Long Ying - The cherished daughter of a middle-peasant family (II)

Soon after, the couple welcomed their second daughter. In those years, giving birth in rural China was a matter of fate—hospitals were far away, medicine was scarce, and most women delivered their babies at home. Whether mother and child could make it through safely often depended entirely on luck. Fortunately, Longying’s mother-in-law was an experienced midwife.

The first child, whether boy or girl, was always cherished by the elders. But when the second was on the way, Longying’s mother-in-law openly hoped for a boy. When she realized that another girl had been born, she refused to cut the umbilical cord or tie it off properly. Instead, she coldly suggested to Longying and her husband Zhenghua: “It’s another girl, just leave her. Girls are useless.”

But Zhenghua, who had been educated and embraced new ideas, would never accept such thinking. Together with Longying, he firmly insisted on raising the child, no matter boy or girl. With two children now, Longying’s burden grew heavier. Each day, besides working in the collective fields, she also had to care for the children, mend their clothes, wash, and cook. She hardly slept, but she and Zhenghua believed that the future would be better.

Three years later, their third child was born. When the baby reached one month, Longying immediately followed the government’s new family planning policy (first promoted in 1966 to control population size and improve its quality) and went to the township clinic for sterilization surgery. With three children to raise, life undoubtedly became even harder.

In 1982, when the rural household responsibility system was introduced, their family was allotted five mu of farmland. From dawn to dusk, Longying and her husband cultivated every inch of soil with care. Each clod of earth was soaked with their sweat—sowing, harvesting, taking crops to the market, and selling beans they had intercropped to earn a little more cash. They spun around like tops driven by hope, never stopping, always moving toward a better future.

Longying went sightseeing in Shanghai in 2024, in front of the Peace Hotel.

The years of toil left their marks—Longying’s skin grew darker, her hands and feet became rough, and even her speech lost the refinement she once had. Hard work makes a person face reality and choose what is most practical. But she and her husband never minded. One summer, while preparing to sun some old clothes, Longying came across a blue corduroy jacket she had once loved dearly. Her father had bought the fabric, and she had sewn it herself. Back then, many young women envied her for having such a beautiful garment. Seeing it again, memories and emotions came flooding back.

Now, Longying’s children are all grown. She says children are like little birds—once their wings are strong enough, they fly away. She and her husband are now in their seventies. Though they endured many hardships, their health remains good. And since, as she says, they are “not too old yet,” they still keep themselves busy—feeding chickens, tending vegetables, and even working two remaining plots of land. Longying often says:

“Life only feels meaningful when you keep yourself busy.”