Two Suitcases

Shuashua

Shuashua is a member of the Chinese Writers Association， a writer of children’s literature， an outstanding extracurricular counsellor in Jiangsu Province， and one of the top ten outstanding popular science writers in Jiangsu Province. Many of her works have been adapted into children’s radio plays， children’s musical stage plays， children’s films， and 100-episode children’s campus skits.

In the evening， Wang Zikun was sitting on the sofa reading a book when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to find his aunt， the younger sister of his father， standing there. She was dressed in an off-white trench coat， holding a bouquet of yellow lilies in her left hand and a small suitcase in her right， standing in the doorway.

“Auntie， what brings you here？”

As Wang Zikun fetched her some slippers， he couldn’t help but glance at the suitcase she was carrying. How come it looked exactly like the one Wang Haiyang used to store his greeting cards？ His lips moved as if he wanted to ask， but he held back.

“Sister-in-law， why don’t you sit on the sofa for a bit？” Bai Jiezi， who was in the bathroom applying a facial mask， hurriedly pulled it off and washed her face before coming into the living room.

“What beautiful lilies！” Bai Jiezi praised them as she instructed Wang Zikun to place the flowers in a vase， then went to the kitchen to prepare two cups of tea. She set them on the coffee table and joined them on the sofa. “Your brother’s at evening study sessions tonight and will be back a bit later. Hmm？”

She suddenly noticed the small suitcase and paused in surprise， then seemed to understand， “Do we have two suitcases like that in the house？”

“It’s alright that he’s not here，” Auntie smiled at Bai Jiezi and gently placed the small suitcase on the coffee table. “I’m actually heading back to Guangzhou tomorrow， and Dad specifically asked me to bring this suitcase over.”

She beckoned Wang Zikun over， signaling for him to sit next to her.

“We already have a suitcase just like this one，” Bai Jiezi remarked， still puzzled. “Why would Dad want to send us another？”

“The two small suitcases were originally a set. They were bought when Mom and Dad got married. The one you have was given to my brother by Mom before she passed away. But this one…” Auntie pushed the suitcase toward Bai Jiezi， gently stroking its surface， “this one is Dad’s. He’s had it with him for decades and has never let it go. Since they’re a pair， he thought they shouldn’t be separated， so he asked me to bring it here.”

Bai Jiezi nodded thoughtfully and pulled the suitcase toward her. She felt its weight—it was full. Curiously， she opened the lid. “Oh， so many letters！”

Her exclamation drew Wang Zikun’s attention， and he peeked inside the suitcase. Neatly bundled stacks of letters lay within. Wang Zikun picked up a bundle and realized they were all envelopes， with the letters themselves removed. The envelopes varied in size and color—white， blue， brownish-yellow—but the names on them were only two： his grandfather’s and his grandmother’s.

These envelopes looked like relics from a past era. Some had yellowed with time， others were frayed at the edges， yet each one had been carefully smoothed out and tied with rubber bands into neat bundles. In the upper left corner of each envelope， a pencil notation indicated a number.

“How many years would it take to write so many letters？” he couldn’t help but marvel. “I’d never have imagined Grandpa would keep them all. It’s amazing.”

“There’s more than just the envelopes，” Auntie said， pulling out a large white envelope from the suitcase. She opened it and took out a stack of colorful plastic packaging bags.

“Sister-in-law， do you know what these are？” Auntie asked with a smile that lit up her face like a crescent moon， her expression brightening as she explained to Bai Jiezi. “These are the packaging bags from the milk powder， cod liver oil， and calcium supplements Dad sent home.”

“In the early 1980s， supplies were scarce， and items like milk powder， cod liver oil， and calcium tablets were luxuries for many families. But every once in a while， our family would receive some. Especially the milk powder—when Mom received it， she would open the bag， pour it into a large glass jar， and place it on the top shelf of the cupboard. Every morning， there would be a warm， fragrant cup of milk in front of me and my brother. That milk was so delicious—sweet and creamy. After finishing it， I couldn’t resist sticking my tongue into the cup to lick every last bit. Back then， we were young and didn’t know that the milk powder was saved up by Dad. We also didn’t know that， even though he was a respected researcher， his working and living conditions were extremely difficult. He had to do research while also working to build their basic living quarters. It was hard enough to fill one’s stomach， let alone to get meat or eggs. As the head of a technical task force， Dad carried a heavy burden， often working late into the night. The supervisors， worried that Dad and the technical team would wear themselves out， found ways to procure milk powder， cod liver oil， and calcium tablets， issuing one portion to each person every month to boost their nutrition. However， Dad couldn’t bring himself to consume it and instead sent everything home. Many years later， Mom still kept those packaging bags， saying they represented Dad’s whole-hearted care for the family.”

“Why doesn’t my dad… like Grandpa？” Wang Zikun asked hesitantly.

“Maybe it started with a birthday gift，” Auntie replied with a wry smile before explaining to Wang Zikun， “Your dad was always an excellent student and got accepted into a top high school in the city. However， that school was far from home. Taking the bus was costly， and walking would take over an hour. Your dad asked for a bicycle several times， but your grandma never agreed because we had no savings. Your grandpa’s monthly salary covered our basic living expenses， and a portion had to be sent to your great-grandfather back in the northeast. Your great-grandfather was a farmer in poor health and needed medication every month. As your dad’s birthday approached that year， he asked for a bicycle again， and to his surprise， your grandma agreed at once because your grandpa had written that he’d received a bonus and would soon send the money home. So， your dad waited， hoping for the bicycle. But even a month after his birthday， the money never arrived. He became anxious and asked Grandma to write a letter， but there was no response from Grandpa.”

“And that’s why my dad began resenting Grandpa？” Wang Zikun asked.

“There was more，” Auntie continued， her brow furrowing as she recalled， “Back then， we lived in a single-story house and used a coal stove for heating and cooking. At the end of each month， when we ran out of coal briquettes， Grandma would take your dad and me to the coal yard to rent a tricycle and buy more briquettes. On the way back， she would ride in front， and we would push from behind. There was a steep hill on the way home， and every time we got there， Grandma would get off the tricycle， holding onto the handlebars while we all pushed with all our might. It was nearly impossible for the three of us to get a load of coal up that hill， but fortunately， there were always kind strangers who helped us out. So， buying coal wasn’t usually too challenging for the three of us.

“But one Sunday， we ran out of briquettes， and Grandma， as usual， took us to buy more. There was a long line at the coal yard that day， and we waited at the end. At that moment， your dad met a classmate who invited him to play basketball. He said he’d just play for a bit and come back， but by the time we were heading home， he still hadn’t returned. On the way， it suddenly started to rain， and if the coal got wet， it wouldn’t burn well. Grandma and I hurried to get home. When we reached the steep hill， no matter how hard we pushed， we couldn’t get the load of coal up. Because of the rain， there were no people around， and Grandma， watching the coal get soaked， was almost in tears. Just then， Grandpa appeared and helped us get the coal back home.

“It turned out Grandpa had taken leave to visit us after attending a meeting in a nearby city. By coincidence， he had seen Grandma struggling in the rain， pulling the coal alone. When your dad came back， Grandpa scolded him harshly and even punished him by forbidding him to eat.”

“What happened next？” Wang Zikun pressed on.

“Grandfather stayed only one night. He left early the next morning. He left in such a rush that he didn’t know Grandma had developed a fever from getting soaked in the rain. The fever turned into severe pneumonia because she didn’t go to the hospital in time， and it almost cost her life.” Tears welled up in his aunt’s eyes. “Those were really hard times！ We kept asking where Grandpa had gone， and what he was doing， and Grandma always said he was working on something very important. But the truth was， even Grandma didn’t know exactly what Grandpa was doing. She just believed that whatever it was， it was important for him， for his workplace， and for the country.”

“Zikun，” his aunt gently patted his head. “Your grandfather went through a lot of hardships when he was young. Now that he’s older， we should do our best to make him happy. Don’t you think so？ You should visit your grandfather more often when you have time. He and your father have their misunderstandings， but those will eventually be resolved. Both of them aren’t the kind to open up easily， and they keep things bottled up， but deep down， they really care about each other.”

“I understand， Aunt，” Wang Zikun nodded earnestly.

“Sister-in-law， I’m leaving tomorrow， so I’ll be counting on the three of you to take care of Dad，” his aunt said hoarsely， holding Bai Jiezi’s hand. “Accept my gratitude！”

“There is no need for gratitude！” Bai Jiezi choked， her voice catching. “Take care of yourself when you get back. Don’t worry about Dad and Haiyang. Father and son don’t hold deep grudges.”

That evening， Wang Zikun walked his aunt to the roadside and watched her get into a taxi before heading home.

The spring night sky was clear and expansive， tranquil and serene. Walking slowly under the moonlight， Wang Zikun’s thoughts stirred as he gazed up at the vast sky.

His grandfather had developed radar systems to protect the nation’s airspace， while Wang Haiyang admired the stars， yearning for the infinite universe. As a young boy passionate about technology， why couldn’t he create something innovative related to space？

Fragments of a science documentary echoed in his mind： “The universe is vast and boundless. Humanity’s exploration of space began the moment civilization was born... Galileo， Newton... ‘China’s Sky Eye’ discovered many new pulsars; ‘LHAASO’ detected the highest-energy photons， impressing the international astronomical community; Chang’e-5 brought back lunar soil...” He remembered how the entire school had watched the Chinese astronauts teach a “Tiangong Classroom” lesson from space. The students in his class had been buzzing with excitement for days after that special science lecture.

Wang Zikun was sure Lin Weiwei would support his idea. After all， her father was a pilot， and those who soared through the skies were the true masters of the heavens. She might even cheer him on.

The more he thought about it， the more excited he became. His steps quickened as if he were flying on hotwheels， racing home. He wanted to share his idea with Lin Weiwei immediately. As soon as he got home， Wang Zikun rushed to his room and sent Lin Weiwei a message explaining his idea. In his excitement， he made several typing errors. Unfortunately， after sending the message， Lin Weiwei didn’t reply. Wang Zikun thought to himself， “Maybe she went to bed early.”