Old Land, New Tales: Twenty Short Stories by Writers of the Shaanxi Region in China by Chen Zhongshi, Jia Pingwa
Authors: Chen Zhongshi, Jia Pingwa
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the potato; it was hot as a piece of charcoal. Shebroke it in two. Hot steam rushed out, the two halves shining in the dawn. She took a bite.
“Isn’t it good?” Mu Du asked with a satisfied grin.
Darky was already down from the ladder. Her hair, after the rain shower on the wall, was dripping wet.
2
Winter came. Mu Du had worn out two carrying poles. Nasty bumps grew on his shoulder. But even if nipped, the bumps did not hurt. His family remained steady and could afford the essential things—cooking oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar. He made a set of new winter cotton-padded clothes for his father. Their life was neither too rich nor too humble.
November 6 was a bright day. The father and son made a new and longer carrying pole. They scorched it over the fire and rubbed it repeatedly with soybean oil. Like a mirror, the carrying pole reflected the two men’s disheveled hair and unclean faces.
In the courtyard at high noon, they set up an altar with an incense burner and laid the new carrying pole, with red ribbons on both ends, horizontally upon it. Mu Du knelt down in the dust, piously kowtowing to worship the god of the carrying pole. He felt indebted to the carrying pole for providing his family pocket money and therefore freeing him from carrying alpine rush.
Since the weather was growing cold, Mu Du planned to get charcoal from deep in the mountains. After their worship, his father tied a bag of food at one end of the carrying pole and six pairs of straw shoes to the back of Mu Du’s belt to send Mu Du on his journey. Mu Du walked backward to the courtyard gate and then turned around and stood at attention. He bit his teeth thirty-six times, and then he drew four horizontal lines on the ground with his right thumb and five vertical lines across those four. He began his incantation, “Four Horizontal Lines and Five Vertical Lines”:
Today I begin my working life.
King Yu protects me on my way.
King Chu You drives bandits away.
Thieves dare not creep into my yard.
Tigers and wolves avoid me and my home.
It is a long journey from my home.
A man on my way might almost die.
In such a hurry and moment of haste,
The protection of the goddess is sent to me.
After the incantation, Mu Du strode out without turning back.
Watching his son step out of sight, Mu Du’s father picked up a clump of mud and placed it on the Four-Five Lines. He leaned on the gate, tears blurring his eyes. The sound of firecrackers came from the courtyard of his neighbor.
In the twelfth lunar month, Darky’s father-in-law, the credit agent, bought a share of a mushroom farm in the town. With ample capital, the farm purchased mushroom spores and built many workshops; after successful cultivation, its earnings doubled several times. The credit agent received money like running water. Darky’s father-in-law sold his house and built a courtyard in the downtown area, all brick from top to bottom and as grand as a lord’s temple. The villagers were surprised by the family’s sudden wealth. Darky, too, was stunned.
When it was time for the family to pack their belongings and move to the grand new home, many people came to lend a hand. On the trailer Darky placed a stone pillow she had taken from her parents’ home, but her small husband threw it away.
“That’s my pillow!” Darky shouted.
Her husband replied, “You now live in the town; must you act like a savage?”
“I’ve been used to it from childhood,” she protested. “Without it, my head fills with fever.”
Her small husband cursed, “Miserable wretch!” and then deliberately left the stone pillow behind.
Panic-stricken, Darky just stood there for a while. Neighbors eyed her, but she did not talk back, nor did she weep. Picking up the greasy pillow, she hugged it and then gave it to Mu Du’s father. “Uncle,” she said, “we are leaving. I give this to you. It is a star fallen from the sky. All his life, my grandpa used it and passed it down to my dad.
“Isn’t it good?” Mu Du asked with a satisfied grin.
Darky was already down from the ladder. Her hair, after the rain shower on the wall, was dripping wet.
2
Winter came. Mu Du had worn out two carrying poles. Nasty bumps grew on his shoulder. But even if nipped, the bumps did not hurt. His family remained steady and could afford the essential things—cooking oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar. He made a set of new winter cotton-padded clothes for his father. Their life was neither too rich nor too humble.
November 6 was a bright day. The father and son made a new and longer carrying pole. They scorched it over the fire and rubbed it repeatedly with soybean oil. Like a mirror, the carrying pole reflected the two men’s disheveled hair and unclean faces.
In the courtyard at high noon, they set up an altar with an incense burner and laid the new carrying pole, with red ribbons on both ends, horizontally upon it. Mu Du knelt down in the dust, piously kowtowing to worship the god of the carrying pole. He felt indebted to the carrying pole for providing his family pocket money and therefore freeing him from carrying alpine rush.
Since the weather was growing cold, Mu Du planned to get charcoal from deep in the mountains. After their worship, his father tied a bag of food at one end of the carrying pole and six pairs of straw shoes to the back of Mu Du’s belt to send Mu Du on his journey. Mu Du walked backward to the courtyard gate and then turned around and stood at attention. He bit his teeth thirty-six times, and then he drew four horizontal lines on the ground with his right thumb and five vertical lines across those four. He began his incantation, “Four Horizontal Lines and Five Vertical Lines”:
Today I begin my working life.
King Yu protects me on my way.
King Chu You drives bandits away.
Thieves dare not creep into my yard.
Tigers and wolves avoid me and my home.
It is a long journey from my home.
A man on my way might almost die.
In such a hurry and moment of haste,
The protection of the goddess is sent to me.
After the incantation, Mu Du strode out without turning back.
Watching his son step out of sight, Mu Du’s father picked up a clump of mud and placed it on the Four-Five Lines. He leaned on the gate, tears blurring his eyes. The sound of firecrackers came from the courtyard of his neighbor.
In the twelfth lunar month, Darky’s father-in-law, the credit agent, bought a share of a mushroom farm in the town. With ample capital, the farm purchased mushroom spores and built many workshops; after successful cultivation, its earnings doubled several times. The credit agent received money like running water. Darky’s father-in-law sold his house and built a courtyard in the downtown area, all brick from top to bottom and as grand as a lord’s temple. The villagers were surprised by the family’s sudden wealth. Darky, too, was stunned.
When it was time for the family to pack their belongings and move to the grand new home, many people came to lend a hand. On the trailer Darky placed a stone pillow she had taken from her parents’ home, but her small husband threw it away.
“That’s my pillow!” Darky shouted.
Her husband replied, “You now live in the town; must you act like a savage?”
“I’ve been used to it from childhood,” she protested. “Without it, my head fills with fever.”
Her small husband cursed, “Miserable wretch!” and then deliberately left the stone pillow behind.
Panic-stricken, Darky just stood there for a while. Neighbors eyed her, but she did not talk back, nor did she weep. Picking up the greasy pillow, she hugged it and then gave it to Mu Du’s father. “Uncle,” she said, “we are leaving. I give this to you. It is a star fallen from the sky. All his life, my grandpa used it and passed it down to my dad.
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