North Family Letters

Spring comes slowly in Northeast China. The icicles under the eaves have just melted, and the poplar trees in the yard are just sprouting buds. That evening, the seven women had just finished washing the dishes. The mother was sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) sewing shoe soles, Chunyan was wiping the table, Xiahe was doing her homework under the lamp, Qiuling was picking wild vegetables, Dongxue was teasing the little buds, and Xiaoman was squatting by the stove adding firewood.

The transistor radio from Old Wang's house near the gate was blaring, drifting over the courtyard wall. First came model operas, then news from the Central People's Broadcasting Station.

Suddenly, the announcer's voice deepened, and he spoke slowly and deliberately:

"The Paris Peace Agreements have officially come into effect, a complete ceasefire has been achieved on the Vietnam battlefield, the War to Resist US Aggression and Aid Vietnam has come to a victorious end, and our supporting troops will return home in triumph one after another..."

The room fell silent.

The needle and thread in Mother's hand fell onto the kang (a heated brick bed) with a "plop," and she didn't pick them up for a long time.

Chunyan's rag stopped in mid-air, her eyes fixed on the direction of the courtyard wall.

Xia He's pen hovered over the exercise book, a drop of ink spreading out as a small dot.

Even the most mischievous little sprout covered its mouth, not daring to make a sound.

For a few seconds, only the broadcast continued steadily, announcing that the US troops had withdrawn, North Vietnam had held its ground, the Chinese anti-aircraft artillery had successfully completed its mission, and the soldiers were about to return home.

The mother slowly bent down, picked up the needle and thread, her hands trembling slightly. She looked up at the family photo on the wall above the kang (a heated brick bed)—in the photo, Song Changshan was in military uniform, standing under the Yunnan sun. She then touched the old canvas bag at the end of the kang, inside which was the bilingual (Vietnamese and Chinese) certificate of merit, the red seal still intact, the paper soft from being handled.

"It's stopped...it's really stopped..."

The mother murmured, her voice trembling, tears falling first. Not sobs, but hot tears of relief after enduring so much.

Chunyan came over and gently took her mother's arm: "Mom, Dad is coming back."

Xia He put down her pen, her eyes reddening: "We'll never have to shoot down American planes again."

Qiu Ling lowered her head and quietly wiped her eyes.

Dongxue held Xiaoya's hand tightly and whispered, "Dad will be home soon."

Xiaoman stood up from the stove, looked at her mother, her eyes sparkling.

Little Sprout rushed into her mother's arms, looking up at her mother with her head tilted up: "Mom, will Dad be home soon?"

The mother hugged Xiaoya tightly, looked at the five girls beside her, then at the photos on the wall, and let out a long breath, as if exhaling all the worries, concerns, and sleepless nights of the past few years.

"They're all back, and they're all safe and sound."

She wiped away her tears and smiled instead. "Let's cook another pot of rice porridge tonight, and heat up the rest of the chicken legs. We'll have a good meal. When your dad comes back, we'll take another family photo."

The news of victory was still being broadcast on the radio; the breeze in the yard softened, and the lights inside the house felt warmer.

The earthen bed was warm, and the aroma of porridge slowly wafted up. The six sisters surrounded their mother, none of them speaking, just listening quietly to the reassuring voice from afar.

From Yunnan to Northeast China, from war to ceasefire, from separation to longing for home.

On this day, the Song family finally heard the first triumphant horn.

The news of the ceasefire broadcast brightened the entire Song family courtyard for several days.

Every day, Mother heated the kang (a heated brick bed) even more, and took Father's military uniform out to air it again and again. Chunyan saved extra money, planning to buy a pound of pork when Father returned. Xiahe cleaned the house spotless, Qiuling sewed a new pair of cloth shoes overnight, Dongxue ran to the village entrance every day to look out, Xiaoman stocked up on rice and grains until they were full, and even Xiaoya called out to the family photo every day, "Dad, come home quickly!"

Everyone assumed that with the ceasefire over, the people should be able to return.

But instead of a figure pushing open the door, what arrived was a registered letter from the military.

That day, Chunyan had just finished get off work at the factory when the postman stopped at the alley entrance on his green bicycle and called out, "Song family, mail! From the army!"

Everyone in the courtyard rushed out in a panic. The mother's hands were trembling. When she took the letter, the familiar handwriting on the envelope brought tears to her eyes.

Chunyan helped her mother sit down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), and Xiaoman quickly brought over a cup of hot water. Her younger sisters crowded around, all staring at the letter.

The mother took a deep breath, slowly unwrapped it, and read it aloud word by word—

In his letter, my father said that the war against the United States and aiding Vietnam had indeed ended, all the troops were safe and sound, and no one was injured or killed. He was also fine, and had been commended and awarded.

But then, the conversation took a sudden turn:

The troops received new orders to be stationed in place and not to be demobilized or return to the Northeast. Their return date was uncertain, and they were told not to wait for their families and to live their lives in peace.

After reading this part of the letter, the room fell silent.

The bright hope that was just moments ago has been gently blown away by the evening breeze from Northeast China; the warmth remains, but a heavy layer of worry has been added.

The mother held the letter, her fingers gently tracing the father's handwriting. She didn't cry, but simply sighed softly, her voice so light it seemed to float in the air:

"It's alright, it's alright... being safe and sound is the most important thing."

Chunyan lowered her head, holding back the tears that were about to fall, and gently held her mother's hand: "Mom, it's good that Dad is safe. His stationing here is for the country, and we can wait."

Xia He bit her lip and whispered, "I'll definitely come back when Dad finishes his mission."

Qiu Ling gently placed the cloth shoes she had just sewn aside, her eyes red-rimmed.

Dongxue leaned against the wall, not saying a word.

Xiaoman quietly walked to the stove, lit the fire, added water, and cooked a pot of warm rice porridge.

Little Ya didn't understand what "stationing" meant. She only noticed that the adults had stopped smiling, and she gently tugged at her mother's sleeve: "Mom, isn't Dad coming home?"

The mother held Xiaoya in her arms, pointing to the family photo on the kang (a heated brick bed), her expression both gentle and firm:

"Your father is guarding the country over there, and we are guarding our home here."

As long as there is home, there are people, and hearts are together.

He will definitely come back sooner or later.

That evening, the family still drank hot rice porridge and heated up the leftover chicken legs.

No one said much; only the porridge in the pot bubbled and simmered, as if quietly keeping them company, turning the waiting into a gentle day.

The letter was carefully folded by the mother and placed together with the certificate of merit and the family photo, in the most secure place on the kang (a heated brick bed).

From that day on, the Song family's life remained vibrant and bustling, except for one more thing—

Waiting for news.

Waiting for a letter from a distant military unit, carrying the warmth of a father.

Waiting for a reunion that may come someday, but will surely come.

Afterwards, they listened to the radio broadcast of the signing of the Paris Peace Agreement on January 27, 1973, and the US military began withdrawing its troops in March; the Chinese troops aiding Vietnam then withdrew in batches, completing the withdrawal in August. China did not publicly send ground combat troops, but directly supported North Vietnam in withstanding US bombing and persisting until the US withdrew, using air defense, engineering, logistics, mine clearance, and huge amounts of supplies.

Bites from venomous snakes and insects in the Vietnamese jungle; heavy rain, typhoons, landslides, and collapses.