狂人日记 (Diary of a Madman)

Two brothers, whose names I shall withhold, were close friends of mine during our secondary school days. Having been separated for many years, we had gradually ceased to correspond. Recently, I chanced to hear that one of them had fallen gravely ill; upon returning to my hometown, I made a detour to visit, but met only one, who informed me that the sick one was his younger brother. He thanked me for coming from afar to see him, but added that his brother had already recovered and gone to a certain place to await an official appointment. Then, with a laugh, he produced two volumes of a diary, saying they bore witness to the affliction he had suffered and that he might as well present them to an old friend. I took them home and read through, learning that the malady was a form of "persecution mania." The language is rather disjointed and incoherent, with many absurd statements; it also lacks dates, and the ink and handwriting vary, indicating it was not written at one time. Here and there, however, are passages that are somewhat connected. I have now excerpted one piece for medical study. The errors in the diary are left unchanged; as for the names, although they are all villagers, unknown to the world and of no great consequence, I have altered them all. The title was inscribed by the person himself after his recovery and remains unchanged. Written on the second day of April in the seventh year.

Tonight, the moonlight is splendid. It has been over thirty years since I last saw it; today, seeing it again, my spirits felt peculiarly elated. Only now do I realize that the past thirty-odd years have all been in a daze; yet I must be exceedingly cautious. Otherwise, why would the Zhao family's dog look at me twice? I have good reason to be afraid.

Today, there is no moonlight at all; I know something is amiss. This morning, when I ventured out warily, Zhao Guiweng had a strange look in his eyes: as if he feared me, as if he meant to harm me. There were also seven or eight people whispering about me, afraid that I might see them. Everyone on the road was the same. Among them, the fiercest one opened his mouth and grinned at me; a chill ran from my crown to my heels, for I knew their arrangements were already in place. But I am not afraid; I continued on my way. Ahead, a group of children were also discussing me; their eyes were the same as Zhao Guiweng's, and their faces were all ashen. I thought, what grudge do I have with children that they should act this way? Unable to contain myself, I shouted, "Tell me!" They then scurried away. I thought: what grudge do I have with Zhao Guiweng, and what grudge with the people on the road? Only twenty years ago, I kicked Mr. Gujiu's old ledger, and Mr. Gujiu was sorely displeased. Although Zhao Guiweng doesn't know him, he must have heard of it and taken up the grievance on his behalf; he then conspired with the people on the road to make me their enemy. But what of the children? At that time, they hadn't even been born, so why do they now stare with strange eyes, as if fearing me, as if wanting to harm me? This frightens me, bewilders me, and cuts me to the heart. I understand. This is what their parents taught them!

At night, I always lie awake. Everything must be pondered to be understood. They—some have been put in cangues by the county magistrate, some have been slapped by gentry, some have had their wives taken by yamen runners, some have had their parents driven to death by creditors—their expressions at that time were not as fearful or fierce as yesterday's. The strangest was the woman on the street yesterday, beating her son and saying, "You devil! I'll bite you a few times to vent my rage!" But her eyes were fixed on me. I was startled and could not hide it; the band of green-faced, fanged creatures all burst into laughter. Chen Laowu rushed forward and dragged me home by force. Once home, everyone in the house pretended not to know me; their eyes were just like the others'. In the study, he locked the door from the outside, as if shutting up a fowl. This incident only deepens my bewilderment. A few days ago, a tenant from Wolf Cub Village came to report a famine, telling my elder brother that a great villain in their village had been beaten to death by all; several people then dug out his heart and liver, fried them in oil, and ate them to fortify their courage. I interjected a word, and the tenant and my brother both shot me glances. Only today do I see that their looks are identical to that gang outside. The thought chills me to the marrow. If they eat people, they might well eat me. Consider the woman's words "bite you a few times," the laughter of the green-faced, fanged crew, and the tenant's tale the other day—clearly these are signals. I perceive that his words are laced with venom, his laughter studded with blades. Their teeth, all white and sharp, arranged in rows—these are the very tools for eating people. By my own reckoning, though I am no villain, ever since I kicked the Gu family's ledger, it's hard to say. They seem to harbor other designs, which I cannot fathom. Moreover, once they turn against you, they brand you a villain. I recall my elder brother teaching me to write essays: no matter how virtuous a man, criticize him a few times, and he circles the words; excuse a rogue a few times, and he says, "A master of turning heaven, peerless." How can I guess their true intentions, especially when it comes to eating? Everything must be pondered to be understood. Since antiquity, men have often eaten men, I too remember, though not clearly. I opened history to check—this history has no dates, and on every crooked page are scrawled the words "benevolence, righteousness, morality." Since sleep eluded me, I pored over it half the night, and only then, from between the lines, did I discern words: every page is crammed with the two words "Eat men"! The book inscribes so many words, the tenant uttered so many, yet they all stare at me with strange eyes, smirking. I too am a man; they want to eat me!

In the morning, I sat quietly awhile. Chen Laowu brought in the meal: a bowl of vegetables, a bowl of steamed fish; the fish's eyes were white and hard, its mouth agape, just like that crew of man-eaters. After a few chopsticks, it was slippery and unclear whether fish or human, so I vomited it all up, guts and all. I said, "Old Five, tell elder brother I'm stifled and wish to stroll in the garden." Old Five made no reply and left; after a pause, he returned to open the door. I did not stir, studying how they would deal with me; knowing they would not relent. Sure enough! My elder brother led an old man, approaching slowly; his eyes blazed with a ferocious light, but fearing I might notice, he kept them downcast, stealing glances at me from the corner of his spectacles. Elder brother said, "Today you seem quite well." I said, "Yes." Elder brother said, "Today we've invited Mr. He to examine you." I said, "Very well!" In truth, how could I not know this old man is but an executioner in disguise! He merely uses the pretext of feeling my pulse to gauge my plumpness; for this service, he too will get a slice of meat. I am not afraid; though I eat no men, my courage surpasses theirs. I thrust out my two fists, watching how he would proceed. The old man sat, closed his eyes, felt for a long while, then lapsed into a stupor; finally, he opened his ghastly eyes and said, "Do not indulge in wild fancies; rest quietly a few days, and you will be well." Do not indulge in wild fancies, rest quietly! Once fattened, they can naturally eat more; what good is that to me, how can I be "well"? This gang, craving to eat men yet skulking about, devising covers, not daring to strike directly—it truly makes me want to die laughing. I could not contain myself and burst out laughing, a laugh of fierce joy. I knew this laughter of mine was charged with righteous courage and moral force; the old man and elder brother both paled, cowed by my valor and integrity. But because I have courage, they crave to eat me all the more, to partake of this courage. The old man stepped out, and not far off, whispered to elder brother, "Make haste and eat!" Elder brother nodded. So you too! This great discovery, though seemingly unexpected, lay within expectation; the one conspiring to eat me is my own brother! The man-eater is my brother! I am the brother of a man-eater! Though I be eaten by others, still I am the brother of a man-eater!

Lately, I've taken a step back to reflect: even if that old man were no disguised executioner but a genuine doctor, he would still be a man-eater. In the work of their patriarch Li Shizhen, the "Compendium of Materia Medica," it plainly states that human flesh can be fried and eaten; how then can he deny being a cannibal? As for my elder brother, he is not wrongly accused. When he expounded texts to me, he himself declared that one may "exchange children to eat in times of famine"; another time, discussing a wicked man, he said not only should he be killed, but one ought to "flay him and sleep on his skin." I was young then, and my heart raced long after. The other day, when the tenant from Wolf Cub Village spoke of eating heart and liver, he showed no surprise, nodding repeatedly. Clearly, his mind remains as cruel as ever. Since one can "exchange children to eat," then anything can be exchanged, and anyone eaten. In the past, I merely listened to his reasoning and let it pass; now I know that when he speaks of principles, not only are his lips still greased with human fat, but his heart is stuffed with cannibal intent.

Pitch dark, I know not whether it is day or night. The Zhao family's dog barks again. The lion’s heart of ferocity, the rabbit’s heart of fear, the fox’s heart of cunning, …

I know their method: they are loath to kill outright, and dare not besides, fearing retribution. So they conspire together, spreading nets on every side, to drive me to self-destruction. Consider the demeanor of the men and women on the street the other day, and my elder brother's conduct these days, and one may grasp the gist. Best to take off my belt, hang it from the beam, and strangle myself tight; then they bear no murder charge, their wish fulfilled, and naturally they all rejoice with a kind of sobbing laughter. Or else, if I die of fright or grief, though somewhat leaner, would still win their grudging consent. They only eat dead meat!—I recall reading of a creature called "hyena," its eyes and visage most hideous; it often eats carrion, even large bones, chewing them fine and swallowing them down, a thought that chills. The "hyena" is kin to the wolf, and the wolf is cousin to the dog. The other day, the Zhao family's dog eyed me several times; plainly it too is in the plot, long since in league. The old man staring at the ground—how could he deceive me? Most pitiable is my elder brother; he too is a man, why does he show no fear? And why conspire to eat me? Is it habit, not seeing it wrong? Or has he lost conscience, sinning knowingly? I curse man-eaters, starting with him; to convert man-eaters, begin with him.

In truth, by now they should have grasped this principle, … Suddenly a man appeared; about twenty years old, his features indistinct, his face wreathed in smiles, he nodded at me, but his smile was strained. I asked him, "Is eating people right?" Still smiling, he said, "Save in famine years, how could people eat people?" I knew at once he was one of them, a man-eater; so with courage redoubled, I pressed him. "Is it right?" "Why ask of such things? You do have a way with… jokes. … Lovely weather today." The weather is fine, the moonlight bright too. But I must ask, "Is it right?" He grew displeased. Mumbling, he answered, "No…" "Not right? They actually eat?!" "Nothing of the sort…" "Nothing of the sort? Wolf Cub Village eats now; and it's written in books, scarlet and fresh!" His face then turned iron-grey. He glared and said, "Perhaps there is, it has always been so…" "Since it has always been so, is it right?" "I'll not debate this with you; in short, you've no right to speak! Speak, and you are wrong!" I leapt up, opened my eyes, and the man vanished. A great sweat drenched my body. He is far younger than my elder brother, yet he too is one of them; this must have been taught him by his parents. And likely taught to his son already; so even children glare at me with malice.

Desiring to eat others, yet fearing to be eaten themselves, they all eye each other with profound suspicion. … Shed this mindset, and act with ease, walk, eat, sleep—what comfort! It is but a threshold, a critical pass. Yet all of them—fathers and sons, brothers, husbands and wives, friends, teachers and students, enemies, and even strangers—band together, urging each other on, restraining each other, refusing to cross this step even unto death.

At dawn, I sought out my elder brother; he stood outside the hall door, gazing at the sky. I walked up behind him, barred the door, and said with utmost calm and gentleness, "Elder brother, I have something to tell you." "Speak," he quickly turned and nodded. "I have but few words, yet cannot utter them. Elder brother, in the beginning, savage men all ate a bit of human flesh. Later, minds diverged: some ceased eating men, striving solely for goodness, and became men, true men. Some still eat—like insects, some turned to fish, birds, monkeys, evolving to man. Some who spurn goodness remain insects to this day. How ashamed are man-eaters compared to non-eaters? I fear the shame of insects to monkeys is far, far less." "Yi Ya steamed his son for Jie and Zhou to eat, an ancient tale. Who knows that from Pangu's cleaving of heaven and earth, they have eaten all the way to Yi Ya's son; from Yi Ya's son, all the way to Xu Xilin; from Xu Xilin, all the way to the man caught in Wolf Cub Village. Last year in the city, a criminal was executed, and a consumptive dipped a steamed bun in blood and licked it." "They wish to eat me, and you alone can do nothing; but why join them? Man-eaters stop at nothing; they will eat me, and eat you too; within the pack, they will even eat each other. But take one step, change at once, and all will be at peace. Though it has always been so, we today can strive especially for goodness, say it cannot be! Elder brother, I believe you can say it; the other day, when the tenant sought rent reduction, you said it couldn't be done." At first, he only sneered, then his eyes turned vicious, and when I laid bare their secret, his whole face grew ashen. Outside the main gate stood a crowd, Zhao Guiweng and his dog among them, all craning to peer in. Some faces were obscured, as if veiled; others remained green-faced and fanged, smiling with pursed lips. I knew them for one band, all man-eaters. But I also know their minds differ: some deem it ever thus and fit to eat; some know it wrong yet eat still, and fear exposure, so my words enrage them further, yet they smile with pursed lips. Then elder brother suddenly showed his ferocity, shouting, "Out, all of you! What's there to see in a madman!" Then I grasped another of their tricks. Not only will they not change, but they have long laid plans; preparing the madman's label to shroud me. Once eaten, not only peace, but some may even feel grateful. The tenant's tale of all eating a villain is just this method. Their old stratagem! Chen Laowu strode in angrily. How could I be silenced? I would say to this crew, "You must change, and start in true sincerity! Know that in days to come there will be no place in the world for man-eaters!" "If you change not, you yourselves will be eaten up. Even if you multiply, true men will exterminate you, as hunters finish off wolf cubs!—reduced to insects!" That crowd was driven off by Chen Laowu. Elder brother too vanished. Chen Laowu urged me back to my room. The room was utterly dark. The beams and rafters overhead began to tremble; they trembled, then swelled, then came crashing down upon me in a heap. A crushing weight, I could not move; his aim was my death. I knew this heaviness false, so I struggled free, drenched in sweat. But I would say, "Change now, start in true sincerity! Know that in days to come there will be no place in the world for man-eaters! …"

The sun does not rise, the door does not open, daily two meals. Taking up chopsticks, I think of elder brother; knowing my sister's death lies wholly with him. She was but five then, her dear, pitiable face still before me. Mother wept without cease, but he urged her not to weep; likely because he had eaten her, weeping would stir guilt. If guilt can stir, … Sister was eaten by elder brother, whether mother knows, I cannot tell. Mother probably knows; but weeping, she did not say, likely thinking it proper. I recall at four or five, sitting in the hall to cool, elder brother said when parents ail, a son must cut a slice of his flesh, cook it, and offer it to eat, to be deemed good; mother did not demur. If a slice can be eaten, surely the whole can too. But her weeping that day, now recalled, truly wounds the heart—a thing most strange!