Elegant Autumnal Grace

Picturesque Rivers and Mountains: New Life in Shuibei Town

Li Chunlei

Jiangxi People’s Publishing House

November 2023

58.00 (CNY)

This book is a long-form documentary literature focusing on the theme of Chinese-style modernization in agriculture and rural areas. It narrates the story of Communist Party members like Zhou Jinlin and He Huawu from Jiangxi’s rural Shuibei Town， who， alongside a group of private entrepreneurs led by Xiong Shuihua， formed the Shuibei Chamber of Commerce. Guided by party leadership and using the chamber as a platform， they built livable homes， established a health-focused cafeteria， and enriched local industries. This exploration of new methods and experiences in rural revitalization — termed the “Shuibei Model” — vividly illustrates how people in historically impoverished areas lead and uplift one another under the Party’s leadership toward a collectively prosperous and better life.

Li Chunlei

Li Chunlei currently serves as a member of the National Committee of the China Writers Association， vice chairman of the Hebei Province Writers’ Association， and vice president of the China Reportage Society. He is a “cultural celebrity” and part of the “Four Batches” talent project under the Publicity Department of the Communist Party of China， and an expert receiving a special allowance from the State Council.

The setting sun retreats to the other end of the village， soon to dip into the vast horizon.

In the eastern part of Nantang Village in Shuibei Town， an eighty-three-year-old man， Zhang Qianghua， tends to the loofahs his wife planted in their small backyard garden. He thinks about guiding some of the vines onto the fence for a neater， more attractive growth， though， ultimately， it’s the loofahs they eat， not the vines. Yet， having the green vines cover the fence is more pleasing to the eye than a chaotic tangle.

Growing old doesn’t mean one’s sense of aesthetics must age or that one should carelessly neglect oneself.

It’s a bit hot this August evening， but with age， he feels the heat less. Zhang Qianghua pulls a hanging vine inside the fence， arranging it over several bamboo poles， now looking tidy and appealing. When volunteers from the Shuibei Chamber of Commerce visit， they enjoy strolling through this small garden， which shouldn’t be too untidy. A smile appears on the old man’s face as he looks at the small patches of water spinach， sweet potato vines， and a few chili plants nearby. He feels satisfied as he turns to head inside. Just then， his wife’s call echoes out.

“Time for dinner.”

“Alright!” Zhang Qianghua responds loudly.

Inside， he turns right into the dining room where a white tablecloth is laid with two plates， two bowls， two pairs of chopsticks， a small pot of rice， and two upturned glass cups， Zhang Qianghua swallows， not because of the simple meal， but the sight of those two cups. Oh yes， the glass cups are indeed the most captivating.

“I’ll go wash my hands，” the old man tells his wife， who is setting the table.

He enters the kitchen， a narrow room tidied by his wife， the cement floor shining with a greenish hue from years of mopping. Above the sink， three towels hang neatly: one for Zhang Qianghua， one for his wife， and one for wiping kitchen tools， all well-worn but clean. After washing and drying his hands， Zhang Qianghua returns to the dining room.

The small ground-floor room has a window overlooking the street， where they can watch familiar faces and scenes pass by while eating -- more interesting than watching TV. Two camphor wood chairs are already set， and his wife is seated. Zhang Qianghua， smiling， asks， “Want a drink?”

“Let’s have a drink，” his wife， strong at eighty-eight， responds.

By the window， an old table from right to left holds a glass wine barrel with a valve， a microwave， and neatly arranged stacks of canned beer. Zhang Qianghua first grabs a glass， opens the wine barrel’s valve， and pours himself some rice liquor.

“This won’t lose its flavor， but that beer might，” he says， placing the rice liquor back on the table， then grabs a can of beer， pops it open， and fills his wife’s cup， “It’s foaming. Take a sip quick.”

His wife unhesitatingly slurps the froth， swallowing the spill， and then， the old couple glance at each other and laugh together， playful as children.

Anyone unfamiliar with the Zhang family passing by would think， seeing this scene， that the couple has always been this content and happy. Only Zhang Qianghua knows that without the care from the Shuibei Chamber of Commerce and village officials， such tranquility in their lives would be impossible.

In his youth， with only a primary school education， Zhang Qianghua learned the craft of seal carving and worked diligently in Shuibei Town for most of his life， saving enough money to build their current two-story house in 1990. After building the new house， he divorced his wife due to irreconcilable differences and years later， he and his current wife came together.

Zhang Qianghua’s only son disapproved of his father remarrying， which led to a rift between them， and their relationship gradually deteriorated. Neither was good at mending fences， opting instead to clash head-on. Eventually， his son moved to Xinyu City with his family， seldom appearing in the village thereafter.

But that wasn’t the most heartbreaking part.

Family emotions can run high and create distance， but they can’t overcome the bonds of kinship. Unexpectedly， the son later developed rectal cancer and despite treatment， passed away in December 2020. Since then， his daughter-in-law and grandson completely cut ties with Zhang Qianghua.

He could only rely on his wife for companionship.

Whenever people asked if he missed his son and grandson， the old man stubbornly replied， “No feelings， bad relations， I don’t miss them.” Over time， the villagers believed him. But Zhang Qianghua knew better; Every festival， when neighbors and their families gathered， his house remained empty and quiet， the loneliness piercing his marrow like steel nails.

Having carved seals his entire life， his heart had hardened too， even though it was as empty as a desolate desert inside. Still， he never showed any weakness in public， striding confidently on his electric bike to the Shuibei market， as quickly as anyone younger. Yet， one day， a group in red vests entered their slightly damp house and stood before the old couple， and even the stubborn old man’s eyes reddened.

“We’re from the Shuibei Chamber of Commerce. It’s the holiday season， and we’ve come to visit you and grandma…” they said， chattering away， and the house quickly filled with warmth.

After enough tea and conversation， the Chamber of Commerce members stood up， leaving behind a pile of comfort items and some monetary gifts， bidding farewell to the old couple and driving off. Watching the cars slowly disappear at the village entrance， Zhang Qianghua wiped his eyes， looked up at the clear blue sky， and thought， “These people are kind. If they could come more often， the house would be lively.”

But then he didn’t hold out much hope.

However， by year-end， the Shuibei Chamber of Commerce visited again， bringing another thousand yuan as a comfort gift. This time， a weight lifted from Zhang Qianghua’s heart， bringing new hope to his otherwise uneventful days.

When you have something to look forward to， life feels energized.

On regular days， as long as nothing else was pressing， the couple made sure their home was tidy. During holidays， people from the Shuibei Chamber of Commerce would visit. On ordinary days， the local women’s director occasionally stopped by. The collective farm didn’t forget to bring the couple some fruits or fish. Keeping the house clean was a mark of respect for their visitors， themselves， and their lives.

Zhang Qianghua felt that， in their sunset years， to still have such vitality and to enjoy a daily half-pint of liquor， what more could they ask for?

Contentment brings happiness， and in good times， even more so.