端午节 (The Dragon Boat Festival)

Lately, Fang Xuanchuo had taken to saying "More or less the same," a phrase that had nearly become a verbal tic; and not only did he say it, it had truly taken root in his mind. Initially, he had said "Exactly the same," but later, perhaps feeling this was not quite steady, he changed it to "More or less the same," and had used it ever since.

Ever since he hit upon this commonplace adage, though it inspired many a new wave of sentiment within him, it also brought him a great deal of new consolation. For instance, when he saw elders oppressing the young, where before he would have been indignant, now he would turn his thoughts and reflect that when these youths had sons and grandsons of their own, they too would most likely put on similar airs, and thus his sense of injustice would fade. Or when he saw soldiers beating rickshaw pullers, he would have been indignant before, but now he would turn his thoughts and reflect that if this rickshaw puller became a soldier and this soldier pulled a rickshaw, they would probably fight in much the same way, and so he would think no more of it. When he thought this way, he sometimes suspected it was because he lacked the courage to struggle against a wicked society, and so he deliberately concocted this escape route by deceiving his own conscience, an act very close to having "no sense of right or wrong," and far inferior to reforming oneself. Yet this view, contrary to his intentions, always grew stronger in his mind.

He first publicly expounded this "Doctrine of More or Less the Same" in the lecture hall of the Beijing Shoushan School. The occasion was probably a discussion on historical matters, which led him to speak of "the men of old and of today being not far apart," of the "similarity of natures" among people of all stripes, and finally he dragged in students and bureaucrats, launching into a lengthy discourse:

"It's fashionable in society nowadays to curse bureaucrats, and students curse them with particular vehemence. Yet bureaucrats are not a special race born that way; they are transformed from common citizens. Quite a few bureaucrats nowadays come from student backgrounds-what difference is there between them and the old bureaucrats? 'Change places, and all would be the same.' There is no great distinction in their thoughts, speeches, actions, or demeanor... Even the many new ventures started by student organizations, have they not inevitably fallen into abuses, most of them vanishing without a trace? More or less the same. But this is precisely where the future worry for China lies..."

Among the twenty-odd listeners scattered about the lecture hall, some looked dismayed, probably thinking his words were correct; others flushed with anger, likely feeling he had insulted the sacred youth; a few smiled faintly at him, probably believing this was his own justification, for Fang Xuanchuo also served as a bureaucrat.

Yet in truth, they were all mistaken. This was merely a new kind of discontent within him; though it was discontent, it was also merely a complacent, empty theory of his. He himself did not know whether it was due to laziness or uselessness, but in any case, he felt he was a person unwilling to stir, utterly content with his lot and law-abiding. When the director of his bureau falsely accused him of being neurotic, as long as his position was not in danger of being shaken, he absolutely would not utter a word; even when the teachers' salaries were owed for over half a year, as long as he had his official salary to rely on, he absolutely would not utter a word. Not only did he not speak up, but when the teachers united to demand their pay, he secretly thought they were acting without due consideration, making too much noise; only after hearing his colleagues excessively ridicule them did he feel a slight sentiment, and later he reflected that perhaps this was because he himself was short of money, while other officials did not also work as teachers, and thus he became relieved.

Though he too was short of money, he never joined the teachers' union. When they passed a resolution to strike, he simply stopped going to class. The government said, "Only after classes are held will we pay," and only then did he begin to resent their trickery, akin to using fruit to tease a monkey; when a great educator declared, "It is ignoble for teachers to carry a satchel in one hand and demand money with the other," he finally made a formal complaint to his wife.

"Hey, why are there only two dishes?" he said, looking at the food during dinner on the day he heard the "ignoble" remark.

They had not received a new education; his wife had neither a formal school name nor an elegant title, so there was no particular form of address for her. By old custom, he could have called her "Madam," but he did not wish to be too old-fashioned, so he invented the word "Hey." His wife did not even use "Hey" for him; as long as she faced him while speaking, by the customary law of their household, he knew her words were directed at him.

"But the fifteen percent we received last month is all gone... Yesterday's rice was also only obtained on credit with great difficulty." She stood by the table, her face turned toward him as she spoke.

"You see, they still say it's contemptible for teachers to demand salaries. Such people seem not to know even the basic facts that people need to eat, food requires rice, and rice must be bought with money..."

"Exactly. Without money, how can we buy rice? Without rice, how can we cook..."

His cheeks puffed out, as if annoyed that this answer matched his own argument of "More or less the same," akin to an echo; then he turned his head away, and by the customary law of their household, this signaled the end of the discussion.

Then came a day of biting wind and cold rain. After the teachers went to the government to demand their back pay and were beaten until their heads were broken and bleeding by the national army in the mud before Xinhua Gate, they actually managed to receive a portion of their salaries. Fang Xuanchuo collected his money without lifting a finger, paid off some old debts, but still lacked a large sum, for his official salary was also considerably in arrears. At that time, even honest and upright officials gradually came to think that salaries must indeed be demanded, let alone Fang Xuanchuo, who also worked as a teacher; he naturally sympathized even more with the academic circle. So when everyone proposed to continue the strike, though he still did not attend the meeting, afterward he especially wholeheartedly and faithfully abided by the public resolution.

Yet the government actually paid again, and the school reopened. But a few days earlier, the student union had submitted a petition to the government, saying, "If teachers do not teach, then do not pay the back salaries." Though this was ineffective, Fang Xuanchuo suddenly remembered the government's previous statement, "Only after classes are held will we pay." The shadow of "More or less the same" flickered before his eyes once more, and it did not vanish; so he publicly announced it in the lecture hall.

Based on this, it can be seen that if the "Doctrine of More or Less the Same" were refined and woven together, it could naturally be judged as a kind of discontent tinged with self-interest, but it certainly could not be said to be solely a justification for his own role as an official. Only, whenever such times arose, he often liked to drag in issues concerning China's future destiny and the like, and carelessly, he would even come to think of himself as a patriot concerned for his country: people are often plagued by a lack of "self-knowledge."

But the fact of "More or less the same" occurred again. Initially, the government only ignored those headache-inducing teachers, but later it ignored even insignificant officials. The arrears piled up, finally forcing even several of those good officials who had previously scorned the teachers for demanding money to become valiant commanders in the Salary-Demanding Assembly. Only a few daily newspapers published some scornful and mocking articles about them. Fang Xuanchuo was not at all surprised, nor did he mind, for based on his "Doctrine of More or Less the Same," he knew this was because the journalists had not yet run short of writing fees; should the government or the wealthy stop their subsidies, they would mostly hold assemblies too.

Since he had expressed sympathy with the teachers' salary demands, he naturally also approved of his colleagues' salary demands, yet he remained seated in his government office, as usual, not joining them to demand repayment of debts. As for those who suspected him of being aloof and proud, that was merely a misunderstanding. He himself said that ever since he came into the world, only others had demanded debts from him; he had never demanded debts from others, so this matter was "not his forte." Moreover, he most dared not meet those who held economic power. When such people lost their power and, cradling a copy of Awakening of Faith in the Mahayana, lectured on Buddhism, they were certainly quite "amiably approachable," but while still on their throne, they always wore the face of King Yama, treating everyone else as slaves, believing they held the power of life and death over poor fellows like him. Therefore, he dared not, and did not wish to, see them. This temperament, though sometimes even he felt it was aloof and proud, often also made him suspect it was actually a lack of ability.

Everyone kept demanding left and right, and they managed to scrape by from one festival to the next, but compared to before, Fang Xuanchuo was now extremely hard up. Not to mention the servant he employed and the shopkeepers he traded with, even Mrs. Fang gradually lost her respect for him. One only had to see how lately she seldom agreed with him and often raised original opinions, with some abrupt actions, to understand. On the morning of the fourth day of the fifth lunar month, as soon as he returned, she thrust a stack of bills right before his nose-something that had never happened before.

"In total, we need at least a hundred and eighty dollars to cover expenses... Have you been paid?" she said, not looking directly at him.

"Hmph, I'm quitting my official post tomorrow. The pay cheque has been issued, but the delegates of the Salary-Demanding Assembly won't distribute it. First they said those who didn't go in person wouldn't get it, then they said we have to go to them to collect it personally. Today, merely clutching the cheques, they turned into the faces of King Yama; I really dreaded seeing them... I don't want the money anymore, I won't be an official anymore, such boundless humiliation..."

Mrs. Fang, seeing this rare display of righteous indignation, was somewhat taken aback, but then she grew quiet again.

"I think it might be better to go collect it in person; what's the harm?" she said, looking at his face.

"I won't go! This is official pay, not a reward; by regulation, it should be delivered by the accounting department."

"But if they don't deliver it, what can we do... Oh, I forgot to mention last night, the children said the school has urged them several times about the tuition fees, saying if we don't pay soon..."

"Nonsense! If the father works and teaches without pay, why should the son go study a few lines and demand money?"

She felt he was no longer much concerned with reason, and seemed about to vent his anger on her as if she were the school principal; it wasn't worth it, so she said no more.

The two ate lunch in silence. He thought for a while, then went out in annoyance.

By old custom, in recent years, on the eve of the festival season or at the year's end, he would always return home precisely at midnight, walking along, reaching into his chest, and loudly calling, "Hey, I've got it!" Then he would hand her a stack of crisp new Bank of China and Bank of Communications banknotes, his face wearing a very proud expression. Who would have thought that on this fourth day he would break the custom, returning home before seven o'clock. Mrs. Fang was suspicious and surprised, thinking he had actually resigned, but secretly observing his face, she saw no expression of being particularly unlucky.

"What's wrong?... So early?..." she said, gazing fixedly at him.

"Couldn't get it issued, couldn't collect it. The bank has already closed; have to wait until the eighth."

"Personal collection?..." she asked apprehensively.

"That personal collection requirement has already been canceled, I hear; it's said they'll still be distributed by the accounting department. But the bank closed today for a three-day break, so we have to wait until the morning of the eighth." He sat down, his eyes on the floor. After taking a sip of tea, he slowly spoke again, "Fortunately, there's no problem at the government office either; we'll definitely have the money by the eighth... Borrowing from unrelated relatives and friends is truly a troublesome matter. In the afternoon, I plucked up courage and went to see Jin Yongsheng. We talked for a while; he first praised me for not demanding my salary, for not going to collect it personally, saying it was exceedingly aloof and noble, and that a person should do exactly that. But when he found out I wanted to borrow fifty dollars from him, it was as if I had stuffed a big handful of salt into his mouth. Every part of his face that could wrinkle creased up as he said how impossible it was to collect the rent, how his business was losing money, and that collecting payment personally before colleagues was really nothing out of the ordinary, and then promptly dismissed me."