Explore Chapter 8 of "八十一梦 五子登科" with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
There was not a cloud in the sky. On the deep blue curtain of night, a few sparse stars were scattered. Against this backdrop, the moon's disk looked especially like a mirror. The moonlight spilled down, lightly powdering the mountain's surface. The sparse trees on the hill stood erect in the watery light, casting clustered shadows. When I looked further into the valley below, the peaks blocked the moonlight, leaving it dark and gloomy. A few households nestled in the valley-in the moonlight, their outlines were invisible, with only two flickering lamps giving a hint in the mountain's shadow. It was rather poetic.
My thoughts grew a little fanciful. Recalling Li Bai's line “I lower my head, thinking of home,” I felt that the long-absent moonlight brought a heavy sadness. So I sat down on a stone by the roadside, idly plucked a wild grass from the crack in the rock, and twirled it in my fingers.
From a distance, two men with Nanjing accents approached, talking. When I had lived in Nanjing, I always felt that the Nanjing accent was vastly different from the Mandarin of Beiping. But now, in Sichuan, somehow hearing people speak Nanjing dialect stirred a mix of sorrow and joy. I felt I could listen to a few more words gladly. And so I listened on.
One of the Nanjing men said, “You teach at a university. Whether professor or lecturer, you can make three to five hundred dollars a month. Why would you want to be a transport clerk for a company?”
The other replied, “You must understand, in this capitalist society, whatever you do, you should calculate whether you can get rich. If you can, what's wrong with being a waiter at a club? Ten years ago, the Eight-Eight Club in Shanghai was famous, wasn't it? A man worked there as a waiter, and later he rode in cars and lived in a foreign-style house. People called him ‘Mister’ all the same.”
The other answered, “That depends on one's skill. But no matter how stupid a fellow is, once he boards the boat to riches, he can at least gnaw a little on the edge of a silver ingot.”
The two men continued talking, slowly passing by me. Even when they had gone far away, I could still hear them saying “get rich” over and over again, the words drifting back. It turned my lingering attachment to the moonlight, and I retreated into my thatched hut.
I went out to look. It was a distant relative, Deng Jincai. He wore a grass-green short jacket with four big pockets, matching long trousers, and pointed leather shoes polished to a jet-black shine. In his hand, he held a felt hat like a basin, fanning himself in front of his chest. In front and behind him were two leather suitcases.
Deng Jincai fished a piece of paper from his trousers pocket to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Smiling, he said, “I can't carry these two suitcases anymore. Please ask a servant to help me take them home. I'll give him three cents' worth of stamps for tea. On the street, stamps can be used as small change. These three cents on me are the change left over from buying a long-distance bus ticket.”
He was quite polite. He picked up the larger suitcase and led the way. I followed behind with the other one, and then I understood why he was sweating so profusely. There was good reason: the suitcase felt as if it were packed with iron blocks. After just ten steps, I was struggling. Seeing that Deng Jincai had hoisted his suitcase onto his shoulder, steadying it with both hands, I did the same.
He saw me walking unsteadily in my gray cloth gown, my hand holding the suitcase being soft and white without rough labor calluses. He seemed a bit sorry. Turning his head, he said with a smile, “The great era has come. We must train ourselves to run, to work with our hands, and to carry loads on our shoulders, to be prepared for anything. Those who cling to genteel refinement and fear losing official dignity deserve to be weeded out. You're willing to work hard. That's very good.”
Mr. Deng also lived in a “national-crisis house”-walls of bamboo strips plastered with mud, a thatched roof. The outer room was no more than ten feet wide, furnished with a plain wooden table and two bamboo stools. I noticed that Mrs. Deng's blue cloth gown had several large and small patches. Their circumstances seemed quite difficult. For that reason, I didn't want to accept his hospitality and turned to leave.
Deng Jincai grabbed my arm and said with a laugh, “You come all the way here and won't even smoke a cigarette? That's looking down on your relatives.”
Hearing the words “looking down on,” I felt the gravity of it, so I sat down. He said he'd offer me a cigarette, but he didn't produce any. Instead, Mrs. Deng brought out two coarse earthenware bowls filled with hot water. That made me feel even more sympathy for their life.
Deng Jincai pulled a square bamboo stool close to me, sat down, and smiled. “Can you guess what's in these two suitcases?”
Deng Jincai laughed, “You're not an outsider. I have something to discuss with you, so I can't hide it. Inside is all Western medicine.”
I said, “Western medicine? Nowadays a small bottle costs several tens of dollars. Your two suitcases…”
He waved his hand at me and said in a low voice, “Please don't speak loudly.” Then he pointed to the left and right sides of the room, obviously meaning he didn't want the neighbors to hear.
He said, “As long as you pay attention, you can always come up with a way. When we evacuated from Hankou, I had a few hundred dollars on me. I thought that with only that much, it was impossible to last through a long and distant wartime life. I had to find a way to make money, to use my few hundred dollars to earn interest on interest. My wife wanted to exchange for gold jewelry. But at that time, gold was already quite expensive. Even if its price went up later, it wouldn't rise much. So I had an idea on the spur of the moment. I stuffed the bills into my pocket and wandered the streets, looking for cheap goods to buy. Actually, it was a foolish calculation. There were plenty of shops selling things cheaply before closing. I couldn't buy them all. By chance, I stood staring in front of a small Western medicine store. I turned around and saw that their glass shelves were empty, but there were two wicker baskets on the floor. The shop owner had left. An old clerk was packing the remaining valuables. I casually asked, ‘You're leaving, not selling the medicine?’ He said, ‘Why not sell? Every bit we sell is something. We're going to the countryside.’”
Deng Jincai said, “How could it be that I got the bargain? It was actually that old clerk who got a bargain from me. The owner of the Western medicine store had left, entrusting these things to the old clerk. They were as good as abandoned. With such good fortune, the old clerk could have just absconded with the money. So I forced him to bring out the account book. Comparing it with the items in the wicker baskets, I bought them at half the cost price. It took me half a day to check everything. When I brought them home, my wife complained that I was acting recklessly. But once in Yichang, when things stabilized a bit, I inquired about drug prices and found they had already doubled. So I gritted my teeth and brought them into Sichuan.”
He laughed and said, “Along the way, I pretended to be sick and asked about drug prices. When I reached Chongqing, I knew the prices were three to four times higher. On the first day I found out, I planned to take some medicine to a pharmacy the next day to sell. But something delayed me, and I only went on the third day. When I asked the price, it had already gone up by another twenty or thirty percent. The merchant saw me carrying a briefcase; he didn't know I was selling medicine. He said, ‘Buy quickly, or it'll be even more expensive the day after tomorrow.’ Hearing that, I took the medicine back to my inn.”
Deng Jincai hesitated for a moment, then smiled, “Fortunately, I had many fellow townsmen. When the money ran out, I borrowed ten or twenty dollars from them. As long as I could hold out, the medicine at home would appreciate day by day. I really couldn't bear to sell it. When I couldn't borrow any more, the weather gradually warmed up, so I pretended to be a refugee and laid out my clothes and bedding on the street to sell.”
At this point, his wife came out, blushing. “Jincai, why are you talking nonsense? Luckily, Cousin Zhang is not an outsider, or else they'd say we're shameless.”
Deng Jincai lifted his head, a proud look on his face, and laughed. “What do you women know? Telling Cousin this is precisely to show that I can endure hardship. Women are so short-sighted. When the price went up five times, you nagged me to sell. And now?”
I said, “Cousin, you're telling me all this honestly, so there must be something you want me to help with. I can still support myself; I won't sponge off you. I'll do whatever I can.”
Her words reminded me: seven hundred dollars at cost, multiplied by twenty or thirty times, would be twenty thousand dollars. She might not be telling the truth. Those two shabby suitcases could be worth tens of thousands.
I hesitated, and Deng Jincai understood my thoughts. He laughed, “The suitcases don't contain only expensive medicine. There are also about two thousand quinine pills.”
Deng Jincai said, “Of course they are worth much more than usual. But by hoarding the medicine until now without selling, my wife and I have suffered a lot. We were penniless and lived like refugees on the street for two months. Recently, seeing the situation might turn for the better, I sold a little medicine to set up this shabby home. Just now I showed the medicine to someone, but he said he didn't dare buy it all, for fear the price might drop soon. You're in the newspaper business, so you must have better information than I. How much longer do you think we have to fight the war?”
I thought their desire for wealth was too strong and decided to tease them a little. I smiled and said, “Cousin, I was about to tell you good news. Because I was listening to your interesting story, I didn't get to it. Yesterday I received the most reliable news: Japan will collapse completely within a few days, and the war will end within two months.”
I smiled but said nothing. Just then, I saw a man with short, disheveled hair, sallow and thin, sitting on a stone in the open space across the way, basking in the sun. His bare legs, like yellow wax, stuck out from his thin trousers. He wore a tattered cotton-padded jacket from which several lumps of black cotton fluff protruded. He kept groaning.
The man groaned, “Aiyo! For the sake of being a fellow townsman, what's wrong with basking in the sun at your door? Besides, I worked for your family for two months!”
Hearing his northern Anhui accent, I stepped out and asked, “Which county are you from? How did you end up like this?”
When he heard my hometown accent too, he revealed a few pale teeth in his pointed mouth, smiled at me, and nodded. “Sir, I used to be a strong young man. I carried water for several families from downstream, earning about a hundred dollars a month. I used to live in Mr. Deng's kitchen and carried water for him for two months. He didn't pay me, and I didn't pay rent. But then I caught a fever that came every three days. For a month now, I've been completely drained of strength.”
He shook his head. “Can't afford it. One dollar can't buy many pills. I'd need several pills a day.”
I immediately thought of the two thousand quinine pills in Deng Jincai's suitcases. For an old fellow townsman who had traveled a thousand miles and even worked for two months, he deserved a few pills. Having such a relative was a disgrace. At that thought, I could no longer suppress my anger. I turned and walked away.
Old Wang, with a mournful face and furrowed brow, said, “I shouldn't speak to you, but seeing that you seem like a righteous man, I thought maybe…”
Old Wang said, “I have a cousin who works on the highway. I want to find him. They often drive to Kunming and Yangon, and they use a lot of Western medicine.”
Old Wang said, “I'll just walk slowly. If I can't make it in one day, I'll take two. Just enough for two nights' lodging.”
I was not that generous, but neither was I stingy. So I gave him two dollars in legal tender (fabi). I thought to myself, this really won't help his illness; it's not even enough for four quinine pills. But instead of taking the money, he knelt down on the stone path, pressed his ten fingers to the ground, and kowtowed to me.
He stood up, tears streaming down his waxy yellow face. “Sir, two dollars isn't much these days. But we met by chance, and you were willing to help. There are plenty of acquaintances here. I beg them every day, but they just frown when they see me, let alone give me money.”
He sighed. “I can't even count meals. I beg for food one day and eat it; if I get nothing, I go hungry. Back home, I was a sturdy man. I could do something. Why did I ever come to Sichuan?”
I said, “Then you probably haven't eaten today. Let me help you a bit more.” I added a five-jiao note and said with a smile, “Go buy two catties of sweet potatoes to eat.” With that, I gave him all the money and walked away.
About two months later, one day I took a long-distance bus from the city to the countryside. Before boarding, the driver was grumbling, “They said they'd transfer me to run the Kunming route twice, but they still keep me on this short run.”
I thought to myself, he's too reluctant; there might be trouble on the road. Sure enough, after driving ten kilometers, the bus broke down. The driver said, “The engine is beyond repair. Passengers, please get off.” I was always able to walk, and my home was only seven or eight kilometers away, so I readily got off first.
The bus stopped at the foot of a slope, on which a new Western-style building had been erected. At the entrance hung a vertical sign about ten feet long, indicating it was a transport company's warehouse. Several people stood by the railing, smiling at the disembarking passengers. They seemed to understand the comedy we were playing. As a journalist, I was deeply impressed by this irony. I lowered my head and hurried away.
The man ran up to me. When I saw him, he was dark and plump, wearing a fine navy blue serge Western suit, a floral wool undershirt, and a green silk tie that had slipped to one side. His shoulders were slightly hunched, clearly new to wearing a suit. I stared at him, feeling vaguely familiar but unable to recall where we had met.
I let out an “Oh!” and remembered: this was the “starving man in the mulberry shade”-the same Old Wang who had been sick and begging. I looked him over and smiled. “Congratulations, your luck has turned. In two months, you're completely healthy.”
Old Wang said, “A tree grows from its roots. If you hadn't helped me with those two and a half dollars, how could I have gotten here? I intended to go to your place to thank you, but as you can see, I'm so muddled that I not only don't know where you live, I don't even know your surname.”
Old Wang said, “I want to repay you the money, but that would be belittling you. I simply must do something for you. We have a car going to town. Let me take you there and treat you to a little meal. This afternoon or tomorrow morning, we can catch a ride back.”
I would never accept such hospitality for a two-dollar charity, no matter how sincere Old Wang seemed. He insisted on dragging me into the warehouse, offering tea and cigarettes. He asked my name and address, apparently planning some further reward. He had a room of his own. After closing the door, we were alone.
He sat across from me, looked down at his Western suit, and seemed a little embarrassed. Blushing, he said, “You must think my outfit doesn't suit me. I never imagined I'd be here today. That day I took your two dollars and went to my cousin. Within ten days, I was completely recovered. He was about to go to Haiphong to transport goods and needed a reliable helper, so he took me along. Several people wanted to go but couldn't, so they secretly lent me three or four hundred dollars to do some business. They even gave me advice on what goods to buy. I followed their instructions. When I came back, I sold the goods, repaid twice the amount, and still made some profit. Soon I'll be going again. If you need anything, Sir, please tell me and I'll bring it for you.”
I laughed. “That won't be necessary. But can you tell me what goods you traded and how much you earned? It would broaden my knowledge.”
He smiled. “It's not inconvenient. We invest to make a profit-big or small, it's all business. But I did make a bit more money than usual.”
I smiled. “I'm not surprised you can make money. What surprises me is that it's so easy to make big money in Chongqing.”
Old Wang said, “My cousin told me: although we exchange goods for money, we still have some conscience. Ordinary people's money, we could take a little in peacetime, but at a time like this, why would we take from them? So the things we bring are cosmetics, Western suit materials, and foreign canned goods-things only rich people use.”
I smiled. “I don't suspect you of lying-I'm afraid you haven't told me everything. I was thinking: you say you don't take money from ordinary people, only from the rich. But have you considered where the rich people's money comes from? An ordinary tube of lipstick, you can overcharge the rich by tens of dollars. The rich don't even feel the pinch from your gouging, meaning that for them, it's like wool from the sheep's back. When they used to buy something for a dollar, where did they get the money? Now they buy it for a hundred dollars, they still get the money from the same source. Right?”
I was ready to elaborate, like a Buddhist teaching, but then I heard someone outside shout, “That's it! No more! I lost over two thousand dollars in eight rounds of mahjong.”
I thought his speech was rough, but he seemed honest, so I humbly declined the compliment. He took out a very elegant cigarette case from his pocket and offered me a cigarette. I saw the English letters on the wrapper: ‘Captain’ brand. I thought to myself: even senior bank clerks and officials below the rank of ‘Selected Official’ rarely smoke Captain cigarettes. His income must be at least higher than the formal salary of a Selected Official.
When he saw me hesitating, perhaps he understood my thoughts. He laughed. “These days, if you have money and don't spend it, you're a fool. Come, come, let's go to the city. Some friends of mine have a permanent room at the city hotel. We can all take a bath there. Old Wang will treat you to dinner, and I'll treat you to some drum songs.”
They did indeed have a large room at the best hotel in town. Two men were already there. One wore a newly made bronze-colored spring silk and camel hair robe; the other wore a plaid woolen Western suit, half-lying on the sofa with his legs crossed and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, looking quite comfortable.
Taking me seriously, he nodded and said, “That's not bad. A friend of mine shipped a batch of paper from Yichang. Because there was too much cargo, it was hard to get it by steamer, so he chartered a large wooden boat. The boat took a full three months on the Yangtze. At first he was very anxious, but later he was afraid it would arrive too soon.”
Mr. Qian said, “You see, the price of paper was rising day by day, so he was happy to let it sit on the boat longer. Once it landed, he would have to move it to a warehouse immediately. And at that time, the city was evacuating to the countryside. It wasn't easy to find a warehouse; even if he found one, storage fees accumulated daily. When he shipped the goods from Yichang, newsprint was only twenty dollars a ream. Now, I won't talk about the black market, but the regular price is two hundred, isn't it? He made a mountain of money! Really, there's nothing more to say.”
I smiled and asked, “Mr. Qian, since you're so familiar with all this, surely you didn't just watch others get rich. You must have your own ways to make money.”
Mr. Qian smiled faintly. “I didn't intend to go into business. When I left Shashi, many shopkeepers I knew wanted to raise cash quickly. I was planning to go to Sichuan anyway, so I took out my money and bought up their leftover stock.”
Mr. Qian took a cigarette from the large ‘Captain’ brand tin on the tea table, tapped it slowly on the table, avoiding my question. I thought, if he didn't want to say, my question was probably too forward. Just then, Zhang San came out of the bathroom at the back, wearing a bathrobe. I deliberately changed the subject and said with a laugh, “You finished your bath so fast?”
At that moment, a bellboy suddenly brought in a note. Mr. Jin took it and read it, his expression changing. Mr. Qian, who had one foot in the bathroom, seemed alerted. He immediately turned back and took the note from Mr. Jin. Then he said, “In that case, we should go see right away.”
His face turned slightly green. He looked at Mr. Jin. They took their hats from the rack and hurried out.
The note that the bellboy had brought remained on the edge of the table, not taken away. Old Wang was sitting by the table, so he picked up the note and handed it to Zhang San. “Take a look. What does it say? Why did those two rush off like that?”
Zhang San took the note, held it up in both hands, raised his head, and read it. He shook his head with a laugh. “The handwriting is too sloppy. It says they lost two things at home. Mr. Zhang, can you read it?”
As he spoke, he handed the note to me. I really had no intention of prying into others' secrets, but since Zhang San had given it to me and they had lost something, it wasn't really secret. So I held the note and read it. It said:
“To Mr. Qian, Room 3, XX Hotel: Yarn price has dropped by two hundred yuan and still shows signs of falling. What is your opinion? Reply promptly. Zhibai.”
I laughed to myself. The note had two characters for ‘fall’ that looked like ‘running away’ with a foot radical. No wonder Zhang San thought they had lost two things.
Zhang San scratched his hair. “That's hard to say. His original capital was really nothing-just ten or twenty thousand. But now it's frightening. If we were still issuing aviation lottery tickets, he would have won the first prize twice over.”
Zhang San hesitated, reached for the cigarette tin, found it empty, and took a hundred-yuan note from the pocket of a jacket hanging on the rack. He pressed the bell on the table. The bellboy came in. He handed him the money and said, “Buy a tin of cigarettes. And tell the Nanjing Hotel opposite to reserve a table for us. Say it's from Room 3, Mr. Zhang. Their accounting office will know.” The bellboy took the money and left.
Zhang San shuffled out in his slippers to answer it. About twenty minutes later, I heard him shouting all the way back inside, “Old Wang, Old Wang! We're leaving for Haiphong tomorrow. Tonight's dinner, I must treat, I must treat!”
With that, a pair of slippers flew through the doorway from midair, followed by Zhang San stumbling in headlong. Old Wang rushed to help him, but Zhang San had already picked himself up. He clapped his hands and said, “Only tonight left in Chongqing. Spending a few bucks is nothing. In a month, our pockets will be full again.” Saying this, he tapped his bare feet on the floor, shrugged his shoulders up and down, and hummed a dance tune: “Dee-dee-dum.”
That was when I fully understood that what that Nanjing University professor said about becoming a driver was not just a momentary impulse.