Call To Arms Part 3

Crazy! agreed the hunchback, nodding his head.

Originally, the land adjacent to the city wall outside the West Gate had been public land. The zigzag path slanting across it, trodden out by pa.s.sersby seeking a short cut, had become a natural boundary line. Left of the path, executed criminals or those who had died of neglect in prison were buried. Right of the path were paupers' graves. The serried ranks of grave mounds on both sides looked like the rolls laid out for a rich man's birthday.

The Qing Ming Festival that year was unusually cold. Willows were only beginning to put forth shoots no larger than grains. Shortly after daybreak, Old Shuan's wife brought four dishes and a bowl of rice to set before a new grave in the right section, and wailed before it. When she had burned paper money she sat on the ground in a stupor as if waiting for something; but for what, she herself did not know. A breeze sprang up and stirred her short hair, which was certainly whiter than in the previous year.

Another woman came down the path, grey-haired and in rags. She was carrying an old, round, red-lacquered basket, with a string of paper money hanging from it; and she walked haltingly. When she saw Old Shuan's wife sitting on the ground watching her, she hesitated, and a flush of shame spread over her pale face. However, she summoned up courage to cross over to a grave in the left section, where she set down her basket.

That grave was directly opposite Little Shuan's, separated only by the path. As Old Shuan's wife watched the other woman set out four dishes and a bowl of rice, then stand up to wail and burn paper money, she thought, It must be her son in that grave too. The older woman took a few aimless steps and stared vacantly around, then suddenly she began to tremble and stagger backward: she felt giddy.

Fearing sorrow might send her out of her mind, Old Shuan's wife got up and stepped across the path, to say quietly, Don't grieve, let's go home.

The other nodded, but her eyes were still fixed, and she muttered, Look! What's that?

Looking where she pointed, Old Shuan's wife saw that the grave in front had not yet been overgrown with gra.s.s. Ugly patches of soil still showed. But when she looked carefully, she was surprised to see at the top of the mound a wreath of red and white flowers.

Both of them suffered from failing eyesight, yet they could see these red and white flowers clearly. There were not many, but they were placed in a circle; and although not very fresh, were neatly set out. Little Shuan's mother looked round and found her own son's grave, like most of the rest, dotted with only a few little, pale flowers s.h.i.+vering in the cold. Suddenly she had a sense of futility and stopped feeling curious about the wreath.

Meantime the old woman had gone up to the grave to look more closely. They have no roots, she said to herself. They can't have grown here. Who could have been here? Children don't come here to play, and none of our relatives have ever been. What could have happened? She puzzled over it, until suddenly her tears began to fall, and she cried aloud: Son, they all wronged you, and you do not forget. Is your grief still so great that today you worked this wonder to let me know?

She looked all around, but could see only a crow perched on a leafless bough. I know, she continued. They murdered you. But a day of reckoning will come, Heaven will see to it. Close your eyes in peace.... If you are really here, and can hear me, make that crow fly on to your grave as a sign.

The breeze had long since dropped, and the dry gra.s.s stood stiff and straight as copper wires. A faint, tremulous sound vibrated in the air, then faded and died away. All around was deathly still. They stood in the dry gra.s.s, looking up at the crow; and the crow, on the rigid bough of the tree, its head drawn in, stood immobile as iron.

Time pa.s.sed. More people, young and old, came to visit the graves.

Old Shuan's wife felt somehow as if a load had been lifted from her mind and, wanting to leave, she urged the other: Let's go.

The old woman sighed, and listlessly picked up the rice and dishes. After a moment's hesitation she started slowly off, still muttering to herself: What could it mean?

They had not gone thirty paces when they heard a loud caw behind them. Startled, they looked round and saw the crow stretch its wings, brace itself to take off, then fly like an arrow towards the far horizon.

April 1919

* Tomorrow

Not a sound"what's wrong with the kid?

A bowl of yellow wine in his hands, Red-nosed Gong jerked his head towards the next house as he spoke. Blue-skinned Awu set down his own bowl and punched the other hard in the back.

Bah... he growled thickly. Going sentimental again!

Being so out-of-the-way, Luzhen was rather old-fas.h.i.+oned. Folk closed their doors and went to bed before the first watch sounded. By midnight there were only two households awake: Prosperity Tavern where a few gluttons guzzled merrily round the bar, and the house next door where Fourth Shan's Wife lived. For, left a widow two years earlier, she had nothing but the cotton-yarn she spun to support herself and her three-year-old boy; this is why she also slept late.

It was a fact that for several days now there had been no sound of spinning. But since there were only two households awake at midnight, Old Gong and the others were naturally the only ones who could notice if there was any sound from Fourth Shan's Wife's house, and the only ones to notice if there was no sound.

After being punched, Old Gong"looking quite at his ease"took a great swig at his wine and piped up a folk tune.

Meanwhile Fourth Shan's Wife was sitting on the edge of her bed, Bao'er"her treasure"in her arms, while her loom stood silent on the floor. The murky lamplight fell on Bao'er's face, which showed livid beneath a feverish flush.

I've drawn lots before the shrine, she was thinking. I've made a vow to the G.o.ds, he's taken the guaranteed cure. If he still doesn't get better, what can I do? I shall have to take him to Dr. Ho Xiaoxian. But maybe Bao'er's only bad at night; when the sun comes out tomorrow his fever may go and he may breathe more easily again. A lot of illnesses are like that.

Fourth Shan's Wife was a simple woman, who did not know what a fearful word but is. Thanks to this but, many bad things turn out well, many good things turn out badly. A summer night is short. Soon after Old Gong and the others stopped singing the sky grew bright in the east; and presently through the cracks in the window filtered the silvery light of dawn.

Waiting for the dawn was not such a simple matter for Fourth Shan's Wife as for other people. The time dragged terribly slowly: each breath Bao'er took seemed to last at least a year. But now at last it was bright. Clear daylight swallowed up the lamplight. Bao'er's nostrils quivered as he gasped for breath.

Fourth Shan's Wife smothered a cry, for she knew that this boded ill. But what could she do? she wondered. Her only hope was to take him to Dr. Ho. She might be a simple woman, but she had a will of her own. She stood up, went to the cupboard, and took out her entire saving"thirteen small silver dollars and a hundred and eighty coppers in all. Having put the whole lot in her pocket, she locked the door and carried Bao'er as fast as she could to Dr. Ho's house.

Early as it was, there were already four patients sitting there. She produced forty silver cents for a registration slip, and Bao'er was the fifth to be seen. Dr. Ho stretched out two fingers to feel the child's pulses. His nails were a good four inches long, and Fourth Shan's Wife marvelled inwardly, thinking, Surely my Bao'er must be fated to live! She could not help feeling anxious all the same, and could not stop herself asking nervously: What's wrong with my Bao'er, doctor?

An obstruction of the digestive tract.

Is it serious? Will he...?

Take these two prescriptions to start with.

He can't breathe, his nostrils are twitching.

The element of fire overpowers that of metal....

Leaving this sentence unfinished, Dr. Ho closed his eyes, and Fourth Shan's Wife did not like to say any more. Opposite the doctor sat a man in his thirties, who had now finished making out the prescription.

The first is Infant Preserver Pills, he told her, pointing to the characters in one corner of the paper. You can get those only at the Jia family's Salvation Shop.

Fourth Shan's Wife took the paper, and walked out thinking as she went. She might be a simple woman, but she knew Dr. Ho's house, Salvation Shop and her own home formed a triangle; so of course it would be simpler to buy the medicine first before going back. She hurried as fast as she could to Salvation Shop. The a.s.sistant raised his long fingernails too as he slowly read the prescription, then slowly wrapped up the medicine. With Bao'er in her arms, Fourth Shan's Wife waited. Suddenly Bao'er stretched up a little hand and tugged at his loose tuft of hair. He had never done this before, and his mother was terrified.

The sun was fairly high now. With the child in her arms and the package of medicine to carry, the further she walked the heavier she found her load. The child kept struggling too, which made the way seem even longer. She had to sit down on the doorstep of a big house by the roadside to rest for a while; and presently her clothes lay so clammy against her skin that she realized she had been sweating. But Bao'er seemed fast asleep. When she stood up again to walk slowly on, she still found him too heavy. A voice beside her said: Let me take him for you, Fourth Shan's Wife! It sounded like Blueskinned Awu.

When she looked up, sure enough it was Awu, who was following her with eyes still heavy from sleep.

Though Fourth Shan's Wife had been longing for an angel to come to her rescue, she had not wanted her champion to be Awu. But there was something of the gallant about Awu, for he absolutely insisted on helping her; and at last, after several refusals she gave way. As he stretched his arm between her breast and the child, then thrust it down to take over Bao'er, she felt a wave of heat along her breast. She flushed right up to her ears.

They walked along, two and a half feet apart. Awu made some remarks, most of which were left unanswered by Fourth Shan's Wife. They had not gone far when he gave the child back to her, saying he had arranged yesterday to have a meal at this time with a friend. Fourth Shan's Wife took Bao'er back. Luckily it wasn't far now: already she could see Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g sitting at the side of the street, calling out to her: Fourth Shan's Wife, how's the child?... Did you get to see the doctor?

We saw him.... Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g, you're old and you've seen a lot. Will you look him over for me, and say what you think?

Um.

Well...?

Ummm....

When Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g had examined Bao'er, she nodded her head twice, then shook it twice.

By the time Bao'er had taken his medicine it was after noon. Fourth Shan's Wife watched him closely, and he did seem a good deal quieter. In the afternoon he suddenly opened his eyes and called, Ma! Then he closed his eyes again and seemed to be sleeping. He had not slept long before his forehead and the tip of his nose were beaded with sweat, which, when his mother felt it, stuck to her fingers like glue. In a panic she felt his chest, then burst out sobbing.

After quieting down, his breathing had stopped completely. After sobbing, she started wailing. Soon groups of people gathered: inside the room Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g, Blue-skinned Awu and the like; outside others like the landlord of Prosperity Tavern and Red-nosed Gong. Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g decreed that a string of paper coins should be burnt; then, taking two stools and five articles of clothing as security, she borrowed two dollars for Fourth Shan's Wife to prepare a meal for all those who were helping.

The first problem was the coffin. Fourth Shan's Wife still had a pair of silver earrings and a silver hairpin plated with gold, which she gave to the landlord of Prosperity Tavern so that he would go surety for her and buy a coffin half for cash, half on credit. Bule-skinned Awu raised his hand to volunteer to help, but Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g would not hear of it. All she would let him do was carry the coffin the next day. Old b.i.t.c.h! he cursed, and stood there grumpily pursing his lips. The landlord left, coming back that evening to report that the coffin would have to be specially made, and would not be ready till nearly morning.

By the time the landlord came back the other helpers had finished their meal. And Luzhen being rather old-fas.h.i.+oned, they all went home to sleep before the first watch. Only Awu leant on the bar of Prosperity Tavern drinking, while Old Gong croaked a song.

Meanwhile Fourth Shan's Wife was sitting on the edge of the bed crying, Bao'er lay on the bed, and the loom stood silent on the floor. After a long time, when Fourth Shan's Wife had no more tears to shed, she opened wide her eyes, and looked around in amazement. All this was impossible! This is only a dream, she thought. It's all a dream. I shall wake up tomorrow lying snug in bed, with Bao'er sleeping snugly beside me. Then he'll wake and call, Ma! And jump down like a young tiger to play.

Old Gong had long since stopped singing, and the light had gone out in Prosperity Tavern. Fourth Shan's Wife sat staring, but could not believe all that had happened. A c.o.c.k crew, the sky grew bright in the east, and through the cracks in the window filtered the silvery light of dawn.

By degrees the silvery light of dawn turned copper, and the sun shone on the roof. Fourth Shan's Wife sat there staring till someone knocked, when she gave a start and ran to open the door. A stranger was there with something on his back, and behind him stood Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g.

Oh, it was the coffin he'd brought!

Not till that afternoon was the lid of the coffin put on, because Fourth Shan's Wife would keep crying, then taking a look, and could not bear to have the lid closed down. Luckily, Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g grew tired of waiting, hurried indignantly forward and pulled her aside. Then they hastily closed it up.

Fourth Shan's Wife had really done all she could for her Bao'er"nothing had been forgotten. The previous day she had burned a string of paper coins, this morning she had burned the forty-nine books of the Incantation of Great Mercy, and before putting him in the coffin she had dressed him in his newest clothes and set by his pillow all the toys he like best"a little clay figure, two small wooden bowls, two gla.s.s bottles. Though Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g reckoned carefully on her fingers, even then she could not think of anything they had forgotten.

Since Blue-skinned Awu did not turn up all day, the landlord of Prosperity Tavern hired two porters for Fourth Shan's Wife at 210 large coppers each, who carried the coffin to the public graveyard and dug a grave. Ninth Aunt w.a.n.g helped her prepare a meal to which everyone who had lifted a finger or opened his mouth was invited. Soon the sun made it clear that it was about to set, and the guests unwittingly made it clear that they were about to leave"home they all went.

Fourth Shan's Wife felt dizzy at first, but after a little rest she quietened down. At once, though, she had the impression that things were rather strange. Something which had never happened to her before, and which she had thought never could happen, had happened. The more she thought, the more surprised she felt, and another thing that struck her as rather strange was the fact that the room had suddenly grown too silent.

She stood up and lit the lamp, and the room seemed even more silent. She groped her way over to close the door, came back and sat on the bed, while the loom stood silent on the floor. She pulled herself together and looked around, feeling unable either to sit or stand. The room was not only too silent, it was far too big as well, and the things in it were far too empty. This over-large room hemmed her in, and the emptiness all around her bore hard on her, till she could hardly breathe.

She knew now her Bao'er was really dead; and, not wanting to see this room, she blew out the light and lay down to cry and think. She remembered how Bao'er had sat by her said when she spun, eating peas flavoured with aniseed. He had watched her hard with his small black eyes and thought. Ma! He suddenly said. Dad sold bun dun. When I'm big I'll sell bun dun too, and make lots and lots of money"and I'll give it all to you.

At such times even every inch of yarn she spun seemed worthwhile and alive. But what now? Fourth Shan's Wife had not considered the present at all"as I have said, she was only a simple woman. What solution could she think of? All she knew was that this room was too silent, too large, too empty.

But even though Fourth Shan's Wife was a simple woman, she knew the dead cannot come to life again, and she would never see her Bao'er any more. She sighed and said, Bao'er you must still be here. Let me see you in my dreams. Then she closed her eyes, hoping to fall asleep at once, so that she could see Bao'er. She heard her hard breathing clearly through the silence, the vastness and emptiness.

At last Fourth Shan's Wife dozed off, and the whole room was very still. Red-nosed Gong's folk song had long since ended, and he had staggered out of Prosperity Tavern to sing in a falsetto: I pity you"my darling"all alone....

Blue-skinned Awu grabbed Old Gong's shoulder, and laughing tipsily they reeled away together.

Fourth Shan's Wife was asleep, Old Gong and the others had gone, the door of Prosperity Tavern was closed. Luzhen was sunk in utter silence. Only the night, eager to change into the morrow, was journeying on in the silence; and, hidden in the darkness, a few dogs were barking.

June 1920

* A Small Incident

Six years have slipped by since I came from the country to the capital. During that time the number of so-called affairs of state I have witnessed or heard about is far from small, but none of them made much impression. If asked to define their influence on me, I can only say they taught me to take a poorer view of people every day.

One small incident, however, which struck me as significant and jolted me out of my irritability, remains fixed even now in my memory.

It was the winter of 1917, a strong north wind was bl.u.s.tering, but the exigencies of earning my living forced me to be up and out early. I met scarcely a soul on the road, but eventually managed to hire a rickshaw to take me to S"Gate. Presently the wind dropped a little, having blown away the drifts of dust on the road to leave a clean broad highway, and the rickshaw man quickened his pace. We were just approaching S"Gate when we knocked into someone who slowly toppled over.

It was a grey-haired woman in ragged clothes. She had stepped out abruptly from the roadside in front of us, and although the rickshaw man had swerved, her tattered waistcoat, unb.u.t.toned and billowing in the wind, had caught on the shaft. Luckily the rickshaw man had slowed down, otherwise she would certainly have had a bad fall and it might have been a serious accident.

She huddled there on the ground, and the rickshaw man stopped. As I did not believe the old woman was hurt and as no one else had seen us, I thought this halt of his uncalled-for, liable to land him in trouble and hold me up.

It's all right, I said. Go on.

He paid no attention"he may not have heard"but set down the shafts, took the old woman's arm and gently helped her up.

Are you all right? he asked.

I hurt myself falling.

I thought: I saw how slowly you fell, how could you be hurt? Putting on an act like this is simply disgusting. The rickshaw man asked for trouble, and now he's got it. He'll have to find his own way out.

But the rickshaw man did not hesitate for a minute after hearing the old woman's answer. Still holding her arm, he helped her slowly forward. Rather puzzled by this I looked ahead and saw a police-station. Because of the high wind, there was no one outside. It was there that the rickshaw man was taking the old woman.

Suddenly I had the strange sensation that his dusty retreating figure had in that instant grown larger. Indeed, the further he walked the larger he loomed, until I had to look up to him. At the same time he seemed gradually to be exerting a pressure on me which threatened to overpower the small self hidden under my fur-lined gown.

Almost paralysed at that juncture I sat there motionless, my mind a blank, until a policeman came out. Then I got down from the rickshaw.

The policeman came up to me and said, Get another rickshaw. He can't take you any further.

On the spur of the moment I pulled a handful of coppers from my coat pocket and handed them to the policeman. Please give him this, I said.

The wind had dropped completely, but the road was still quiet. As I walked along thinking, I hardly dared to think about myself. Quite apart from what had happened earlier, what had I meant by that handful of coppers? Was it a reward? Who was I to judge the rickshaw man? I could give myself no answer.

Even now, this incident keeps coming back to me. It keeps distressing me and makes me try to think about myself. The politics and the fighting of those years have slipped my mind as completely as the cla.s.sics I read as a child. Yet this small incident keeps coming back to me, often more vivid than in actual life, teaching me shame, spurring me on to reform, and imbuing me with fresh courage and fresh hope.

July 1920