It was still dark outside when we arrived but dawn wasn't far off. My second brother was going to meet me at Cangkou Station, one stop before Qingdao, because it was closer to our commune. I looked at the familiar countryside gradually emerging in the dawn light and my heart raced faster and faster.

As the train pulled into Cangkou Station I saw my second brother Cunyuan standing among a crowd of people under the dim light. I shot my head out of the train window. "Erga! Erga!" I called excitedly. "Second brother! Second brother!"

He saw me then, and started to run alongside the train. "It's so nice to see you! I waited for half an hour!" he shouted as he ran.

That image of Cunyuan running by the train was so joyful an image that it would remain with me, always.

My dia had walked to work that morning so Cunyuan could pick me up on Dia's bike. Our ride home together took nearly an hour. I sat on the back seat with my legs dangling on either side, my bag hanging over one shoulder, the early morning mist cold on my face.

"How are you?" Cunyuan asked as he pedalled.

"Fine, I'm happy to be home!" I replied.

"Tell me, what is Beijing like?" he asked anxiously.

I told him about the wide, paved streets and the grand buildings. I told him of the Great Wall, the Ming Tombs, the Forbidden City and of course glorious Tiananmen Square.

Cunyuan was utterly enthralled. He would occasionally interrupt with a question and ask for more details, so I told him about the polluted air, the vast number of vehicles, bikes and people, hundreds of thousands of people. When I told him about the food we had, he said, "You're making my mouth water! You are truly fortunate!" Then he was silent for a few minutes as though he needed time to imagine what eating such good food would be like.

"Did you meet Chairman and Madame Mao?" he asked eventually.

"Not Chairman Mao, but Madame Mao came to our school and spoke to us!" I replied.

"Oh, you are lucky, indeed, indeed!" he murmured.

I knew he was envious of the lifestyle I had in Beijing and would have loved to have had the same opportunities. So, trying to make him feel better, I told him about the blocked toilets, my dislike of some of the teachers and my dreadful homesickness.

He laughed at me for making such an issue about the toilets. "Surely they are better than our hole in the ground at home. That doesn't even have a roof over it!"

"I like our hole in the ground much better," I argued. "At least the foul smell can escape. Remember our grandfather's toilets in the city?" I asked.

"Not that bad?" he asked.

"Worse, much worse! More people pooing!" I replied, and he laughed. Then he asked, more seriously, "Why do you hate your teachers?"

"They are mean and some shout at us all the time," I replied.

"Have you ever heard of a saying that says bitter medicine isn't necessarily bad and sweet medicine isn't always good for you? Surely if you were good, they would have no reason to shout at you," he said.

"But I'm no good at dancing. I can't concentrate when they shout at me. I just want to come home," I confessed.

He was shocked by this. "Cunxin, just look at the colour of my skin and then look at yours. Within a year your skin has become whiter and mine darker. You don't want my life and my destiny. A peasant's job is the lowest job one can have. This is my first year working in the fields and I hate it already. It is brainless work. My whole body is always covered with mud and sweat and what is my reward? Not enough money to feed myself for a single day! Is this the kind of life you desire? Please, don't tell our parents about your homesickness. Especially our niang-she already misses you so much. She cried every time I read your letter. This last week, she hasn't stopped smiling and laughing and she hasn't slept a single night. Please, only tell her the good things about Beijing."

By this time I could just see our village in the distance.

"Niang started cooking early this morning," Cunyuan continued. "So you could have a bowl of dumplings waiting when you arrived home!"

I knew Cunyuan was right about what I should say to my parents. I made up my mind to keep my sadness to myself.

As we turned into our street, we passed some neighbours. "Welcome home!" they called. Down the street I could see my fifth brother Cunfar and my little brother Jing Tring waving and jumping up and down by our house. They rushed in to tell our niang I was back and within minutes a small crowd had gathered by our gate. As we came closer, I saw my niang come out and my heart pounded with excitement. She wore the same dark blue cotton jacket with patches on the elbows, an apron, and the same patched trousers as always, but she looked older than I remembered. The past year had taken its toll.

I jumped off the bike and tears filled my eyes as we rushed to each other and she hugged me tightly in her arms. "How I missed you!" she cried. "How I missed you! I nearly died missing you!" she kept repeating.

I was in ninth heaven again. This was what I had been dreaming of ever since I left her a year ago.

My fourth aunt rushed out of her house then, hobbling on her tiny bound feet as fast as she could. "Where is my sixth son?"

"Si niang. How are you?" I asked.

"You are whiter and a little fatter than when you left us!" she said proudly.

We all went into our house then. Nothing had changed. I could smell the ginger, garlic and green onion dumplings. I was so happy. All my brothers sat around and everyone talked and talked. It was as though we were trying to tell all our stories of the past year, all at once.

Niang didn't say much, but from the way she looked at me I knew she had missed me terribly. Throughout the day I simply hung around her-I felt safe. I felt loved. I was a little child of hers once again.

"Can I help you wash those shirts?" I asked as my niang was preparing her laundry.

"I'm fine," she said. "Don't you want to see your friends?"

"I'll go later," I replied.

"Did you miss home?"

I hesitated, remembering what my second brother had said. "No, not too much, only a little!"

"That's good. There isn't much to miss back here. Only a hard life!" she sighed.

Just then a couple of my niang's friends walked in. "Aya! Look at him, he has grown!" one said.

"He has become so white," said the other. "Look at his beautiful skin! This would only come from nutritious food. What a lucky boy you are!"

I dutifully answered their questions about Beijing and life at the academy and then escaped to pay my respects to my relatives, neighbours and friends, and to spend the rest of the morning roaming the streets, playing some of the old games with my brothers and friends. I had missed them so much and I felt so relieved to be back.

After lunch, my fifth brother Cunfar suddenly dragged me outside into our front courtyard. "I nearly forgot!" he said excitedly. "I have a present for you. Just wait." He went into our little shed and pulled out a small glass jar. "I've kept my prized cricket champion for you since summer! He has beaten all the crickets in our village and now he is yours!" Proudly he handed me the jar.

"Really?" I held the jar as though it was a priceless treasure. "What did you name him?" I asked.

"The King," Cunfar replied. "He is so handsome, just wait until you see the size of his teeth!"

I carefully opened the lid. "Come on, King," I called and tilted the jar sideways. Nothing happened.

"He won't recognise your voice. Let me try," he said. "Come on, King! You can come out now!"

Still no cricket came out. "I'll kill you if you don't come out!" he shouted impatiently.

"Let me see." I gave the jar a gentle shake and tipped it upside down. The cricket dropped out, dead.

"Oh, my King!" My brother was devastated.