Nugget of Gold, Clod of Mud

Spring in Beijing is as fleeting as a half-woken nap. The wind still carries a lingering chill from winter, nipping at your face, but the hints of goose-yellow and tender green on the treetops clearly announce that spring, after all, has arrived.

Lao Liu Tou’s heart these past few days felt much like the weather—topsy-turvy, a blend of quiet pride and gnawing unease. His son, Xiao Wei, was bringing his new wife, Xiao Feng, home for the first formal visit, to meet the family and, importantly, to start addressing them as 'Mom' and 'Dad'. According to the old ways, the 'gǎikǒufèi' – the gift marking this change of address – was a crucial element. It was about face, about observing propriety, and about showing warmth towards the new daughter-in-law. Or perhaps, one might say, it was about setting her 'value'.

Lao Liu Tou had worked his entire life at a neighborhood grocery store until retirement. The money he clutched felt like a handful of sand, easily scattered by the wind. But this time, he gritted his teeth. Taking the savings of a lifetime, he made several trips to the 'Caibai' department store, finally exchanging it for something substantial—fifty-nine grams of pure gold. He could still vividly recall the look in the sales assistant's eyes, a look that seemed to regard him as both a newly unearthed treasure and a foolhardy soul pretending to be wealthier than he was.

Fifty-nine grams. It might not sound like an astonishing amount, but held in the hand, its weight was undeniably real. Lao Liu Tou wrapped it in layer upon layer of red velvet cloth and hid it in a biscuit tin pushed deep under the bed. At night, he often imagined a golden light shimmering from beneath him, leaving him restless.

His wife, however, was quite pleased. "Well done, old man!" she exclaimed. "This time you've really been generous! Let's see who dares call us a humble family that can't put on a decent show now!" Lao Liu Tou just grunted noncommittally. Generous? Inside, his mental abacus was clicking furiously. These days, with prices soaring and money constantly losing value, only this gleaming gold nugget offered a sense of security. Giving it to Xiao Feng fulfilled the old custom and also provided the young couple with a solid, tangible asset. The problem was, it had practically wiped out their savings. Any future ailment or emergency would mean living frugally. It felt like a gamble—a bet that his son and daughter-in-law would be filial, would succeed, and would transform this tangible gold into more, unseen 'nuggets' of support and prosperity.

When Xiao Wei and Xiao Feng arrived, the eyes of several elderly neighbors idling in the sun in the hutong (alleyway) felt like searchlights. Lao Liu Tou’s cramped two-bedroom apartment had been tidied meticulously. On the table were a few dishes, not lavish, but prepared with care. Xiao Feng, a girl from the south, was fair-skinned and gentle, appearing a bit timid, unlike the more outgoing girls of Beijing. She stood obediently beside Xiao Wei and softly called out, "Dad, Mom."

Lao Liu Tou’s face creased into a smile like an old chrysanthemum as he eagerly responded, "Yes, yes! Good child, come sit, sit down!" His wife rushed to take Xiao Feng’s hand, showering her with warm inquiries. The atmosphere, on the surface, was cordial.

Then came the pivotal moment. Lao Liu Tou cleared his throat and, affecting composure, retrieved the red velvet bundle from the inner room. He unwrapped it, layer by layer. When the square, gleaming gold bar was finally revealed, the air in the small room seemed to momentarily freeze.

"Xiao Feng," Lao Liu Tou began, his voice trying for steadiness, "this is just a small token from Mom and Dad. From now on, we’re one family. Live your lives well together." He handed the gold bar over, his hand trembling slightly.

Xiao Feng clearly hadn't anticipated such a 'heavy' gift. Her face instantly flushed red, and she looked helplessly towards Xiao Wei. He too seemed momentarily taken aback, then quickly nudged her, "Mom and Dad gave it, take it." Only then did Xiao Feng gingerly accept the bar. Against her fair skin, the gold seemed exceptionally conspicuous. Its weight made her wrist dip. She stammered, "Thank you, Dad… thank you, Mom…" her voice barely louder than a mosquito's hum.

His wife watched from the side, her eyes filled with satisfaction and pride, as if the gleam of the gold illuminated her own face.

But the atmosphere at the dinner table shifted subtly. Lao Liu Tou and his wife looked somewhat drained, as if they had completed a major task, yet they strained to keep up appearances. Xiao Wei ate with his head down, occasionally glancing at Xiao Feng with a complex expression. Xiao Feng was even more reserved, holding the gold bar that felt almost too hot to handle, unsure even where to aim her chopsticks.

This lump of gold, like a stone cast into the still waters of the family, sent out concentric, invisible ripples.

That evening, back in their small rented room, Xiao Feng placed the gold bar on the table. Under the lamplight, it silently radiated its cold luster.

"This… this is far too valuable," she murmured, her brow slightly furrowed. "Did Dad and Mom spend all their savings? What about their future…?"

Xiao Wei sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "That’s just Dad’s way," he said. "He’s obsessed with face. He felt he couldn't treat you shabbily, couldn't let the neighbors think less of us. Just accept it. He’ll worry more if you don’t."

"But I…" Xiao Feng hesitated, "I can’t help feeling… like this is some kind of transaction."

"What nonsense are you thinking!" Xiao Wei said, a touch impatiently. "It's just a gesture, a token of our parents' goodwill!"

But the unease in Xiao Feng’s heart wouldn’t dissipate. These fifty-nine grams of gold felt like a heavy label pinned on her. It symbolized her in-laws' expectations, represented some kind of unspoken contract, signifying that she must now play the role of a daughter-in-law ‘worth’ this price. This was no longer a simple matter of changing how she addressed them; it felt more like a ceremony with an explicit price. From this day forward, it seemed, every action she took would be weighed against this bar of gold.

She gazed out the window. Beijing’s night sky, washed out by light pollution, revealed few stars, just a hazy grayness that mirrored her current mood. She thought of her hometown. When her parents married off a daughter, the dowry might only be new bedding or a few home appliances, but it didn't come with this heavy, suffocating pressure.

Meanwhile, back at their apartment, after seeing the young couple off, Lao Liu Tou and his wife sat in silence under the dim light for a long while. His wife spoke first. "You know, that girl Xiao Feng… she seems nice enough, but let’s hope she doesn’t…"

"Doesn’t what!" Lao Liu Tou cut her off. "We’ve given the gold, what more can we do? We raise children to support us in our old age—isn’t that the whole point? From now on, we depend on them." His tone held a kind of desperate finality, yet beneath it lay a subtle, bleak undertone.

This lump of gold, intended to cement the family’s bonds, seemed instead to have erected an invisible wall in each of their hearts. On one side stood the elders' expectations and anxieties; on the other, the younger generation's pressure and bewilderment. Only the gold itself remained, cold and impassive, like a silent judge or a giant question mark suspended above them all.

Spring in Beijing continued its unhurried progression. Life in the hutong flowed on as usual. Except, the weight in Lao Liu Tou’s heart hadn't fully settled. He often found himself gazing towards the entrance of the alley, hoping his son and daughter-in-law would visit frequently. When he saw other families surrounded by children and grandchildren, he would instinctively pat his empty pocket, then straighten his posture, as if those fifty-nine grams of gold were still there, bolstering his courage while simultaneously weighing him down.

Perhaps this is how things often are in the world. Some yearn for nuggets of gold, believing them to be solid, dependable security. Others feel that such a heavy weight offers less comfort than the humble clod of mud beneath their feet – mud where roots can actually take hold and things can grow. But even that simple mud seems increasingly scarce nowadays. Everyone is craning their necks, gazing towards the glittering heights, hoping, striving, snatching, only to be blinded by the glare, losing sight of the path right under their feet. And at the end of that path, who can say whether it leads to a mountain of gold or a pit of mire? Only the wind continues to blow, whistling through the hutong, through the human heart, carrying with it a hint of mockery, and perhaps, a touch of compassion.