Thin and tiny, it said "the beauty of poems and passages series", written by Bo, Yang. I pulled it out, ah, it was a story book he wrote in prison for Jiajia, his beloved daughter.
I tried to read carefully through the vertical composition of the traditional Chinese characters. It was a simple book, easy to follow, yet I feel uneasy for every page I flipped. Bo Yang was remembered for his courage of speaking the truth, his black humors and his love to the country and the people. I read his memoir a while ago and I was surprised to see another side of Taiwan - the once dark and terrifying history behind its prosperous appearance today. People talk too much about civil rights when they speak of him. The words Politics and Democrats are so overly used. To me, he was a man to admire for his frankness.
There is this saying, you can say it is a cliche, reading a good book is like chatting with noble people. It doesn't have to be noble. It has to be real.
So I felt like I have talked to him about fatherhood for the afternoon. We talked long and the next thing I knew, I closed the book and walked outside of the library. It was already autumn, and the leaves were all chattering with the rhythms of the wind.
"My little baby! We, father and daughter, are parted. But you should know, how I miss you! Before daddy were leaving home, every night you would climb to your own little bed to sleep, and you always wanted dad to tell you a story. Then I would kneed by your side and reached into your little quilt to hold your hand and tell you a story. You would listen and listen, suddenly you would open your eyes and asked, "How come it was so?" Then you gradually fell asleep and that's when daddy would sneak away. Now, daddy could no longer tell you stories by your little bed, so I will write you stories on letters. Once every week, and mommy will read you the story. Is it good? Now let daddy tell you a story of this little rabbit..."
Life and death, innocent and evil - those things live on each other and could not be separated. Such conflicts were striking my heart heavily, with its reality and its stunning beauty. Just like a simple fairy tale. Innocence was the child's face, smiling like a lily pad in the morning. What's behind innocence is the bleeding heart of a father, a weathered man who had seen all the sins of the world. He wants to shout out loud to let his child watch out for this world she was born into, and yet he had to sneak around, for fear that he would startle the child in the dream of innocence.
"Jiajia my child:
I have received the letter you wrote on Nov. 12th. I got it on the 21st. In March you could only write two or three lines, but you wrote nine, ten lines for this one. You said, 'How are you? I'm Jiajia.' It reminded me of you on TV. We have been parted for nine months - you must have grown up a little. Remember? After school you would always ran into my arms and kneed on my legs. You would climbed onto my neck and sniff all the time - 'The smell on daddy is really good', you would say. Mommy always dislikes you saying that, because the smell you like is really cigarettes! Now, without daddy by your side, every time I think of it, it always makes me teary...You said, 'You don't have to write to me, it must be very weary.' Maybe mom told you that I have to write on the floor - but what type of weary this is? I can only write once a week, so let me be 'weary'! I'm willing to die for you, for your mom, let alone to be 'weary'. My beloved daughter, when can you understand the heart of your father?"
Inevitably, I think of my father. Was I used to be this innocent girl that asked for stories every night? My father still tells stories nowadays - mostly about monkeys, tigers and lambs. I'm the tiger, he is the monkey and my mom is the lamb in Chinese Zodiacs. He would make up all these little stories, like tiger is away from the forest for a long time, so monkey is now the king. Lamb is working all the time so monkey go hiking. Little stories that rhythm and indicates where we are and what we are doing. I always have good laugh of those stories. A man is never old if he has a young heart. I still remember one short message he sent me when I was in college for the first week. Away from home for the first time, I was curious and home sick. He said, this morning I saw something glimmering in the southwestern. I looked at it more carefully - Ah, it is a gem on top of the Yujia mountain. Is that you? I was laughing immediately when I saw the message. Wuhan is in the southwestern of Nanjing, Yujia mountain is this one inside of our campus - and he was making a story of my name!
Sometimes father would lose his points when he starts to chat with me online. He would say something about the news, and keep going on and on. Or he could be saying this car he likes and keep going on and on. Sometimes when I say, dad I'm tired I need to go to sleep. He would say, Awh, you are always tired when I want to talk to you! Then I would laugh again and tell him we have been talking for over an hour, and that's when he would unwillingly let me go offline.
I have a deeper understanding of fatherhood now. It's hard to describe - I still couldn't figure out how I did that essay on my father when I was doing the college entrance exam. The words and sentences flew out of my pen - I even shed a few tears. It is hidden there somewhere, you just need to unveil it.
I didn't finish the story with the little rabbit. The words were vague in front of my teary eyes. Isn't life just like a fairytale a father told his daughter? Simple, full of love and wisdom. You know there are darkness out there. Just like when Bo Yang wrote the stories and said he was willing to die for his wife, that mom of his beloved daughter left him and got married again. I was not blaming at her, all I was saying is that - You know life is not perfect. But we still have the courage to live on, to love our life with our heart and soul. Isn't that enough?
Truth, Kindness and Beauty - I see the blissful future of humanity. Thank you, Bo Yang. That was a very nice chat about fatherhood and all that beyond.
