Photo courtesy of Kuang (Interviewee not pictured)
Note from Kuang:
在我看来，社区的小卖部就像一个信息中转站，在这里，很多细碎的故事在发生的同时也迅速消失，而经营小卖部的人则充当着无心的见证者。日子久了，哪家主妇隔多久该来店里添粮油酱料，哪位老人常年独居，哪个年轻人一天喝几瓶便宜的燕京啤酒，就像记在小店的账本上一样清楚。
周红燕正是这样的一位小卖部店主，每次去她店里，她爱把听到的这些故事跟我念叨，每每不忘感慨“谁都不容易。”关于她自己的经历，大多是在聊其他人的时候零星抖露出来的，好像转述别人的家长里短，稀松日常。
I like to think that every small neighborhood shop is a station brimming with information about that community. Fragments of stories are constantly being told—and getting lost just as quickly. The housewife who drops in every now and then to restock on grains and spices for her family, the elders who live alone, the young man who comes in for several bottles of cheap Yanjing beer—they all leave a mark as clear as what is in the shop’s account books. The shop owner, even without intending to, is the primary witness recording these forgotten stories.
Zhou Hongyan is such a shop owner, transmitting the stories of her customers every time I visit. At the end of our conversations, she often sighs, adding, “No one’s life is easy.” As for her own life, the details leaked through here and there as she talked about others, as if her own experiences were no different than the trivial gossip of other families.
Zhou Hongyan, female, 48 years old, from Henan, small shop owner
The cause of most of the suffering I’ve had in my life was that I’m a woman.
The hardships that a woman experiences, as a kid I saw them all in my mom’s life. I was born in July, the season for transplanting rice seedlings. As soon as my mom gave birth, she was out in the fields again working. That kind of heavy labor on the farm gave rise to a lifetime of health issues.
I was born with one elder brother and four elder sisters. My dad was patriarchal, favoring boys over girls. He never showed me much affection. He worked in a town cooperative and barely came home, leaving all the household chores to my mom and us sisters. Before I turned ten, I was helping with cleaning, cooking, and feeding the pigs.
Because I was a girl, I didn’t get as much education as I wanted. By my early teens I was out looking for jobs. I started as a babysitter in Beijing. The pay was only 40 kuai per month. After half a year, they wouldn’t raise it to more than 65, so I quit and found work serving food in a Korean restaurant.
Back then, there were many boys chasing me. Not to sing my own praise but I was a good-looking young lady. My skin was fair and rosy, and I didn’t need to wear makeup.
Without any wedding ceremony, I married my husband at 19. He is plain-looking, thin, not even very tall. I was only drawn to his kindness and generosity.
As soon as we got married, the sweetness of our relationship was immediately swallowed by the roughness of life. We started a small restaurant in our hometown. It was a lot of hard work. I was getting up early and staying up late, cutting vegetables, scrubbing pots, washing the dishes. It didn’t matter how cold the winter got, my hands soaked in the freezing water all day until they were red and swollen.
But that hardship is hardly worth mentioning compared to what I experienced later in my life.
I’ve gotten pregnant and then suffered miscarriages—the utmost pain a woman can experience—a dozen times. Each time it felt like my skin was being peeled off.
The first time I got pregnant, my husband and I weren’t married yet. So I had an abortion. My second pregnancy I carried to term, but when I was giving birth the baby died inside me from malposition. The doctor had to remove the baby from my stomach little by little. I laid on the operating table for a full day and night. I almost died on that table.
It wasn’t long until I got pregnant a third time. But when the baby was seven months old, I had a miscarriage. After three failed pregnancies, I couldn’t bear the pain of another attempt. One night, I got up from bed and snuck outside. I wanted to escape from my life. But before I could get far, I was caught and dragged back home. To frighten me from trying again, my husband lashed me with his belt until there were black and purple bruises covering my whole body.
I tried to run away a few more times and finally succeeded. I managed to arrive in Beijing and stayed with one of my sisters. About three months later, my husband found me and begged to stay.
In Beijing I eventually had a successful pregnancy and gave birth to our son. When he was three months old, I sent him back to be raised by his grandparents. I was too busy with work to take good care of him.
After my son, I got pregnant again several more times. But none of the babies survived. Some were ectopic, some were miscarriages. There’s always some problem. With one of them I knew I was carrying a baby girl, and I wanted to keep her. But it was another miscarriage. She would have been a teenager by now.
I don’t like to think about the past often. As for my grievances, I can’t talk about them with my husband, and I rarely chat with my son either. Since my mother passed away, I have never returned home. Sometimes I want to visit her grave and talk to her, but I can’t. Because according to the village’s rules, married daughters are not allowed to visit the graves of their ancestors.
Fate is a strange thing. You never know. Out of all those boys who wanted to be with me, I picked my husband. Some of life’s biggest choices end up being just like gambling. Few people get to call themselves a winner.
Edited by Dan Xin Huang
周红燕，女，48岁，河南信阳人，小卖部店主
我这辈子受的很多苦，归根结底因为我是女人。
作为一个女人的辛苦，我从小从我妈身上就看得真切。我是在七月出生的，正是忙着插秧的季节。刚生完我，她就下地干活，落下一身的毛病。
我出生的时候，上面已经有四个姐姐，只有一个哥哥。我爸重男轻女，打小不待见我。他在乡里的供销社上班，经常不着家，家里的事都丢给我妈跟我们姐几个。从几岁开始，我就帮忙扫地洗衣做饭，割猪草。
因为我是女儿，自然也没送我读多少书，十几岁就出来打工，刚开始在北京一户人家当保姆，工资一个月40块，做了半年，只肯涨到65，我嫌太少，换到一家朝鲜面馆帮忙端盘子。
在外头打工，身边不少追我的人。不是自夸，我年轻的时候，模样俊着呢，皮肤白里透红，跟花儿一样。
我19岁那年，什么仪式都没办，家里一分钱没花，嫁给了现在的老公。他挺不起眼的，干巴瘦，个子还矮，唯一看上的，是觉着他心眼好，为人大方。
刚一结婚，恋爱的甜蜜就无影无踪，一头扎进生活的奔波忙碌。我们在老家整了一间小餐馆，每天起早贪黑，忙前忙后，切菜刷锅洗碗，冬天再冷，双手也一直泡在水里，冻得又红又肿。
但这些都不算什么，我受的最大的苦，是前前后后怀孕十几次，大产小产，每次都剥层皮。
怀第一胎的时候，因为我们还没结婚，把孩子打了。怀的第二胎都足月了，出生的时候胎位不正，死在胎里，医生一点一点把胎儿从我肚子里取出来，我在手术台上躺了一天一夜，差点死在上面。
没隔多久，我又怀上第三胎，七个月大的时候小产没了。经过了这三次，我再也不想受这个痛苦，想要逃跑，半夜从家里偷偷溜出去，结果还没跑到半路就被发现了。我老公把我拖回去，为了吓唬我，不让我再跑，他拿皮带抽我，打得我身上青一块紫一块。
我后来又偷偷逃跑过几次，终于有一次成功了，跑到北京，借住在我姐家。不到三个月，他找上门来，死乞白赖要留在北京一起过。
我在北京终于顺利生下一个儿子。他三个月大的时候，我就把他送回老家，给他爷爷奶奶带，我在北京的工作太忙，顾不上他。
生下儿子之后，我又怀过好几次，有的宫外孕，有的流产流掉，没一个保住的。其中一胎，怀的时候我就知道是个女儿，想要留下来，到了两个多月大还是掉了。要是生下来，她现在该十好几岁了。
过去的事，我不愿再去多想。心里的委屈，跟丈夫没法说，跟儿子平时也很少聊天。自从我妈去世，我没再回过家，有时候想去她坟前看看，跟她说说话，也去不了，因为按村里的规矩，嫁出去的女儿泼出去的水，不允许给祖先上坟。
命运就是这样，说不清的。当时追我的人那么多，我偏偏选择了这一个，人生的一些重大决定，比如说结婚，就跟赌博似的，到头来没几个赌赢的。
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 [at] spittooncollective [dot] com.