Photo: 严明 (Interviewee not pictured)
Note from Kuang:
我近期搭乘一趟凌晨三点的火车，到站时，往常熙攘拥挤的北京站难得地安静，站前广场到处有人打地铺随地而睡，另外三三两两醒着走动的，是一些流动小商贩，向乘客兜售矿泉水，充电宝等。马长友就是其中一位，走路有些蹒跚，皮肤黝黑，比实际年龄看上去苍老许多。他主要卖防潮垫，每天卖到凌晨三四点，很多赶夜车的人不舍得花钱去住旅馆，就在广场上凑合睡一晚，对这些人来说，他卖的垫子能派上大用场。
他自己也在肯德基门口打地铺，一头一尾各放了一把大的黑色雨伞，用来挡风，伞下是他码放整齐的家当，行李是捆绑好的，方便万一有巡警过来轰他们，可以随时拉着就走。在那个他精心布置的“家”，我坐着跟他聊到不得不去赶火车。我走的时候他站起身，握住我的手，咧嘴笑得特别憨厚真诚，露出缺了的门牙祝我一路平安。
Earlier this month, I headed to Beijing Station to catch a 3 a.m. train. I arrived to find the station unusually quiet, with people sleeping on the floor, and just a few stray peddlers walking around, hawking bottled water and portable chargers. Ma Changyou is one of them. He has blackened skin and walks with a hobble, looking much older than his actual age.
Ma sells plastic mats, usually until 3 or 4 in the morning. To save money, many red-eye passengers choose to catch some sleep on the ground instead of paying for a hotel, for whom Ma’s mats are very helpful.
Ma also sleeps on a make-shift bed in front of the KFC in a corner of the station square . He sets up a big black umbrella on each side to shelter himself from the Beijing wind which can get brutally strong. Under the umbrella his belongings are tidily packed, ready to run whenever police patrols come to shoo him away.
Sitting on the bed that made up his 2-square-meter “home,” I talked to him until I had to hurry to my train. As we said goodbye, he gave me a hearty handshake and a big gap-toothed grin, warmly wishing me a safe trip.
Ma Changyou, male, 59 years old, from Tongchuan, Shaanxi, hawker
My parents graced me with a nice name, but that didn’t spare me from all the hardships in my life.
My family was so poor that I always went hungry as a kid. Sometimes I had to go out begging or picking up leftovers to fill my belly.
There are many mines near my village. The canteens would provide steamed buns for the workers, a luxury many locals couldn’t afford. I always brought a bowl with me to school, and dashed to wait in front of the canteen after class, catching the leftovers before they got dumped in the bin.
Without money to support me, I dropped out of school early in my junior high years to work for private mines. Several times I nearly died.
One time, the mine collapsed. I was buried under debris for hours. By the time I was finally dug out and took to the hospital, I had lost consciousness. I was in a coma for seven days. On the eighth day, I woke up to a missing index finger on my left hand, a missing pinkie on my right hand, and a severely crippled leg. Even now I can’t walk without a cane.
A private-run mine means no contract, no protection of rights. The boss gave me a little over 10,000 kuai and settled in secret.
I have also spent some time in prison. What happened? Well, you might think it’s a joke but it was really nothing serious—I stole a hat from a police officer.
I remember it well. It was in 1983, a time when the government imposed a nation-wide crackdown on crimes. A minor mistake could land you in big trouble. People were taken to jail or even shot to death.
Ok here is what happened. We were watching an outdoor movie put on by the town. Sitting in front of me was this officer wearing an army cap. It was a gorgeous cap. So I took it on a whim. I couldn’t help it. Who wouldn’t want to own a cap like that? I can almost see myself as a respectable officer in it.
Because of that minor offense, I was sentenced to eight years. They released me after four. Alas, I came out just as muddleheaded but with an inerasable prison record.
I met my wife while doing farm work. I helped her with farming, she helped me back, and that’s how our romance developed. It was a long time before her father said yes to our marriage, only on the condition that I marry her as a live-in son-in-law. Villagers call that “latching the door reversely.” It’s pretty demeaning locally.
Her father was a heavy drinker. He drank so much one day he died from alcohol poisoning. So we married as we wanted. Our daughter inherited my wife’s family name, while my son inherited mine.
We actually had a second daughter before the son. The Family Planning policies only allowed families with one daughter to have a second child, but not those with two. We wanted a boy, so my wife decided to send our second daughter away. I didn’t object.
Only almost two years later that I found out my daughter was adopted by my wife’s aunt, who lives in the neighboring village a short walk away. I would have said no if I knew she was adopted by someone so close to us, by both distance and kinship. I’d rather send her farther to save trouble. This made a good mess of our family relationships. When she was little, she knew nothing about it. While visiting us she would call my wife—her biological mom—by “sister.” We eventually told the aunt, since our daughter can’t call us by mother or father, better to just call us aunt and uncle.
When this daughter turned 12 or 13, she found out the truth. She got very upset. She cried out loud, asking why we sent her away. But her tears couldn’t change anything. It already happened. You just have to accept it.
She’s now married and a mother herself. She still visits us during Chinese New Year and other occasions like Mid-Autumn Festival.
To be honest, I do have regrets about sending her away. She is my daughter after all, my flesh and blood. But I didn’t have any better choices. The Family Planning was so strict. You got fined if you broke the rules. They’d take away your livestock, seize your cattle. They’d tear your house down. In the village, everyone wants a son to carry the family line.
I came to Beijing over 10 years ago, been hanging around the station like this the whole time. Most of the people here, I know them all. Pretty much like me, they sell bottled water, boiled tea eggs, boxed lunches, they clean toilets and such. Usually we offer a hand to each other when we can.
For example, I always pick bottles off the ground and save them for that guy sweeping the floor. Each bottle can get him four cents. And that woman selling boxed lunches is seriously disabled. She has problems with both her hands and legs. Every day, I help her carry stuff. As a way to thank me, she often cooks tofu with rice noodles for me. Knowing I have bad teeth, she cooks the food longer than usual to make it easier to chew. See? This world still has more good people than it does bad.
It’s all about the exchange of human feeling. If you treat people with kindness, surely you’ll get treated with kindness too. Kindness is the most important trait for humans. Without a good heart, we lose our purpose for existing.
My whole life, I’ve seen so much hardship. Life only got slightly better after I entered my 20s—that’s when I at least didn’t suffer from starvation anymore.
I’m turning 60 very soon. Luckily still in good health, never caught a cold even in the flu season. No matter how much I earn from selling mats, be it 1,000 or 2,000 kuai a month, I take it happily. I’m satisfied financially. I can afford a drink and some cigarettes every day. That’s good enough. Remember I used to go hungry.
When it gets colder, I’ll go rent a place. I’ve actually found somewhere. It’s not far from here. The rent is 900 kuai per month with no heating. When the time comes I’ll find a second-hand air conditioner. It pleases me just to think about it.
Edited by David Huntington and Dan Xin Huang
马长友，男，59岁，陕西铜川人，北京站前流动小贩
我爹妈替我取了个好名字，可我还是吃了一辈子的苦。
小时候家里穷，连饭都吃不上，出去讨，去捡。我们那里矿洞多，有专门给矿工吃饭的工人食堂，工人待遇比普通老百姓好多了，有白面馒头吃。我去上学的时候，书包里揣个碗，11点半一放学就往工人食堂跑，等在门口，有人吃完碗里有剩的要往饭缸里倒，就赶紧上前用碗接着。
家里没钱，我初中没读完就四处找活干，在私人承包的矿洞，几次差点丢了命。
有一次煤矿坍塌，我被压在下面，压了几个小时才有人把我刨出来，拉到医院已经不省人事了，昏迷了一个星期，第八天才醒。小命救回来，但左手的食指和右手的小指都没了，腿也落下了残疾，走路不能没拐杖。私人煤矿，没合同没保障的，老板赔了我一万多，这事就草草了了。
我还坐过牢，怎么回事呢？说起来不怕你笑话，没犯什么大事，就是偷了一顶警察的军帽。我记得很清楚，那是83年，好家伙，搞什么严打活动，全国各地进行大逮捕，随便犯点什么事儿，轻则抓去坐牢，重则枪毙的都有。
有一次镇上放露天电影，我前面坐着个军官，戴的军帽好不威风，我一把抢走了，眼馋嘛，军帽谁都想要，戴着多神气，戴上就像警察，像那么回事儿了。就因为这，我被判了八年，关了四年把我放出来了。啊呀，就这么稀里糊涂成了有前科的人。
我跟我媳妇是干农活的时候认识的，我帮她，她帮我，就这么好上了。我俩好了挺长时间，她爸才同意，但前提是要我到她家去，做上门女婿，农村叫倒插门，不是什么光彩的事。
她爸爱喝酒，有一次喝多了酒精中毒，抢救无效死了，她父亲一死，她是长女，家里由她说了算，她就嫁过来了，女儿跟她姓，儿子跟我姓。
我们其实生了三个，第二个也是女儿。那时搞计划生育，第一胎是女儿还能再生一个，两胎就不行了。我们想要个儿子，我媳妇就主张把二女儿送人，我说由她，没多过问，谁知道她把女儿送给了自己的亲姨，就住在隔壁村，下个大坡，没几步路就到了。
这事到女儿一两岁我才知道，我当初要是知道肯定不让，送远点还好，送给自己的亲戚，你看，这辈分都搞乱了嘛。孩子小时候来家里拜年，管我老婆，也就是她亲妈叫姐姐。我们私下跟她姨说，让孩子改口，爸妈当然是叫不上了，叫个叔叔阿姨也行。
女儿十二三岁的时候，知道了这事，怨我们，边哭边问，为什么不要她。孩子怨也没用，已经成事实啦，只能接受。她现在已经结婚生孩子了，跟我们还有来往，会来我家拜年，逢节像八月十五什么的也来。
要说后悔呢，我也是有点后悔的，毕竟是自己的女儿，自己的血肉。这不是没办法嘛，计划生育抓得严，超生就罚款，牵走你家的牲口，霸占你家的牛，拆你家的房子。没办法，农村人，都讲究要个儿子，传宗接代。
我来北京十几年，一直在北京站晃荡，这里很多人都认识了，有卖矿泉水的，卖茶叶蛋的，卖盒饭的，还有扫地的，平时互相之间都会帮衬帮衬。
比如我要是看到地上有瓶子，就会捡起来，替那个扫地的留着，一个瓶子能卖四分钱。还有那个卖盒饭的，一个女人家，残疾又严重，手脚都不方便，我几乎天天帮她接帮她送。她为了感谢我，有时候做豆腐炖粉条带来给我吃，知道我牙不好，会特意炖得很烂，这个世界还是好人多。
是这样的嘛，都是人心换人心，你对别人善良，别人才会对你善良。人就是要善良，没有一颗好心，人也就不存在了。
我这一辈子，吃老多苦了，到二十多岁，生活才算好一点，好歹不用挨饿。现在马上60了，一年到头不感冒，在这里卖东西，一个月能赚一千是一千，能赚两千是两千，在金钱上，满足了。每天喝点小酒，有口烟抽，不错了，以前饭都吃不饱。
再过段时间，天气冷了，我就去租个屋子住，地方我都已经瞧好了，就在这附近，900块钱一个月，没有暖气，我到时候自己整个二手空调安上，想想就美滋滋的。
Kuang is the founder of Beijing Lights. She would love to hear your thoughts about the column and is open to new collaborations. She can be reached at kuang@spittooncollective.com.