/ \ | / / | ___/_____ / |---/ \ | / /--|--- / -/-- ___ \| -/--- / | / | < /_-\ | < / --------- ____|____ /___|___ \/ _-|/ /| \/ | | /\ _-|\_ / | /\ | ----|---- / \ _/ | / \ | | ------- \ |__ __--- | --- _|_ __|__+--+ --|-- / | | /|\ | | | /|\ | _ | / | \+--+ --------- | _- -_ | A n O x c a r t f o r D o w r y WANG CHEN-HO Translated by the author and JON JACKSON There are moments in our life when even Schubert has nothing to say to us ... --- HENRY JAMES, THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY The villagers all laughed at Wan-fa behind his back. Even right under his nose they curled their lips in contempt, without fear of arousing his anger. It may be that their insolence was due to his near- deafness. But Wan-fa was not quite deaf. More often than not, their offensive words came thumping into his ears. To him, this was the truly unfortunate thing. When Wan-fa came home from his carting job he would go to the ryoriten [A Japanese-style restaurant] for a good meal. He had finally come to own his own ox and cart. With his oxcart he got as much as thirty dollars for a single hauling job. Things were going rather well for him, of late. Compared with the past, one might say the present was quite comfortable for Wan-fa. He no longer need to support his family, so he could spend everything he earned on himself. And this after being released from prison! He had not expected it, certainly. It was strange, was it not? Whenever there was money in his pocket, he soon found himself sitting in the ryoriten, tasting the duck cooked in tang-kuei [Lingusticum acutilobum, an aromatic herb the root of which has medicinal uses.] wine. He had never had a chance to taste such good food before. All the villagers laughed at him, and teased him unmercifully. And it was worse that his two nearly deaf ears were not quite able to ward off the villagers' scorn completely. Had he been generous enough to let his ears fail completely, he might have felt less uneasy among the villagers. He might also feel much better now about holding the bottle of beer in his hands, a free beer, given him by that guy named Chien. No sooner had he taken a seat than the manager rushed over to welcome him with a flood of courteous words, none of which quite reached Wan-fa's ears. No, not even a single polite word. It was like watching a silent film: Wan-fa saw only the two dry lips of the manager making the open-and-shut motion over and over, with no notion of what was being said. Sometimes the man's mouth moved so slowly he seemed to be yawning; again so rapidly that it was like a hungry dog gnawing at a meatless bone. These incessant lip movements made the manager ridiculous in Wan-fa's eyes. Thinking that he had at last found someone that *he* could ridicule, Wan-fa felt his spirits lift. As if to whisper a secret, the manager put his mouth right up to Wan- fa's ear and shouted what he had said before in a thundering voice issuing quite incongruously from such a tiny, skeletonlike body. "A plate of fried snails and a bowl of Tainan noodles," Wan-fa ordered, his gaze fixed on the keeper's greasy bald head. "How about drinks? We have some ten-year-old Red Dew Wine." Shaking his head as monotonously as if it were operated by an electric motor, Wan-fa pompously set out the bottle of beer given him as compensation by Chien. Two tables away sat five young villagers. They were having a feast and noisily playing the finger-guessing game. Catching sight of Wan-fa, one of them opened his mouth in speech. The other four broke off their game and turned their heads in unison, almost as if they were performing a "Right face!" in response to a drill sergeant, except that their faces all wore a nasty look of contempt and were quite devoid of any military solemnity. Then another villager stood up, his mouth flapping. He had hardly finished when he doubled up with a great roar of laughter that was so contagious that the other four also burst into guffaws that had the effect of distorting them from head to toe. One villager, whose head seemed larger than his expanded chest, suddenly extended his hand to silence the others, nervously glancing at Wan-fa. The one who had first noticed Wan-fa jumped to his feet clutching one ear and exclaimed, "Don't worry! He's stone deaf. Do you think this scandal could ever have taken place otherwise?" Each word rang against Wan-fa's double-locked ears like a brass gong. There was a time once, when he had just been released from prison, that such words would have made him flush with embarrassment. Now, his face would not color at all; it was as if he were beneath this mockery. The five young men put their heads back together and resumed their wild carousals. Having opened the beer, Wan-fa poured himself a cup. As he was about to drink it, he felt in his throat a surge of nausea, a taste he would find in every cup of Chien's beer. Yes, it was Chien who had turned his beer to gall. Perhaps in his former existence Wan-fa had been a bad debtor, and that is why he had always been troubled by money matters in this life. He married one Ah-hao, but instead of his life improving, it got worse and worse. From his father he inherited a small plot of land on which he and his wife tried to plant vegetables and herbs of all sorts, but no vegetables and herbs would grow. One year they cultivated the "pneumonia-cure grass"; the grass grew fast and promised a good harvest. They, with a storm came a flood that not only washed away all the "penumonia-cure grass", but alas, even the very soil. Not long after, they were fleeing from bombing raids. Wan-fa got an earache at that time. It must have been caused, he said, by some "unclean water" splashing into his ears when he took a bath in a river. He had not gotten immediate treatment, for it was very hard to find a doctor during war time. Only when the pain became unbearable did he find a doctor - one who specialized in female disorders. The doctor treated Wan-fa with his rich knowledge of ovaries and uteruses. The result was a hearing loss of only eighty percent. It was not so bad, technically speaking, but on account of this eighty percent, Wan- fa no sooner found a job than he was fired from it. People grew tired rather quickly of having to shout at him as if in argument. They moved from county to county, district to district, until finally they settled in this village. He and his family made their home in a tiny hut near the graveyard, two miles out of town. He was hired by an oxcart owner and was able to barely keep his family from starvation. If only his wife Ah-hao had not been too fond of gambling. Whenever she got up to her ears in dept, she would sell off a daughter, and one by one, all three daughters were sold. For some reason (perhaps to propagate more offspring), she did not sell either of her two sons. Relentlessly, their life retreated toward the primitive state. By the path leading to the graveyard stood their little hut, low and drooping; it was like a shabby old man who could not walk with his back upright in the frigid air. They were not alone out there. About three yards away was a dilapidated shanty in which some people had once lived. But these people had left the year before for some other place; they were perhaps too frightened by the ghostly atmosphere of the cemetery. Like a resort for spirits and ghosts, the shanty was now completely without living occupants. Only Wan-fa and his family lived by the graveyard now, with only spirits and ghosts for company. So it was natural that Ah-hao, when she spotted someone moving into the empty shanty, should be so ecstatic and immediately rush to break the hot news to her husband. "Some people moving to that shanty. No need to fear evil spirits will do us harm at night anymore. We have a neighbor now." However, this message did not impress Wan-fa. Not a bit. Half of his life he had lived in a silent word; to him, neighbors made little impression. Wan-fa took his undershirt down from a bamboo pole and covered his bare chest with it. It was his only undershirt. At night he took it off for washing; by noon next day it was dry enough to wear outdoors. Once, he had owned another undershirt, for rotation. But his oldest son had "borrowed" it when he had gone to town to look for a job. "To be hard up on the road is worse than hard up at home." So Wan-fa, like any father, sacrificed something for his son's sake. Putting his wide rain hat on his head, Wan-fa went straight out to work, with no intention of visiting his new neighbor. Ah-hao followed him to the door, hands on hips like parenthese to her bamboo- pole figure. "Aren't you going to visit our new neighbor? Maybe you can give them a hand fixing something," said Ah-hao, her mouth cracking open from ear to ear. Pretending he had heard nothing, Wan-fa sped away without a word. At dusk he came back. Sitting on the ground in the doorway, he leisurely smoked a cheap cigarette. Still he had no mind to call on his neighbor, although it would only have taken him a minute to go over. This evening Ah-hao's tone in regard to the new neighbor was not nearly so delightful as it had been that morning. She was complaining now. "Kan! [A profanity.] He has no dependents at all. He is all alone and single. He is from Lu-kang, you know. Talks just like any Lu-kangnese, like with a heavy cold. So hard to make out his babbling. I-niang! [A Taiwanese profanity.] I thought there might be some womenfolk for company." Puffing on his cigarette, Wan-fa did not respond. Presuming he had not heard her, Ah-hao was prepared to repeat her remarks, moving as near him as possible. But Wan-fa declined her efforts, saying, "Don't be repetitious, will you? I am not deaf at all." "Oh, you're not deaf? Don't make me laugh." Again cracking her face open wide from ear to ear (Ah-hao could have swallowed Wan-fa in mouthful), she added, "Shame on you. You are like the hog who doesn't know he is filthy." Neither the next day nor those that followed did Wan-fa visit the Lu-kang man. He was afraid that with his sickened ears he might make a bad impression on the stranger. And he could not understand why the Lu-kangnese did not drop in to say hello or to borrow a hammer - he simply has to nail something on a wall, having just moved in. As if for fear of the she-ghost, the Lu-kang man bolted his door very early in the evening. Although he had yet to meet his new neighbor, Wan-fa was nonetheless familiar with his neighbor's history - at least elementarily. Day in and day out, Ah-hao supplied a bundle of information about the Lu-kangnese for Wan-fa's study and research. The man was thirty-five, almost ten years younger than Wan-fa, and his last name was Chien. Chien was a clothing peddler. At present, he peddled clothes of all sorts in the village. And he rented the shanty from its owner. Wan-fa could see no advantage for Chien in living so near the graveyard. With all the information he had gained from his wife, Wan-fa began to think that he was already on friendly terms with Chien, though they had yet to meet. "Does he cook for himself?" asked Wan-fa concernedly. "I didn't pay any attention to that matter," said Ah-hao with her head turned and her eyes looking sidelong toward Chien's shanty. "Yeah, I think so. Or who would prepare meals for him? I-niang! He both sells clothes and cooks meals single-handedly. He is great, isn't he?" At last Wan-fa and Chien encountered one another. Watching Chien approach with his mouth opening and shutting repeatedly, Wan-fa had no idea whether Chien was munching food or speaking. Like a crane, Chien hopped near him. Ah, he stinks horribly, mettered Wan-fa under his breath. But he did not cover his nose with his hand, out of politeness. Both of Chien's hands rubbed deep in his armpits again and again; it appeared that whole families of ringworms had been living in Chien's underarms for some time without paying rent and now he was determined to send them packing. The more he rubbed his armpits the worse he stank. Now Chien spoke. Wan-fa was not able to follow what he was saying, only catching a string of sounds - ah, ah, ah - as if the man's mouth were plugged with a big peice of steamed bread. However, Wan-fa forced himself to smile a broad smile of understanding. Soon he felt that he was unable to close his mouth, having forced so many grins. Occasionally, Wan-fa would say something, but each time he spoke Chien would look utterly at a loss. His answer must be beyond the question again. The hell with them ears. The hell with them! All of a sudden he took a dislike to Chien. Ah-hao came out of the door and waved a needle and thread at the peddler. "This is Mr. Chien," she said to Wan-fa. "He has come to borrow a needle and thread. He said he should have come to see you earlier, but he is just too busy with selling clothes. You know, he has to go out to his business very early in the morning." She raised her voice to top volume, as if speaking to thousands. Turning to Chien she spoke softly. With a finger pointing to her ear, she shook her head incessantly and with great exaggeration. Obviously, she was informing Chien of Wan-fa's deafness. She must have told him so, otherwise Chien would not bear on his face such a look of amazement, as if he had come across something in the dark that would surely startle the universe. Now he gave a long look at Wan-fa, apparently trying to see what had been missing in his face. Wan-fa was not embarrassed. In the past he would have been very upset, even irritated at having his shortcoming made public. "How is your business doing?" asked Wan-fa with a forced smile. "Well, so-so," Ah-hao repeated Chien's reply in a shout. "Mr. Chien asks what line you are in." "Oh," crossing his hands on his chest, Wan-fa gave Chien another smile with a hint of self-mockery and answered, "I just move goods with a rented oxcart from one place to another for other people." "Is it good?" inquired Chien. Like a current of electricity traveling up his spine, Chien's hands dived into his armpits with a violent jerk. He must itch badly. Even his mouth was twisted into an ugly grimace. At any rate, this simple inquiry was heard distincly by Wan-fa so Ah-hao's assistance was dispensed with for once. "Just enough for us to live hand-to-mouth. If I owned an oxcart, I would certainly make more." Ah-hao repeated Chien's next question: "How much will an oxcart cost?" "Well, a used one is around three or four thousand dollars. What are you saying? Me? Purchase a cart? Oh no, where can I raise the money? I'm going to turn fifty; I'm no longer young. Can I not save? Don't you know the old saying: If you have not saved enough by the time you are forty, you will toil and suffer until you breathe your last." In the wake of this meeting, a congregation of the same sort occurred almost every night at Wan-fa's, with Ah-hao sitting between the two men and serving as a hearing aid. Chien still stank horribly. Still scratching himself in public with an easy conscience. Time and again Chien and Ah-hao would chat pleasantly together, ignoring the presence of Wan-fa altogether. Since Chien had traveled a lot, Ah-hao would urge him to tell her of the gaiety and pomp of city life, her voice falling into a low and soft whisper. At such times, Wan-fa would go to bed with his youngest son, Lao-wu [Literally, "Old-fifth"; one way of referring to the fifth child in a family.], leaving Chien and Ah-hao to spin yarns until all hours. Ah-hao went over to chatter with Chien quite often now. She also helped him with washing and sewing. By his own account, Chien had lost his parents in childhood and since then had gone a-roving. No one, he often said to Ah-hao, had ever cared for him as much as Ah- hao. From time to time he would have Ah-hao take home all those badly damaged clothes which the customers refused to buy. Thanks to this generosity, Wan-fa no longer had to worry about his one-and-only undershirt drying in time for him to cover his nakedness the next day. Perhaps, in order to express his gratitude, Wan-fa began to frequent Chien's shanty. And he was getting more and more used to the heavy odor of Chien's armpits. Chien's business seemed to be doing very well. He always seemed to need help. He made Ah-hao fully aware of his new plan. Hardly had she heard the joyous news than she raced home to relate it to Wan-fa, in a high-spirited mood. "I have a piece of exciting news," she said, going near to where Wan-fa lay on his mat and touching his shoulder. "I have a piece of exciting news. With his business Chien always has more than he can do. So he asks us a favor: Let our Lao-wu help him selling clothes. Besides providing meals, he will pay our son two hundred dollars a month. I-niang! Where can you expect anything better than this? Kan! What you make each month is no more than this. Well, what do you say? Will you accept his offer: Lao-wu is fifteen now; time for him to see the world." With this additional income they could surely improve their lot. It made no sense at all to turn it down. Wan-fa sat up and said, "Tell Mr. Chien to take good care of our Lao-wu." Then he lay down again, a smile of joy shining around the corners of his mouth. Seating herself on the mat, Ah-hao said, "When I have Lao-wu's pay in my pocket, I shall buy some piglets to keep. We can feed them with the sweet potatoes we plant on the mountain slope. We won't need to buy fodder and we can save a lot. You must have heard how the price of pork is soaring every day. We will surely make a lot of if we keep pigs." Lao-wu went to help Chien the next day. He and Chien pushed a rickshaw full of clothes of all sorts to the village. Spreading the clothes on the mat near the market place they began their sale. Usually Ah-hao did not go to the village very often. Now, she made a point of accompanying Chien and Lao-wu almost daily. If they were too busy with their selling, she would give them a hand. Sometimes she would bring an armful of taro leaves, to sell to the porkmongers and fish dealers to sack their goods. Once she had sold out and had money in her purse, she would go gambling. No matter how secretly she went to the gambling house, she could not escape the eyes of Chien. Not that she was afraid that Chien might disclose her wrong-doing to Wan- fa: with his Lu-kang accent Chien could never make himself understood by Wan-fa. What's more, Chien was no less inveterate a gambler than Ah-hao. It was not long before the villagers observed Ah-hao and Chien going together to the gambling house. And it was not long either before the villagers started passing around a joke which, they all agreed, was even funnier than the slapstick of Laurel and Hardy. Oh would you believe that Chien has started screwing Ah-hao? Somebody had even watched Ah-hao and Chien while fervently engaged in love battles in the battleyard, behind the pig pen ... By no means would they declare a truce, even when it rained cats and dogs. Would you believe they undressed each other in the pouring rain and struggled in the mud until they had their pleasure? As the saying goes, those who love to wrangle over nothing at all don't give a damn for anything, not even their own life. Those who abandon themselves to pure lust don't worry about falling sick. "I'm not lying," someone would say, "Ah-hao is at least ten years older than that peddler. She's old enough to be his mama. Well, I could understand if Ah-hao, that old hag, looked like a human being, but then she's ugly as hell, isn't she? She weighs no more than four ounces, but has a yap big as a toilet bowl. And a chest like a washboard! It must be painful to press one's chest against it. I can't imagine what part of that old hag could arouse the lust of that silly Lu-kangnese." Thus did the villagers amuse themselves with the scandal. A month and a half had gone by before the well-guarded ears of Wan-fa began to clearly hear the gossip. At first, Wan-fa was shocked out of his wits, which was not odd at all since he had never met with such a situation before. Then, a kind of excitement began to swell in his breast. More than once he had complained that Ah-hao's ghastly looks had been the cause of his miserable fate. But now, a much younger man than Ah-hao was having a love affair with her. From this point of view, it appeared that the ugly looks of Ah-hao must mean something to a man after all. Then he considered that Chien's behavior with his wife was an insult to his lost virility. All at once he recalled the unpleasant odor of Chien's armpits and worked himself into utter hatred of the man. As his fury mounted, he determined not to let Chien off too easy. But, as the saying goes, "If you want to convict a thief, you must catch his with the loot; if you want to lay a charge against the adulterers, you must catch the two of them in a bed." Thus Wan-fa said to himself, "All right, Chien, you just wait and see." At last, he bagan to think that it must all be his imagination. Yes, he must have heard wrongly, for Ah-hao and Chien still talked and laughed happily in his presence, entirely without any intention to avoid suspicion. Or ... might they not be pulling the wool over his eyes just by pretending to get along as usual, as if nothing had happened? If they had stopped seeing each other all of a sudden, wouldn't that have aroused his suspicion? Although he was stormed with question after question, he had yet to make any powerful protest or declaration against Chien. He merely put calling at the peddler's shanty. The Lu-kang man usually closed his business around six in the afternoon. Then he had supper with Lao-wu at a village food stand. When they returned home, Lao-wu would go to sleep in the shanty and Chien would come over to Wan-fa's to talk. On the pretext that his hearing had failed, Wan-fa seldom said anything to Chien, keeping silent mostly, as if he held a grudge against the Lu-kang man. Or he just wanted to show Chien that he was not so dumb as to know nothing at all. In the meantime, the undershirts and the khaki trousers, gifts from Chien, reminded Wan-fa of the peddler's generosity towards his family. He hated to be called an ingrate. So on some occasions he would break the ice and respond a little to Chien's conversation. But never more would he allow Ah-hao and Chien to be alone together. He would stay wide awake through the night until Chien turned back to his own shanty. Then he would retire with Ah-hao. He would lay with his hand across her chest, not yearning for love, but to prevent her slipping out. "Better late than never." Now he would oxcart goods one fewer trips per day in order to return early in the afternoon. He must have been reminded of the story of P'an Chin-lien and Wu Ta-lang [P'an Chin-lien, better known to Western readers as Golden Lotus, is a notoriously licentious woman in the two popular Chinese novels The Water Margin (Shui-hu chuan) and The Golden Lotus (Chin-p'ing mei). Wu Ta-lang is her husband, whom she eventually poisons to death.]. And it might be from this story he learned to do business less and watch his wife more. Every night he kept an eye on Ah-hao and Chien. Every night he watched over them attentively, save one night -- a night with a full moon hanging in the sky. With the first payment of Lao-wu's montly salary in her pocket, Ah-hao showed no inclination to buy piglets to raise, as she suggested. Wan-fa was lenient enough to let her have her own way, realizing that she neglected her promise on purpose. After deducting cigarette and lunch bills from his own monthly wages, there had been only about two hundred and forty dollars in actual take-home pay. With such sparse wages he and his family had had to live a whole month, so that it was all but impossible for them to have even modestly passable meals. All the year round they had eaten nothing but gruel, with more water than rice, and a few cheap dried turnips. But now with Lao-wu's income Ah-hao had made several rich suppers and breakfasts, and Wan-fa was so happy for so many days that he dropped the idea of checking Ah-hao's accounts. On the night of the full moon, Ah-hao prepared rice, carp soup, and fried bamboo shoots. Almost in a single breath Wan-fa had consumed five bowls of rice with lots of soup and bamboo shoots to go with it. Taken aback by his wolfish appetite, Ah-hao could not help making a strange sound in her throat -- ah, ah, ah, ah, ah -- as if she were belching. Pouring the last spoonful of soup from the small cooking pot into the empty soup bowl, Ah-hao said with a shrug, "Shame on you, eating like a tiger. Like you haven't eaten anything for ages. Oh, you still want more rice? Eh?" When Wan-fa finally finished, his cheeks were hot and shining, as if from too much wine. "Getting drunk from gorging" seemed to be a truth. Wan-fa felt tipsy enough to drop off, though it was still only half past seven. Don't go to sleep! Here comes Chien! Don't go to sleep! Chien squatted on his haunches opposite Ah-hao, as if he were going to relieve himself, and started to talk. silently puffing a cigarette, Wan-fa dozed off several times. His cigarette slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. Ah-hao leaned over to him, nearly to the point of sucking his ears, and said twice, "Go to sleep, will you? You look exhausted." With a start, Wan-fa opened his eyes and saw, to his great surprise, that Chien was still there. Not gone yet. And he seemed to have no desire to leave soon. Saying, "Don't stop your conversation," and "Pay me no attention, please," Wan-fa bent over and retrieved his cigarette butt. It had gone out long before. He lit it again and resumed puffing. Through a mist of tobacco fumes he watched Ah-hao and the clothing peddler talking and laughing together affectionately. The moon was bright and as full as the first or fifteenth night of the lunar month. Outside the hut there were no chairs. They squatted on their haunches or sat on rocks: it was like enjoying the moonlight at Mid-Autumn Festival. Through the smoke Wan-fa saw the two gesticulating with hands and feet, their mouths opening and closing. He did not understand a word they were saying and he was unable to enter their world: he seemed to be listening to a tete-a- tete between a man-spirit and a woman-spirit in a spirit language. He must have dozed off again. Getting up, Ah-hao yelled in his ear: "Go to sleep, will you?" She yelled it twice, as usual. She wore an extremely loose Western dress which was a milky yellow, but became rat-gray in the moonlight. Above all, it was made from a foreign material. She had gotten it from a church after he had attended worship and listened to a sermon given by a man with a high nose and blue eyes. She could not remember now the reason why she had gone to the church. Without making any alterations on the skirt, she shortened it by sewing the lower part a few inches up. To the bodice of the dress was attached an ornament which bore a strong resemblance to a double lock with an iron chain. There was another lock with an iron chain on the shirtwaist. These locks and chains gave an impression that they were safeguarding the secret parts of the female. "Go to sleep," said Ah-hao. She sat down on a rock again. She resumed her talk with Chien. They were sitting in the doorway with moonlight shining on them. Yawning, Wan-fa went into the house to sleep. His daring to leave the two alone may have been encouraged by the locks and chains embroided on the dress. When he awoke, the moon seemed fuller and brighter, almost beaming with smiles. Reaching out his hand to the other end of the mat, Wan-fa felt for Ah-hao. But Ah-hao was not there. He jumped out of bed as though bitten by a snake. He was out of his sleeping quarters so fast that his cold sweat hardly had time to start. In the dark he kicked over a wooden box, making a noise that would scare any ghost in the graveyard to death. He slapped his forehead with his hand, cursing his clumsiness. They might have heard the noise. They must have. And if they did, what would be the use of his search? And they had heard him. In the doorway was spread an old broken mat. The door was open and the moon shone in. Ah-hao sat on the mat, her face pale in the moonlight, as though it had been drowned for quite some time. Chien sat up too and turned his head toward the noise. There was perspiration glistening on his forehead. With a sharp, cutting "What are you doing there?" Wan-fa came up to them, both his hands made into fists. Like efficient recruits obeying a command, both Ah-hao and Chien stood up in a split second. They spoke in the same breath, each trying to speak louder and faster than the other, as if it were a recitation contest between grade school students. But Wan-fa could only make out sheer sound, sound, sound. Sweat poured from the body of Chien. His nipples grew firm and readily apparent through the shirt which stuck to his skin. Ah- hao pushed Chien to a corner, telling him not to speak any more. Perhaps she was unable to bear the sight of his mobilizing his energy so intensely. She took the floor with every word carefully calculated. But all that Wan-fa heard was: "We only ... That's all ... nothing else ... Isn't it? Isn't it?" It was to Chien that she directed the "Isn't it? Isn't it?" glancing at him from time to time. Don't believe her, Wan-fa warned himself. He had been married to her for thirty years. What else could there be that he did not know about her? She would talk anyone to death, seeming to talk flowers from the sky. Don't believe her. And the locks and chains on her dress seemed to be all gone. Tightly she clutched at the bodice of her dress, as if afraid that the garment would slip down. Don't listen to her! But she kept on talking and talking, her mouth open wide from ear to ear. And she began to use nasty words and dirty phrases. She must have been very upset in her inability to talk Wan- fa around. "I-niang! Did you hear what I said? I talk almost half a day and you don't even open your mouth to speak. Say something, will you? I-niang! Are you mute, now, as well?" All of a sudden, Chien stepped forward, bring an odorous whiff of armpits. His face shone with joy, as though he had thought of a way out of the situation. Patting Ah-hao's shoulder, he pointed at a corner of the house where the moonlight did not reach. It seemed someone was sleeping there. Ah-hao's eyes lit up at once. She exchanges a few hurried words with Chien, then went to the corner. Yes, someone was sleeping there. She shook the sleeper awake with both hands. "Wake up, Lao-wu. Wake up. Wake up and be your Uncle Chien's eyewitness. Wake up, do you hear? I-niang! You dropped dead sleeping or something?" When Wan-fa climbed back into bed, hoping to resume his sleep, Ah-hao continued her harangue. Her mouth kissed his ears again and again, as if she loved his ears very much: "You're a real brute, without the slightest idea of what common courtesy demands. You should know better than to call a good fellow like Chien to account. You're just impossible. Lao-wu woke up at midnight to go out for a piss and saw some shadowy form moving in the graveyard. He was frightened and began to cry. "Chien was unable to calm him down, so he brought him over here. And after Lao-wu went to sleep, I asked Chien to sit down for a cup of water, to show my thanks for his kindness. Then you came out with your long devilish face. Well, the thing is just as simple as that. Kan, your imagination has really gone too far. I tell you, everything is as simple as that. You heard Lao-wu's testimony yourself, didn't you? Then you must believe there is nothing between me and Chien; but why were you still angry with Chien? Why? Why?" She repeated these lines over and over, and the more she repeated them, the more furious her tone became. Wan-fa could find no way to escape the harangue; he wished sincerely he could have been as deaf as a stone. "Who says I got mad at Chien?" he said. "Then why didn't you say something? Why didn't you say a word? Do you think it was polite to close your mouth like a dead clam, when the situation demanded you say something to ease his nerves? Tell me, are you jealous of Chien? Are you? You can't even get it up, how can you be jealous?" An awkward silence fell on them. As if suddenly recalling something quite important, Wan-fa broke the silence: "By the way, what happened to those locks and chains on your dress?" He tried his best to make the question sound casual. Well, she has nothing to say now. Or maybe my ears just failed me again and I didn't hear. Tired, and having a slight headache, Wan- fa dropped the idea of pressing his wife for an explanation. "You're asking about the locks and chains?" said Ah-hao, purposely talking in a low, inaudible tone. "Chien said they're not nice to look at and he tore them off my dress." "What did you say?" asked Wan-fa. Oh -- my ears -- my ears always escape the words they should hear distinctly. "Lost! I said they were lost!" Ah-hao yelled into his ears. "I-niang! You're deaf enough to be a stone." Pressing her body against his, Ah-hao poked him here and there with seducing fingers. She had not been so interested in him since that time he could not get an erection. Wan-fa looked out the window. The moon hung in the sky, round and full like the laughing face of an obese girl. He recalled some lyrics of a popular song: "Miss Moon laughs at me because I am a tomfool, even cheated by the wind." [The song is titled "Wishes in the Springtime." It tells of a girl who, sitting alone in her room as the spring brezze whistles by her face, begins to dream of her love. Then she hears some noise outside. Thinking that it must be her prince charming calling on her, she rushes to open the door. But no one is outside. Looking up, she sees the moon bright and full, as if mocking her for being fooled by the wind, which has caused the door to make the noise.] Maybe he was just that tomfool. As he was on the verge of sleep the scene came back to him of Ah- hao and Chien sitting on the mat in the doorway. Then the odor of Chien, more irritating than usual, again floated under his nose as he watched again the unlocked parts of Ah-hao's dress. Maybe Ah-hao had played him false. Maybe it was sheer imagination. With question after question in his mind, he lay tossing for hours and could find no sleep. But he was not to be afforded time to get to the bottom of the matter. Only a few days later, the oxcart owner announced that the ox would be let for ploughing. Wan-fa might as well stay home for a while. At the same time, Chien declared that he must go back to Lu- kang to visit, then on to Taipei for a new supply of clothes. He said he might be back in a month. Did he really mean to come back? In order to avoid any further venture into troubled waters with Ah-hao, he might be going for good. But one thing was certain: during his absence Lao-wu would draw no pay and had to return to live with his parents. This was truly bad news. Wan-fa had no job now. At first, he went to the mountain slope to dig sweet potatoes to sell in the market. With this he could manage to stave off two-thirds of his hunger. When there were no more sweet potatoes, he set out to climb mountain after mountain in search of taro leaves to sell. Although he could only conquer half of his hunger this way, he had to put up with all kinds of ill remarks from the village women who earned their allowances by plucking taro leaves to sell. They complained that Old Deaf Wan-fa collected all the taro leaves and left none for them, and because of Old Deaf Wan-fa they were bound to have fewer new dresses this year. To hell with that Old Deaf Wan-fa! Then came the day when there were no more taro leaves. And still he had to fill his empty stomach, which was, as the saying goes, "a hole as deep and bottomless as the sea." What could he do? At the end of his rope, he went to help dig graves to get some pennies for food. The job did not come up every day. Not every day did a man die. Sometimes he had to wait two or three days for a corpse. Ah, it was a pity that people were not generous enough to die sooner. And then, even when he was lucky enough of a death, more often than not some fast-leggers had already won the job before him. He came to realize that if he wanted to live on grave digging, he must do something more than just wait. So he changed his waiting policy. Day and night he searched the whole village for a family with dying people. If he found one, he would hasten to apply for a position as the grave digger, or coffin bearer, even though the dying one was not yet deceased. Soon, when he showed up at a dying man's home the door would be slammed in his face. He was looked upon as the fearsome messenger of Death. To Wan-fa, a single day seemed to last a whole year. He could hardly get the upper hand on even a tenth of his formidable hunger. One day, Ah-hao thought her oldest son, who was working in town, might do something for them. In hunger she walked four hours on sandy roads to get to town. When she got back, she brought only a catty of pork and fish. Nothing more. Life in town was not easy either. Someone recommended Ah-hao to do cooking and cleaning at Dr. Lin's clinic. If she was accepted she could draw, apart from room and board, one hundred dollars per month. On the day of the interview there was not a grain left to stop her hunger. Stealing some sweet potatoes from a farmer's vegetable garden, she put them under heated ashes and baked them. They were her only lunch. Sweet potatoes. Trouble-making sweet potatoes. When Dr. Lin inquired how many children she had, she volleyed five big, loud farts before she could open her mouth. Her stomach had given her no warning. Dr. Lin grinned, trying to inject a sense of humor into the situation, and said, "You have five children?" To her shame, the gas in her stomach started to cannon one after another, consistently and rhythmically. Her chance for the job was gone with her wind. Wan-fa and Ah-hao often quarreled now. Almost every minute they found themselves engaged in a battle of words. It looked as though they were venting their disappointments in life by offending each other bitterly. Well, for them to shout at each other was not so bad as it sounded. At least it showed they were still alive -- they were not yet totally beaten down by poverty. However, they never fought physically. They were both so emaciated that they were all bones and no flesh. Obviously, it would hurt one's hand very much to beat a bony body like theirs. So there was no pleasure to be gained in it. Then, Chien came back after forty days' absence. "Chien is back!" Unable to hide her secret joy, Ah-hao stammered out the news. "He has bou-bought so-so many clo-clothes to-to sell. And you know, he-he is e-even fatter." She stopped for a moment, unable to continue. Then she added, "He wants our Lao-wu to help him tend his business tomorrow. Do you agree to that? Do you?" There was a brightness in her eyes, betraying her joy at Chien's return. "Oh God, I thought he would never come back." With Lao-wu's income, they might stop their hunger a bit -- hunger like an alarm clock out of order, buzzing and crying at any time or place. No, Wan-fa warned himself, I must not let her know I am pleased to see Chien back. And I can't let Chien feel he is doing us a favor, either. He was surprised to find himself so calculating all of a sudden. But, after all, he told himself, a poor man is not poor at all in self-respect. Receiving no reply from Wan-fa, Ah-hao reiterated her question in a voice close to shrieking. Wan-fa ran his fingers through his hair again and again, causing a shower of dandruff on his shoulders. "If you wish Lao-wu to help Chien, go ahead," he replied, in a manner aloof enough to make a person feel cold. "You don't like Lao-wu to help Chien?" "Why not?" Even he himself was astonished at the ice-cold tone. Ah-hao did not say anything. But as she left she said something quite indecent to Wan-fa. Then she was gone like a whiff of wind. Wan-fa had not heard distinctly and did not know what rubbish she had said. When Wan-fa returned from a coffin-bearing job that evening, Ah- hao had already cooked him a pot of rice. "Did Chien give you rice?" His eyes fixed on the steaming pot, Wan-fa suddenly felt unable to bear hunger any longer. As soon as the name of Chien was mentioned, Ah-hao's voice became unnatural, with a lot of "eh" sounds, as if she had taken too much sickly-sweet food and had to clear her throat before she spoke. "Eh, ... you know we've not eaten a bowl of decent rice for years, so, eh, ... I just borrowed some rice from, eh, Chien. Eh, ..." Wan-fa quickly swallowed the saliva that had filled his mouth and seized the opportunity to speak. He would not let Ah-hao see how hungry he was. "Listen, don't bother Chien any more with our troubles, understand?" Ah-hao did not reply, as though too exasperated to speak. Thereafter, whenever she mentioned the man from Lu-kang, her tone would suddenly become serene, somber, and cautious, as though she spoke of some god. The Lu-kang man had hardly come to call on Wan-fa since his return. He must still remember vividly the embarassment of that night of the full moon. Or perhaps he was only too occupied with his business. Now that Lao-wu was helping Chien again and bringing home the whole of his pay each month, Wan-fa and Ah-hao began to live more like human beings. Sweet potatoes were growing on the mountain slope again. Taro leaves were green and large everywhere. Wan-fa had no need now to go hunting for corpses each day. He had more time to stay at home and keep an eye on Ah-hao and Chien. He made up his mind to never allow them an opportunity for further physical contact. Then the situation changed abruptly. The owner of the shanty in which Chien lived wanted it back, so Chien asked if he could moved in with Wan-fa. "What do you say to Mr. Chien's proposal?" Sitting between the two men, Ah-hao relayed what Chien had said, each word circumspectly coined to get the meaning just right, like announcing a communique. "If you have any objection, Mr. Chien will find some single room in the village. After all, it is more convenient for him to live in the village. Well, what do you say?" Chien went on smoking and smoking, not looking at Wan-fa. The weather had turned cool and the odor of Chien's armpits, once so familiar to Wan-fa's nose, no longer fouled the air. Wan-fa had a sudden feeling that he had lost his way in a strange land and was totally bewildered about what to do: the feeling a newcomer usually has when he works his first day in a strange firm. "I'll think it over." "You'll think it over? I-niang! What airs are you putting on? Mister, may I tell you one thing? Your affectations make you stink like a poor sick dog all your life." Gritting her teeth, she glared at Wan-fa. Don't talk back to her when she is so inflamed, Wan-fa warned himself, or she'll try her best to vomit out something filthy. By giving out a loud "oh," to indicate he had not heard her reproach, Wan-fa managed to escape the further resounding tantrum. It was nice to be able to utilize deafness for the best, wasn't it? "How much will he pay?" Wan-fa put his lips to Ah-hao's ear as soon as Chien had gone. Jumping up, Ah-hao exclaimed, "How much do you expect? He will pay four hundred and eighty dollars a month for room and board. You think that's not reasonable? He is used to living here, otherwise he wouldn't even look at your tumbled-down shack. I-niang! The rent for a nice single room in the village is no more than two pecks of rice! So four-hundred and eighty dollars is till less than you expect? I- niang! You'll think it over? Think it over? You try to spoil everying nice. You're just a bad hen that lays no eggs but filth. All filth. You good-for-nothing deaf-mute!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. Like a rooster's morning crow, her tirades could be heard clearly for miles. So, Chien moved in, to live and eat with Wan-fa and his family under the same roof. At night, Wan-fa and Ah-hao slept in their own quarters while Chien slept with Lao-wu on the mat in the doorway. Chien's goods were stored in the back of the hut. Soon a new rumor swept the village: "I-niang! Old Deaf Wan-fa and Chien and Ah-hao, all three of them, sleep together in one bed. You don't believe it? I-niang!" Unless he could absolutely not help it, Wan-fa would not go to the village. The mockery of the villagers and their white eyeballs of disdain made him all the more embarrassed. With four hundred and eighty to eat now. Lao-wu's pay was kept in Wan-fa's pocket -- this was one prerequisite for allowing Chien to share the same roof with him. He no longer needed to go to the village for work. By day, with the help of Ah-hao, he worked on his sweet potato farm. By night, he devoted mind and might to keeping Ah-hao out of Chien's reach. He followed her like a shadow everywhere she went. He even trod on her heels when she went out to relieve herself in the cemetery. Naturally, he was quite polite enough to stand off always when she was defecating. One night, Ah-hao got mad at his spying. "What do you mean by this, I-niang, shadowing me all the way here? Want to watch me urinate? I warn you, if you ever come a step closer, I'll piss right in your face!" The cold war between Wan-fa and Chien was hottest at dinner time. Usually, Wan-fa ate in silence while openly watching Chien and Ah-hao. He ate so soundlessly that he did not seem to chew his food at all. In spite of everything, he would be the last to leave the dining table, so that every tiny contact between Ah-hao and Chien would not escape his watchful eyes. Occasionally, Ah-hao and Chien would lower their voices in the middle of their pleasant chatter, so that Wan-fa could hardly hear a sound. Then he would cough harshly, in warning. Sometimes, they ignored his warning and kept on whispering with smiles on their faces. Deaf and mute, are they? Wan-fa cursed under his breath. They are even blind to my presence. What an insult! I won't stand for it. With a loud crash, he put down his bowl and stalked away in anger. It looked like a hot war was just around the corner. But, in less than twenty-four hours peace was made without a battle. Each time Wan-fa got angry and rushed out of the house, he would generally go to the cemetery and unfasten from his belt a long purse from which he would take all the coins and bills to count. He counted them forwards and backwards. Ah! Still not enough to buy an oxcart. Still a long way to go. Then he would say to himself: It's not right to be so hard on Chien. After all, he is my god of wealth and it would be stupid to send this god away. Then he would close one eye to the doings between Chien and Ah-hao for a few days. In the old shanty there now dwelt a pickle vendor who seemed to be a relative of the landlord. Day in and day out he was drying cabbages, carrots, beans, and what not, causing a great influx of flies. He called at Wan-fa's when he was free. He always came with a swarm of flies around him. Once he sat down to talk, his little rat's eyes peered eastward and westward, looking for some secret to gossip about in the village. The features of his face were harsh and mean. And he smelled as sour as a pickle. Wan-fa did not care for him at all. He remembered the old saying: "He who calls has nothing to offer but trouble." But Chien and the pickle vendor got along quite well; perhaps they liked each other's odor. One evening, in a cloud of dirty flies, the pickle vendor came to visit. Chien had gone to the river to bathe. Wan-fa, still indoors, could tell from the visitor's excessively nasal twang that it was the pickle vendor. Ah-hao was busy washing dishes in the kitchen. Lao-wu was playing marbles outdoors. Wan-fa could not clearly hear what the pickle vendor and Lao-wu were saying. Then the vendor raised his voice to a high pitch, apprently intentionally. "Where's `Screw-your- mother' off to?" Wan-fa could not hear Lao-wu's reply. "I mean Chien. Chien, that Chen who screws your mother. Where is that `Screw-your-mother'?" "God damn you!" Wan-fa shouted, dashing from the hut. He shivered all over with exasperation. Seizing the pickle vendor with one sweep, Wan-fa violently beat him, kicked him, beat him, and kicked him... The flies were frightened away in all directions. When Chien returned from cleansing his body in the river, he found all his belongings -- clothes, shoes, socks, cooking utensils, overnight bags -- scattered here and there in front of the hut. It looked like there had been a fire and everything in the house had been hastily removed for safety's sake. The Lu-kang man named Chien had a feeling of being hollowed out. Wan-fa stood at the door. As soon as Chien, bearing a wash basin, approached the door, Wan-fa rushed up to him waving his fists menacingly before him. "Kan! Goddamit! Get out of here! Kan! Get out! I feed a rat to bite my own sack. Kan! You think you can pull the wool over my eyes just because I can't hear very well? Kan! You must have swallowed tiger balls! You take advantage of my deafness, huh? Fuck you mother! You think I'm blind? You think I can't see what you're trying to hide? Kan! I feed a rat to bite my own sack..." Almost every line was punctuated with an abusive word, scaring Chien nearly out of his wits. Chien borrowed an oxcart and moved his belongings to the village the same night. He dared not give Ah-hao a farewell glance, let alone say good-bye. Then the villagers commenced their gossip. They said Chien had refused to give Wan-fa money, so Wan-fa had got mad and thrown him out the door. Quite a few people came to visit Wan-fa with the intention of digging up some dirt. Wan-fa disappointed them all, saying his ears were completely out of order. Again life was hard on Wan-fa. Some farmer leased the mountain slope from the Municipal Government, where Wan-fa had planted sweet potatoes. The unripe potatoes were dug up. Wan-fa received only one hundred dollars for his loss. To dampen his courage even more, Lao-wu fell seriously ill with an acute diarrhea. All the coins and bills he had saved to buy an oxcart were spent to save the child. As he paid the bills to the doctor, tears came suddenly to his eyes. He might have been feeling the pain of losing his savings; or he might have been lamenting his ill fate. At last, his former employer, the oxcart owner, hired him again. But a week later, an accident happened. The ox assigned to Wan-fa suddenly went wild and struck down a child, killing it. For this accident, Wan-fa was sentenced to quite a long period of imprisonment. Although the oxcart owner was not jailed, he was fined a big sum of money. At the time that he paid his fine, he uttered in agony, "Heavens! Heavens! Heavens!" In prison, Wan-fa worried about Ah-hao and Lao-wu. He wondered where they would find the money for rice. He could hardly sleep at night, for worry. One day, for no reason at all, he suddenly regretted having driven Chien away. Thereafter, he spent a few moments each day blaming himself for being rude to Chien. Sometimes, he imagined Chien might have come back to room with Ah-hao in the hut. According to the opinion of his fellow prisoners, a wife had a right to divorce a husband if the husband was in prison. With Chien's help, Ah-hao might have already divorced him. If so, what could he do about it? He probably could ask for money from them, as his prison mates suggested. It was reasonable to demand money when one submitted one's darling wife to another man. After all, he had paid a considerable dowry when he married Ah-hao, so it would not be too much for him now to claim some compensation. It's ridiculous that I'm afraid to lose my wife, while I'm unable to keep her. Huh, ridiculous, indeed! The fact that Ah-hao had not come to see him lately as often as before led Wan-fa to believe that she and Chien were together again. One day she paid a visit and he asked about her life. At first, she evaded the question by talking about something else. After Wan-fa kept asking the same question several times, she lowered her head and said, "Chien is back." She smoothed the edges of her skirt. "Well, we're fortunate to have him to take care of us, aren't we?" Wan-fa did not say anything. In fact, he had nothing to say. He thought of her face blushing red as a peach when she told him. Yes, it's nice to have someone take care of my family while I am in prison. On the day he was released, Ah-hao and Lao-wu came to meet him at the prison door. Lao-wu had on new clothes. Wan-fa saw no sign of Chien when he got home. In the evening, Chien came in, bringing two bottles of beer to welcome him home. Chien was talking to him in his heavy Lu-kang accent. Wan-fa could not make out a word he said. Ah-hao came in and joined them. "Mr. Chien has bought you an oxcart, from tomorrow on you can earn more with your own oxcart." "He has bought me an oxcart?" Wan-fa was quite astonished. He had dreamed of owning an oxcart all his life, and now the dream had come true. For a moment he was pleased and delighted. Then he felt disgusted with himself. What a disgrace! I exchange my wife for an oxcart. What a disgrace! But, in the end, he accepted the gift. Reluctantly, of course. Once a week, Chien sent him into the night with a bottle of beer. With the beer he would go to the ryoriten and have a regular feast. He was considerate enough to stay out quite late into the night. Sometimes, when he got back a little too early, he would wait outside the door patiently until Chien had finished and had come out of Ah- hao's bedroom to sleep on the mat with Lao-wu in the doorway. Then, and only then, would Wan-fa enter the house, with a look of aloofness on his face as if he had not seen Chien at all, nor had smelt the unpleasant odor of his armpits. Onlyu once a week did Chien give Wan-fa a bottle of beer. Never more than once a week. This Chien believed in moderation in all things. Amongh the villagers, the prevailing axiom was improvised: "You need only a wedding cake to marry a virgin, but an oxcart to marry an old married hag." It spread far and wide and lasted a long time. The five young villagers finished their revel in the village ryoriten and stood up to pay their bill. As they were leaving, the one whose head seemed larger than his expaned chest spat toward Wan- fa. The deaf man narrowly dodged the flying gob. Cup after cup, Wan-fa emptied his beer. Thinking it was still too early to go home, he slapped the table and shouted, "Hey, bring me a bowl of duck cooked in tang-kuei wine, please." He did not understand why the five young villagers who had just left had turned back again. They stood outside the door, their eyes flickering toward him. They were talking and laughing: it looked as if they had discovered that Wan-fa's ass had grown on his head. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chinese Stories from Taiwan: 1960 - 1970 Columbia University Press (1976), New York. This book is available at the Central Library (Call no: PL 2653.Lau)