Chapter 27: Filming the Documentary—The Past of Grandmother's Home

Grandmother’s ancestral home was in Shanxi. Not long after marrying Grandfather, he was summoned by Great-grandfather, who took him from their hometown and brought him to Jinan to work, starting as an apprentice. In those days, travel was difficult, and it was no easy matter to return home—over ten years, Grandfather went back only a handful of times, always for the sake of making a living.

Grandmother was left alone in her mother-in-law’s house, living as though widowed in all but name, struggling through ten bitter years. Her mother-in-law blamed her for not producing a child and often made things hard for her. With no one to confide in, Grandmother’s grievances remained bottled up, and overwork wore her down until she fell gravely ill.

Her husband’s family resented her and were unwilling to pay for her treatment, even considering sending her away. Fortunately, Grandfather still cared for her and refused to cast her out. When her own father heard what had happened, he ignored all obstacles to bring her home, selling family possessions to pay for her recovery. After two years of herbal medicine, she finally regained her health.

It was during the War of Resistance against Japan that Japanese soldiers once raided their village. Great-grandfather hid her in the cellar, and that was how she narrowly escaped disaster.

“How thrilling!”

The interview had begun, and as Grandmother recounted her life before Liberation, Li Yan listened, utterly captivated. Holding the microphone, she exclaimed, “Madam, your real-life experiences are more dramatic than any television show!”

“There are even more exciting stories to tell…”

Lin Xiyu had heard these stories countless times, and though the details never changed, each retelling fascinated her afresh; she never tired of them.

“The most dangerous moment for Grandmother was during the liberation of Jinan,” her cousin chimed in, animated by excitement. She mimed the scene, stealing the spotlight: “A shell landed right in the kitchen and smashed the pot to pieces. Grandmother was standing by the stove at that very moment. Luckily, it was a dud and didn’t explode—otherwise, none of us would be here today.”

Everyone laughed at her playful remark.

“We truly have that dud shell to thank,” someone said.

Grandmother gazed fondly at her granddaughter and sighed from the heart, “If not for that, how would I be living such a good life now—surrounded by children and grandchildren, enjoying my twilight years?”

“You are a blessed woman, reaping happiness in old age,” said Li Yan, her words carefully chosen to delight Grandmother.

“Yes, happiness in my old age,” Grandmother agreed, her face blooming with joy, every wrinkle blossoming like a chrysanthemum.

“Grandmother suffered so much when she was young,” Lin Xiyu said gently, sitting close and gazing at her silvery hair. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of tenderness, reaching out to tuck a stray lock behind her ear.

Grandmother smiled contentedly and patted her hand with loving affection.

“Madam,” Li Yan seized the moment, watching the tender scene between grandmother and granddaughter, “could you tell us more about life after Liberation?”

“Of course.” Grandmother was in fine spirits and especially talkative.

She spoke of Great-grandfather spending his fortune to support the war against America in Korea, of how, during the Cultural Revolution, Grandfather suffered a stroke and fell ill, leaving her no choice but to shoulder the family burdens. She worked at the plastic factory, doing hard labor.

A woman with bound feet and a frail frame, she propped up an entire family on her own, raising three children through adversity.

Decades passed, marked by storms and sweeping changes. Grandmother recounted it all with calm composure, as if the hardships were nothing at all. Yet Li Yan and the others listened, enraptured, drawn into the drama of those years.

“Mother truly endured so much,” the eldest aunt said, her eyes reddening with emotion. “Before Father died, he had a stroke and was often confused, always picking fights with Mother and blaming her for never being home. But in those days, she was working at Plastic Factory No. 14, pulling carts all day until her legs were swollen. Once, her toes were rubbed raw, bleeding so much…”