Lingkuan Gorge Tu Peng-cheng Tu Peng-cheng (born 1921) Like other contemporary Chinese writers Tti Peng-cheng has seen his popularity wax and wane under the Communists After growing up in a poor family in. the province of Shenshi (also spelled Shaanxi) Tu worked as a correspondent for the New China News during China’s civil war in the late 1940’s. His many notes about battles he witnessed became important sources for his later fiction, including his acclaimed war novel Defend Yenan,        published in 1954. Winning praise throughout China for his depiction of military life, Tu enjoyed a flourishing career throughout the 1950s.  In 1958 he published his next major novel In Peacetime, which describes workers constructing the Paoki to Chengtu (Baoji to Chengdu) Railway.  Tu fell from favor in the 1960s when the government rewrote its history and condemned several former leaders whom Tu had praised in his fiction. His work was banned in China until 1978 when a thaw in the nation‘s totalitarian regime allowed Tu to resume his writing career. The Changing Face of China Occupying much of eastern Asia China is the world’s most populated country and the third largest country in size. An ancient civilization China has in the twentieth century experienced enormous upheaval.  Major earthquakes have rocked the nation so too has warfare first with the Japanese from 1937 to 1945 and then during the civil war that brought the Communists to power in 1949. During the 1950’s the Chinese government developed a number of plans for rebuilding the countryside. Many workers were mobilized to help build new railroads to provide vital links between distant regions. So important were these railroads that laborers working on them often named their children after the railway lines One major project was the Paoki-to Chengtu (Bioji to Chengdu) Railway featured in Tu Peng-cheng’s second novel as well as in “Lingkuan Gorge” Translated anonymously from the Chinese         The snow, already more than half a foot deep, obliterated the line between earth and sky behind a hazy white curtain. I had been following the path of the future railway for forty kilometers. Although I could hear the roar of machinery further back in the hills, I had seen neither work sites nor workers.         Entering Lingkuan Gorge, my irritation increased. Even in clear weather, in this gorge the sun never shone. It didn't matter where you looked up along the twisting course-the most you could see of the sky was a patch no bigger than the palm of your hand. Now it was dusk, and the swirling snowflakes and the gale made every step a struggle.         Construction in the gorge was very busy. Everywhere people were at work. Generators, cement mixers, air compressors shook the ground. Hundreds of light bulbs gleamed dim and yellow. Electric wires, criss-crossing like a giant spider web, were scarcely visible, but I could see the overhead cables and their pulley cars sliding back and forth loaded with materials.         Hungry, cold, I tripped and fell, scraping my hands. Enough! I'd find some place under a cliff, out of the wind, and rest a few hours. If I reached the materials depot tomorrow morning by ten o'clock, that still wouldn't be too late.  Stumbling around in the dark like this, I was liable to fall into some deep ravine, and that would be the end of this Materials Department thief. I'd have to be put on the "used up" list!         I noticed a path leading to a cave in the cliffside. A door curtain hanging in the entrance way showed that the cave was undoubtedly occupied by workers. Grasping branches along the steep path, I hauled myself up to the door and entered.         Strange! Seated on a small stool in the doorway was a little boy, seven or eight years old, elbows on his knees, supporting his lace in his hands, His cheeks were red with cold. He had been peering at the opposite cliffside through a rent in the curtain. He glanced at me briefly as I came in, then went back to his observation.         The cave was large, but quite warm. It had a stove and eating utensils. On the wall above a bed was a colored New Year picture of "Chubby Children Pulling the Turnip." All the walls had been papered with old newspapers, now blackened by smoke from the stove.         "Why isn't anybody home?" I asked, shaking the snow from my coat and hat.         The little boy turned his head. His eyes flashed.  “Aren't I anybody, uncle?”  He rose and walked towards me, his hands behind his back, his chest extended, as if to say: Not only am I somebody, I’m a very grown-up somebody!         I cupped his round little face in my hands. “You're pretty sharp, young imp!"         He pushed my hands aside. Doubling up his fists, he cocked his head to one side arid demanded. "Who are you calling imp! I have a name!" Pointing at the baby girl asleep on the bed, he informed me: "Her name is Pao-cheng, mine is Cheng-yu."         No doubt about it. These kids were Iike thousands of others I had met, born and raised on construction sites. The workers liked to name their children after the projects where they were born. Cheng-yu probably had first seen the light of day on the railway project between Chengtu and Chungking, also known as Yu. His baby sister Pao-cheng very likely had been born right here-the site of the future Paoki-Chengtu Railway.         I sat by the stove, smoking and rubbing the drying mud from my hands.         Cheng-yu crawled on to my lap and looked into my eyes, "Is it going to snow tomorrow, uncle?"         I pressed his icy red little nose. "As soon as we get our telephone line connected up with heaven, I'll ask for you.”         Angrily, he leaped down and stood a meter away, scowling at me. “Quit your kidding! You've got a newspaper in your pocket. Why don't you look at the weather report?"         He resumed his seat in the doorway, clamped his elbows on his knees, rested his face in his hands, and peered out through the rent in the curtain. When I asked him where the kettle was, he ignored me- I certainly was sorry I had offended my small host!         "'Why do you want to know about the snow, Cheng-yu?" I asked him "Is it because you can't go out and play when it's snowing?"         He didn't even bother to look at me. "Papa says if it's still snowing tomorrow, we'll have to quit work."         “What does your pa do?"         “He opens up mountains!”, the child replied proudly.         "Where?"         Cheng-yu pointed with pursed lips at the work site opposite.         I looked. All I could see was a searchlight beam, shining through the drifting snowflakes straight up into the heavens. In its light I could vaguely discern a few dozen men, who seemed pasted to the side of the towering cliff, drilling holes for dynamite charges. The holes were like the steps of a ladder to the sky.         “How can you tell which one is your father at this distance?" I asked.         "I can't see him plainly, but pa says he can see me. He says all he has to do is turn around I often sit here so he can see me."         Ah, so that was it!         The icy snow melted from my boots. My numbed legs, thawing out, ached painfully I stamped to help the circulation.         Cheng-yu waved his hand warningly. I understood. He was afraid I'd wake his baby sister.         "You really take good care of sister," I commended.         “Mama says my job is to look after her. When mama comes home, I can knock off."         "So. You're on the job every day?" I hugged him to me. What does mama do?"         He pointed to the road below the cave.         I could see a person standing by a telephone pole beside the road.  Covered with snow, she looked like a white stone image Apparently she was directing traffic.  The road, not very wide, had been blasted through the rock. Ordinarily, carts, mules, donkeys, people ... no doubt streamed in both directions along that road twenty-four hours a day. Someone had to keep the traffic in order.         Today, because of the big snow, there weren't many people or vehicles on the road.  She could very well have spent the day at home.  But there she stood, and there she would remain, three months, five months, or three years, five years, if need be. Perhaps, from time to time, she raised her head to gaze up at her child, or at her husband-that husband scaling the cliffs between the mountains and the sky.  When he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, could he see the determined figure of his wife, or the tiny image of his little boy? Even though it was a snowy, windy night, even though the worker, his wife and children couldn't see one another clearly, I was sure they could feet a mutual loving encouragement and sense that each was looking forward to the moment of family reunion.         I glanced at Cheng-yu. The child had placed his hands in his sleeves and pulled his neck into his collar. He kept dozing off.         “You're liable to catch a chill. Better get into bed and go to sleep."         He looked at me dreamily for a moment, probably thinking that his parents had returned.  When he realized who I was, he shook his head violently. "No. I won't!" "Why not?"         He rubbed his eyes with his fists. "Papa and mama say a man should never leave his post."         I hugged him tightly and pressed my cheek against his. Then I rose, buttoned my coat, pulled my hat down firmly, left the cave, and walked down the path. Following the road that had been blasted through the rock, I pushed on.  A job was waiting for me.  I wanted to reach my destination without any further delay. STUDY QUESTIONS Recalling 1.      What is the narrator's job and the purpose of his journey? What physical conditions persuade him to rest for a few hours? 2.      About how old is Cheng-yu? What does he respond when the narrator asks, "Why isn't anybody home?" 3.      What work do Cheng-yu's parents do? What "job" has Cheng-yu been assigned, and what explanation does he give for refusing the narrator's advice to go to sleep? 4       What does the narrator do in the final paragraph?  What does he realize is waiting for him? Interpreting 5.      What sort of child is Cheng-yu? What attitude does he display toward his parents and his responsibilities? 6.      What change in mood or outlook does the narrator experience in the course of the story? What causes the change? 7       What ideas about work does the story convey?  What else does the story suggest is valuable? 8.      Do you think the story is overly moralistic? How does Tu make his story entertaining despite its rather heavy-handed message? Extending 9.      Is Cheng-yu’s attitude more Confucian or Buddhist?  Capitalist or Communist? 10.     Is there evidence that this communal attitude is changing in Chinese society today?