The Pearl Jacket and Other Stories Read online

  Good times didn’t last long. Shortly after the son was born, Big Feet Zhuang’s man caught a sudden illness and died before he knew what hit him. Big Feet Zhuang mourned in white from head to feet and cried until the sky had collapsed upon the dark earth. The blind mother-in-law all but cried herself dead. When the loud funeral was finally over, the relationship between the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law deteriorated fast. The blind mother-in-law kept mumbling of her daughter-in-law’s big feet being bad luck, and her being the “ill star” that extinguished the light of life in her man. Everyday when Big Feet Zhuang carried food and water to her blind mother-in-law’s bedside, there was the same complaint of it being either too hot or too cold, too salty or too tasteless. Several times the blind mother-in-law even threw the bowls onto the ground. Big Feet Zhuang felt disheartened and felt that life not worth living at all. If it hadn’t been for her cute, precious little son, she would have hanged herself with a rope so she could go and join the ghost of her dead man.

  Thus they jolted on together for several years until one day the blind mother-in-law embarked on her eternal journey to the afterlife. Once everything had been taken care of, Big Feet Zhuang took a look at herself in the mirror contained in the big red box used on her wedding day many years ago. She saw a gray-haired woman.

  Her precious son had grown up and become manager of the village factory. He had been dating someone without letting her in on it. How could she not have gotten old? One day, the son brought home the would-be daughter-in-law. The girl was pretty enough and dressed tastefully from head to feet. Just when she was grinning with happiness, Big Feet Zhuang’s eyes fell on a spot near the floor and remained glued there:

  The girl’s feet were big, at least three sizes larger than her own.

  Trembling all over at the discovery, Big Feet Zhuang excused herself from the presence of the girl. When the girl finally left, she called her 1.8-meter tall precious son over and said, between tears, that him marrying the girl would be a no go no matter what and, if he insisted on marrying her, it would have to be over his Ma’s dead body.

  Naturally the precious son asked why. Big Feet Zhuang turned her eyes to the picture of her dead man and stared at it for a long time without being able to say one word.

  (1990)

  The Monument

  Sun Yuwen

  Winter was about to begin when Big Old Liu took his post at the River Mouth Traffic Control. At first his wife was thrilled. Now she didn’t need to journey to the city once every week. One day when Big Old Liu was drinking and his tongue got loose, she was not so thrilled to know that he had been disciplined and relegated to this new post. Big Old Liu was not ready to give up drinking. When he went to buy liquor and came home, the cup was nowhere to be found. He had a stern look on his face: “What’s the difference where I earn my food?” So the next day the cup was back on the table.

  Big Old Liu was not really big. In the beginning when he left the army and became a police officer doing criminal investigation, everything seemed so mysterious. A few years later he got the hang of it. It was around this time that he started to drink. Others’ faces wouldn’t show when they drank, but he reddened with as little as one drop. Once, he and two partners were trying to catch an escaped criminal. It was freezing cold so he took a sip. The escaped criminal got away, but Big Old Liu had nowhere to run. He was reprimanded and sent down to River Mouth.

  River Mouth is a small town. The other side of the river belongs to another county of another province. By the roadside is a small grocery store. The person behind the cigarette and liquor counter was none other than Big Old Liu’s wife. Right across from the grocery store was a thatch-roofed shed, on its wall a few big words written in diluted lime:

  River Mouth Traffic Control

  This was where Big Old Liu worked. Alone. No one else. He stood by the roadside. She sat behind the counter. They could see each other all the time. In the old days she missed him a lot. He had a lot to say, too. Now, when she talked to him, he barely opened his mouth.

  One of his daily routines was to bring his big white belt with him. Hers was to bring home a 4-oz bottle of liquor. He talked even less but drank more and more.

  Although the road passing through River Mouth links two provinces, the traffic here is not that heavy. There were very few accidents for several years. As a result Big Old Liu was little known.

  Big Old Liu journeyed to the city twice a year to attend study sessions or end-of-year evaluations organized by the superintendent. He always sat in the back so he didn’t have to chitchat with others; others would rather leave him alone, too. When the meeting was over, others played poker, watched TV, and sang karaoke while he would go and see his son, who worked as a temporary worker in a co-op in the county town. When father and son got together, there was not much to say either. Liquor, peanuts, and pig ears were their language.

  As the years passed, Big Old Liu all but remembered the vehicles that came and went; the drivers would recognize him, too. He would nod and they would honk in return and everything seemed harmonious.

  The sun and the moon change constantly, but the road remained unchanged, and the traffic control remained unchanged. He was somewhat hunched now. His face wouldn’t go red any more when he drank. Other than that, everything about him remained the same.

  One day Big Old Liu quit drinking suddenly. For good. No one had tried to talk him out of drinking or to snatch the bottle from his hands. He had quit on his own. Some said he was not in good health because liquor had burnt his insides. Some said he had been reprimanded again by his superiors and didn’t dare to drink again. Some said an accident had happened under his jurisdiction and his wife and son had given him no peace because of it. All kinds of theories. But no one really knew why.

  Except for his son, who didn’t want to tell anyone lest they should be laughed at. Eventually, though, the word got out from the son’s co-op.

  It was rather simple. A truck owned by the co-op had a collision with another truck while crossing the River Mouth bridge. Nobody got hurt. Only that the other truck suffered a dent in its rear. The co-op’s management asked the son to talk to his dad hoping he would let the driver go with a slap on the wrist. Big Old Liu would not budge. He not only made the co-op pay for the 1,000 yuan in damages, but also tossed them a 50-yuan fine. Big Old Liu suffered no consequence for this, but his son lost the chance to be converted into a full-time employee.

  So Big Old Liu didn’t drink any more. He came to work all the same, but he looked worse and talked even less.

  Then one day someone noticed that Big Old Liu didn’t report to work. He was hospitalized for a grave illness with no clear diagnosis.

  When the Bureau and Department heads came to see him, he only nodded. When the Political Commissioner told him that the reprimand he had received 15 years ago had been removed from his file, Big Old Liu’s eyes brightened up. His lips moved, but no audible sound came out. They asked if there was anything else they could do for him, and his lips moved again. At this his wife wiped away her tears and left the room. A short while later she returned with a 4-oz bottle of liquor. Everyone else present was at a loss as to what was going on. Big Old Liu’s eyes brightened up again as he reached for the bottle. He stopped breathing the next instant.

  Not until after his death did it occur to some people that in his more than 20 years of service, Big Old Liu had been all but invisible. Other than being reprimanded once, he had never appeared on a podium, addressed an assembly, or received an award. Yet, when they looked into his army file, he had received so many commendations.

  The Bureau and Department heads asked his wife what they could do for her, all she could do was cry.

  From the same province and from far away came the drivers. She didn’t know any of them. They tried to console her, but her grief seemed beyond consolation.

  A driver suggested they raise funds to build a monument for Big Old Liu. Right where the old thatched shed was.

  Wi
thin days they brought in sand, little rocks, and cement, as well as bricklayers and carpenters. She stopped them before they got started. She wanted them to build a pagoda-shaped traffic control shed.

  So a new traffic control shed was built. It was empty inside, except for an urn and a 4-oz bottle.

  And not a single accident has occurred at River Mouth since.

  (1992)

  Abandoned Baby

  Ang Liang

  These days Hare-lipped Ah Bao is quite a celebrity on Fragrant Flower Bridge Street.

  It all happened early one morning when the sky had just begun to brighten up. Someone saw Hare-lipped Ah Bao, a dirty, raggy bundle in his arms, hurrying home through the street. A short while later the sound of a baby crying came from inside his home.

  From that morning on, the Residents Association folks found, Hare-lipped Ah Bao became quite a different person. Ever so often, with the baby in his arms, he would stand against the door or stroll in the street, humming a lullaby of some sort, so out of tune, to get the baby to sleep. Now and then he would bend to kiss the baby with his cleft lip. The kind of loving care he was giving the baby could more than match that of many young fathers.

  It was said that Hare-lipped Ah Bao found the baby in a bathroom. The rumor spread far and wide but nobody dared to confront Ah Bao with it. Ah Bao’s thuggish reputation was well-known in the street. At the slightest provocation he would let you have it, cussing and punching, until you were completely down. Little Third-Born, one of his neighbors, had barely gathered enough courage to ask: “Ah Bao, are you the father of this illegitimate baby?” when Ah Bao glowered at him with such fury that he shook all over with fear.

  When Ah Bao strolled in the street with the baby in his arms he was oblivious to the world around him.

  One day, Ah Bao’s fiancée Fatty came to visit. Before long she burst into sobs. How could she, a shy girl, face the world now that Ah Bao had gotten a baby from nowhere? She asked Ah Bao to give the baby away, but Ah Bao didn’t want to hear about it, his eyes ablaze with fury.

  People felt Ah Bao was being rather foolish to have ruined his own happiness for this abandoned baby. Not worth it.

  Ah Bao, on his part, appeared as if nothing had happened.

  A few days later a young couple came to see Ah Bao. Before long they erupted into a row. Ah Bao lost it again. He grabbed a broom and with it drove the couple to the street. They ran as fast as they could, rather embarrassed.

  That same evening a residential police officer came to talk to Ah Bao. The couple were truly the biological parents of the baby, the officer said. They now realized their mistake and wanted their baby back. Ah Bao shouldn’t have reacted like that. As to his expenses, lost pay, and bonuses, he would be reimbursed accordingly. As he listened, Ah Bao looked pale as death and didn’t say a word. Finally, pressured by the police officer, he said, “I want to see something written down, that they will never abandon the baby again. Otherwise, don’t even think about it!”

  The police officer smiled: “That’s easy. I’ll get it to you in no time.”

  When the couple came to take the baby away, Ah Bao looked rather bad. They thanked him profusely, but he turned his back to them, his eyes shiny with mute anger.

  People whispered: “Something is going to happen.” But nothing happened. The more observant among people noticed tears trickling down his cheeks.

  The elderly in the neighborhood said Ah Bao had been an abandoned baby, too; it was Crippled Uncle Liu who had brought him up as his own.

  (1993)

  False Teeth

  He Liwei

  In a traffic accident Old He was thrown against the bus door and dazed. When he opened his eyes again and checked his ribcage slowly like fingering a piano’s keys, he was relieved: everything was intact and still functioning in its post. However, when he opened his mouth to speak, he found that his front teeth had been damaged. His voice now sounded strange to himself.

  So Old He went to the dentist and had two false teeth installed. The dentist said to him: Be careful what you eat, ’cause false teeth cannot bite or chew hard things.

  Old He returned home and looked at himself in the mirror: Mmm, the false teeth look like real teeth. He sighed with relief: I have survived the accident unscathed.

  Gradually, Old He forgot about not only the accident but also the false teeth in his mouth. One day his wife bought a salted duck from the market and steamed it right away. Soon his home was filled with a mouth-watering aroma. During dinner an eager Old He poured himself a cup of wine and started to attack the food with gusto. Delicious duck and fragrant wine in his mouth at the same time and going down together couldn’t be any better! When Old He poured himself the third cup of wine, his wife looked upset. Old He announced, mumbling: “The last cup, the last cup, hahaha.”

  So it was the last cup. After he tossed the last drop from the last cup in his mouth, he picked up the last half of the duck’s head and stuffed it in his mouth. Since skin and bone were stuck together, Old He held the half-head with his teeth and yanked with his fingers: Just then, a false tooth fell off!

  Infuriated, Old He slapped his own face and cussed: “Damn it. Slept soundly all night yet wetted the bed at sunrise! What bad luck!”

  His wife said: “What are you talking about? Mumbling and gabbling on like this. Are you so drunk?”

  Old He opened his mouth wide: “Ahhhh—my tooth has fallen off!”

  His wife said: “What? Your tooth?—Oh my, that false tooth of yours? Told you what’s false can’t be real and what’s real can’t be false!”

  Old He sighed: “You know, I often take what’s false as real. Can’t help it.”

  (1994)

  A Bridge Pillar

  Yang Xiangsheng

  The ribbon-cutting ceremony for the River Island Bridge was all but ready. Colorful flags flapped on the forty-four shiny light poles. Four large colorful balloons floated dreamily above the bridge. People in their best holiday outfits streamed in from all directions, buoyed up by the rapturous joy of having conquered the divide between the small island and mainland, which, though within sight, felt like an ocean away.

  The ceremony was to begin at exactly two in the afternoon. The countdown had only three hours left, yet Director Qiao, the ribbon cutter, had yet to arrive. How nerve-racking! The invitation sent to him half a month ago had not been answered. The phone in his residence had been busy all the time. Even the urgent telegram did not generate more response than a pebble falling into the sea. At their wits’ end, the village heads sent Grandpa Tian, who had once saved Qiao’s life, to the provincial capital to invite the director in person. Grandpa Tian should have been back yesterday, but even his shadow was nowhere to be found at this moment. Village Chief Zhao was restless like an ant on a hot stove.

  The honor of ribbon cutting belonged to no one but Director Qiao. This was the voice of all the folks on the River Island. Qiao was not only the highest-ranking official River Island folks had ever known, but deserved the most credit for building this bridge. During the war years, Qiao was seriously wounded in a battle. It was Grandpa Tian who, risking his own life, pushed him across the fierce river in a wooden tub. From then on River Island had been close to Qiao’s heart. He had called for a bridge to be built left and right for many years so folks here could shake off poverty like a nagging illness. He had even donated thirty-thousand yuan to help make that happen. River Island folks were touched to tears because they knew that it must have taken Director Qiao, a straight shooter, years and years to have saved up such a big sum. Other than Director Qiao, who else in the world would deserve the distinguished honor of being the ribbon-cutter?

  This question bouncing around Chief Zhao’s head was as big as the river itself:

  Perhaps the self-effacing Director Qiao is staying away from all this attention in order to safeguard his reputation? That can’t be. Qiao once promised at a public meeting: “When the bridge is built, I’ll come to congratulate you as long as I
can still breathe. Even if it means I have to crawl!” Perhaps he is caught up with his work? That can’t be either. Director Qiao has been retired for three years. “Building the River Island Bridge is the biggest thing in my old age!” He had said. Perhaps his good children are taking him on a sightseeing trip somewhere deep in the mountains? Only wish that were true. Director Qiao has no children of his own. He once said: “Giving all I have to building this bridge will be my biggest joy for the rest of my life!”

  Then, why. Why? Chief Zhao was puzzled.

  When Grandpa Tian finally returned from the provincial capital, Chief Zhao asked anxiously: “Why isn’t Director Qiao with you?”

  “I didn’t see him,” Grandpa Tian mumbled, gasping for air, as he pulled his snow-white beard.

  “You didn’t see anybody else?” Zhao’s breath quickened.

  “I saw his wife,” Grandpa Tian said. “She said Director Qiao is not feeling well. So he won’t attend the ceremony, but will come and take a look in the evening.”

  “Ah. . . . ” Chief Zhao was disappointed. The Ceremony Committee held an urgent meeting and decided to ask the deputy-mayor to be the ribbon-cutter.

  At nightfall, the bridge was brightly lit. People waited anxiously. “Here he comes!” They cried in unison when a black car appeared on the bridge, moving slowly.

  When the car stopped, an old lady, in black, face ashen, stepped out and shut the door.

  “Where’s Director Qiao?” Chief Zhao asked.

  “The old man is in the car.” The old lady said calmly.

  Chief Zhao walked up to the car: “Director Qiao, please come out. The folks here have been expecting you the whole day!”