Explore Chapter 24 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 was at a loss. Head down, pulling his rickshaw, he moved forward at a crawl. He had no plan, no destination, only a heavy dullness in his mind. A layer of sticky sweat coated his body, giving off a sour stench. After walking awhile, the soles of his feet fused with his socks and shoes, as if treading on wet mud. It was terribly uncomfortable. He hadn't wanted more water, but seeing a well, he went over and gulped some down again, not to quench his thirst but seemingly just to savor the coolness of the well water. From mouth to stomach, a sudden chill ran through him. The pores all over his body contracted violently. He shivered. It felt wonderfully refreshing. Afterwards, he belched repeatedly; the water seemed ready to surge back up!
He would walk a bit, then sit a bit, never mustering the energy to solicit fares. Right up until noon, he still felt no hunger. He thought of eating something as usual, but the sight of food turned his stomach. His gut was nearly full of all sorts of water; sometimes it would gurgle softly inside, like the hollow sloshing in a mule or horse after drinking.
Comparing winter and summer, Xiangzi had always thought winter more dreadful. He'd never imagined summer could be this unbearable. He'd spent more than one summer in the city, but couldn't recall such heat. Was the weather hotter this year, or was his own body failing? This thought suddenly cleared some of the fog from his mind, sending a chill through his heart. His own body-yes, his own body was giving out! Fear seized him, but there was no remedy. He couldn't drive away Tigress (the ferocious woman). He was going to become Er Qiangzi (Second Strongman), become that tall man he'd once met, become Little Horse's grandfather. Xiangzi was finished!
Just past one in the afternoon, he got another fare. It was the hottest hour of the day, on the hottest day of the summer. Yet he was determined to make the run. He no longer cared how fiercely the sun beat down: if he could finish this trip without much trouble, it would prove his body wasn't yet ruined; if he couldn't manage this fare, then what more was there to say? He might as well take a tumble and die right there on that burning ground!
He had taken only a few steps when he felt a thread of cool air, like a wisp slipping through a crack into an oven-hot room. He couldn't believe it. He looked at the willow branches by the roadside; they were indeed trembling slightly. The streets suddenly swelled with people. Shopkeepers rushed out, clutching palm-leaf fans to shade their heads, looking all around and crying, "A cool breeze! There's a cool breeze! The cool breeze is here!" They nearly jumped for joy. The willows by the road suddenly turned angelic, messengers bearing heaven's tidings: "The willow twigs stir! Old Heaven, grant us more of this cool wind!"
It was still hot, but his heart felt steadier. The cool breeze, even a hint of it, gave people hope. A few gusts passed; the sunlight grew less fierce, brightening then dimming as if fine sand floated above. The wind suddenly strengthened. The willow branches, motionless for so long, as if suddenly receiving glad tidings, swayed gracefully, their twigs seeming to lengthen. A blast swept past, darkening the sky, sending dust flying aloft. As some of it settled, ink-black clouds appeared on the northern horizon. Sweat gone from his body, Xiangzi glanced north, stopped his rickshaw, and put on the rain cover. He knew summer rain arrived without warning, allowing no time.
No sooner was the cover on than another gust came. The black clouds, rolling like a tide, had already blotted out half the sky. The ground's heat mingled with the cool wind, laced with the dry, pungent smell of dust-a sensation both cool and hot. The southern sky remained clear and bright, the northern half black with cloud, as if some great calamity loomed, throwing everything into panic. Rickshaw men frantically fixed their covers. Shopkeepers scurried to take down their signs. Hawkers scrambled to pack their stalls. Pedestrians hurried their steps. Another gust. When it passed, the signs, stalls, and people on the street seemed swept clean away, vanished, leaving only the willow branches whipping madly in the wind.
Before the clouds fully covered the sky, the ground was plunged into darkness, the brilliant, scorching noon turned night-like. The wind carried sprinkles of rain, darting east and west as if searching for something on the ground. A red flash of lightning lit the distant north, tearing a rent in the black clouds to reveal a vast swath the color of blood. The wind dropped but turned sharp, piercing, making one shiver. After such a gust passed, everything seemed at a loss, even the willows waiting in anxious suspense. Another flash burst directly overhead. Hard, gleaming raindrops followed instantly, pounding the ground and kicking up dust that held a hint of damp. Several large drops struck Xiangzi's back. He shuddered twice. The drops ceased. The black clouds spread evenly across the sky. Another gust, fiercer than before, whipped the willow branches sideways. Dust flew in all directions. Sheets of rain fell. Wind, earth, and rain merged into one, forming a vast, gray, chilly expanse where everything was swallowed up. One could no longer tell where the trees ended, the ground began, or the clouds hung. All was chaos, noise, utter confusion. The wind passed, leaving only the straight-down torrent, a curtain connecting heaven and earth. No individual streaks were visible, only a vast, shifting sheet. Countless arrows shot up from the ground. Thousands of waterfalls cascaded from the rooftops. Within minutes, sky and earth were inseparable. A river fell from the air; a river flowed across the land-a grayish, murky, yellowish world of water, at times gleaming white.
Xiangzi's clothes were long since soaked through, not a dry spot on him; through his straw hat, his hair was drenched. Water on the ground rose past his insteps, making each step a struggle; the rain from above hammered his head and back, slashed across his face, drenched his crotch. He couldn't lift his head, open his eyes, breathe, or walk. He was anchored in the water, not knowing where the road was, unaware of what lay ahead, behind, to left or right, feeling only bone-chilling water dousing every part of him. He knew nothing else, only a vague warmth somewhere in his heart and the sound of rain all around. He wanted to put down the rickshaw but didn't know where. He thought of running, but the water gripped his legs. So, half-dead, head lowered, he trudged forward, dragging one foot after the other. The passenger seemed to have died in the seat, letting his puller struggle for life in the water without uttering a word.
The rain let up slightly. Xiangzi straightened his back a little and gasped, "Sir, let's take shelter before going on!"
Xiangzi truly wanted to force the rickshaw down and find cover. But, looking at himself-water streaming off him everywhere-he knew that if he stopped he'd shiver uncontrollably. Gritting his teeth, he began to slog through the water, no longer caring about its depth or the unevenness underfoot. He hadn't gone far when the sky darkened again, immediately followed by a flash. The rain once more blinded his eyes.
The rain stopped awhile, then started again, much lighter than before. Xiangzi ran all the way home in one breath. Huddling by the stove to warm himself, he trembled like a leaf in the storm. Tigress made him a bowl of ginger soup. Like a fool, he clutched the bowl and drank it down in one go. After, he crawled under the quilt. He knew nothing more, hovering between sleep and waking, the swish of pouring rain still in his ears.
Around four o'clock, the black clouds began to show fatigue, emitting languid, pale flashes. Soon, the clouds in the west split. Dark cloud peaks were edged with gold. Wisps of white vapor scurried beneath. The flashes all moved southward, dragging a few muffled rumbles of thunder. A little later, sunlight broke through the western clouds, turning the rain-wet leaves a brilliant gold-green. A double rainbow, seven colors strong, arched in the eastern sky, its ends planted in black clouds, its bridge supporting a patch of blue. The rainbow soon faded. Not a black cloud remained. The washed blue expanse and the freshly cleansed world seemed a new, cool, beautiful creation born from darkness. Even the puddles in the big compound attracted several colorful dragonflies.
However, except for the barefoot children chasing those dragonflies, the compound's people had no time to admire the clear post-rain sky. A section of the back eave wall of Little Lucky One's room had collapsed. The three sisters busied themselves pulling up the kang mat to block the hole. Several parts of the compound wall had given way. Everyone was preoccupied with repairs, forgetting their hunger. The scent of griddle cakes wafted from food stalls, but the stench of sweat inside and the latrine odor in the yard overpowered it.
After the rain cleared, the people, every one of them drenched as if just fished from water, didn't even pause to wipe themselves. They hastily set about mending the compound wall. A leaking roof demanded immediate patching; a collapsed wall demanded immediate repair. They could attend to nothing else, only the task before their eyes. They knew the next rain would bring greater misery, so they had to plug the leaks fast.