A Tale of Two Cities Supporting Xinjiang

Chang Peng took the slip of paper, took a deep breath, and began dialing the numbers one by one, while Jiang Hengli watched nervously from the side.

The first call went to a busy signal.

The second phone call rang for a long time before being answered. A sleepy and impatient male voice said, "Who is it? So early in the morning!"

"Hello, is this Foreman Wang? I'm a teacher at Shihezi Vocational College. I wanted to ask if you've seen a tall, thin Uyghur boy, around sixteen or seventeen years old, who might be interested in picking cotton?"

No, no!

"Everyone here is an expert; what are you doing, some kid?"

The call was abruptly ended.

The third, the fourth... the responses were all pretty much the same.

They either say they didn't see it, or they get woken up and speak rudely.

It wasn't until the fifth call that the caller was a foreman whom Chang Peng had previously met through a school internship; he was quite polite.

"Teacher Chang?"

So early... I really haven't seen the child you mentioned.

At this time of year, most cotton fields have already secured staff, and there are few temporary workers being hired.

He was a complete stranger, and a teenager; people in proper cotton fields wouldn't dare harvest his cotton so easily, for fear of causing trouble, and he couldn't do much work anyway.

"Teacher Chang, please don't blame me for being nosy, but I'm just afraid... if this child is too anxious, he might go to those unregulated workshops or illegal fields. The conditions there are poor, the wages are not guaranteed, and it might even... sigh, you should find someone as soon as possible."

After hanging up the phone, Chang Peng and Jiang Hengli's faces were extremely grim.

The foreman's words confirmed their worst suspicions and suddenly increased the urgency of the search.

Chang Peng said decisively, looking at Jiang Hengli, "Go to the cotton fields. Search them one by one, field by field. He must be there."

Jiang Hengli nodded heavily.

They gave Grandma Abudu a few brief instructions, telling her to stay home and keep an eye on the phone so that they could be notified immediately if Abudu contacted the family.

As dawn broke, the two set off again.

Jiang Hengli opened the car door. "I'll go to the station and the intersections leading to the cotton fields. You go ask his classmates who know him well, and his fellow villagers, to see if they have any clues."

Chang Peng remained standing still: "Old Jiang, what happens after we find it?"

Jiang Hengli was taken aback: "What do you mean, 'after'? Find the person first, bring them back safely, and then we'll talk!"

"And then what? You bring it back this time, but what about next time?"

He hasn't overcome his inner hurdle; he feels that studying is useless and that he's a burden. If this knot isn't untied, he'll run away again. Perhaps even further, even more desperately.

Jiang Hengli was getting anxious. "Then what do you suggest we do?"

Now that the person is missing, safety is the top priority!

Can't we discuss the reasons after we find them?

"What's the use of bringing him back if he won't listen?"

Chang Peng also raised his voice, "We need to think carefully about what to say as our first words to him when we see him."

Should we scold him for being insensible? Or should we forcibly drag him back?

Or...should we really listen to why he thinks studying is useless?

One concerns immediate safety, the other concerns a long-standing emotional knot.

After a few seconds of silence, Jiang Hengli took a deep breath: "Chang Peng, I understand what you mean."

But it's the middle of the night, and a child of that age is in danger every minute outside. I'm just as worried about his education as you are, but the priority is to find him safely.

Let's look for it first, okay? After we find it, we'll work together to figure out a way to untie the knot.

Chang Peng nodded: "I'll ask his fellow villagers and classmates. Keep the phone accessible."

The two turned and disappeared into the night.

The county bus station had long been closed, with only a few dim streetlights remaining.

Jiang Hengli searched the station carefully, even looking in the corners, but he couldn't find Abudu.

He drove slowly along the main road leading to the nearest cotton-producing areas, rolled down the window, and carefully observed the roadside. At this time, there were almost no people on the road, only the occasional truck whizzing by.

Things weren't going well for Chang Peng either.

Several students and fellow villagers who were woken up from their sleep said they had not seen Abudu, nor had they heard him say where he wanted to go.

Time passed slowly, and the two spoke on the phone again.

"I don't have any here."

"Mine is the same."

All that could be heard through the receiver was heavy breathing.

"Where will he go..." Jiang Hengli murmured.

Chang Peng was silent for a moment on the other end of the phone, then suddenly said, "Hengli, do you remember what he said to me after his English improved last time?"

"What?"

He said, "It would be great if we could introduce Xinjiang cotton to the world in English."

Chang Peng's voice was particularly clear in the night: "Besides his family, what he cares about most is that cotton field."

He felt sorry for the cotton fields and for his family's hard work.

So if he didn't go to the train station or to any places he knew... wouldn't he first go back to his family's cotton field to check on things?

Jiang Hengli gripped his phone tightly.

"I'll search in the direction of his cotton field!"

The car left the highway and drove onto a bumpy dirt road.

Jiang Hengli opened his eyes wide, searching for any possible figure.

On the edge of that cotton field belonging to Abudu's family, they still found nothing.

Chang Peng and Jiang Hengli split up and acted separately.

While continuing to contact other possible cotton field foremen, Chang Peng quickly communicated with school leaders, requesting that the missing person information be released to surrounding villages, towns, and agricultural cooperatives through school channels.

Jiang Hengli accompanied Abudu's grandmother and mobilized the elderly people who could still walk and the women who stayed in the village to inquire from house to house to see if anyone had seen Abudu or heard of any cotton fields that had recently received unfamiliar day laborers.

The news spread rapidly through the village and school networks in the early morning.

Finally, a villager working in the cotton fields of a neighboring village sent word back: just as dawn broke, he thought he saw a boy who looked like Abudu heading south towards the cotton fields, looking like he was looking for work.

Having obtained this vague but crucial clue, Chang Peng and Jiang Hengli immediately took a car and headed south.

Along the way, the two kept a close eye on the cotton fields and scattered work sheds on both sides of the road.

Around 10 a.m., the sun was shining brightly on the earth.

Jiang Hengli rolled down the car window and squinted as he searched carefully.

Suddenly, Chang Peng's gaze froze.

Among the group of cotton pickers, most of whom were dressed in dark, old clothes and moved with practiced ease, there was one particularly thin figure whose back looked frail and stiff.

The man was wearing a faded, light-colored old T-shirt, and sweat clung tightly to his skin on his back, revealing the clear shape of his shoulder blades.

His movements were slow and clumsy, and even the way he bent over was done with an uncoordinated effort.

"There!" Chang Peng whispered, pointing to the figure.

Jiang Hengli saw it too, and his heart clenched instantly.

Abudu was completely immersed in the repetitive labor and physical exhaustion. Chang Peng and Jiang Hengli stopped a few meters away on the ridge of the field.

"Abudu," Chang Peng called out.

Abudu's body stiffened abruptly, and he stopped moving, but he didn't turn around.

"Come back with us." Jiang Heng tried his best to keep his voice gentle.

Abudu slowly turned around, his face covered in dust and sweat, his lips dry and chapped.

He glanced at the two teachers, his voice filled with stubbornness: "I'm not going back."

I'm doing well here. I earn eighty yuan a day, and they provide two meals.

More useful than...more useful than reading.

"Eighty a day?"

Chang Peng didn't respond to his question. Instead, he squatted down and looked at the half-full cloth bag at his feet. "Did you pick about ten pounds of these?"

Abudu pursed his lips and remained silent.

Chang Peng continued, "I know the wages for this cotton field. It's calculated by weight, seventy cents for every pound picked."

The fastest and most skilled worker can pick 150 to 160 pounds a day without taking a break.

You're new here and not familiar with the area. Even if you work your hardest and can pick 80 jin a day, how much will you earn?

Fifty-six yuan. And the foreman will deduct some from my food allowance.

Eighty a day? That's the kind of salary a skilled worker gets by working themselves to the bone.

Abudu's face paled; he hadn't carefully considered these accounts.

Jiang Hengli also squatted down, picked up a cotton boll, and squeezed it: "Abudu, we came here not because we wanted to drag you back."

If you think this place is better than school, we'll keep you company for half a day.

"Try it and see if it's easy to earn eighty yuan."

Abudu was stunned. He looked up at the two teachers, his eyes full of confusion.

Chang Peng had already taken off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and walked to a row of cotton plants nearby. "This one's mine. Hengli, you over there."

After saying that, he actually bent down and started picking them.

Jiang Hengli sighed and followed suit, starting to work.

Abudu stood there, watching the two teachers' clumsy but earnest backs. He gritted his teeth, turned around, and continued picking his own cotton.