Ripples of the Rhône

The dappled sunlight filtering through the grape leaves seemed to soften as Grandma Lin began her tale. Her voice, though aged, held a quiet strength as she recounted her origins. "My roots are in Shanxi Province," she started, her gaze drifting towards the distant past. "I married young, and not long after the wedding, my husband was called away by his father. They came here, to Jinan, seeking work. He became an apprentice."

A sigh, almost imperceptible, escaped her. "Travel was difficult then, treacherous. A journey back home was a major undertaking. For ten years, my husband returned only a handful of times. Barely enough to remember his face." She paused, the memory of that profound isolation settling over the courtyard. The crew listened, utterly absorbed, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city.

"I was left alone," Grandma continued, her voice dropping slightly. "Alone in his mother's house. It felt... like living as a widow, yet bound." Her hands, resting in her lap, tightened almost imperceptibly. "My mother-in-law... she blamed me. For the absence of children. The disappointment festered into cruelty. The days were long, filled with chores and silent reproach. The loneliness... it ate away at me. The constant strain, the unspoken grief... it took its toll. My health failed. I became gravely ill." 

A flicker of remembered pain crossed her serene features. "They saw me as a burden then. His family. They wanted to cast me aside, to dissolve the marriage. Wash their hands of the sick wife." A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. "But my husband... he still held some affection, some sense of duty. He refused."

The relief in her voice was palpable, even decades later. "My own father heard of my plight. He wouldn't stand for it. He came for me, defying them, and brought me back to my birth family." Her chin lifted slightly, pride evident. "He sold land, sold possessions – everything he could – to pay for doctors, for medicine. For two long years, I lived on bitter brews, the scent of herbs a constant in my room." She gestured vaguely towards the house. "Slowly, painstakingly, I recovered."

Yan Li, holding her microphone with rapt attention, couldn't contain herself. "How utterly terrifying!" she breathed, her eyes wide. "Mrs. Lin, your personal history... it's more gripping than any drama series!" 

Grandma Lin offered a small, knowing smile. "There is more, child." 

Luna, seated beside her grandmother, leaned in. She knew this story by heart, yet it never lost its power. Each retelling felt like honoring a battle fought and won. "The most frightening part," Luna interjected softly, her voice filled with protective warmth, "came during the war." 

Cynthia, Luna's cousin, unable to resist the dramatic moment, jumped in, her hands gesturing emphatically. "Yes! During the Liberation of Jinan!" she exclaimed, momentarily stealing the spotlight. "A shell – a huge one! – landed right in their kitchen! Smashed the cooking pot to pieces!" She pointed dramatically towards the house. "And Grandma was standing right there, by the stove! Can you imagine? But... it was a dud! Didn't explode! If it had..." Cynthia trailed off, her eyes wide with the sheer improbability of it. "...well, none of us would be here today!" 

A ripple of nervous laughter went through the crew and family members gathered around. Director Du chuckled, shaking his head at Cynthia's vivid delivery.

"Indeed," Grandma Lin said, her gaze resting fondly on her exuberant granddaughter. "We must truly be grateful for that dud shell. Otherwise..." She looked around the courtyard, at her children and grandchildren, her expression softening into profound contentment. "...I would not have lived to see such blessings. A family gathered, joy shared in my old age."

"You are blessed with longevity and happiness, Mrs. Lin," Yan Li said smoothly, her voice warm and encouraging. "You truly enjoy the fruits of a life well-lived." 

"Yes," Grandma agreed, her smile deepening the lines around her eyes into a map of hard-won peace. "The happiness of later years." 

Luna reached out and gently tucked a stray wisp of silver hair behind her grandmother's ear. "You endured so much hardship when you were young, Grandma," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. The sheer resilience embodied in this frail frame was humbling.

Grandma patted Luna's hand resting on her arm, a silent communication of love and understanding passing between them.

"Mrs. Lin," Yan Li prompted gently, sensing the depth of history still to be shared. "Could you tell us about the years after Liberation? About building your life here?"

Grandma nodded, her mood expansive. She spoke of Luna's great-grandfather, sacrificing the family's remaining wealth to support the effort in Korea. She spoke of the turbulent years of the Cultural Revolution, a shadow briefly passing over her face. "My husband... he suffered a stroke then. It changed him." Her voice remained steady, matter-of-fact. "The burden fell on me. I found work at Plastic Factory Fourteen. Hard labor. Hauling carts." She held up her hands, small and surprisingly delicate despite their age. "A woman, with bound feet... carrying the weight of a family. Raising three children through those shifting times." She spoke of decades of struggle, of political upheavals that reshaped the world outside their courtyard walls, with a calm acceptance that made the hardships seem almost ordinary. 

Yan Li and her crew listened, enthralled, transported by the quiet power of her narrative. 

Luna's aunt, her mother's older sister, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Mother truly suffered," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "After Father's stroke... his mind wasn't clear. He'd get angry, accuse Mother of neglecting him, of always being away... not understanding she was breaking her back at that factory. She'd come home, her legs swollen, feet blistered... I remember once, her toes were raw, bleeding..." 

Luna's mother nodded, her own eyes glistening. "I remember too. The illness made him difficult, unpredictable. Sometimes violent. Mother bore it all – the exhaustion of work, the turmoil at home. It was... unbearable to watch." 

Grandma Lin raised a hand, a gentle command for silence. "He was suffering," she stated simply, with profound empathy. "The sickness tormented him. He couldn't control the frustration, the pain. Keeping it bottled inside would have been worse. I understood." Her gaze grew distant. "He stood by me when I was ill, young and weak. He didn't cast me aside. I remembered that kindness. When he was old and sick, how could I abandon him? It was my turn to stand firm." 

Luna's uncle sighed heavily. "Father was always so stubbornly principled," he murmured. "Even after cutting ties with those back in the village years before... he insisted on claiming that background..."

"Exactly!" Luna's mother burst out, the old hurt resurfacing. "When I was courting Luna's father... his army superiors found out about our... background. They were adamant. Said it would ruin his career prospects. Demanded we break it off." Her voice trembled. "I was heartbroken. Cried for days. In the end, Luna's father had to go himself, travel all the way to Shanxi, investigate the truth, plead our case... it took so much effort to get their approval."

Yan Li's expression was one of fascinated sympathy mixed with shock at the blunt realities of a different era.

Luna's uncle offered a tight, humorless smile. "It was just barren, rocky hillside land they'd tried to farm back there. Scraps of earth good only for sweet potatoes and corn. Barely enough to survive." 

"And my grandfather's generation had already left that place," Luna's aunt added mournfully. "After Mother fell ill and Father brought her here... he never went back. His heart was broken too." 

"We had no claim to that land, no connection to those people..." Luna's mother started, but Grandma Lin raised her hand again. 

"Enough," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "The past is a river that has flowed away. The people involved are gone. There is no profit in dredging up old bitterness." 

Luna, ever perceptive, saw the need to lighten the heavy atmosphere. A bright, teasing smile lit up her face. "Grandfather was very handsome when he was young, wasn't he, Grandma?" she chirped. "I've seen the photos! A true gentleman of the Republic era! So dashing! No wonder you cherished him all your life, Grandma!" She nudged her grandmother playfully. 

"You imp!" Grandma laughed, the tension dissolving as she pretended to swat at Luna. The genuine affection between them was palpable. 

"Old photographs?" Yan Li's eyes lit up with professional interest. "Could we see them? It would be wonderful to have visuals for the documentary!" 

"Of course!" Cynthia was already on her feet before the sentence was finished. "I know exactly where the album is!" She dashed towards the house. 

"Always so eager," Luna's cousin, the young man who worked for the electric company, teased good-naturedly, a hint of envy in his voice for missing the chance to fetch the treasured item. "If only you showed that much enthusiasm for schoolwork!" 

Yan Li, ever the interviewer, smoothly turned to him during the brief pause. "And where did you two study?" she asked conversationally. "What schools?" 

The young man, flattered by the attention, straightened up. "I went to the Electrical Technical School in Yantai," he said, a touch of pride in his voice. "My sister," he nodded towards Cynthia's retreating back, "she finished high school but didn't get into university. Didn't want to study further. Works at the soy sauce factory now." 

"Electrical Technical School?" Yan Li's eyebrows rose with interest. She shifted her microphone towards him. "So you work for the Power Bureau now? That must offer excellent benefits?" 

He rubbed the back of his neck, a little self-conscious. "I've only been working about a year," he admitted. "Still in my probationary period. Not fully permanent yet." 

"And what does your work involve?" Yan Li pressed gently, keeping the conversation flowing. 

"Installing meters, checking lines, fixing faults..." he replied without hesitation, then grinned wryly. "Basically, I climb utility poles. Wherever the power's out in my sector... that's where you'll find me, up a pole." He mimed climbing, eliciting a chuckle from the crew. 

As Cynthia returned, carefully carrying a large, worn leather album, Benjamin, standing slightly apart near the moon gate, found his gaze drawn back to Luna. She was watching her cousin approach with the album, her earlier sadness momentarily replaced by affectionate exasperation. The sunlight caught the curve of her cheek, the intensity in her dark eyes as they fixed on the tangible pieces of her family's past. The complex tapestry of struggle, resilience, and enduring love woven through her grandmother's words seemed to resonate within her. He saw it in the set of her shoulders, the quiet attentiveness she offered her grandmother. The social gulf he represented felt suddenly trivial compared to the profound depths of history and hardship her family had navigated. Yet, the mystery of her withdrawal remained, a silent question hanging between them, even as the album, heavy with memories, was laid open on Grandma Lin's lap. The past had been given voice; the present, between Benjamin and Luna, remained a tense, unspoken dialogue.