Explore Chapter 16 of 'Camel Xiangzi' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
Xiangzi lay in a daze for two days and nights, alarming Tigress. She went to the Temple of the Goddess and sought a divine remedy: a pinch of incense ash along with two or three medicinal herbs. After forcing it down his throat, he indeed opened his eyes and looked around. But soon he fell asleep again, mumbling incoherently. Only then did Tigress think to call a doctor. Acupuncture needles were applied, and a dose of medicine was administered. He regained consciousness. As soon as he opened his eyes, he asked, "Is it still raining?"
When the second dose was decocted, he refused to take it. He begrudged the money and hated his own weakness for falling ill from mere rain. He would not drink that bitter brew. To prove he needed no medicine, he tried to get dressed and out of bed immediately. But as soon as he sat up, his head felt weighted by a heavy stone. His neck went limp, stars danced before his eyes, and he collapsed again. Nothing more needed to be said. He took the bowl and swallowed the medicine.
He lay in bed for ten days. The longer he stayed, the more anxious he grew. Sometimes he buried his face in the pillow, weeping silently. He knew he could not earn money, so all expenses had to be covered by Tigress. Once her money ran out, they would rely solely on his rickshaw. Given Tigress's love for flowers and fine food, he could not support her, especially now that she was pregnant. The more he stayed bedridden, the more he brooded. The more he brooded, the deeper his worries grew, and the slower his recovery became.
"Ah!" He was uneasy about his rickshaw, fearing it might be damaged by Ding Si or anyone else. But since he could not work, it had to be rented out. It couldn't sit idle. He calculated in his mind: if he pulled it himself, he could reckon on fifty or sixty cents a day, one way or another. Rent, coal, rice, firewood, lamp oil, and tea-not even counting new clothes-would barely suffice for two people, and they would have to scrimp everywhere, unlike Tigress who was so carefree. Now, with only a little over ten cents in daily rental income, he was losing forty or fifty cents, not including medicine. What if his illness lingered? Yes, no wonder Er Qiangzi drank, no wonder those poor friends acted recklessly. The rickshaw-pulling path was a dead end. No matter how hard you worked or how ambitious you were, you must not start a family, fall ill, or face any mishap. Hah! He remembered his first rickshaw, the money he had saved. Who had he offended? Not because of illness, nor for starting a family-it was lost so senselessly. Good or bad, this road led only to death, and it could come at any time, without warning. At this thought, his worry turned to despair. To hell with it. If he couldn't get up, he would lie down. That was just how things were. He stopped thinking and lay quietly. But soon he couldn't bear it anymore. He wanted to get up immediately and struggle on. The road was fixed, but the human heart was alive. Until the coffin closed, there was always hope. Yet he could not stand. Helpless and pitiful, he said to Tigress, "I told you that rickshaw was unlucky. Truly unlucky!"
He said nothing more. Right, he was a rickshaw fanatic. Ever since he started pulling, he believed the rickshaw was everything. So it turned out...
When his illness eased slightly, he got out of bed. Looking in the mirror, he did not recognize the man reflected: a face covered in stubble, sunken temples and cheeks, eyes like deep pits, and many wrinkles on that scar! The room was stiflingly hot. He dared not go into the yard, partly because his legs were weak, partly because he feared being seen. Not just in this courtyard, but at every rickshaw stand in the eastern and western cities, everyone knew Xiangzi as the top-notch young man. Xiangzi could not be this sickly ghost! He refused to go out. Indoors, he felt suffocated. He wished he could grow strong in one bite and go out to pull the rickshaw. But illness destroyed people. Its coming and going followed its own will.
His body was not fully recovered, and he greedily took on more fares to make up for the loss during his illness. After a few days, the illness returned, now with dysentery. He frantically slapped his own face, but it was useless. His belly seemed to touch his back, yet the diarrhea continued. Finally, the dysentery stopped, but his legs could barely manage squatting and standing, let alone running. He rested for another month. He knew Tigress's money was nearly drained.
By the Mid-Autumn Festival, he decided to go out again. If he fell ill once more, he swore he would jump into the river.
During his first illness, Little Lucky One often came to visit. Xiangzi's tongue was no match for Tigress's, and his heart was so stifled that he sometimes chatted with Little Lucky One. This was more than Tigress could bear. When Xiangzi was away, Little Lucky One was a good friend. When Xiangzi was home, Little Lucky One was, in Tigress's view, "coming to flirt! How shameless!" She forced Little Lucky One to repay the money she owed. "From now on, don't you dare come in again!"
Little Lucky One lost her place to entertain guests, and her own room was so dilapidated-the mat on the kang was propped against the back eave wall. She had no choice but to register at the ‘employment agency’. But the agency did not want goods like her. They catered to ‘female students’ and ‘young ladies from good families’-clients with higher standards and bigger purses, not common folk like her. She was at a loss. She thought of going to a brothel. Since she had no capital to run her own business, she would have to be pawned to an establishment. But that would mean complete loss of freedom. Who would look after her two younger brothers? Death was the simplest and easiest thing. Living was already hell. She was not afraid to die, but she did not want to die, because she wanted to do something braver than death. She wanted to see both brothers earn money, then she could die in peace. Sooner or later she would die, but she must die to save two lives. After much thought, she had only one path: sell herself cheap. Those willing to enter her little room would not pay a high price. Fine, whoever came, just give some money. This saved on clothes and makeup. Those who sought her did not expect her to be dressed in proper fashion. They sought pleasure according to the price. She was young, already a bargain.
Tigress's body was now cumbersome. Even going out to buy things seemed risky. Xiangzi was gone all day, and Little Lucky One refused to come over. She felt as lonely as a dog tied indoors. The lonelier she felt, the more she hated. She thought Little Lucky One's price reduction was deliberately to provoke her. She would not swallow this insult. Sitting in the outer room with the door open, she waited. When someone headed for Little Lucky One's room, she raised her voice to make idle remarks, embarrassing them and making Little Lucky One uncomfortable. Little Lucky One's customers dwindled, and Tigress was pleased.
Little Lucky One knew that if this continued, the whole courtyard would gradually side with Tigress and drive her out. She was only afraid, not angry. Those in her situation knew to face facts before anger or tears. She brought her younger brother and knelt before Tigress. She said nothing, but her expression conveyed: if this kneeling did not work, she herself did not fear death, but no one else would live. The greatest sacrifice is to endure humiliation; to endure humiliation is to prepare for revolt.
Tigress was at a loss. However she thought about it, it felt wrong. But with such a large belly, she dared not pick a fight. Since she could not use force, she gave herself an out: she was just teasing Little Lucky One for fun. Who knew it would turn serious? Little Lucky One was too stubborn. With this explanation, they became friends again, and she continued to support Little Lucky One in everything.
Since going out on the Mid-Autumn Festival, Xiangzi became cautious everywhere. Two illnesses taught him he was not made of iron. His ambition to earn more money was not entirely forgotten, but repeated blows made him realize how weak individual strength was. A brave man had to grit his teeth when needed, but gritting too hard could make him spit blood. Although the dysentery had healed, his stomach still ached intermittently. Sometimes when his legs were just warming up and he tried to increase speed, a twisting pain like a rope wrenched his gut. He slowed down, or even suddenly stopped, bowing his head, contracting his belly, enduring silently. When pulling alone, it was manageable. But when pulling with a group, his abrupt stops puzzled everyone, embarrassing him greatly. He was only in his twenties, already making such a spectacle. What would happen in his thirties or forties? At this thought, he broke out in a cold sweat.
For his health, he wished to pull for a monthly household again. After all, that job allowed moments of respite. Running required speed, but rest periods were longer, much lighter than taking on casual fares. But he knew well that Tigress would never let him go. Marriage meant loss of freedom, and Tigress was especially fierce. He accepted his bad luck.
For half a year, from autumn to winter, he struggled along, half coping, half striving, not daring to be careless or lazy. His heart was stifled as he bowed his head and toiled onward. Bowing his head, he no longer acted as recklessly as before. Experience taught him how to proceed. His life could be ruined by his own hands, and he would sacrifice for no one else. Those striving for themselves also know how to destroy themselves. These were the two extremes of individualism.