Chapter Three: Competing for Freedom

Jiang Jingzhu’s gaze followed her family, watching them bow repeatedly to the doctors and nurses in gratitude on her behalf, her eyes welling with tears.

Her mother was born in Yanjing, of Manchu descent, from the Tong clan before the surname was simplified. Their ancestors had once been illustrious and noble, though by her generation, they had long fallen on hard times. Yet life was still bearable, even allowing her mother to attend a modern school.

But all of this was shattered when the war broke out, and she was separated from her family during their flight.

The war years, marked by displacement and loss, had forged her mother’s usual fiery resilience deep in her bones. No matter how harsh the days, she endured silently, never once heard complaining or blaming fate. This was the first time Jiang Jingzhu had ever heard her mother weep in pain.

Her father, Jiang Baoshan, was an honest and capable man, strong-willed and hardworking. Though born in turbulent times, having survived the chaos of war, fought as a guerrilla, and weathered countless storms, he had carved out a path through sheer determination. His strong arms had always supported the family’s livelihood, standing tall—until now, when he bent down for her.

As she regained consciousness, hearing her father’s painstaking plans to care for her for life, she felt no resentment at being seen as a burden, only overwhelming love.

And the resolute, heart-wrenching voices of her eldest sister and younger brother...

How fortunate she was, across seventy years of time and space, to have such a wonderful family.

As the youngest, she had grown up steeped in the honeyed warmth of their love.

Her dearest family—meeting them was her greatest blessing. If this was fate’s reward for her past life’s courage and righteousness, she was grateful beyond words.

The middle names of the four siblings were drawn from great leaders’ poetry, lines cherished by their parents: “All creatures under the frost-filled sky vie for freedom.” Having lived through the Anti-Japanese War and witnessed how people were treated worse than grass and weeds, their parents treasured peace above all.

The name "Jing," meaning both “compete” and “respect,” was chosen with deep love and hope. It was a prayer that after the harsh autumn frost, the children would thrive in a new society that valued freedom, grow positively, revere peace, honor their ancestors, and become useful members of the nation.

***

The eldest sister, Jingnan, was born in 1940, in the most difficult of times. Their young parents, despite hardships, cherished their firstborn dearly. They named her “Nan” after the resilient nanmu wood, hoping the eldest sister would grow strong and healthy, accumulating strength to become a person of worth.

The eldest brother, Jing’an, was born in 1944, on the eve of the dawn of victory in the Anti-Japanese War. Father often said he was fortunate to have met and married Mother in the red earth of Qin Province, allowing his elder siblings a relatively stable and safe environment to grow up.

Thus, they named the eldest brother “An,” wishing for peace and safety to continue, for their protector brother to grow up sound and secure, for the country to stabilize soon, so all could live peacefully and happily without fear or suffering.

Perhaps due to these experiences, the eldest siblings were the most steady and capable. Even at a young age, they managed both school and looked after her and their younger brother.

Compared to the hardships and instability of their childhood, constantly facing enemy attacks and learning escape as soon as they could walk, she and her younger brother were relatively fortunate—especially her.

The younger brother was born in 1947, after their hometown in Hei Province was liberated. By then, the parents had moved back with the main forces from Qin Province to their northeastern homeland, which Father had fled during the war. They were settled in Hei Province’s border area, near the Jinhe border, in the Hui County Construction Corps.

Father was skillful and sharp-minded, initially handling finance for the construction, and Mother had transitioned from a wartime hospital nurse to the corps’ health clinic.

Their hard work brought stability, a thriving life. After years of turmoil, the couple finally enjoyed unprecedented peace.

When the younger brother was born, the parents hoped this peace would be permanent. They named him “Ping,” meaning peace, echoing the eldest brother’s name.

They believed he would be their last child. After all, Father was nearing forty, and Mother had just passed thirty. By earlier times, people at their age would already be grandparents, doting on grandchildren.

But the war had delayed their marriage and childbirth, so the children were still young.

They never expected that, with the nationwide liberation blooming and joyous news spreading, Mother would conceive again.

At that time, Mother was thirty-six, Father forty. They cherished this child, born in the spring following the grand celebrations of the nation’s founding, a season of renewal and hope. She arrived into this beautiful world at the best time.

***

The family chose “Zhu” as her name, bearing their hopes and love for this new life, wishing for her to thrive in the new society and live a healthy, joyful life—a treasured gem of the family.

At first, her two older brothers wanted to use the character for “pearl,” but it felt somewhat frivolous and unbefitting the simple socialist style. Ultimately, they settled on “Zhu” with the wood radical, matching her eldest sister’s name, creating a harmonious sibling connection. “Zhu Zhu” remained her affectionate childhood nickname.

Her family fondly called her thus, just like other common pet names, without causing any fuss.

After seeing the doctors and nurses off, the family gathered again by Jiang Jingzhu’s bedside. Tear stains remained on their faces, but their joy at seeing their precious Zhu Zhu awake was unmistakable.

“Dad, Mom, big sister, little brother, I’m sorry, I was too careless!” With some effort and the help of her family, Jiang Jingzhu grasped the hands of her parents and siblings, filled with remorse.

During the examination, she learned that seven days had passed since her fall. The long unconsciousness had deeply frightened her family. Everyone who could be alerted had been—except for the eldest brother, who was far away.

Fortunately, her youth and clear mind aided her recovery. Once awake, she took advantage of the moment while her family thanked the doctors to try moving. Though still weak, she could speak normally and gradually move her limbs, regaining basic control over her muscles and nerves.

“No silly talk,” Tong Shufen said softly, avoiding the wound on Jiang Jingzhu’s head as she gently stroked her daughter’s face. “A parent’s worry lasts a lifetime. We gave birth to you and raised you; worrying about you is only natural. As long as you’re safe and sound, no effort is too great for me.”

Since Zhu Zhu was little, she had been a gentle and lovely child. Before she turned one, to facilitate Mother’s work, they brought her to the clinic. Such a tiny child, sitting quietly in a high wooden chair, never unruly; whenever she needed something, she would simply babble to remind her. Countless people envied their good fortune to have such a well-behaved, handsome baby.

***