Every time my aunt visited us from home, she would bring us some new songs. As she sang and danced, my uncle would accompany her on his harmonica, creating pleasant atmosphere as Hakka Niang wine would do. “She is quite like her grandma,” my grandma comment slightly, “almost the same as her.”

My aunt often uploaded her grandson’s videos of learning songs from her in our family WeChat group. My father watched them and pondered, saying, “When we were young, Mama Zou taught us like that as well.”

However, I would never get the chance to meet Mama Zou. She passed away in the 1970s. Every Spring Festival, when I returned to my hometown with my parents, a small village located in the southeast of China, I would pay my aunt’s childhood home a visit, which was not far from mine, to examine Mama Zou’s old photos closely. From those faded pictures, her young beauty was still lively. She must once be a cultured youth, I thought.

Bearing so many questions in heart, I couldn’t help but ask Mama Zou’s son--Grandpa Fulong about her stories. What I didn’t expect, however, was that our conversation would turn into an annual promise between us. Every time I visited him, I saw him sitting in the wheelchair just in front of Longfeng Building in Huangbei Town, muttering about the “very wronged” (it means hard and sad in my native dialect) stories that happened long, long time ago. “You write well, so please write the stories down and get them published when I can still remember them.” Grandpa Fulong grasped my hands and said. He would sometimes shake violently with wet eyes when too immersed in his memories. In this way, several years later, I came to get a clearer picture of Mama Zou in my head.

The horses' hooves went southe and people looked to the north. Two thousand years ago, Zhao Tuo, who became Nanyue King later, brought Horse-lantern Dance from Central Plains to Longchuan, Lingnan. Horse-lantern Dance, also named Horse-lantern Playing and Paper-horse Playing, had five major types of roles—Jing (painted face role), Mo (middle-aged male role), Sheng (male role), Dan (female role) and Chou (clown). Props like horses, carriages, lanterns, umbrellas and fans were made from paper and bamboo. Zhao Tuo ordered that the dance show must be put on everywhere to cultivate civilians as Central Plains did, and Horse-lantern Dance was thus passed down to now.

In the 1920s, a Hakka Ah Wu was considered the most beautiful girl in her village in Longchuan. The landlords in the village organized a Horse-lantern Dance show and Ah Wu was picked as the Dan protagonist “Horse-lantern Lady”. As she worked as the “serving sister” (maid) for the landlord, Ah Wu continued her show, singing Seasons Song. She grew up and gained some fame for her singing. Therefore, she sang her favourite Seasons Song nonstop until winter.

One day in 1929, carpenter Shunxing Qiu was chopping down trees for material on some deserted hills around Longchuan, when suddenly a young girl came running up from the mountain road and asked for help. It turned out that she had fled for her life from landlord’s house. Pitying the poor and beautiful gril, Qiu put down the wood and took her to his home in Xingning, the neighboring town.

Though much younger than him, she fell in love with the man who rescued her no matter what. “They are still running after you and you must not tell anyone who you are.” Qiu told her. “I am not afraid of not having a name.” the determined Ah Wu then sang him a song named “Guazi Ren” from Horse-Lantern Play in which Horse-lantern Lady met the Scholar who was to take exams in the capital and the lady confessed her love bravely. Then Ah Wu and Qiu decided to get married.

It was such a surprise to the family that Qiu should find such a beautiful wife on the hill and she gave birth to three sons! Then the family busied themselves in giving her a new name. “Since she is so lively and tenacious, just like the loach in the pond. Let’s name her Zou (the homophone of loach in Hakka).”

Thus, Ah Wu, mother to three children, not only had her nickname “Mama Zou”, but a wonderful life. When her husband set out to chop down trees, she would sing “Wugeng Ji” at the door. The song was about a wife waking up early to make breakfast and pack the luggage for her husband, who were to take imperial examinations for being an official. Zou’s children would always wake up to her songs in the morning.

Good times didn’t last long, however. The winter that year was extremely cold. The Japanese army took hold of Shantou. Everyone’s life was dragged into the turmoil of war. One night, Shunxing Qiu had an accident while cutting a tree, and was out of breath when carried down to the mountain.

Without the breadwinner in the family, Zou’s song came to a sudden halt. A widow with no land or money would have no means to raise her three little kids, so she could only send away her youngest son. She started by asking her clan members, but no one would take him. She then went all over the town, but still got refusals, as many adults could not afford a meal at that time, so how could they raise other children? She finally managed to find a family in the neighboring town Ping Yang, and they adopted her youngest son, Ruilong.

In the dance play, the scenes changed just like the revolving door. The real life, however, was no different. Once Zou sent her youngest son away, her clan members tied her up. The whole clan gathered around, with the clan's elders sitting in front of her, bellowing sternly, "How dare you to sell the family’s blood to an outsider!" "What a disgrace!" "According to the rules of the ancestral hall, she must be dismembered by five oxen!" Soon, five bulls were dragged to the ancestral hall. Illuminate by torches, their eyes were bloodshot and red.

Out of courage from nowhere, she twisted her shoulders and shouted back, "For God’s sake, I've asked all my relatives, haven't I? I’ve asked all the people in the town, haven't I? Indeed, no one is willing to adopt my youngest son, so am I just going to watch him starve to death? If I die, how will my two sons survive? Aren’t they the family's blood?"

In the cold wind of the winter night, Zou confronted those who insisted on enforcing the clan law, and everyone was shocked by this tiny woman who was so protective of her kids. It had been a long time since anyone had seen or even heard of the "five-oxen sentence", and the ancestral hall was crowded with people who had come all night to get a view. At the last minute, relatives who Zou had begged arrived and, out of conscience, testified in her defense--it was understandable that she had asked an outsider for adoption when her clan could not provide for her sons. In the end, Zou was spared death and the audience dispersed in a huff.

Living with her two sons for another year or so, Zou was unable to feed them, and they would sooner or later starve to death if life continued like that. Zou made an even bolder decision this time--she had to “sell” herself! She would marry anyone who would take in her two sons, and finally, she remarried to Luogang, a few dozen miles away. Everyone knew the purpose of her remarriage, so she was ridiculed sometimes: “You're marrying out of town again?” She smiled and replied: "Yes, I'll marry again as often as I like. “A few years later, the bitter joke of Zou became a local saying.

The bitter smile was just a disguise. She had her own plan: the man in Luogang hoped that she could give birth to a son for him, and thus would never agree that she brought her two children with her. Her eldest son Ruiqi was 12 or 13 years old, and her second son Fulong was almost eight years old. She could only leave all her money to the clan members, entrusting her two sons with them.

On the day she remarried, Zou took her sons to a big tree in the village, saying, “From now on, you two can come here to look around from time to time. If I have something to eat and wear, I will be waiting for you under this tree.” It was right under the tree that the two brothers cried loudly, sending their mother away.

After she remarried, Zou never had any more children, but she often sneaked under the big tree to give food and clothes to her two sons, and every time they met, the three of them would hug each other and cry. It went on for more than a year, and around 1943, the eldest son, Ruiqi, met a troop and was asked to join in: "Come with us to fight the Japanese!" At the age of 15, Ruiqi was tired of living such a life, so he followed them and was never heard from again.

Fulong then was the only kid in the family waiting for his mother under the tree. It wasn't long before a local villain found him and said, "Come with me, I know where there's food, clothes and candy!" Hungry, Fulong followed him and disappeared as well.

When Zou heard the news of her two sons, the world turned upside down and she couldn't help but rush to the tree, hug it and cry. She hadn't expected to lose her three sons despite all her efforts. She swore that she would never sing the Horse-lantern song again. Only when the lantern was shining that the world was lively with stories of the emperor and the princess, the wife and the husband. However, the world was gone in darkness.

For once, fortune was on her side. In the spring of 1950, her eldest son, Ruiqi, suddenly sent back a letter and a few silver coins. Not only was he still alive, but he had also become a PLA officer! The Qiu clan exploded, and when Zou heard the news, she immediately broke off her engagement and returned home: "I have a son. He is still alive and joined the PLA and fought for our country. I want to go back to my home and live my life."

Living a life in brand new China, Zou picked up her Horse-lantern Dance. Not knowing a word, she could remember all the lyrics, except that she appropriately changed some of them to "overthrow the landlords and be liberated”. She also proclaimed: "I, Zou, am not nameless. My real name is Wudi Huang，and my mother's family was in the neighboring county Longchuan. “However, even got her name registered, she was still called “Mama Zou” because she was still as energetic and nimble as she was, like a loach in a pond.

When the reactionary forces were overthrown, Zou quickly found the trafficker who had abducted her second son, Fulong. She found out that Fulong had been sold for 45 quintals of grain, but the trafficker said with a sobbing face, "I ate the grain long ago, and besides, your son has been sold so many times since then. I don't know where he is. "

However, the story did not end this way. Fulong was sold to a family in the mountains of Jiangxi Province, and they sent him to a private school on and off for a few years. For ten years, Fulong spent most of his time in the mountains, picking up mountain goods every ten or fifteen days and going to the town to exchange them for money. Finally, one day, he came across a wandering badge-carver in town with a familiar accent. Since he could carve badges and must be literate, Fulong asked him secretly, "You're from Guangdong, do you know Xingning Huangbei?" The engraver said, "Yes, of course. I've been there." Fulong asked him to bring a letter to his family back home: "I have been away from home for ten years and miss my mother and brothers very much. If you want me back home, please come meet me at the shop.”

The engraver lived up to his promise and brought the letter back to his home after several months of travel. As soon as she saw the letter, Zou was overwhelmed with grief and joy, and immediately discussed with her relatives about rescuing Fulong. After hearing the news, Ruiqi, who was far away in the southwest, also sent back 20 silver coins. They gave these silver coins to the engraver and asked him to lead the way. Several people disguised themselves as farmers carrying sticks and went straight to the shop. After waiting for a while, Fulong did come with a load, and everyone was thrilled to see him. Fulong was already tall and decisive, and he said immediately, "If we go back and pack now, we're sure to be suspected, so why don't we leave now?" So Fulong left the load behind and walked back home to Guangdong with the people from his hometown overnight.

After ten years of life and death, the reunion day would bring back many thoughts. Happily, she made another important decision to make full use of the money her eldest son had sent home and pay for her second son’s primary school. Fulong was almost 18 years old then and became the oldest student in the school. Completing his education, Fulong was able to write and work, and found his way up from a bookkeeper in a grain store to assistant to the secretary of the County Committee.

Then Fulong got married and had a number of lovely kids, who, along with other kids in the production team, were usually entrusted to Zou's care, and she spent the rest of her life teaching the children to sing and dance. During farming seasons, Zou would take them to the farmland. When the adults were tired, they asked Zou to dance a Horse-lantern Dance to relieve their fatigue, and Zou did not resist.She sang and danced the Seasons Song in each of the four directions, which was called “Da Siwei”. The lyrics was about blessings from January to December, praying for good weather, abundant rain and rich harvests in the coming year.

My father and his siblings were the children that Mama Zou helped to bring up. "My favorite song was the one she taught us, 'The Song of the Splitting of the Characters', sung in the tune of old Horse-lantern Dance," my father once recalled to me. "Character ‘One’ is a horizontal line, and the fields are busy being ploughed after the lantern festival; character ‘Two’ looks like a river, and you must not be arrogant and impatient; character ‘Three’ bears a ‘One’ in its heart, and you have to be hard-working; character ‘Four’ is square, just in case you forget how to be upright...character ‘Ten’ looks like a cross and all the children are full of happiness. "

Mama Zou’s singing came to an end in the autumn of 1976, the day of Chairman Mao's memorial service. Some said that the great leader himself took her away that year because "he probably thought that Zou's singing was such a good companion".

Bathing in the spring sunshine, Grandpa Fulong recounted the story of his mother Zou's life. In tears, I felt as if I saw Mama Zou singing and dancing. Though I did not seem to be related to the woman who lived in the last century, I showed much curiosity, respecting and admiring her. As the chief of wind band in Little Lark Symphony Orchestra, during all these years, I was always called to rest awhile by conductor Mr. Liao in time of bad performance. I was required to explore the essence of the music and mold the music into the heart. It was a difficult task, but I seemed to obtain the exact answer from Mama Zou’s story.

Therefore, I went to visit Mama Zou’s grave. She was buried alongside her beloved husband on a mountain spur by a waterfall, surrounded by hanging acacia trees, with the couple’s real names engraved on the tombstones. But I thought an epitaph with the words of the French writer Victor Hugo should be engraved as well: "Women are vulnerable, but mothers are strong.”