It has been more than two years since I last saw my father. What I can never forget is the sight of his back.

That winter, my grandmother passed away, and my father also lost his job – truly a time when misfortunes never come alone. I traveled from Beijing to Xuzhou, planning to accompany my father home for the funeral. When I arrived in Xuzhou and saw my father, seeing the courtyard in complete disarray, and thinking of my grandmother, I couldn’t help but shed tears. My father said: ‘What’s done is done, no need to be sad. Fortunately, there’s always a path through!’

Back home, we sold and pawned our belongings so father could pay off the debts; we also borrowed money to cover the funeral expenses. During those days, our family circumstances were quite bleak – half due to the funeral, half due to father being out of work. After the funeral was over, father had to go to Nanjing to seek employment, and I also needed to return to Beijing for my studies, so we traveled together.

When we arrived in Nanjing, some friends invited me out sightseeing, so I stayed an extra day. On the morning of the second day, I had to cross the river to Pukou, and in the afternoon, board the train heading north. Because father was busy with matters, he had initially decided not to see me off, and asked a waiter at the hotel whom he knew to accompany me. He repeatedly instructed the waiter, being very thorough. But in the end, he was still worried, afraid the waiter wouldn’t be reliable; he hesitated for quite a while. Actually, I was already twenty years old that year and had traveled to and from Beijing two or three times – there was really nothing to worry about. After hesitating for a while, he finally decided to see me off himself. I repeatedly urged him not to bother; he simply said: ‘It’s alright, it wouldn’t be proper for them to go!’

We crossed the river and entered the station. I bought the tickets while he busied himself looking after the luggage. There was too much luggage, and we had to tip the porters to get through. He then busied himself bargaining with them. At that time, I was really too clever for my own good, always feeling his way of speaking wasn’t quite refined, and I had to interject. But he eventually settled on a price and saw me onto the train. He chose a seat for me by the door; I spread out the purple fur coat he had made for me on the seat. He reminded me to be careful on the journey, to stay alert at night, and not to catch cold. He also asked the attendant to take good care of me. I secretly laughed at his old-fashioned ways; those people only care about money, asking them was asking in vain! Besides, at my age, couldn’t I take care of myself? Thinking about it now, I was really too clever back then.

I said: ‘Dad, you should go now.’ He looked outside the train and said: ‘I’ll go buy some oranges. Stay right here, don’t move around.’ I saw there were several vendors waiting for customers outside the fence of the platform over there. To get to that platform, one had to cross the railway tracks, jumping down and then climbing back up. Father was a heavy man, so it would naturally be more difficult for him. I wanted to go myself, but he wouldn’t let me, so I had to let him go. I watched him wearing his black cloth cap, dressed in a black cloth jacket and a dark blue padded gown, shuffling toward the edge of the tracks. He slowly lowered himself down, which wasn’t too difficult. But when he crossed the tracks and had to climb up onto the other platform, it wasn’t easy. He gripped the platform with both hands while drawing his feet up; his heavy body leaned slightly to the left, showing his effort. At that moment, seeing his back, my tears quickly flowed down. I hurriedly wiped them dry, afraid he would see, and afraid others would see too. When I looked out again, he was already walking back carrying the bright red oranges. Crossing the tracks, he first set the oranges on the ground, slowly climbed down himself, then picked up the oranges and walked over. When he reached this side, I quickly went to help him. He walked with me onto the train and placed all the oranges on my leather coat. Then he brushed the dust off his clothes, as if feeling relieved. After a while he said: ‘I’m going now. Write to me when you get there!’ I watched him walk out. After a few steps, he turned his head and saw me, saying: ‘Go inside, there’s no one watching your things.’ I waited until his back had merged into the crowd of people coming and going and I could no longer find him, then I went in and sat down. My tears came again.

In recent years, my father and I have both been wandering here and there, and our family’s circumstances have grown worse by the day. He left home as a young man to make his own way in the world, supporting himself by his own efforts, and accomplished a great many things. Who could have known that his later years would turn out so bleak! Everything he saw stirred up sorrow, and naturally he could not hold his feelings in. When emotions build up inside, they have to come out — and the small troubles of household life would often set off his temper. He began to treat me differently than he once had. But these last two years that we haven’t seen each other, he has, in the end, forgotten my faults, and only thinks of me, and thinks of my son. After I came north, he wrote me a letter, in which he said: “My health is well, only that my arm hurts badly — lifting my chopsticks or my brush is quite inconvenient. I suppose the day of my departure from this world is not far off.” When I read those words, through the glittering blur of my tears, I saw once again that heavyset figure in the dark blue cotton gown and the black cloth jacket — that back, walking away. Ah! I do not know when I will be able to see him again.