Memories of the Green Train

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

There's a county town more than 100 kilometers away from our provincial capital. This county town was formed because of two large chemical companies. My parents worked for one of these companies, and naturally, our home was located there.

There are two routes from here to the provincial capital: a highway that winds through mountains and is bumpy and difficult to travel, and a train that follows the river and valleys, which is smooth and comfortable, although the distance is much longer.

I started working in 1988 and was assigned to a public institution in the provincial capital. At that time, I only had one day off on weekends, but as a girl, the only place I could think of to go home on weekends was home. Which way to go home?

I was more familiar with the highway; I was used to taking the factory shuttle bus to the provincial capital when I was a child, and the timing was convenient. However, going back from the provincial capital was not as convenient as going there; I would be delayed on the road. So I tried taking the train and found it to be good. Although it was a long detour, I could catch it on Saturday afternoon, and the timing was convenient when I came back on Sunday. So this train became my regular means of transportation home.

This train line ended in my hometown, a county town. Along the way, there were two other factories, scattered along the river and nestled in the valleys—supposedly built to protect against American bombing. This train served only these four companies, transporting goods in and out; passenger service was merely a sideline, usually just two or three dilapidated, discarded carriages added in front of the freight cars.

Since the companies along the route had their own factory cars, which were free, nobody wanted to pay for this train; most passengers were local farmers. In those days, the children of factory workers loved to hang out in the streets, getting into fights and causing trouble, which inspired the local young farmers to join in, forming organizations like the "Beggar Clan" or "Iron Palm Clan" from martial arts films.

These people would travel to the city by train, several at a time, some walking sideways, some diagonally—it was frightening to watch. I would try to find a seat in a more crowded carriage. Sometimes, when there were only a few people, for safety, I would go to the section with the conductor. There were stops at each factory, where passengers had to get on and off, and wait for unloading and transfers.

Two years later, I got married, but I still often went home. At first, my husband accompanied me, and the two of us would travel by train. Since it was evening, we had someone to talk to, and the time didn't feel long. Later, my husband felt uncomfortable at my house, and besides, the honeymoon phase was over, so he didn't want to accompany me anymore.

The train ride was very boring. The rural passengers played cards to amuse themselves, and the strangers passing by or on business were very wary. Even if they saw me, a woman, they wouldn't come near me. I often brought a book and read in the dim light. As long as I could hear voices, I wasn't afraid and didn't pay attention to my surroundings.

I don't know when it started, but a few young men began to appear on the train, wearing army green or dark blue pants, with cuffs that were so low they reached their heels. They walked like penguins, speaking Mandarin, and were obviously slackers from some factory.

Unlike rural slackers, after I encountered them a few times, they started to approach me and strike up a conversation. I wasn't afraid of them because there were similar hooligans at my family's factory. Some of them had even grown up together, and when they were in the underworld, they valued "chivalry" and "loyalty," and wouldn't bully girls. So, we got to know each other. We learned they were children of workers from a factory along the way, hired as young laborers in a factory in the city, and hadn't been there long.

There were usually seven of them together, and they were a gang called "The Seven Wolves of Chuanhe." Their leader, nicknamed "Old Soy," was a bit younger than me, but tall and mature. He looked older than me and insisted I call him "brother," which I did because I thought he was quite handsome.

We played cards together on the road; it was very lively. One of them, nicknamed "Boss," was very humorous; he could turn their fights into jokes, making me laugh until my stomach hurt.

I'd only met them twice. They got into a fight with a local peasant gang at a small train station. One of them, nicknamed "Seven-Step Snake," was particularly vicious. He captured a man who hadn't escaped and stabbed him in the thigh with the tip of a dagger, tearing his pants and drawing blood. I trembled, unable to watch, yet my heart was still burning with excitement.

"Old Chou," with the demeanor of a boss, pulled out his belt and swung it first without even seeing the attack. Then he stood and watched. He tortured his captives only to gain their "submission." He wouldn't stop until the man said "I submit," but he wouldn't release him until he said "I'm truly convinced."

I was awestruck, and I was equally convinced. So, at Old Chou's repeated invitation, I took a half-hour ride on the locomotive during unloading and rerouting to visit their factory and even spent a couple of minutes at his friend's dormitory.

From then on, whenever I ran into "Old Chou," he would send everyone else away and only sit with me. I understood, but it felt good, so I chatted with him. It was spring or summer, around eight or nine o'clock when it was still light. The train didn't have its lights on, so the carriage would be dark for a while when it went through tunnels. He would come over and try to hug me, but I pushed him away, and we only managed a kiss on the cheek. After we came out of the tunnel, my face burned, and I ignored him, but my heart was pounding.

To preserve this wonderful feeling, I didn't tell him I was married. He kept taking advantage of this opportunity to take advantage of me, and eventually, we kissed and he touched my breasts.

But that was only when he forcibly hugged me after we went into the tunnel, and I couldn't stop him. As soon as we were in the light, I felt I shouldn't have done that, that I was betraying my husband. If he dared to touch my hand or do anything else then, I would glare at him with hatred and give him a warning look, and he would sullenly go to sit with his friends.

He wanted to come to my workplace to see me, but I wouldn't let him. He wanted to come to my house, but I wouldn't let him either. Finally, when he was pushed to the limit, I told him I was married. How could he believe that? He kept pestering me, and every time we reached the station near his factory, he would drag me down to sit for a while, and his touching became increasingly aggressive and bold.

Once, behind a warehouse at the train station, he kissed me and forced his hand inside my pants. I was furious and never wanted to talk to him again. But he continued to harass me, pulling and tugging at me. I grew to hate him from the bottom of my heart, so I dragged my husband home once and introduced him to them on the train. "Old Chou" looked terrible, and his brothers were also staring at him; you could see the skin on his face twitching.

It worked. The next few times we met, they didn't bother me anymore. I would read alone, bored, while I could hear their noisy card game on the other end. Sometimes they would even bring out alcohol and drink loudly on the train, oblivious to everyone else. I felt terrible, especially when the train went through tunnels. I felt itchy and excited, but once it was over and the light came in, my heart sank, and I became so restless that I couldn't even concentrate on my reading. Time seemed to drag on forever.

[The End]

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