My holiday month at home went by too fast. My parents and brothers showered me with love and affection. Their lives hadn't changed much from the year before but I did notice some friction between my second brother Cunyuan and my parents. A few days before I was to leave for Beijing, my parents made Cunyuan write a thank you letter to the Chongs to express their appreciation for looking after me. Cunyuan had to rewrite it several times because my parents weren't satisfied with the words he used. Two nights before my departure, just as our niang sat on the kang after dinner, Cunyuan read his latest version.

"And if you don't like it, write it yourself!" he said, annoyed.

"It's better than the last one," my niang said, "but it's still not deep enough. Can't you say something like, `We are so touched by your generosity that we could have kowtowed for you if you were here`, but without actually saying that?"

"Why don't you cut your heart out and send it with Cunxin to show them?" Cunyuan was growing angry.

"I would if someone else could wipe your bottoms for you when I'm not here any more!" she replied.

"If you really want to show the Chongs your heart, why don't you give Cunxin to them, like you did Cunmao?"

"Watch your tongue!" Our niang gave him a stern look.

"You would give us all away before Cunxin. He is our family's crown jewel," Cunyuan continued.

"You are all my treasures," our niang said. "I love each one of you. I would rather die than give any of you away!"

"Hnnng!" Cunyuan was sounding bitter, disgruntled.

"Hnnng what? Have I done any less for you?" our niang asked him.

"Yes! You let your other sons go and pursue their futures! Except me! I can't even marry the person I love!" Cunyuan was shouting now. "Why should I be kept at home? Why can't you let me go to Tibet?"

"Haven't we explained to you before? We need you here," our dia waded into the conversation.

Cunyuan looked at our dia and hesitated. Our dia's words were indisputable in our family. They represented a certain kind of finality.

But Cunyuan was too emotional and wouldn't let it go. "So, I'm the one being sacrificed! Why don't you just say that I'm the least important of all your sons!"

"Can you repeat what you've just said?" my dia asked calmly. I could tell he was trying hard to contain his rage.

"I said…"

Whack! Dia reached over and slapped Cunyuan on his face with such enormous force that I feared his jaw might break.

"I dare you to repeat such ungrateful things about your niang!" Our dia then leapt off the kang and charged at my second brother.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Our niang stood between them. Cunyuan was holding his face, stunned. A moment later he came to his senses and fled.

Our dia was still raging with anger. "I can't believe we have such an ungrateful son!" Niang was sobbing by this point. "What have I done wrong with him? What have I done wrong?"

We sat there in shock, soaked with sadness. I was deeply upset by Cunyuan's accusations against our niang. I couldn't believe he was so angry. I couldn't understand why. But I did feel sorry for him. I had heard about the central government wanting more young men to go to Tibet and Big Brother Cuncia had suggested to our parents that Cunyuan should go. I'd thought the whole issue had been resolved by now.

My niang was upset and teary all through the next day.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked her when the two of us were left alone.

"Ever since your big brother wrote from Tibet a few months ago," she replied.

"Why don't you let him go?" I asked again.

"He has just started working. We need his income for us all to survive. How can we lose him so soon after we have lost your big brother to Tibet? We just can't afford to! The best thing for him would be to marry that nice, steady girl your big aunt introduced him to," she sighed.

"Couldn't he send money back from Tibet?" I asked.

"Have we seen a single fen from your big brother in Tibet? He can't even feed himself from what the government gives him!"

We both fell into silence. Now I understood.

"You are the luckiest person with enough food to fill your stomach," my niang continued, "and now the Chong family likes you!" Then she became more serious. "Never forget where you come from," she said. "Work hard and make a life of your own. Don't look back! There is nothing here except starvation and struggle!"

Cunyuan didn't come home for the next two days. I was worried. I knew our parents were worried too. He came back on the morning I was to leave for Beijing. He looked terrible, as if he had not slept for the two days since he'd run away.

Everyone was quiet at breakfast that day. "Take care, be good. Listen to your teachers. See you next year," my dia said to me before he left for work. Soon after, Cunyuan rode off on Dia's bike and told me he would be back in time to take me to the train station.

Nearly two hours later he finally arrived home and handed me a small brown paper package. "You can open it when you're on the train," he said.

I recognised the wrapping paper from the only county department store and I knew he would have ridden all this time to get there and back.

When it was time for me to leave, my niang walked outside to the gate with us. "Write as soon as you arrive or I'll be worried sick!" she said. She turned to Cunyuan. "Be careful, especially on the narrow roads. Just stop if you see a truck coming."

"Why do you care?" Cunyuan muttered under his breath.

"Niang, I'm going now," I said to her, trying to defuse the tension.

She didn't say anything. Tears welled in her eyes. I hesitated. Maybe I should have asked her sewing friends to come.

Cunyuan wanted to leave earlier than was needed, so I sat on the back seat of my dia's bike and waved at my niang, at my brothers, relatives and neighbours. I tried hard to fight back my tears. Maybe it was the distraction of Cunyuan's situation, but I felt slightly easier leaving home this time. Cunyuan rode away as fast as he could as though this would release his anger and frustration.

Once we were on the main road, I asked him how he was. He didn't reply. He just pedalled harder. About halfway to the station he hopped off the bike and said, "Let's talk."

Now I understood why he wanted to leave home so much earlier.

"I'm sorry you had to witness this unpleasantness," he said as he pushed the bike off the road. It had been a crisply cold morning when our dia had left for work, but now it was mid-morning and the sun had made it warmer. The train wasn't scheduled to arrive for at least another two hours and we were about half an hour away. Cunyuan took out a small bag of tobacco, rolled a cigarette and sat crouching against a concrete power pole.

"Are you all right?" I asked, trying to find something to say.

No answer. He puffed his cigarette furiously. I could tell from the movement of his chest that his emotions were like a rough sea. All of a sudden he dropped his cigarette, hid his face in his hands and sobbed. I didn't know how to comfort him, so I just rushed up to him and held his shoulders.

"Why me?" he said. "I should never have been born!"

I felt helpless. There was nothing I could say.

Eventually he lifted his head. "Why won't our parents listen to me and let me go to Tibet? Why won't they let me marry the person I love? What have I done to deserve such treatment? What is my future here? Should I be satisfied to work in the fields for the rest of my life? Tibet is the only opportunity I have to do something with my life. At least I could get a government- sponsored job and see what's out there! Look at our big brother, look at you, and then look at the rest of us!"

"I wish I could give you what you want. Can't you talk to them again?"