Explore Chapter 7 of "牛天赐传" with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
One, two, three years old. Time originally cared for nothing, yet kittens, puppies, saplings, and little people all kept growing upward, as if keeping a consumption record for time. Tianci was three years old and looked quite proper. He spoke, walked, and was weaned later than most children, but by three he had everything one could need. Except that his eyebrows were not very lush, the rest could just pass. For a child to live intact to the age of three is no easy matter. Even if he strives to be good himself, external forces might blind one eye, or knock him into a hunchback, or even cause him to suddenly die. So besides his own efforts, he needed some special wisdom to keep his growth from colliding with external forces, like two locomotives meeting head-on. Tianci was admirable; these three years he had managed fairly well.
Old Mrs. Niu's enthusiasm was not limited to the responsibility of making Tianci bowlegged. Take the matter of his eyebrows alone: she had shaved them who knows how many times. This problem was quite hard to solve and carried the danger of cutting a big gash in his forehead. Tianci showed intelligence in such matters. The original situation was: the old lady thought it necessary to shave frequently, even if Tianci were a stone. And Tianci, on the other hand, always thought growing eyebrows was his own freedom and believed it was not yet the time for eyebrows. If they kept arguing like this, his eyebrows would surely disappear forever, while the knife kept waving before his eyes, and who knows, half his nose might be sliced off. Tianci decided to compromise, pretending not for himself but solely for Old Mrs. Niu, to concentrate his vitality on his forehead. This not only solved a small problem and saved his nose, but also was the fundamental tactic of life philosophy. To be a dog, one must first look like a dog; the same for humans. If everyone else has eyebrows and you don't, it won't do. In this matter there is no freedom. Even if you want them to grow with tips turned up like two crescent moons, it's not allowed. To grow, you must follow the crowd. Tianci understood this, so he came out of the ox horn and strolled on the main street. This was a bit slick, but how many old men aren't bald on top? Most heads in coffins are smooth, a symbol that "the final destination of life is slickness." It might be dignified to enter the coffin with black hair, but that would mean fewer years lived!
Tianci> had to be slick. Eyebrows were barely enough to support the facade, but there was still the hair problem. Especially on that flat back of the skull, the results were too poor. Still had to shave! Was there anything more miserable in the world than having one's head shaved? As soon as it started, the head was washed as wet as a fish. Then, pressing down on the head, shave continuously, not allowed to raise the neck, not allowed to move, not allowed to sneeze. Had to submit, ears pinned back, playing dead, completely indifferent to one's own head, as if one should not resist even if someone carried it away. If by chance you moved, a big gash on the scalp, and it was your fault. After the first shave, a second pass was needed, as if the head were a new ball that had to be polished to a shine. After shaving, the dry, uncomfortable scalp was a small matter. But when you looked in the mirror, no matter how good-tempered a child, he would feel pessimistic: the head didn't look like a head, nor a ball like a ball, just so slick and devoid of aesthetic appeal, one could only compare oneself to a chicken scalded and plucked. If the scalp had been a nice blue-green, it might have been acceptable. But for a scalp like Tianci's, grayish with a bluish tinge and covered with a layer of white stubble, he simply couldn't think highly of himself.
Therefore, he decided to grow his hair. When he had quite a bit of hair but still needed to be shaved, he would pretend to be sick. As soon as he heard the barber's tuning fork sound, he would announce a stomachache. "I already have hair, why must I still shave?" he asked himself this, and felt that pretending to have a stomachache was pardonable.
With eyebrows and hair all present, his face then developed problems. It got darker and darker. At least three times a day! Water was lovely, but just don't put it on the face. Once water touched the face, it would go wild, because the face wasn't meant to hold water. It drilled into your eyes, entered your ears, choked your nose, flooded your neck, doing every evil. And on top of that, soap helped the tyrant, stinging your eyes and nose as if sprinkled with pepper. The more you struggled, the harder they scrubbed, scrubbing endlessly, not stopping until they had made you into a spicy chicken, even your mouth was spicy. Couldn't resist. If you raised your head, they pressed your neck, pressing all the way down into the basin, turning your nose into a pump. Nor could you not resist. If you let them wash as they pleased, they thought you had an addiction and would simply plaster your face with soap foam to make it look white, keeping it like that for a full four or five hours. Tianci's method was neither humble nor pushy: he just hoped that the person washing his face would fall ill. Circumstances forced even Tianci to feel resentment.
He didn't feel at all that a dark face was a hindrance. A dark face didn't interfere with eating. He didn't understand why adults had to worry about him. There were many things he couldn't understand, and he wasn't supposed to ask. Asking would cause trouble. He learned to mutter to himself, facing a corner or hiding under a table, he would talk to himself: "Table, if you hit Fuguan's head, Fuguan will wash your face, just see how dark you are! I'll smear you with white soap, Fuguan is fierce, see! It's not that Fuguan is fierce, they are fierce to Fuguan, understand? Stinking turtle!" This final compliment, he didn't dare name the person, afraid the table would tell that person, and his bottom would suffer.
Though Tianci couldn't express it, he felt: life is the accumulation of restraints. The more things you know, the more restraints there are. He himself wanted to grow upward, but from outside, forces always tried to press him down. Hands, feet, mouth, nose all had to have rules and discipline, to be as neat as a puppet moved by strings. How beautiful a rainbow in the sky was! Hmph, not allowed to point, pointing would rot your finger! Just as he was about to shout, "Look at that big colored belt!" a voice would inevitably say, "Don't point!" So his finger traced a semicircle in the air and went to his mouth. Just as it was about to go in, another voice: "Don't eat your hand!" So the finger made a feint, casually went to pick his ear, followed by: "Put your hand down!" Where on earth was a finger supposed to go? With nowhere to place his finger, his heart naturally felt wronged, but Tianci knew how to avoid crying. He would use the strength of his nose to hold back tears, and secretly run to a quiet place to imagine the beauty of the rainbow, his little hand in his pocket, pointing upward.
There were many more, so many forbidden things. There were also things he had to do, all of which he didn't want to do. His little eyes had to keep darting around, like a motherless puppy searching for food along a wall. Only outside those terrifying sight lines could he have some freedom. For those things he had to do but didn't want to do, he had to pretend to be happy. When he obeyed the order and handed candy to a guest, he would urge himself inside: "Be happy! Fuguan doesn't eat, gives it to the guest. Because Mama says Fuguan isn't greedy!" As he swallowed his saliva, he found it wasn't as sweet as candy!
If he had been allowed to develop according to his own nature, who knows what he would have looked like? His current appearance was certainly not entirely of his own will. Three-year-old Tianci looked like this: his face was still gourd-shaped, the flesh on his cheeks still sagging, but without that milky glow, and sometimes it hung very unbecomingly. His lips hadn't thickened, but the corners of his mouth were deeply carved into his cheeks, as if he were always swallowing saliva. When there were many guests, watching the expenditure of candy with no income, he had to do that! His nose curled upward, his eyes were sunken, the former being resistance, the latter being forbearance. So the conflict between the two made his sparse eyebrows always furrowed. Fortunately, they were sparse, otherwise it would be too obvious. On his flat occiput grew a rebellious bone, as if raised by a pipe bowl. His face was dark, no amount of washing would brighten it, only showing a bit of yellow when he was angry. His body seemed too small, making his head look bigger. His bowlegs often caused his toes to trip over each other when he tried to walk quickly, and he would fall headfirst in a painful tumble. Therefore, he gradually learned to be cautious. When he wanted to run, he would put the speed into his arms, not using his legs, just going through the motions.
His mouth was the most capable. He started talking very late, but once he began, he learned quickly. Some difficult ideas to express, he could manage to say in a roundabout way. Therefore, his words were not always sweet; sometimes they could make adults choke. But he gradually realized that unpleasant words would bring suffering to himself. So he learned to distinguish who to talk little to and who to talk more with. He always had to be careful. With Sihu, for example, he could talk about anything, and even learn many new words, like "stinking turtle" and "son of a bitch." With Old Mrs. Niu, it was best to stay silent. Calling out "Mama" frequently was never wrong.
Tianci> also had his happy moments. We don't need to feel wronged for him. Going out on the street with Old Niu was almost the highest pleasure any child could enjoy. At the start, he was as quiet as a mouse avoiding a cat, not even breathing loudly, showing that once on the street he would absolutely not misbehave. Even so, he still received many condescending instructions: "Don't ask for things to eat on the street! Hold Papa's hand properly! Don't kick up dust!" His heart raced, he rolled his eyes and nodded repeatedly. Once out the gate, haha, Old Niu was under Tianci's control. "Pa, you walk on this side, so I can kick this little brick. Look! Pa! This little brick, should I kick it or not?" Old Niu, in his capacity as father, examined the little brick: "Kick it, son, kick!"
"Pa!" Tianci, because of kicking the little brick, saw a piece of orange peel on the ground. "Let's pretend to buy two oranges, one for you, one for Fuguan, see who eats faster?" Pa thought there was no need for competition; it would be best if Tianci ate both oranges. After eating two oranges, they had at most covered a third of a three-li road. Pa was in no hurry. Son was not flustered either. Add to that, Cloud City was a small town, though an important one, so Pa had many acquaintances. Whenever they met, they had to chat a bit. The topics they discussed, though not worth recording, consumed a lot of time. While they talked, Tianci would pick up all the scrap copper, broken iron, and broken teapot lids on the road, putting them in his pockets to increase his wealth and collection. Moreover, whenever sheep passed on the road, father and son had to observe carefully. A passing bridal procession went without saying. Exerting himself so much on the road, Tianci's stomach seemed to have a hole in it, getting thirsty every now and then, hungry every now and then. Pa never considered how much capacity his son's stomach had. As long as he said he was thirsty, he should drink; if he said he was hungry, he should eat. Nor did he care whether bananas and tea soup, or fried dough sticks and apples, were compatible. As long as Tianci opened his mouth, he was happy, and always showed a merchant's politeness and courtesy: "Eat! The apples are sweet! Don't want another one?" This sometimes made Tianci feel embarrassed, so when his stomach was as full as a drum, he would know to show modest refusal: "Pa! Look at those big pears, how pretty! Fuguan doesn't want any, just ate an apple, doesn't want a pear!" Pa was moved: "Buy a couple to take home?" Tianci thought: "For Mama?" Pa thought too: "Mama doesn't eat pears, so they're for Fuguan." Tianci felt that to refuse further would be too much: "Pa, buy three. Give one to Mama. If Mama doesn't eat, then give it to Fuguan."
Father and son completely forgot about time on the street. Fortunately, Pa didn't accompany Tianci in eating, so when his stomach felt empty, he still didn't forget to go home. "We should go back, right?" Pa suggested. Tianci's stomach was full: "Let's play a little more. Fuguan isn't hungry." Pa helplessly admitted his weakness: "Pa is hungry!" The son had another solution: "Eat a pear?" Pa shook his head: "Pa wants to eat proper food." Pa was good in every way except that his stomach was a bit of a flaw. If Pa were never hungry, what harm would there be in not going home for three days? Tianci sighed softly.
Near home, Tianci instructed Pa: "If Mama asks, what did you eat on the street?" He imitated Mrs. Niu's voice: "Just say you ate nothing. Fuguan was very good, right, Pa?" "Right," Pa also felt the need to lie. "Ate nothing. But don't you go yelling stomachache!" "Even if I have a stomachache, I won't yell. I'll sneak to the backyard." Tianci had already planned ahead. For his own enjoyment and freedom, he had to be full of tricks.
But things were not so easy. His stomach didn't hurt early or late, but chose to hurt in the middle of the night. Who dared go alone to the backyard in the middle of the night? Enduring was impossible. If stomach pain could be endured, it wouldn't be called stomach pain. The next morning, Tianci's eyes were deeply sunken. Old Mrs. Niu interrogated her husband. Old Niu refused to admit guilt: "I took him out, he was fine. He came back, still fine. If his stomach hurts at midnight, how can it be my fault?" The old lady gave the order: they were not allowed to go out on the street again. Old Niu felt very sad. What meaning was there in being a father if he could not often show off his son on the street? Pleasing his mouth brought pain to his heart. He decided not to resist his wife anymore, at least not verbally.
Tianci> suffered even more. He couldn't eat anything. All day long it was thin porridge and plain water. Even his farts had no smell. He wasn't allowed to go out, and in the room he could only play with scraps of cotton, pinching them into shapes. The more he pinched, the more boring it became, yet he dared not stop, because Mama said this was the best way to play. Tianci felt there were two kinds of life, it seemed. Mother's life and Father's life. In Mother's life, he didn't have to do anything, just obey his mother. In Father's life, he could do anything without asking anyone. Naturally he liked Father's life, but the chances to go out with his father became fewer and fewer. The next best was Sihu's life. Though Sihu couldn't buy him food like his father, in other ways he had even more lovable qualities. Take language for example. Sihu could say things no one else could think to say, and always the most powerful words. He could use a word or two to release all the pent-up feelings in a person's heart, like a firecracker. Take eating thin porridge all day, for instance. What words could one use to relieve the gloom? Sihu had a way: "Damn it!" These three words could make one feel good for half a day, both simple and gratifying. There were also "bastard," "dog egg," and so on. These words required no explanation and were naturally crisp and weighty. Tianci learned quite a few of these words, and when truly stifled, he would direct a few appropriate venting syllables toward a corner. In Tianci's eyes, Sihu was almost a poet.