第二十二章 (Chapter Twenty-Two)

Xiangzi was ill, gravely ill. He lay in a small inn for three days, without a bite to eat or a drop to drink. Alternating between fever and chills, his mind was hazy and confused. He dreamed he had a rickshaw, pulling it at a breakneck speed. Then he dreamed of Tigress, who pointed at his nose and cursed him. He woke with a start, drenched in sweat.

When he felt a bit better, he struggled to get up. He had to pull a rickshaw, or what would he eat? But his body was as soft as cotton. He panted after just a few steps. He walked out onto the street, where the sun blazed brightly, stinging his eyes. He watched the other rickshaw pullers, each full of vigor. In his heart, he felt both envy and jealousy.

He went to the rickshaw yard. The yard had changed hands, and Fourth Master Liu was nowhere to be found. The new owner was a young man who glanced at Xiangzi and said, "How can you pull a rickshaw in this state?" Xiangzi replied, "I can, slowly." The young man gave him the shabbiest rickshaw, yet the rental was not reduced. Xiangzi did not argue. He pulled the rickshaw and left.

On the first day, he wandered the streets with his rickshaw. But he could not run fast, so passengers were unwilling to hire him. Finally, he got a fare-an old lady going a short distance, who paid little. Xiangzi pulled the rickshaw, his legs feeling like lead as he inched forward step by step. The old lady grumbled about his slowness. Xiangzi dared not utter a word, just gritted his teeth and endured.

In the evening, he calculated his earnings. They were just enough to cover the rickshaw rental, leaving him not a single coin for himself. Hungry, he paid the rental fee. Back at the small inn, he lay down and slept, too exhausted even to undress.

The next day, he woke late. By the time he pulled his rickshaw out, it was nearly noon. The streets were quiet, and he wandered for a long time without finding a fare. In the afternoon, a light rain fell. He took shelter under the eaves of a shop, staring blankly at the rain. He thought of the past, of his own new rickshaw, and a pang of sorrow struck his heart.

When the rain stopped, he resumed pulling the rickshaw. But his body refused to obey. After a while, he felt dizzy and his vision blurred. He had to set the rickshaw down and rest by the roadside. A policeman came over and shooed him away, saying he should not park there. Xiangzi had no choice but to pick up the rickshaw again and wander aimlessly.

After several days like this, Xiangzi could no longer hold on. He returned the rickshaw and stopped pulling. But if he did not pull a rickshaw, what could he do? He drifted through the streets, taking on odd jobs. Sometimes he helped people move things, sometimes he dug ditches, but none of these tasks lasted long. His health had collapsed, his strength gone, and no one wanted him.

Winter arrived, and the north wind howled. Xiangzi had no padded clothes, and his lips turned purple with cold. He went to look for Mr. Cao, but Mr. Cao had moved away. He searched for Nanny Gao, but she was gone too. Like a wandering ghost, he roamed the streets.

At night, he slept in a teahouse. The teahouse attendant took pity on him and let him sleep in a corner. But the teahouse was noisy with people talking, and he could not rest peacefully. He dreamed he had fallen into an ice hole, shivering from the cold. When he woke, he was still cold.

He thought of Little Horse's grandfather, that old rickshaw puller. He wondered if he too was nearing that end. But he was still young, and he refused to accept it. Yet, what good was refusal? He had lost his rickshaw, his strength, and all hope.

Xiangzi wept. Tears streamed down his face, icy cold. He wiped them away, stood up, and walked out onto the street again. He did not know where to go, just kept walking and walking.