药 (Medicine)

In the latter half of an autumn night, the moon had set and the sun had not yet risen, leaving only a dark blue sky; except for nocturnal creatures, everything was asleep. Hua Laoshuan suddenly sat up, struck a match, and lit the greasy lamp, filling the two rooms of the teahouse with a pale light.

"Father of Little Shuan, are you going?" was an old woman's voice. From the inner room came a fit of coughing.

"Mm." Old Shuan listened, responded, and fastened his clothes; reaching out his hand, he said, "Give it to me."

Auntie Hua fumbled under the pillow for a long time, pulled out a packet of silver dollars, and handed it to Old Shuan. Old Shuan took it, trembling, stuffed it into his pocket, patted it twice on the outside; then lit the lantern, blew out the lamp, and went into the inner room. Inside that room, there was a rustling sound, followed by a fit of coughing. Old Shuan waited for him to calm down, then called softly, "Little Shuan... Don't get up... The shop? Your mother will take care of it."

Hearing his son fall silent, Old Shuan assumed he had settled back to sleep; he went out and walked onto the street. The street was dark and empty, with only a grayish-white road clearly visible. The lantern light illuminated his feet as he walked, one step after another. Sometimes he encountered a few dogs, but none barked. The air was much colder than inside the house; Old Shuan felt invigorated, as if he had suddenly become a youth, gifted with supernatural power, capable of giving life, his strides unusually long and high. And the road grew clearer and clearer, the sky brighter and brighter.

As Old Shuan walked intently, he suddenly started, seeing in the distance a T-shaped street lying clearly across his path. He retreated a few steps, found a shop with its door closed, slipped under the eaves, and stood leaning against the door. After a while, he felt a chill on his body.

"Hmph, old man."

"Quite cheerful..."

Old Shuan started again, opening his eyes to see several people pass by him. One looked back, his appearance not very distinct, but like a long-starved man seeing food, his eyes flashing with a predatory light. Old Shuan looked at his lantern; it had gone out. He patted his pocket; the hard bundle was still there. Raising his head to look around, he saw many strange people, in twos and threes, lingering like ghosts; staring harder, he could discern nothing else unusual.

Not long after, he saw several soldiers moving about over there; the large white circles on the front and back of their uniforms were clearly visible from afar, and as they passed by, he could make out the dark red trim on their jackets. -- A sound of footsteps, and in the blink of an eye, a large crowd had surged past. The people in twos and threes suddenly merged into a heap, rushing forward like a tide; as they neared the T-shaped street corner, they abruptly halted, forming a semicircle.

Old Shuan also looked that way, but saw only the backs of a crowd; their necks stretched long, as if many ducks, held by an invisible hand, were being lifted upward. After a moment of silence, there seemed to be some noise, and then they stirred, with a roar, all stepping back; they scattered right to where Old Shuan stood, almost knocking him over.

"Hey! Money in one hand, goods in the other!" A man dressed entirely in black stood before Old Shuan, his gaze like two daggers, making Old Shuan shrink by half. The man held out one big hand toward him; in the other, he clutched a bright red steamed bun, the red still dripping down drop by drop.

Old Shuan hurriedly fumbled out the silver dollars, trembling as he tried to hand them over, yet dared not take the other's item. The man grew impatient and shouted, "What are you afraid of? Why not take it!" Old Shuan hesitated; the black-clad man snatched the lantern, tore off the paper shade, wrapped it around the bun, shoved it at Old Shuan, grabbed the silver dollars, gave them a squeeze, turned, and left. Muttering, he said, "This old thing..."

"Who is this medicine for?" Old Shuan seemed to hear someone ask, but he did not respond; his mind was now fixed solely on that bundle, as if cradling an infant passed down through ten generations, all else forgotten. He was about to transplant this new life from the bundle into his home, to reap much happiness. The sun had risen; before him lay a broad road leading straight to his house, and behind, the light illuminated the four dim golden characters on the broken plaque at the T-shaped street corner: "Guxuan Pavilion Entrance."

II

When Old Shuan reached home, the shop had long been tidied up, rows of tea tables gleaming slickly. But there were no customers; only Little Shuan sat eating at a table in the inner row, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, his padded jacket clinging to his spine, the two shoulder blades protruding high, imprinting the character for "eight" in relief. Seeing this, Old Shuan could not help but furrow his brow. His wife hurried out from the kitchen, eyes wide, lips trembling slightly.

"Got it?"

"Got it."

The two went together into the kitchen and conferred for a while; Auntie Hua went out and soon returned with an old lotus leaf, spreading it on the table. Old Shuan also opened the lantern cover and rewrapped the red steamed bun with the lotus leaf. Little Shuan finished his meal, and his mother hastily said:--

"Little Shuan-- sit still, don't come over here." After tending the stove fire, Old Shuan stuffed a green bundle and a red-and-white torn lantern into the stove together; as a burst of red-black flames passed, the shop filled with a strange fragrance.

"How fragrant! What are you eating?" This was Hunchback Fifth Master arriving. This man spent his days in the teahouse, coming earliest and leaving latest; now he hobbled to a table by the street-facing corner and sat down to ask. Yet no one answered him. "Fried rice porridge?" Still no response. Old Shuan hurried out to make tea for him.

"Little Shuan, come in!" Auntie Hua called Little Shuan into the inner room, where a stool was placed in the middle, and Little Shuan sat down. His mother brought over a plate of dark, round objects and said softly:--

"Eat this-- then you'll be well."

Little Shuan picked up the black thing, looked at it for a moment, as if holding his own life, feeling an indescribable strangeness. Very carefully, he broke it open; from inside the charred skin escaped a puff of white steam, and when it dispersed, there were two halves of a white steamed bun. -- In no time, it was all in his stomach, yet he completely forgot the taste; before him remained only an empty plate. Beside him stood his father on one side and his mother on the other, both their gazes seeming to want to inject something into him and extract something from him; he couldn't help but feel his heart race, pressed his chest, and another fit of coughing ensued.

"Sleep for a while-- then you'll be well."

Little Shuan followed his mother's words, coughing as he lay down to sleep. Auntie Hua waited for his breathing to calm, then gently covered him with a padded quilt full of patches.

III

Many people sat in the shop, and Old Shuan was busy, carrying a large copper kettle, making trip after trip to brew tea for the customers; dark circles surrounded both his eyes.

"Old Shuan, are you unwell? -- Are you sick?" said a man with a grizzled beard.

"No."

"No? -- I thought, with you smiling, it didn't seem like..." The grizzled-beard man withdrew his words.

"Old Shuan is just busy. If it were his son..." Hunchback Fifth Master had not finished when a man with a fierce, fleshy face burst in, wearing a black cloth shirt unbuttoned, tied haphazardly around the waist with a wide black belt. As soon as he entered, he shouted at Old Shuan:--

"Eaten it? Better now? Old Shuan, you're lucky! You're lucky; if not for my sharp information..."

Old Shuan held the teapot in one hand, the other hanging respectfully; he listened with a smile. All the seated customers also listened respectfully. Auntie Hua also with dark circles under her eyes, smiling, brought out teacups and tea leaves, adding an olive, and Old Shuan went to fetch hot water.

"This is guaranteed good! This is exceptional. Think, brought hot, eaten hot." The fierce-faced man kept shouting.

"Truly, without Uncle Kang's care, how could it be like this..." Auntie Hua also thanked him gratefully.

"Guaranteed good, guaranteed good! Eaten hot like this. Such a human-blood steamed bun, guaranteed to cure any consumption!"

Auntie Hua paled slightly at the word "consumption," seeming somewhat displeased; but immediately put on a smile and walked away evasively. This Uncle Kang did not notice, still raising his voice to shout, shouting until Little Shuan, asleep inside, joined in with a fit of coughing.

"So your Little Shuan has met such good fortune. Naturally, he'll recover completely; no wonder Old Shuan smiles all day." The grizzled-beard man spoke and walked up to Uncle Kang, asking humbly, "Uncle Kang-- I heard the executed criminal today was the child of the Xia Family; whose child is that? What exactly happened?"

"Whose? Isn't it Fourth Aunt Xia's son? That little fellow!" Uncle Kang, seeing everyone pricking up their ears, grew even more pleased, his fierce flesh bulging, and said even louder, "That little thing didn't value his life, so be it. But I didn't get any benefit this time; even the clothes stripped off were taken by the jailer Red-eyed Ah Yi. -- First, our Uncle Shuan is lucky; second, Third Master Xia rewarded twenty-five taels of pure silver, all pocketed alone, not a penny spent."

Little Shuan slowly emerged from the small room, hands pressed to his chest, coughing incessantly; he went to the kitchen, ladled out a bowl of cold rice, poured hot water over it, sat down, and ate. Auntie Hua followed him and asked softly, "Little Shuan, are you better? -- Are you still just hungry?..."

"Guaranteed good, guaranteed good!" Uncle Kang glanced at Little Shuan, then turned back to the crowd and said, "Third Master Xia is really sharp; if he hadn't reported to the authorities first, his whole family would have been executed. Now what? Silver! -- That little thing really is no good! Locked up, still trying to incite the jailers to rebel."

"Oh my, that's outrageous." A man in his twenties sitting in the back row looked quite indignant.

"You should know that Red-eyed Ah Yi went to sound him out, but he chatted with him. He said: This great Qing Empire belongs to all of us. Think: Is that human talk? Red Eyes knew he had only an old mother at home, but didn't expect him to be so poor, not a drop of oil to squeeze, already furious. And he still dared to scratch the tiger's head, so he gave him two slaps!"

"Brother Yi has good fists; those two slaps must have been enough for him." The hunchback in the corner suddenly became cheerful.

"That cheap bone isn't scared by beating, still saying 'pitiful, pitiful.'"

The grizzled-beard man said, "What's pitiful about beating such a thing?"

Uncle Kang showed a look of disdain and said coldly, "You didn't hear clearly; from his expression, he meant Ah Yi is pitiful!"

The listeners' eyes suddenly grew stiff; the conversation paused. Little Shuan had finished eating, sweating profusely, steam rising from his head.

"Ah Yi pitiful-- nonsense, simply gone mad." The grizzled-beard man said as if suddenly enlightened.

"Gone mad." The man in his twenties also said as if suddenly enlightened.

The customers in the shop regained their liveliness, chatting and laughing. Little Shuan also took advantage of the bustle, coughing desperately; Uncle Kang walked up, patted his shoulder, and said:--

"Guaranteed good! Little Shuan-- don't cough like that. Guaranteed good!"

"Mad." Hunchback Fifth Master nodded and said.

IV

Outside the West Gate, by the city wall, was originally government land; in the middle, a crooked, narrow path, made by people taking shortcuts with their shoe soles, had become a natural boundary. On the left side of the path were buried those executed or died in prison, on the right were the graves of the poor. Both sides were layered with graves, resembling steamed buns at a rich family's birthday celebration.

This year's Qingming Festival was exceptionally cold; willows had just sprouted half-grain-sized new buds. Not long after dawn, Auntie Hua had already placed four dishes and a bowl of rice before a new grave on the right, weeping for a while. After burning paper money, she sat dazedly on the ground; as if waiting for something, but she herself could not say what. A breeze arose, stirring her short hair, indeed much whiter than last year.

Another woman came along the path, also with half-white hair, in tattered clothes; carrying a shabby vermilion-lacquered round basket, hung with a string of paper ingots, walking with a rest every three steps. Suddenly seeing Auntie Hua sitting on the ground watching her, she hesitated, her pale face showing a ashamed look; but finally steeled herself, walked to a grave on the left, and set down the basket.

That grave and Little Shuan's grave were aligned in a row, separated only by the narrow path. Auntie Hua watched her arrange four dishes and a bowl of rice, stand weeping for a while, burn paper ingots; thinking secretly, "This grave also holds a son." The old woman lingered, looking around, then suddenly her hands and feet trembled, staggered back a few steps, staring blankly in a daze.

Seeing this, Auntie Hua feared she was about to go mad with grief; she couldn't help but stand up, cross the path, and say softly to her, "Old granny, don't grieve so-- let's go back."

The woman nodded, her eyes still staring upward; she also said softly, stammering, "Look-- look, what is this?"

Auntie Hua followed her pointing finger, her gaze landing on the grave ahead, where the grass roots were not fully grown, revealing patches of yellow earth, quite ugly. Looking up more carefully, she too was startled; -- clearly, a circle of red and white flowers surrounded the pointed, rounded grave top.

Their eyes had been presbyopic for years, but looking at these red and white flowers, they could still see clearly. The flowers were not many, arranged in a neat circle, not very vibrant, but tidy. Auntie Hua hurriedly looked at her son's grave and others', but only a few cold-resistant bluish-white small flowers bloomed sporadically; she suddenly felt an insufficiency and emptiness in her heart, unwilling to probe further. The old woman took a few steps closer, examined them carefully, and said to herself, "These have no roots, unlike self-grown. -- Who comes here? Children wouldn't come to play; -- relatives long stopped coming. -- What is this all about?" She thought and thought, suddenly shed tears, and said loudly:--

"Yu'er, they all wronged you, you still can't forget, too heartbroken, today showing a bit of spirit to let me know?" She looked around and saw a crow standing on a leafless tree, then continued, "I know. -- Yu'er, pitiful, they ruined you, they will have retribution, heaven knows; just close your eyes. -- If you are truly here, hearing my words,-- then make this crow fly onto your grave top, show me."

The breeze had long ceased; withered grass stood straight like copper wires. A trembling sound grew finer and finer in the air, until it disappeared, and the surroundings were dead silent. The two stood in the withered grass, looking up at the crow; the crow also stood on the straight branches, head tucked in, as if cast in iron.

Much time passed; grave visitors gradually increased, a few old and young, appearing and disappearing among the earthen graves.

Auntie Hua somehow seemed to have shed a heavy burden and thought of leaving; urging, she said, "Let's go back."

The old woman sighed, listlessly collected the dishes and rice; hesitated a moment, then slowly walked away. Muttering to herself, she said, "What is this all about?…"

They had not gone twenty or thirty steps when suddenly they heard a loud "Caw--" from behind; both turned around startled, and saw the crow spread its wings, crouch, and fly straight toward the distant sky, swift as an arrow.