold Fishing.”
When Wanjuan heard this, she rushed off to the river to fish her grandson out as soon as the Li brothers left.
***
That day, Yu Renjie had spent ages diving in the river with little to show for it.
As soon as he came ashore, he saw Li Wusheng waiting, holding his clothes and shoes.
With old and new grudges combined, he didn’t hesitate—he ran up and kicked Li Wusheng over.
But impulsiveness is the devil.
Outnumbered, Yu Renjie was quickly pinned down and roughed up by the Li brothers.
His face was mashed against the ground, feeling like he was being squeezed of every last drop, when Li Wusheng delivered some news that gave him grim satisfaction—
It turned out his father had taken that job after all.
The client who’d first come to them had gone to the Li Family’s carpenter when Yu Shifu refused, but after Da Huang’s death, Yu Shifu had a change of heart.
Pressed under Li Wusheng’s foot, Yu Renjie endured a rain of blows.
Finally, Li Wusheng ground his nail-studded shoe into Yu Renjie’s chest until blood seeped into the sole, then spat, “If your dad dares steal my dad’s job again, next time I’ll break your legs.”
Wanjuan arrived just in time to see this.
Yu Renjie’s face was battered—his left cheek swollen like pickled vegetables, his right like a bruised cabbage.
Furious, she grabbed a freshly sharpened wooden stake from the neighbor’s and, to everyone’s shock, skewered Li Wusheng right through.
Li Wusheng spent a month in the hospital and was just about to seek revenge when, by chance, the man with the four-wheeled car landed a big order for wooden toys at the Guangdong wood toy expo.
That marked the start of Fengtan’s wooden toy economy, which soon took off overseas.
That year, many in town got rich, and the number of ten-thousand-yuan households soared.
Every carpenter was busy making wooden toys, so the feud between the families was put on hold.
From then on, Yu Renjie and Yu Wanjuan were tied together by fate.
He even boasted to his father, “From now on, I’ll look after Grandma. Anyone who messes with her, I’ll take care of them.”
The old man gave him a good whack on the head.
“You brat! Take that rag off my mother’s head!”
Yu Renjie was always this bullheaded and reckless.
***
When he turned twenty-three, the Asian financial crisis swept through, foreign exchanges collapsed one after another, and Southeast Asian exports were restricted.
The town’s Toy Factory closed down one after another like leaves in the wind.
The young people in town all flocked to Guangdong and Guangxi like migrating birds—even the Li brothers hopped the Green Train overnight.
Yu Renjie, restless as ever, said he’d set out on his own.
The old man was sharp. “Where to?”
“Hainan,” Yu Renjie replied.
Another smack to the head.
“You little wastrel! Off on vacation, are you?!”
Yu Shifu confiscated his bankbook and bought him a one-way ticket, tossing him onto the train.
On that slow Green Train, Yu Renjie met Tang Xiang.
They sat face to face, golden wheat fields stretching to the horizon outside the window, making the woman’s features seem all the more striking.
In that instant, Yu Renjie knew: this was his type—confident, outspoken women.
They were fellow townsfolk; Tang Xiang was from Fengtan County.
Cheerful and optimistic, she told him before the train even left the station that she was headed to Hainan to work—as Lobby Assistant Manager at the country’s first Five-Star Resort.
After getting off the train, the two quickly fell in love, and Yu Renjie, for the first time, tried to act the refined gentleman.
With Tang Xiang’s help, he landed a job as a bellhop.
Just as he was about to make his mark, disaster struck: his grandmother was in a car accident back in Fengtan County.
The news hit Yu Renjie like a thunderbolt.
It was his first time facing the death of a loved one.
Normally stingy to a fault, he gritted his teeth and bought a full-price plane ticket home.
He sobbed all the way on the plane, then clung to the ticket seller’s arm crying on the long-distance bus.
The fortune-teller had said his grandmother had a tough life, a lone star fated for solitude—not so easy to kill.
Sure enough, she made a miraculous recovery and was discharged in just over half a month.
Yu Renjie finally realized the difference between eating two bowls of rice and just one.
He planned to return to Hainan after she was out, but before that, his second uncle died in an accident at work.
Rumors spread in town, saying Yu Wanjuan truly was a jinx.
The old lady didn’t care, laughing off the gossip.
But Yu Renjie, with his quick temper, blew up at the rumor-mongers.
The moment he found out who’d started it, he grabbed a weapon and stormed the Li Family’s house.
He never knocked—always kicked the door open.
This time, though, Li Wusheng’s eldest sister was home—the one who drove trucks across the provinces.
Li Dajie was rarely in town.
Given the Li Family’s ways, Yu Renjie didn’t think she’d be able to control Li Wusheng.
But before he could say a word, she rolled up her sleeves and slapped Li Wusheng twice—“pa pa”—right in front of him.
Even more surprising, Li Wusheng shrank like a quail, not daring to say a word.
Just as Yu Renjie was starting to look at Li Dajie in a new light, she turned and slapped him too.
Both stood there—one inside, one outside the door—covering their faces and glaring at each other, until Li Dajie said coldly, “Go home. I’ll bring him over to apologize to your grandma another day.”
Yu Renjie really did as told, walking back home in a daze, rubbing his burning cheeks and marveling that the Li Family had someone so reasonable.
***
It was three months before Yu Renjie returned to Hainan.
He dropped his luggage and ran to find Tang Xiang, only to discover she’d moved and was now dating a tall, not-so-handsome new boyfriend.
Yu Renjie, heartbroken, boarded another plane in tears.
That Hainan romance became a memory he could never let go, and he stayed home, quietly gathering wild herbs.
People in town gossiped, saying he was hopelessly lovesick.
Until 2003, when Tang Xiang showed up with a five-year-old child.
Before he could react, she pushed the kid—busy sucking on a Jixiang Crystal Love jelly cup—toward him like an unclaimed package.
“A Yang, call him Dad.”
Yu Renjie sized up the child from head to toe, inside and out, and immediately concluded:
Hopeless.
This one’s finished too.
Even the jelly he eats is Jixiang Crystal Love.
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