The Sunbonnet

Lily (Zaiyue) Gui

Instructor’s Introduction

WR 120, American Short Story, examines how the American short story genre has evolved from its roots in the eighteenth century to today. While in the first two-thirds of the class the students analyze short stories chronologically and compose two formal academic essays, in the last third of the class the students craft their own short stories, without any restrictions on genre or topic. 

While Lily developed the characters, plot, conflict, and setting in a second language, she skillfully incorporated stylistic elements that pay homage to the stories we read, such as her impressive use of dialogue and imaginative similes. Although students of fiction writing are often instructed “write what you know,” what notably resonates with Lily’s story, “The Sunbonnet,” is her empathy with two young girls, one Chinese and one Japanese living in China, impacted by the traumatic conflict of the Second World War, taking place sixty-five years before Lily was born.  

Roberta Steinberg

From the Writer

The story is about a small incident that took place in a small village in China during World War 2. Although World War 2 is a subject matter so suitable for an epic narrative, I deliberately chose to depict an insignificant event, involving two unremarkable individuals. The experience of crafting and composing this piece is both interesting and challenging. In order to portray the lifestyle of the people of that era as realistically as possible, I did extensive research. Even though this piece may seem somewhat immature, and there is still room for improvement, I hope people can enjoy reading it. Thank you.

The Sunbonnet

On an ordinary afternoon in 1939, a bomb was dropped on the Wang Village after Atsuko said “I’m bored.”

When the assault happened, both Ting and Atsuko were frolicking naked in a stream on the back hill near the village. Two sets of washed, somewhat faded, but tidy clothes were folded on the riverbank. Next to them two pairs of shoes were placed. Small and black, like ants. Their soft skin was surrounded with an iridescent halo from the sunshine and splashing water. Two thick, black braids hung over Ting’s chest and were as smooth as brocade under the sunlight. Atsuko’s hair, however, was a little messy, somewhat consistent with the pouty lips on her small innocent face.

“Come on, give it to me!” She looked at Ting.

In Ting’s left hand, she held aloft a Western-style sunbonnet with a beautiful green ribbon. 

“Only if you can reach it,” Ting teased.

Atsuko was ten years old, and Ting was twelve. Even though they were not that different in age, kids this age grew like crazy. Only a difference in months makes Ting a head taller than Atsuko. Ting often used this advantage to prank Atsuko and gladly watched Atsuko blush—just like now.

“You’ve been wearing it the whole morning. It’s my turn now,” Atsuko pleaded.

The sunbonnet was found when the village was checking the aid supplies from Shanghai. Perhaps a rich young lady mistakenly left it with the aid. Nonetheless, the villagers decided to give it to the only two little girls in the village since nobody these days would spend money on a useless luxurious hat.

Ting and Atsuko were so excited about the sunbonnet that they couldn’t stop fighting over it from the first day. After all, in wartime, it exhausted everyone to meet basic needs—the occurrence of the sunbonnet seemed like a miracle. They even wouldn’t take it off when showering in the stream.

As they were fighting, a white butterfly landed on the sunbonnet. Amazed by it, the two girls immediately forgot about their quarrel and froze for fear of scaring off the delicate little creature.

“Try to touch it,” Atsuko whispered.

The butterfly seemed to be frightened and flew to the bank.

Ting swiftly stepped out of the stream to catch it. Atsuko soon lost interest, but Ting wouldn’t give up. She got so close to the butterfly that she was about to reach it.

“I’m bored,” Atsuko said. Ting turned her head, and the butterfly flew away.

That was when Ting noticed the calamity in the village.

Her body reacted before she could comprehend anything. She threw on her clothes, slipped into her shoes, and immediately dressed Atsuko. Atsuko looked a little confused. A kid her age wouldn’t understand what was going on. Ting wasn’t sure what happened either, but she had a faint premonition—through the chitchat she had overheard in the village. She forced herself not to think about the worst-case scenario. I am the big sister, I need to be strong. She thought to herself.

“Run!” She yelled at Atsuko while dragging her along.

Ting ran as fast as she could. The air crushed her lungs, almost suffocated her; her joints felt as if they were about to dislocate; the lumpy ground skinned the tender soles of her feet. But, strangely, she couldn’t feel the pain. It was as if her soul had left of her body, looking down on this strange torso in midair. Then, to her horror, she realized that––like a passing light––no matter how hard she tried to concentrate on the ground beneath her feet, her consciousness was uncontrollably sinking into the memories of the past.

Atsuko Nakahara and her parents came to Wang Village the year Ting turned five. According to the aunties and uncles, Atsuko’s father was a brilliant doctor who decided to settle down in Wang Village to help improve the medical situation after coming to China from Japan to see his colleague seven years previously. Ting didn’t understand the fancy words used to describe the couple, but she liked the couple’s warm smiles and gentle tone as they taught her Japanese. Who she liked the most was Atsuko. She liked Atsuko’s smooth black hair, her doe-like eyes, and her earnest expression when listening to Ting. They practically spent every moment together.

They often listened to the radio together. The Nakahara family had the only radio in the village, though it could only reach Japanese channels. Most of the content was about the war. The radio kept repeating things like “The great empire” and “The supremacy of force”; Ting didn’t like the broadcasters proudly talking about how many Chinese they had slaughtered; she was shocked when even hearing executions of Chinese prisoners of war and the crowd laughing.

They also read newspapers together. From time to time, villagers would bring back government-issued newspapers from the market. It frequently printed “We are sworn enemies with the Japanese.” Inside the newspaper were pictures of bloody hands and feet.

She didn’t know if the Japanese were hateful. Those Japanese on the radio laughing at the dead bodies of Chinese prisoners seemed hateful and deserve death by a thousand cuts. But Atsuko, who is Japanese, was adorable, innocent, and had the sleeping face of an angel. Come to think of it, these Japanese didn’t seem so hateful.

She was too young to understand this. What she preferred to do was lie in bed with Atsuko at night, stroking the ribbon on the sunbonnet and imagining what life would be like if they were rich. They had so many dreams that need to be fulfilled. Their eyes would light up whenever they talk about the dreams.

But now the war had spread to the village. I am Chinese, Atsuko is Japanese, and the army, no matter which side they are from, will keep us apart—because the Chinese and Japanese are destined to hate each other. Just the mere thought of their separation was unbearable. Ting’s feet started trembling, she could barely walk. 

She suddenly stopped. Atsuko bumped into her, looking confused. Ting crouched down, stroked Atsuko’s hair, and looked serious.

“Stay in the woods, don’t come out no matter what. Do you trust me?”

Atsuko nodded.

“We’ll meet later, I promise.” Ting put the sunbonnet on Atsuko’s head, took a last look, and ran away.

When she arrived at Wang village, her feet were red and swollen, one shoe was missing, and her clothes were scratched by branches.

The village was a mess. Everyone anxiously checked on each other’s status. It was market day, so most people were not in the village. The people who stayed, on one hand, were relieved that the others had left, but, on the other hand, were worried as headless chickens since they could not immediately confirm the status of those who were gone. People poured in from the direction of the market, one after another, and no one could spare a second to look at the woods, until someone noticed Ting. 

They rushed to hug her, checking if she was hurt. But Ting’s full attention was drawn away by the number of strange faces in the crowd. The stories she heard from the radio of spies infiltrating the crowd to kill their targets hunted her vividly. She shivered.

“Who are those people?”

“They are from the market. They heard the bomb and came to help.” Someone in the crowd replied.

That is a lie. Yes. Spies are skilled. They can fool the villagers easily. Besides, who the hell is the guy that just answered me? It’s probably one of them, trying to mislead us. Their faces are so deceitful. One man put up a gesture of concern, but what a grim face lies beneath! Fake! Everything is fake! They’re evil! They’re here to get Atsuko! They’re gonna take Atsuko away from me. I have to protect her.

Ting turned pale abruptly and took two steps back.

“Ting! Thank god you are all right!” A familiar voice brought her back to reality.

It was the Nakahara couple. Despite their dusty clothes, they looked fine.

“Where is Atsuko?” They looked behind Ting.

Seeing the worry clearly in their eyes, Ting almost blurted a word—but the strange faces around her started gaining on her eerily again. The spies will know where Atsuko is if I tell anyone. I won’t give anyone the chance to take her away. This is a trial. I can’t fail at the last minute.

For a long time, Ting just lifted her tiny, mud-scratched face, opened her tear-filled eyes, and shook her head firmly.

The appearance of the Nakahara couple changed. 

More people came back. “Everyone’s okay.” “Just a couple of houses and barns burned down.” “It doesn’t seem like they’re after us.” “Maybe it’s just an accident.” People hugged each other, exchanged reassuring messages, and rejoiced in the safety of their friends and families. They thanked the people from the market for helping and sent them off. Then, the conversation changed direction when they noticed the Nakahara couple’s expression.

“Go and find Atsuko! “Shouted someone in the crowd.

People scattered and dashed in every direction. The yelling went from the east to the west, from one end of the village to the other. But there was no response. Ting followed the adults. She went back to the woods and searched for Atsuko everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found.

The next day, when Ting returned to the stream again as a last hope, she saw something new—the sunbonnet with the green ribbon miraculously there. A white butterfly was lying on it. The butterfly flapped its wings a few times and flew away.

Ting never took the sunbonnet back.

Four days later, the Red Army found a dead body of a little girl downstream in the creek, with a white butterfly lying on her peaceful face. They gently buried the body and continued to march on.

Lily (Zaiyue) Gui is a sophomore studying Film and TV in the College of Communications at Boston University. As a film student with a deep-rooted passion for storytelling, she found herself also drawn to the world of creative writing. Narratives have served as the foundation of her existence, shaping the lens through which she perceives the world. She would like to extend her gratitude to WR 120 professor Roberta Steinberg, whose support has been instrumental in her creative writing endeavors.