A Letter to My Son

The Life We Cant Return to

Xu Zechen

Changjiang Literature & Art Publishing House

June 2021

36.00 （CNY）

Xu Zechen

Renowned writer Xu Zechen， a graduate of the Department of Chinese Language and Literature， Peking University， is currently the deputy editor-in-chief of Peoples Literature. He has won numerous awards， including the 15th Spiritual Civilization Construction “Five-One Project” Award， the Lu Xun Literary Prize， the 5th Lao She Literature Award， and the 10th Mao Dun Literature Award. Some of his works have been translated into over ten languages， including German， English， Japanese， Korean， Italian， Mongolian， Dutch， Russian， Arabic， and Spanish.

Barton：

You are only one year and nine months old， but youve already given me thirty months of joy of fatherhood. You have my thanks. Ever since I knew you were ready to come into this world， from the first time I heard your heartbeat in your mothers womb， Ive considered myself a “dad.” I cherish this title so much that in the past nine hundred days， I havent forgotten it for a minute. I hold you， kiss you， and when youre asleep， I listen to your breathing by placing my ear near your little nose， just to make sure youre as okay as when youre awake. I carry you to the mirror to see how much you look like me. Never before have I been so proud of my appearance. To see a little being who looks exactly like me， as if “carved from the same mold”--- the magic of genetics fills me with a fathers pride. Of course， the joys of fatherhood are boundless： Your crying， your laughing， your fussing， your daydreaming; You smacking your lips in your sleep， laughing out loud; You always calling out “Daddy” first thing when you wake up in the morning; You like to sit on daddys belly and play horse， saying “up， up， down;” You would sneak up to daddy wearing a diaper， and sit on my face with your butt， then laugh wickedly --? all these things deeply remind me that because of you， I will never be a lonely person no matter what. I carefully preserve these dependencies， noting down every word you speak for the first time. I try not to be away on business for more than a week. I worry that if Im gone too long， you wont recognize me when I get back.

I have endless love for you， just like every fathers love for their child. I gave you the nickname Barton just because this name is cute and loud， and I hope you grow up strong， happy， and upright. Perhaps you will experience a life full of dramatic ups and downs， but what I wish most for you is to be a healthy， happy， ordinary person. Youll understand how hard it is to be content as an ordinary person when you grow up. I didnt celebrate your full moon or first birthday party， nor did I let you partake in the traditional “grabbing” ceremony， the ceremony in which parents place an assortment of articles in front of their child， and the child is to choose from them. I was concerned that too much ritualization might make me superstitious. I dont want to guide you to grow up in someone elses shadow under any psychological suggestion. I strive to express a fathers love for his son in the simplest terms. I try to let myself， you， and life take their natural course.

Of course， if I have any secret wish， its that you grow to love reading. This is not to make you a “learned” person， nor to make you a writer like Daddy， but to let you understand that there are countless kinds of lives and destinies in the world， and you need to get enough ability and calmness from books to be a normal person. Even if you have a great ambition for the future， you should also look at it with the common sense of an ordinary person， not be eager for quick success and instant benefits， not complain about others or fate， not be overambitious or incompetent， you should work hard and steadily for your ideals. Achieving success is certainly joyous， but failure must also be accepted with grace， just like how I am now， spending many years writing a book simply because I enjoy it. I strive to write it well over the years， but whether it turns out well or not is beyond my control after Ive done my best.

Son， I originally intended to write you a letter that would make you laugh. Even though there are many things you cant say yet， I know you understand them all. When you couldnt walk yet， Daddy read poems and stories and recited my novels to you. You lay in the crib motionless， your eyes wide open， and Daddy knew you understood everything when you didnt speak. But as I write this letter， I become annoyingly serious， and I hope you dont mind. Dont turn around and run away. Look at the effort I put into overcoming my accent and making sure my pronunciation is correct every time I read to you. You have to understand： Maybe all serious love， in the final analysis， will not be a joke.

Alright， lets continue talking about reading. Ive looked through every nook and cranny in our home and realized that the only nourishment for your growth I can provide is my six large bookshelves. Be content. These are the best books Ive carefully selected over the years. These books contain almost everything you need for your growth， including the countryside youll probably never experience. I had that in my childhood， stepping outside meant being in nature amidst wheat fields， plants， rivers， and herds of cows and sheep， but I had very few books. I had a few novels that I found in the beams， corners， under the bed， and in the drawers， with their heads and tails cut off. But daddy had the countryside， had the neighbors who can eat all over the village with a bowl of rice， had a water buffalo， two puppies， three cats， a flock of chickens， a flock of pigeons， a flock of rabbits raised at home. Now you dont have these， and you cant see the grass grow， you cant see the corn and rice grow， you cant see the cat and dog guarding the two chickens foraging at the edge of the haystack， you cant see the calf crying when it misses its mother. What you can see is in this city， the doors and walls are locked all year round; you see the children of your age being held in the arms of their parents and grandparents， and maternal grandparents and their hands are raised to touch a leaf， and they have to wipe it clean with a disinfectant wet tissue; you see the people on the street all hiding in their cars. Zhongguancun Street is like a flowing river of steel; you see an old man sitting on the side of the road whispering， and the pedestrians all avoid him.

What you see， I see too. What Ive seen， you havent. That era has passed; you dont need to experience it， but I hope you can see it. Its on my bookshelves. I can tell you those stories， and when you grow up， you can read them yourself. The world you can see and the one you cant， together， make a complete world. Every book you finish calmly will have a proper beginning and end， and life wont just disappear between chapters. I hope those books will help you become a whole， natural person capable of admiring the grandeur of the world and the abundance of life. Ordinary people must rely on these basic facts and truths to live peacefully.

Big talks will tire you， and youre only twenty-one months old. Son， too much talk will also bore you. To tell you a happy thing， Daddy decided to give you another Afu haircut on June 6th， leaving only a small circle of hair on the top of your head. I did it for you in April， and you liked it a lot， pointing to your hair and saying “Daddy” to everyone. Youve pointed to my hair in the mirror， then to yours， asking me to have the same hairstyle as you. No， if Daddy had to go out with an Afu haircut， the whole world would laugh like crazy. Daddy only cuts your hair， so when I see you， its like looking in the mirror and pretending that Daddy also has an Afu haircut that only you can see. You and I look so much alike， and you are a good son of mine.

In just a few days， your second Childrens Day will come. Daddy has prepared a small gift for you; I wish you a happy holiday.

The Life We Cant Return to

Xu Zechen

Changjiang Literature & Art Publishing House

June 2021

36.00 （CNY）