Explore Chapter 2 of 'Dead Water Ripples' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
Starting from the provincial capital of Sichuan, Chengdu, and heading north out of the city gate to Xindu County under Chengdu Prefecture, the distance is commonly said to be forty li, though in truth it is just over thirty. The road winds like a serpent's trail across the perfectly flat fields. Though it is a muddy track less than five chi wide, with only two rows of flagstones laid on its right side, and though after heavy rain the mire deepens to several inches, making each step a struggle without new straw sandals, yet after a few clear days, the mud transforms into a layer of shifting dust that billows up behind any traveler's heels. Nevertheless, it remains the main northern highway of Sichuan, stretching all the way to the border county of Guangyuan and beyond to Ningqiang Zhou and Hanzhong Fu in Shaanxi Province. This was the very postal route to the capital, Beijing, in times past. Branching west from Guangyuan leads to the important Sichuan-Gansu trading town of Bikou, and further on to Jiezhou and Wenxian in Gansu. For all goods entering or leaving the northwestern provinces, this road was the indispensable thoroughfare.
Though the road was so level, four-horse carriages had vanished from all of Sichuan for reasons lost to time, leaving only a two-handed wheelbarrow for transport of goods. Cargo moved by mule and horse or on carrying poles, while people traveled in sedan chairs borne by eight, four, three, or two men.
In former days, officials and scholars traveling between Beijing and Sichuan mostly took this road, especially education commissioners and governors coming into or leaving their posts. The magistrates of the prefectures and counties along the way were obliged not only to provide for their lodging but also to maintain the roads. Consequently, the Northern Sichuan Highway, much like its eastern counterpart, boasted spacious and impressive official hostels at every stage. Moreover, even where farmers had nibbled at its edges for fields, the road stubbornly retained a width of some five chi, unlike other major routes reduced to a mere two-chi-wide stone path for sedan chairs, pack animals, and pedestrians.
The road's importance meant that at every moment, rain or shine, one could see caravans of pack animals laden with all manner of goods, mingling in an endless flow with official four-man sedan chairs, three-bearer sedan chairs, two-bearer sedan chairs, and porters shouldering luggage. Amid this human current, occasionally a lean horse would gallop past, a loud string of bells jangling at its neck, bearing a youth dressed for travel with a bundle and umbrella slung across his back. One knew then it was a courier from the postal station. Yet in recent years, with the advent of the telegraph, these mounted messengers had gradually dwindled.
Exactly twenty li between Chengdu and Xindu, set amid a vast embroidery of fields, lay a town neither large nor small. From the dusty haze of the highway, one could see from afar, under the deep shade of dark, towering trees, a cluster of gray-black tiled houses crouching like rocks, pressed tightly together without a gap from the first to the last. From this sea of gray-black roofs rose, like towering peaks, several imposing structures. Though only their yellow and green glazed tiles were visible, one could guess with certainty these were the main halls or opera stages of the Temple of Guan Yu, the Temple of the Fire God, or some palace or monastery.
The town streets were, of course, paved with flagstones, and of course rutted with deep grooves from countless wheelbarrows, a testament to the heavy traffic-not to mention the dung of pack animals and the sugarcane scraps discarded by travelers. At both ends of the town, as one would expect, stood the filthy, wretched thatched huts of the poor, the ground and stones smeared with refuse, pig manure, dog excrement, and human waste. The stench was inescapable, ragged children played there inevitably, and poor women inevitably set up stalls selling fruit and cheap pastries, sitting contentedly behind them to chat and work with their neighbors.
However, the town street also held a few more respectable shops, presenting a stark contrast to the outskirts. Take, for instance, the Prosperity Inn beside the Temple of the Fire God. Though not an official hostel, its grandeur matched one. Its entrance opened into a triple-bay restaurant, leading to a courtyard paved entirely with large flagstones, flanked by spacious stables. Further in was a vast sedan chair hall capable of accommodating over a dozen large chairs. Beyond this hall lay six large guest rooms in the east wing and six in the west, with a five-bay superior suite above. Behind this suite was a small courtyard, separated from the rear compound by a low wall whose whitewashed surface bore a painted depiction of the Three Star Gods of Fortune, Prosperity, and Longevity. Though faded and dim like the rest of the buildings, betraying its age, a lingering trace of its former vigor remained.
This town was the famous Sky-Return Town outside Chengdu's north gate. Historical records say its name originated in the mid-Tang dynasty. When Emperor Xuanzong fled the An Lushan Rebellion, traveling from Chang'an to Nanjing-for Chengdu was called Nanjing in the Tang era, as it lay south of Chang'an-he had just arrived here when "the heavens revolved and the earth shifted, the imperial carriage turned back." Emperors of old deemed themselves Sons of Heaven, and since the Son of Heaven turned his carriage back from this point, the town gained this name redolent of history.
There was another relatively respectable shop on the town street, south of the Temple of the Fire God, also a double-bay storefront. It had once been lacquered black, and surely well lacquered. Now, weathered by wind and sun, only traces of the black lacquer remained, but the doorposts, threshold, shop boards, and even the long counter inside were still sound, not rotten. The signboard bore three large characters: Prosperity Store. In its prime, the gold-leaf characters must have gleamed brilliantly. Though the characters no longer shone, the shop's reputation was widely known.
The Prosperity Store was one of the top-ranked general stores in town, with several decades of history. Its goods certainly couldn't compare with those of the major general stores in the city, but for the countryside, they were quite comprehensive. Its various white liquors were especially renowned, considered superior to those sold by any wine shop or other general store in town. In truth, the liquor was all purchased from distilleries elsewhere. The reason for the Prosperity Store's praised liquor was simply that they watered it down far less than others did.
Another reason the Prosperity Store was praised was due to the honesty of its manager-called the boss elsewhere, but referred to as the manager in Chengdu city and nearby villages-Cai Xingshun. Cai Xingshun's childhood name was Puppy. He had studied for two years, recognizing all the characters in the common primers and able to write them. So when his father was alive, he managed the accounts in their own shop and learned the abacus from him. At twenty, he had worked as a clerk in a shop in Xindu County for several years. He had no bad habits, was extremely timid and reliable, though he enjoyed a drink. But he knew his limits; when slightly tipsy, he would just squint and smile, and when truly drunk, he would fall into a sound sleep undisturbed even by thunder. The boss and his colleagues liked him, but because he was too simple, when others teased him, he would accept it without demur, truly unaware that retaliation existed in the world. Thus, everyone respectfully bestowed upon him the nickname Simpleton.
When his father was dying, he actually returned with twelve taels of silver saved up. Though his father was delirious with illness, he knew this son was a worthy successor, so he passed away content, without a word, smiling. After old Cai Xingshun died, Puppy inherited the business and the name Prosperity. In running the shop, he was even more scrupulous than his father, which naturally earned praise. But unlike his father, who understood human relations, he wouldn't extend credit to anyone, even to close relatives or friends-such a thing had never happened. There was one exception, though: his cousin, Lop-Mouth Fifth Master Luo.
Three years after Simpleton Cai's mourning period, when business was thriving, an old colleague from Xindu came to see him while passing through Sky-Return Town for some reason. Somehow, driven by fate, he suddenly treated this old colleague to a cup of strong liquor, a salted egg, and two pieces of dried bean curd. To repay his hospitality, this honored guest played matchmaker. He said he had a distant relative named Deng, a farming family, with a daughter already twenty-two, attractive and capable, and that she would be a perfect match for him.
Lop-Mouth Luo said, "You're a businessman with property, not like me, a drifter. You should take a wife to carry on your uncle's line. I've had my eye out for you. Now that someone is matchmaking, that's good. Just agree, and I'll help with everything."
Matching a farming family's daughter with a general store manager-who wouldn't say it was a suitable match, made in heaven? Especially since Manager Cai had no parents, uncles, brothers, or sisters, and was honest to a fault. So how could this marriage not be agreed upon at once and settled quickly?
But who could have expected a sow to give birth to an elephant? The farming girl bore no resemblance to a village lass but seemed more like a city dweller. First, she astonished the whole town with her rich dowry, including half a set of red-lacquered wooden furniture. Second, the bride had a pair of exquisitely small bound feet. Third, she was a real beauty.
After the wedding, whenever the bride appeared at the counter, young men would flock over, calling her Sister-in-law Cai and trying to chat with her. Though initially shy, she could actually respond with a few words or offer a cup of tea or a pipe of tobacco. Compared to typical country brides who buried their heads and refused to speak in front of strangers, she was naturally much more poised.
Not all men in town were paragons of virtue. There were those who whispered behind backs, calling it "a fresh flower stuck in a cowpat," regarding Miss Deng marrying Simpleton Cai. And there were those who envied Simpleton Cai, green with envy, willing to break laws and morals to turn the world upside down. The reason Simpleton Cai could live on unmolested was precisely due to the protective power of his cousin Lop-Mouth Luo.
Lop-Mouth Luo-actually, his mouth wasn't lop-sided. But when flirting with women, he couldn't help twisting his mouth a few times, hence the nickname. His name was Luo Desheng, also a local. It was said his father had been a small landholder, and he too had studied. But his temperament wasn't suited; by fifteen, he hadn't finished the Four Books. Once he lost interest, he slipped away to wander and drift. He then joined the Elder Brother Society, returning only a few times over more than a decade.
His parents died. One sister married in Old Mianzhou, and the modest family fortune was long gone. When he returned, he always stayed at his uncle Old Cai Xingshun's shop. Old Cai Xingshun, mindful of family ties, treated him well. He was also deeply sincere to his uncle, often saying, "You've been too good to me. If I ever make something of myself, I'll never forget your kindness."
Old Cai Xingshun replied, "We're close kin; no need for such formal words. Just look after your cousin Puppy from time to time; he's too simple."
After Simpleton Cai inherited the shop, he fittingly honored his father's wishes, maintaining a close, mutually supportive relationship with Luo Desheng, almost like real brothers.
In the last three or four years, he had become the chief steward for the lodge leader of this area, Elder Zhu. With his experience and abilities, as Elder Zhu's influence grew, so did his own status. Within an area of forty or fifty li, a mere calling card from Fifth Master Luo could smooth any path, let alone within the Elder Brother Society's own territory of Sky-Return Town.
What made Lop-Mouth Luo even more admirable to many was that he remained a bachelor at thirty-five. Having handled sums of silver in the thousands, he now possessed only a few hundred taels out on interest, plus a red-lacquered leather trunk, a bedding roll, and a few essentials.
Where did his money go? The accounts were clear enough: much went to loans for his brothers in the society, then on food and drink, and lastly on women.
Consorting with prostitutes, within the Elder Brother Society, was originally forbidden under strict rules, but later, no one criticized it anymore. Moreover, Lop-Mouth Luo indulged with discretion, only going after paid women. He often said, "We pay for pleasure; it's fair and square." And he prided himself: he'd had plenty of prostitutes, catamites, and young male actors-dozens of pretty, charming ones-but he played with them and, at most after four months, kicked them out. When he said no, it was no; he had never been infatuated, nor had he ever fought over a woman or felt jealousy.
Someone advised him to properly marry a wife, which would save money and be more convenient. Besides, at thirty-five, he ought to have a home. His reply was: "What's so good about a home? Home is a yoke! Once it's around your neck, you can't shake it off. Women are meant for play; as long as they're fresh and amusing, it's worth the money. Sticking with one wife is dull enough. And to marry always means taking some decent girl from a good family, who's bound to be prim and proper-what's the fun in that?"
With such views and his friendship with Cai Xingshun, when Sister-in-law Cai was newly married and many were growing wild with desire, Lop-Mouth Luo stepped forward. He first solemnly instructed three mischievous brothers under him, Zhang Zhankui, Tian Changzi, and Du the Fourth: "Simpleton Cai is my cousin, as everyone knows. His wife is naturally my cousin-in-law. She's just a bit more comely-that's her good fortune... Actually, it's nothing much. Why can't everyone behave?... Go spread the word for me!"
Sister-in-law Cai was Mother Deng's daughter from her first marriage. Her biological father had worked as a minor steward for a wealthy family. She lost her father at six months old and came to the Deng family with her mother at one and a half. Her mother naturally loved her, and her stepfather loved her as his own. Everyone called her Little One or Little Deng. Though her mother bore a sister when she was three, who died of smallpox at four.
As Little Deng was doted on by her mother and stepfather, she did, of course, sometimes perform the tasks expected of country girls: gathering firewood, feeding pigs, spinning cotton, weaving cloth. But her mother would say, "Little Deng, leave that; go do your fine work!" But, as her mother observed, she loved beauty from childhood, avoiding heavy labor but excelling in delicate tasks. Thus, by twelve, she had bound her feet beautifully. Her mother, hearing her cry in pain at night, clutching her feet and whimpering, would feel terribly distressed and tell her to loosen the bindings. "Little Deng, our country folks' feet aren't like city ladies'; why bind them so small?"
She also learned needlework, which she took up at fifteen from the Second Madam of the neighboring Han family compound. Second Madam Han was from a wealthy family in Chengdu, married into the Han family for only four years, already with a son and daughter, but she could never adjust to country life, her face perpetually clouded with gloom as she longed for Chengdu. Though she had sisters-in-law, she didn't get along well with them. Sometimes when she spoke of Chengdu, they would mock her with a laugh: "What's so good about Chengdu? Even a blade of grass in the countryside is worth money! Firewood burns like sandalwood! We've visited some mansions too, with skies as big as a winnowing fan-enough to stifle a person! Chengdu people can't do anything but put on airs." And so the examples came. Second Madam's single mouth couldn't out-argue so many, so she stopped. Only before Little Deng did Second Madam find relief.
Little Deng loved most to hear Second Madam talk about Chengdu-about its streets, its houses, its temples and gardens, its small eateries, about how Chengdu had fresh vegetables all year round: "It's strange! I adore fresh vegetables. When I first heard I was to marry into the countryside, I was thrilled, thinking I'd have good vegetables to eat year-round. Who knew the countryside was such a wretched place! Vegetables they have, but if it's turnips, you eat turnips till you're sick; if it's cabbage, you eat cabbage till you're sick! In short, once a vegetable appears, you eat it to death! And they come late. For instance, right now in Chengdu they're already eating fresh eggplants, but look, here the eggplants are just blooming!"
What especially captivated Little Deng was hearing about the lives of wealthy families in Chengdu and how the women vied in splendor with their attire. Second Madam, often moved as she spoke, would rub her eyes and say, "My life is over, dragging on in the countryside till I die! To live those former days again, I'll have to wait for the next life! Little Deng, with your fine looks and cleverness, you might marry into a city family someday. Then you'll know what life in Chengdu is really like!"
And there were the Chengdu holidays, each with its own flavor. Second Madam, afflicted with homesickness, beautified Chengdu all the more. Thus, over two years, the phantom of Chengdu in Little Deng's mind progressed, expanded, and grew more real, much like her needlework skills. From Second Madam's fragmentary tales, she pieced together the whole of Chengdu. Though she had never seen it, speaking of it, she seemed more familiar than her eldest brother who often went there. She knew Chengdu had four city gates, north, south, east, and west, how high and thick the city walls were; how the gateways thronged with people. She knew it was nine li and three fen from the north gate to the south gate; that to the west was a separate Manchu city, where the Manchus lived, at odds with us Han Chinese. She knew of a great temple north of the city called Wenshu Monastery, where three to four hundred monks dined daily, and the rice cauldrons were big enough to cook an ox, with rice crusts two copper coins thick. She knew of many large guildhalls, each with six or seven golden, resplendent opera stages; the Jiangnan Guild was the richest, performing five to six hundred full operas a year, with two or three stages singing daily. She knew the names of many bustling streets: East Main Street, Governor's Street, Huguang Guild Hall Street; Huguang Guild Hall was the best place to buy vegetables, where all the newest produce and game could be found; and there was the Zhuo Family Sauce Shop, opened by the family of the former Grand Secretary Zhuo Bingtian, whose fermented bean curd was ranked first. She knew the best pastries were at Light Fragrance Studio, the best Peach-Blossom Powder and Scented Soap were at Cassia Studio, meat buns were at Benefit for All-sold out by noon-dumplings were at Kang's Dumplings, and besides there was Bargain Alley, where for three qian of silver you could get a late-night snack box, and for one tael and two qian you could eat a roast stuffed duck, the most famous being Wen's Duck at Blackstone Bridge. She knew the immense prestige of the Viceroy, the General, the Provincial Treasurer, and the Provincial Judge when they went out-the whole street falling silent; at the sound of the clearing gongs, everyone sitting inside or outside shops had to stand, and anyone with a white headband or straw hat had to remove it immediately. Chengdu and Huayang were the two capital counties, and their magistrates went out differently: their sedan chairs arched high as eaves, borne by eight or nine chair-bearers flying along. As the saying went: "To eat, carry the two counties; to sleep, carry the provincial commissioners." She knew how exacting wealthy families were, how tall their houses, how complete their furnishings, nearly every one with a garden. She knew even more how comfortable and leisurely the lives of madams, young mistresses, young ladies, misses, and concubines were: rising late, dressing and making up, passing idle hours doing needlework, playing cards, going to the women's viewing galleries at the guildhalls to watch operas, eating well, dressing well, waited on by old women and maids; in the kitchen there were cooks and helpers; for sweeping and errands there were attendants and odd-job men; they never lifted a hand to cook or sweep. In short, in wealthy families, not only the ladies but even the upper maids never touched a wok or a broom. Whose hands were not white and delicate, with long nails stained red with balsam?
Sometimes, because of rain or some other reason, she couldn't go to the Han family compound. Then she would talk about Chengdu with her mother by the loom in the main room or on the kitchen bench. Her mother, though born and married in Chengdu, painted a very different picture. Chengdu was not a paradise, nor a kaleidoscope of colors. Poor families suffered even more there than in the countryside: "When people in the countryside talk of hardship, it's nothing. If you're diligent, you can find food and fuel anywhere. No matter how ragged or shabby you are, when you go to someone's house, you won't be met with scorn. And besides, country folk aren't like Chengdu people, quick to laugh at you or look down on you, where one wrong word makes them despise you. My heart was wounded in Chengdu. Remember your first father? He was a small trader back then, and I was the mistress of the shop. We barely scraped by for over a year without much worry. Half a year before you were born, your first father's luck turned; a severe illness wiped out all our capital. Think of it then: I was big with child and could hardly walk, and he, sick himself, dragged himself step by step to relatives and friends, trying to borrow money for food and medicine. That's the goodness of Chengdu people for you-who cared? Later, we pawned and sold everything until only a bare bed remained. Your first father finally managed to get a minor steward's job at the Zhao Mansion for eight qian of silver a month. By then, you were already born..."
Old wounds are best left unpicked, for they will bleed again. So when Mother Deng spoke of the past, even after over a decade, she remembered clearly: how when she gave birth to Little Deng, there was nothing to eat, saved only by the neighbor, Auntie Zhang, bringing a big bowl of freshly cooked rice to fill her belly; how her husband's old illness flared up and he died, how she kowtowed countless times to Master and Mistress Zhao, pleading piteously, before obtaining a coffin and burial; how, with no way to borrow money, she faced scorn everywhere, the landlord pressing her to move, not yielding even to her kowtows, until she went to the human traffickers, but they all said a small child was inconvenient; some advised her to sell the baby, some to abandon it, but she couldn't bear to. Finally, with no other choice, she listened to Auntie Zhang's matchmaking and remarried into the Deng family. Since that remarriage, she had at least stopped worrying about food and clothing.
Mother Deng would often talk at great length until her eyes turned red and she sniffled constantly. Sometimes it would only end after Father Deng, growing impatient and angry, had a quarrel with her.
But Little Deng always doubted her mother's words, finding Second Madam Han's more believable. Occasionally she asked Second Madam Han, "The poor in Chengdu must also suffer terribly, right?" The reply was: "Even beggars live happily! Think: seven coppers for two griddle cakes, one copper for a big slice of spiced beef-a day's begging of twenty coppers lets you eat meat! The 'Twelve Zodiac Delicacy' sold at the city gates, five coppers for two big bowls-can the countryside match that?"
Youth tends to believe the good and disbelieve the bad. So Little Deng's imagination of Chengdu was always dominated by Second Madam Han. She always longed to live in Chengdu someday, and in a wealthy household, to taste the pleasures Second Madam described, to feel her life had not been in vain.
If Second Madam Han hadn't died when Little Deng was eighteen, she might have had a chance to live in Chengdu. Once, Second Madam asked her to embroider a patterned bellyband for her third brother. According to her, her third brother had already taken the imperial examinations and, though he hadn't passed as a licentiate, was well-read, refined and elegant, even better looking than her, with slender fingers softer than a girl's. He was twenty-one this year, and they were arranging a match for him. Whether Second Madam intended it or not, when speaking of her third brother's marriage, she suddenly looked Little Deng up and down with a careful eye. For no clear reason, Little Deng felt her heart beat a little faster and her face grow warm.
Two months later, Second Madam Han was already bedridden, though she could still get up, only coughing. When Little Deng went to see her, she seized her hand and whispered, "Little Deng, we can no longer work together... or spin yarns together!... I had meant to match you with my third brother... they've seen your handiwork... it's just the families aren't well matched... I heard Elder Lu wants to take a concubine... He's over fifty... both his sons have purchased official titles... the household is well-off... and they live separately... I've sent word... but I'm afraid I may not live to hear the reply... Little Deng, your own affairs... you must decide for yourself!"
Second Madam Han's death was, in itself, a most ordinary event, yet Little Deng grieved deeply, visiting to weep every seventh day for the full seven times. Everyone assumed it was because Second Madam had been so good to her, that her gratitude ran deep; who knew that Little Deng's weeping was largely for her own lot? For she knew well that if she were ever to ascend to a wealthy household in Chengdu, it would require Second Madam's great influence. Now, all her hopes were dashed!
In truth, she should have resented Second Madam Han. Had she not met her, why would she have this phantom of Chengdu in her heart? Why would she know how enviable the lives of women in wealthy Chengdu households were? Why would she have this comparison for her own life? And why would she gradually come to despise her current surroundings, her heart and mind fixated on leaping to a better environment? Having no opportunity to realize it, yet unwilling to accept a quiet lot, she gradually grew restless.
After Second Madam Han's death, she truly changed. Tasks she used to do routinely, she suddenly disliked. She washed her feet only once a fortnight; foot-binding cloths over ten feet long were tossed on the floor and left for two or three days without washing. A sweat-soaked undershirt could go half a month unchanged. And she grew unbearably lazy, almost unwilling to pick up a needle if it dropped. In the morning, she could sleep till the sun shone on her backside without wanting to rise, and once up, would go half the day without combing her hair or washing her face. At night, she refused to sleep early, either sitting dazedly under the moonlight or by the clay oil lamp, lost in thought. Her temper also turned sour. For example, if you saw her eating a bowl of dry rice, choking on it, and advised her to soak it with some broth, she might slam the bowl hard on the table, turn and walk away, or glare and say, "Mind your own business!" Previously good to her eldest brother, mending his socks without being asked; now his socks were worn through to the soles and still tossed in the bamboo basket. And when speaking to her brother, her face was always dark and stormy. In two months, only once, when her brother bought her a printed foreign hemp towel from Chengdu, was she pleased for the space of two meals.
Her changed state first unsettled Father Deng. One day, when she wasn't around, rolling a cigarette, he said to Mother Deng, "Mom, don't you think Little Deng has been acting strange lately?... I suspect this girl has got something on her mind."
Mother Deng looked at him as if startled, wide-eyed: "You mean she's come of age and is fretting about marriage?"
"Not necessarily! At eighteen or nineteen, we knew nothing... To tell the truth, when I married your first at twenty-one, even after getting into bed, I was still muddled, didn't understand a thing."
They stared at each other, then discussed their daughter's recent behavior in detail, becoming more convinced she indeed had something on her mind. Mother Deng was the first to grow heartbroken, wiping her tears: "I never thought Little Deng would become another family's person in the blink of an eye. All these years of care, I've wasted them! It seems a daughter is not the same as a son after all. Look, the eldest, though born of your first wife, will see us to our end, he is truly our son!"
Father Deng considered himself master of the household; in the important matter of marrying off a daughter, if he deemed it wrong, it was not negotiable. Mother Deng believed the daughter was hers; though he was a stepfather, at most he could have half a say, but the final right to decide whom she married lay with her. The couple quarreled many times over their daughter's matter, yet what they argued about was simply who had the say. As for whether the proposed family was to the daughter's liking, or whether the intended groom should be seen by her, asked if she fancied him-according to custom, this was only done when marrying a widow. For a maiden, since time immemorial, she had only to listen quietly to her parents' decision. If you dared violate convention and asked the daughter directly: such-and-such a person, do you want to meet him? Do you find him suitable? Are you planning to marry him? Or what about such-and-such a family? Such-and-such a person? Then I can tell you, even if you talked till your tongue was parched and lips cracked, you likely wouldn't get a clear answer. Or you might be met with a flood of tears, leaving you utterly bewildered.
The countryside was indeed less rigid than the city, farming families indeed less formal than official ones, but in matters of matchmaking, for the girl herself to voice an opinion-this seemed unheard of since the dawn of creation. So when Little Deng heard her parents were arranging things for her, though she fretted inwardly, wanting to know who she was to be matched with, she could only fret in secret. Since her father and mother didn't broach the subject with her, she couldn't very well ask outright. But rumors had it the matches proposed were mostly in the countryside, not Chengdu, which made her both anxious and disheartened.
Until the spring of her nineteenth year, when fresh grass had grown on Second Madam Han's new grave. One evening, near dusk, flocks of crows cawed wildly as they flew towards the groves. Frogs croaked everywhere in the fields, not a soul in sight. She was standing by the gate, watching neighboring children lead water buffaloes to wallow in the ditch, when she saw two women coming along the path from the direction of the Han family compound. One was the honest and quiet Eldest Madam Han, the other she didn't recognize, neatly and cleanly dressed. The two walked straight towards her. Eldest Madam Han pointed at her, whispered something in the other woman's ear, and the woman, without any restraint, came up, gave a casual greeting, and stared at her from head to toe with an intense gaze. Then she took her hands, held them in her palms, squeezed them, looked them over, felt them, and even led her a few steps before speaking a few words, asking her age and what she usually did. Her manner and tone were quite cordial. Eldest Madam Han stood quietly to the side.
Finally, the woman said to Eldest Madam Han, "From what I see, there's nothing to object to; I reckon our old master will surely be pleased too. Let's go in and talk to her parents. The sooner, the better! I've had quite enough of today's journey of dozens of li!"
From this woman's speech, dress, and utterly nonchalant attitude, even without her saying so, one knew she was from Chengdu. A woman who had come all the way from Chengdu, looking her over like this, asking such questions, and then saying those words-even if Little Deng weren't quick-witted, she could guess what it was about. So after the woman and Eldest Madam Han went inside, her heart began to pound, and her body trembled slightly. Women naturally have a taste for uncovering secrets, especially concerning themselves. So she quickly skirted around the ancestral hall compound towards the kitchen, already hearing voices from the main room.
It was Father Deng's voice, sounding somewhat angry: "Madam Gao, we appreciate your kindness in coming with this proposal! However, though we are farming folk who work the land, we are a decent family with enough to eat, not so destitute as to sell our daughter to be someone's concubine!"
Then Mother Deng's voice: "The age difference is too great! Never mind being a concubine, sold off root and branch, never seeing her parents again; even if it were a proper marriage as a second wife, I'd say he's too old. Not to mention anything else, just standing him next to our Little Deng would be ugly enough!"
The woman seemed to argue a few more points, but it wasn't clear. Little Deng wrung her hands anxiously, thinking, "Surely they'll agree now!"
But quite the opposite, her mother raised her voice even more: "Fine talk! Both his sons are officials, what influence does an old concubine have? Granted he has money, but the family property is in the hands of the young master and mistress. While the old man is alive, naturally she'd dress well, eat well, have servants at her beck and call. But when the old man dies?"
Her father chimed in: "Mother, why bother saying all this to her? We're not people who sell our daughter! We don't covet others' official posts or wealth-that's each one's fate! Our daughter isn't fit for such a match; we dare not aspire so high! A country girl is better matched with a country man, as long as we don't starve!"
Later, city families were mentioned, but none materialized. Until she was twenty-two, when her parents were almost weary of discussing her marriage prospects, a distant relative came after the Dragon Boat Festival to speak of Cai Xingshun of Sky-Return Town: a strapping young fellow of twenty-seven, a true countryman, honest and simple, with no faults or temper, owner of a double-bay general store with flourishing business year after year, several hundred taels in capital, his own house, no parents above, no brothers or sisters below, no aunts or uncles on the side, few relatives. The conditions were too suitable. Not only did Father Deng and his wife find them satisfactory, but even Little Deng, overhearing from behind the wall, thought it a good prospect-better than marrying some old man in Chengdu as a concubine to live a life of grievance. A few more years had given her more sense; before she only thought of Chengdu, but now she could take a step back: given her station, she likely couldn't marry into a wealthy Chengdu family. Rather than delay, it was better to properly become the mistress of a shop in a market town! Thus she grew anxious again.
But Father Deng and his wife still dared not trust the matchmaker's words. They arranged for a market day in the sixth month, got up early, and went together to Sky-Return Town.
Though no one mentioned it openly, all understood perfectly well. Father Deng focused on inspecting the shop and its goods; he asked the price of this and that, as if intending to take over Cai Xingshun's business. He even deliberately went into the street to sound out Cai Xingshun's reputation from others. Mother Deng's attention was first on the man. He was indeed not bad: tall and big-boned, his skin though sallow was fairer than a laborer's. The weather was hot, so formalities were relaxed; the lapels of his blue homespun shirt were open, revealing a solid chest! Only his face was rather unappealing, looking both plump and puffy. A pair of pouchy eyes showed little white. His nose bridge was almost nonexistent, even the tip was flat. His mouth was wide, but he had no beard, not even stubble. With such an unappealing face and a somewhat simple-minded look, yet he was clearly an honest man, so honest his speech was somewhat indistinct. And his skin was tender; at the slightest hint of a pointed remark, one could see his face flush red, assuming a look of great embarrassment and timidity. But this completely suited Mother Deng's taste. Her thinking was: with Little Deng's looks, cleverness, capability, and somewhat peculiar temper, if she married a man who was too good, he'd surely be dominated; besides, the family situation was acceptable, and he was alone. If the man were too clever or too good, it might be overly perfect, and Little Deng's fortune might not be able to withstand it. A man with some flaws was better. And as long as a man was decent, honest, and good-tempered, what did ugliness matter? Nine out of ten men blessed with fortune were ugly.
Moreover, during the meal, Lop-Mouth Luo, hearing of their visit, came to accompany them. With his silver tongue, Simpleton Cai was transformed into a rare treasure on earth; and Lop-Mouth Luo's reputation and influence further elevated Cai Xingshun several notches. First was Father Deng: hearing that Lop-Mouth Luo could walk into government offices, handle lawsuits, and collect bad debts was like hearing of a great hero from a storyteller's lips. He was Cai Xingshun's blood cousin and had come to speak for him-how could they dare refuse? Mother Deng was naturally even more pleased.
On the way home, the couple shared their impressions and were both astonished that this time their opinions coincided completely, just as they had both refused Madam Gao and Eldest Madam Han the previous year. Seeking an explanation, they found none and could only attribute it to fate from a previous life and destiny in this one. Naturally, they did not consult their daughter again but immediately proceeded according to country custom, step by step. By the twentieth of the ninth month, Little Deng thus naturally became Sister-in-law Cai.
As the saying goes, the capable bear more burdens. This was amply demonstrated by Lop-Mouth Luo's comings and goings. Returning to Sky-Return Town, he would stay a few days, then leave again, either alone or with men like Zhang Zhankui, Tian Changzi, and Du the Fourth. Asked of his whereabouts, there was never a definite place-either in the provincial capital Chengdu or as far as Chongqing. People like Cai Xingshun, who lived in one place their whole lives and rarely traveled a hundred li, looked upon him as if he were an immortal. Cai Xingshun sometimes couldn't help but sigh, remarking to Sister-in-law Cai about their elder cousin Luo, always with the same words: "Ah! Sitting still, watching the travelers go by!"
Before Cai Xingshun married, when Lop-Mouth Luo returned to Sky-Return Town, if he wasn't bringing a prostitute or a catamite or involved in some other affair, he always put up at the Prosperity Store. After Sister-in-law Cai arrived, the back courtyard of the Prosperity Inn became his regular lodging. Only when very idle would he go sit awhile at the Prosperity Store.
The Prosperity Store was one of the top two or three largest shops in town, and it had been in business for fifty years. Thus its premises were quite imposing! Facing the street was a double-bay shop front, with a four-foot-wide eaves step outside. Inside, goods shelves occupied half the space, even the loft beams hung with candles and firecrackers. The writing counter was three chi high and two chi wide. Behind, under the shelves and on the counter, stood large and small jars holding the town's most famous various white liquors, labeled as Mianzhu Strong Brew, Ziyang Aged Color, and Baisha Distilled Spirit. Inside the counter was a tall rectangular wooden stool, and outside the shop front a low-backed wooden chair-both were heirlooms of the Prosperity Store and also the manager's throne. However, the throne inside the counter had now been yielded to the manager's wife; only when she retired weary from her duties or did accounts at night did the manager sit in her stead.
Inside the shop, beyond the counter, half a bay remained empty, occupied by two extremely sturdy and plain cypwood square tables. Above each table were placed two tall, straight-backed chairs that were large, high, and uncomfortable. The other three sides held wide, heavy benches. These were seats for selling liquor on market days, and on ordinary days, a few regular drinkers might also sit there. The two earthen walls had been whitewashed for the grand wedding ceremony and remained fairly clean. On the inner wall still hung congratulatory couplets presented with great solemnity by neighbors and sworn friends when the shop opened auspiciously fifty years before. Though the vermilion paper had faded, the sentiment of the predecessors felt as fresh as yesterday. On this wall's upper part hung a shrine housing the God of Wealth. Below it, on the side near the counter, was a double-leaf small door, usually covered by a blue cloth curtain printed with white flowers. Entering led to another large room, commonly called the inner storeroom, piled with goods and furniture. The temporary staircase to the front loft was placed here. Since both front and back were earthen walls and there were only three doors-one to the shop front, one to the back courtyard, and one in the right wall leading to the manager and his wife's bedroom-there were no windows. Light came solely from three rows of translucent roof tiles above, which hadn't been cleaned for years, so the light was limited. The bedroom did have two large windows: one at the front facing the shop room, with lattice panes pasted with white paper. At some point, a piece of glass the size of a dried bean curd had been set into a lattice pane. With this device, it was truly convenient: one only had to go behind the bed, peel back the pasted paper, and see clearly outside without being detected. The back window faced the courtyard and could be pushed open outward. To its left was another single-leaf small door. Of the entire building, this room was the best, almost the main part. Above were loft boards, though no one lived there; below was a wooden floor. It was airy and light, and in the back courtyard stood two crabapple trees whose branches reached above the eaves, their green shade pressing right into the room.
To the left of the courtyard, next to the inner storeroom, was the kitchen. At the kitchen's end, there had originally been a pigsty, but because Sister-in-law Cai disliked the pig smell, since her arrival it had been converted to store firewood. The original firewood storage area now grew some flowering plants and had a trellis for beans and pumpkins. On long, idle days when the sun wasn't beating down, she most enjoyed sitting there on a short bamboo chair doing her work. The only slight nuisance was that the neighbor, Auntie Stone, kept many chickens, and the bamboo fence was broken again. When unattended, fist-sized chicks easily invaded, scratching up the loose soil under the flowers and leaving piles of chicken droppings. Outside was also a dense bamboo fence with a door leading to the path behind the market grounds. Some thirty or forty feet away ran a small flowing ditch, lined with a dozen alder trees. This was where Sister-in-law Cai and the neighbor women washed clothes.
Whenever Lop-Mouth Luo came to visit, he would always squat on the high chair at the head of the square table in the shop front, a three-foot-long bamboo pipe with a monkey-head bowl clenched in his teeth. Cai Xingshun would always accompany him smoking from his low throne, and Sister-in-law Cai would chat casually from inside the counter. Usually, before half a pipe of tobacco was smoked, someone would come looking for Lop-Mouth Luo. He wouldn't leave then, and a crowd would always gather around the square table, talking with him about this and that, using much jargon and special terms. Sister-in-law Cai didn't understand at first; asking Cai Xingshun afterward didn't help, but later, accustomed to it, she grasped a bit. At first, she was amazed at how extraordinarily coarse the speech and actions of Lop-Mouth Luo and the others were-so coarse it was startling. Clearly a decent remark had to be shouted out in a scolding tone. But after many times, she could actually discern that within this coarseness there were surprisingly nuanced conversations. Not only was it not startling, she even felt it was more heated and vigorous than refined, polite talk. She very much wanted to join the discussions, but sadly there was no opening for her to interject, and she couldn't contribute, having nothing to say. Looking at her husband, during these high-flown debates, he would always sit there half-closing his eyes, leaning back, looking neither simple nor foolish, and no one paid him any mind. Only Lop-Mouth Luo always treated him the same, always passing him a pipe when smoking, and seeking a few idle words with him when conversation lagged. Often, when alone with him, she asked why he didn't chat with the others. He would always shake his head and say, "It's all nothing to do with me. What is there to say?"
Only once or twice, when Lop-Mouth Luo came on a market day and the outer seats were crowded, making it unpleasant to sit, did he slip alone into the back courtyard to smoke and ponder something. Cai Xingshun, on the one hand, had to attend to customers because the shop only employed a fourteen-year-old apprentice called Tubby, not very competent and unable to leave his post; on the other, Lop-Mouth Luo truly couldn't be considered a guest needing attention. Sister-in-law Cai, however, felt it unbecoming to leave him alone in the courtyard. So, holding Gold Baby, who was still a swaddled bundle, she left the shop room, dragged another bamboo chair, and sat under the crabapple tree to keep him company.
Sometimes she chatted with him about the harvest or the weather, and Lop-Mouth Luo would also reply offhandedly. Sometimes, with nothing to say, he would play with the child, finding conversation from that. Only once, for some reason, did the conversation turn to a case everyone was talking about recently: a city landholder, over a trivial matter of five pecks of grain, took a tenant to the magistrate out of spite. The official didn't even question him, just threw him in jail for months. The tenant had a relative who was a brother in the Elder Brother Society, who had begged Lop-Mouth Luo to intercede at the magistrate's yamen, even presenting a personal letter of concern from Elder Zhu. The clerks had already agreed to release him on bail, but the landholder found out and immediately submitted a petition, even implicating Lop-Mouth Luo, saying he could "bribe the gods and turn heaven's will." The magistrate was furious, sent runners to arrest the landholder, intending to give him a sound thrashing for his insolence, but unexpectedly the man suddenly shouted that he was a Christian convert. This stunned everyone in the second hall, from the magistrate down to the intimidating runners. They hurriedly asked him to stand up, but he knelt on the ground and refused: "I won't rise unless the priest comes! I don't believe a mere Elder Brother Society member can collude with the yamen to bully us Christians! You even dare arrest and beat me! This requires the priest to immediately memorialize the throne and have your magistracy stripped!" Later, Lop-Mouth Luo and others investigated and found the man had not actually converted. But the magistrate was thoroughly frightened. He dared not release the tenant, nor dared he punish the landholder for disrupting the court. He told friends: "If he has the nerve to use 'Christian convert' to threaten me, who's to say he won't really convert tomorrow? If I punish him today and the priest really comes tomorrow, will I still be an official?" The official's weakness mattered little, but Lop-Mouth Luo and the others lost all face. Those sympathetic to them felt greatly aggrieved, saying the times had changed terribly! Those who bore them ill will laughed heartily: "So they too have their day! The Elder Brother Society finally meets its day!"
Discussing this, Sister-in-law Cai asked Lop-Mouth Luo with lively curiosity, "Christians are our own people too, why is it that once they take up the foreign religion, even officials fear them? Is the foreign religion that fearsome?"
She stood up, raising her voice: "Then you're just too weak! You often boast: the society has so many branches, you brothers are so numerous. You fear neither heaven nor earth! Why can't you do anything about a mere dozen foreigners? Say their guns are powerful, but there are only about a dozen of them; even if we sacrificed a hundred men, we could still wipe them out!"
Lop-Mouth Luo watched as she spoke, her face flushed, her large eyes bright and flashing, just like the famous young actor An'an playing a raiding general. He couldn't help feeling surprised: "This woman-didn't expect her to have such spirit! And so inquisitive-really unlike most country women!"
But Sister-in-law Cai had to get to the bottom of it. "If the foreigners are only a dozen or twenty, why not unite and finish them off? If the churches are so detestable, why not tear them down?" Lop-Mouth Luo had no leisure to explain such reasoning to a woman in detail; she probably wouldn't understand anyway. He suddenly remembered the article advocating church attacks he had received in his pocket yesterday, which put it quite clearly. Regardless of whether she understood, he would read it to her from start to finish to stop her pestering. Thinking this, he reached into his pocket for the two sheets of paper and said to Sister-in-law Cai: