Explore Chapter 2 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.
To put it all together, we don't know who Niu Tianci's biological parents were. This is practically a deliberate affront to any biographer. A racehorse on the track has a detailed pedigree; our hero, hah, descended from the sky! How, by what means, can we explain and understand his talent, his mental strength, his characteristics? These are all closely tied to heredity. Even setting that aside, consider his appearance and bearing: there should be some basis for that. Eyes like his grandmother's, a smile like his uncle's - that would create an association in the mind, making it sound like a real story. People must carry their history; oxen must have horns. But our hero is like a floating cloud, rootless. What's to be done? Only two words can help us: "tough luck." That makes things much easier. Don't mention the relationship between humans and primordial amoebas or nebulae; just straightforwardly sell what you're hawking. No family tree, an illegitimate child, a little bundle of belongings - all tough luck. On the contrary, we pay more attention to what hammers against this little heart from the outside. Because these things are on record, each one accountable. The old couple, without guesses, rumors, or prejudices - Sihu, the little woolen shirt, the diaper pad... these are what we dare not overlook; these are the iron hammers that beat upon that little heart. Heredity, in the forging of the "heart," is probably not as weighty as nurture. Let's follow this path. First, let's talk about Old Niu.
There are many people in the world who are difficult to describe, and Old Niu is one of them. Just when you've focused the light to take his picture, he yawns; if he doesn't yawn and you get the shot, when it's printed, he's showing the whites of his eyes. He always slips away through your fingers. You often see his name in ads for doctors, fortune-tellers like Pockmarked Feng, etc. You often run into him on the streets, at temple fairs, at shareholder meetings, at chamber of commerce gatherings, but he never draws your particular attention. Always smiling vaguely, seeming to know you, yet not quite; sometimes he can forget his own surname, and then suddenly remember it. You almost never hear him speak, but in fact his mouth isn't idle - it's just that what he says never stirs anyone's heart; he himself seems to know: whether he speaks or not, whether you listen or not, it doesn't matter. Sometimes he seems able to jump out of his own body, looking at himself like a stranger, and so he is proud, but he comforts himself with a smile: "Old Niu, you are just like this." Of course, he can't always be like this; sometimes he can be very concerned with face and put on airs. But after three to five minutes of posing, he himself feels a lack of confidence, and laughs it off; otherwise, how could Mrs. Niu gain the upper hand? If he were a fish, he would never fight for the upstream current, but would always slip along the mud. This does not mean, however, that he is weak, a failure in everything. In fact, he is very successful. He doesn't know how he succeeded. He has a kind of non-intellectual wisdom, most apt at hitting the mark by a fluke. He is a notable figure in Cloud City. Pawnshops, coal yards, oil and liquor stores - he has run them all, and all made money. Now he still owns three businesses. But he is a true expert in none, and people in every trade don't genuinely admire him. He always smiles and "takes his chances." But many times, this kind of chance-taking has brought him money. A dilapidated house that no one else would want - if someone asks him about it, and it happens that he has just eaten a satisfying bowl of shredded chicken noodles and feels quite comfortable, he says: "Alright, put it on my account." That broken-down house might sit there for seven or eight years, free for anyone to live in but no one goes because there's no roof. Then suddenly one day, someone comes looking for that very piece of land - only that spot is suitable for opening a hospital. He makes five times his money back. "Alright, it's yours." He smiles, and no one knows what that smile means - not even he himself. He has this treasure that is like luck, yet not exactly luck; like genius, yet not exactly genius; like blind chance, yet not exactly blind chance. He is neither good nor bad; he doesn't treat money as fate, but the clink of silver coins makes him reluctant to waste. He has every hobby, but is addicted to none. He never expresses an opinion on whether an opera is good or bad; if he listens, fine; if not, fine. His capacity for alcohol is small, and just when he's about to overdrink, somehow he thinks of his wife, so he doesn't get drunk, and his wife doesn't quarrel with him; he feels quite at ease. He smokes Hademen brand cigarettes, but puts them out halfway, and later smokes the other half; saving cigarettes and wasting matches balance out. He is a born merchant.
The only thing - the only drawback - that he can't just smile away is having no son. But when his wife gets worked up, he still has to smile: "Yes, yes, I'm not blaming only you. It takes two, takes two." By shouldering half the blame, the wife finds it inconvenient to press too hard, and so life becomes sweet again - with the wife not angry, the matter of a son can be put off. Then he sleeps well, and in a dream hears that wheat is about to rise in price. The very next morning he goes to the shop early and buys up more wheat. Sure enough, he makes another profit.
Old Niu's appearance isn't bad, but he lacks dignity. Round face, small double chin, bald crown, nose somewhat flat, forehead very shiny, eyes not very lively, short yellow beard, always smiling. Short limbs, round belly, waddling gait, never holding his head high. His whole body is round and lacks curves, like a family cook. The materials of his clothes are not bad, but the oil stains on the cuffs and collar are a bit much, reducing their smartness. His hat always seems a size too small, probably for ease of doffing - his habit of doffing his hat is almost a compulsion. When he smiles, his hand goes to the brim of his hat; sometimes when he meets a friendly dog that wags its tail at him, he has to touch his hat brim too. Every time he doffs his hat, steam rises from his head, which readily inspires goodwill in others - doffing his hat like lifting a steamer lid truly shows sincerity.
There were two paths he could have taken: one was to become the King of England, the other was to become Old Niu. He chose the second, for the only reason that he wasn't born the Crown Prince of England; otherwise, he could have made a very good king - silent, smiling, with speeches prepared for him to deliver in Parliament. To tell the truth, if Old Mrs. Niu were him and he were Old Mrs. Niu, he would have become a much more remarkable person. But Heaven often misplaces people, and history always leaves its readers anxious.
Old Mrs. Niu is much tougher than he is, but she happened to be born female, and apart from bullying her old husband, she has no outlet for her heroic talents. She was born to be a hero, but she became a housewife. Naturally, she looks down on her husband. She is supremely suited to be a hero - she has the first qualification: selfishness. The world was made for her. Unfortunately, her world is too small. But within this small world, she exercises her abilities to the full. Sihu is her distant relative; Old Mama Liu was specially chosen from her own family. Anyone not connected to her cannot hope to set foot in the Niu household. Old Niu was not brought from her family; this is a drawback, but she can't very well change him - that would be too improper. She greatly looks down on Old Niu. True, he has made a lot of money; but if she were a man, would she only make money? Fame, status, pleasure - everything would flow to her like water. Spending her life with Old Niu - it's a bit of a grievance.
He has none of the ruthless methods of a real man; he just muddles along. His friends eat and drink at his expense, and still look down on him. So, apart from her own family, she has never been willing to entertain anyone warmly. "A bunch of potatoes" - that's how she describes his friends. Her own family are officials. Although she is not very literate, she has that official air. She knows how to use servants, how to put on a show, how to maintain status. He understands none of it. If her official father hadn't died, she would have no way to return to her natal family. Take her potato of a husband to visit her official father? What a disgrace!
How did this marriage come about in the first place? She often wonders. She dearly hopes for an official-like son - using Old Niu's money and her own ideals, she could surely raise a proper son. But Old Niu doesn't even have the style for having a son! He once thought about taking a concubine. As long as she is alive, he'd better not even think of it. If she can't bear a child, no one else is going to do the work for her. Adopting a baby to relieve the boredom would be a solution. But the difficulty is this: he wants to adopt from the Niu family, she from her own. Her argument is weaker, so she passively prevents him from choosing freely, and for now, they'll just not adopt.
Tianci's appearance solved this difficulty. He seemed born just for the Niu family. As soon as Old Mrs. Niu picked him up, she decided: she would try her hand on this boy and make an official-like son. An illegitimate child - a bit of a problem; but she was already over fifty, and unlikely to have another child; besides, look at Old Niu's cowardly demeanor. Forget it. Even childless old couples adopt a Pekingese dog and raise it like a child; and this was a real baby with a nose and eyes. Tianci's luck was too good.
Where would Old Niu go to find a wet nurse? He had absolutely no plan. But he wasn't flustered. For decades, he had always been this unhurried; there was never a problem he couldn't get through. This approach often made Old Mrs. Niu want to give him a few slaps on the neck. She had that official air - the world was made for her; everything should come at a wave of the hand, everything in its proper place, waiting without a thread out of order for fate's command. The old man had never thought that way. The world was a pile of dirt; if you wanted something, you had to slowly dig through the dirt to find it, and even then you might not. No wonder the old lady sometimes called him a "thousand-year egg" - unless he feared a loss in business, nothing could make him anxious. When his wife told him to buy soap, he would buy toilet paper instead. Forget one thing, substitute another - isn't that okay? That's how he saw it. He was extremely optimistic.
This time, however, he remembered firmly: find a wet nurse. Toilet paper, soap, even a washbasin - none could substitute for a wet nurse. He had walked over a mile and still hadn't forgotten; but he also hadn't thought of where to look. He knew there were places that introduced wet nurses, but he just couldn't remember where they were. He lit a Hademen cigarette, puffed, and glanced at the stars. The stars meant nothing to him, but they made him think of his wife's eyes: all-knowing, omnipresent. He had to find a wet nurse quickly, entirely for the sake of his wife and that little bundle; if it were only for himself, finding one or not didn't matter at all.
He found a familiar oil and salt shop and went in to say hello. Many things could be made possible out of the impossible, as long as you were muddleheaded and optimistic enough. Old Niu often saved money by forgetting to buy coal; when he remembered, the price of coal had suddenly dropped. Once inside the oil shop, he acted as if the wet nurse had already been found. "Shopkeeper Zhou," Old Niu said, his round face smiling, "find me a wet nurse." "What, you've got a young master?" Shopkeeper Zhou considered this the happiest news on earth. "An adopted one, passed on to me," Old Niu said proudly, without giving himself away, "Find a wet nurse. Today, tomorrow, the day after - the day after tomorrow, I'll treat you to a drink." Shopkeeper Zhou thought it over, looked around his shop, and concluded that there was absolutely no wet nurse in the shop; he had to go find one outside. "Sit here a while. I'll handle it." He went out, and was instantly swallowed by the shadows. Old Niu smoked his Hademen, the ash long, about to fall but not falling. His heart was just like that ash - unclear whether it would fall or not. His face smiled automatically. After a while, Shopkeeper Zhou returned, bringing two women. Old Niu's heart pounded: was he looking for one wet nurse, or a pair? He had left in such a rush that he forgot to ask his wife. When Shopkeeper Zhou explained, he understood: these two women were not both wet nurses; the one who looked like a donkey was the go-between. He thought there seemed no other problem: "Come along. Shopkeeper Zhou, I'll treat you to a drink the day after tomorrow." "Where to?" the donkey brayed. The old man was almost stumped, but luckily he hadn't forgotten his home: "Home. The baby isn't here." "Shouldn't we negotiate first?" the donkey said to Shopkeeper Zhou. "We're all friends," Shopkeeper Zhou said diplomatically. "See my wife. Everything can be settled with my wife," Old Niu said, eager to hand off the responsibility and go to bed. "Go talk to my wife." "Where is it, in all this darkness!" This donkey was not a good donkey. "Hire a rickshaw," Shopkeeper Zhou suggested. "Right. Hire a rickshaw." Old Niu slowly counted the people. "Probably need three." When they got home, he handed the two women over to his wife.
When his wife saw the donkey, her spirits lifted. She loved these dealings with such women - it gave her a chance to sharpen her wits. After three or five rounds with the donkey, the wife knew she had met someone who could be extremely generous, but whose eyes did not tolerate a grain of sand. Before the donkey could speak, the wife laid it all out: "There's three dollars for a celebration drink. If she nurses well, we'll try her for three days. If she passes, she'll get four seasons of clothing, a set of silver jewelry. Five dollars in wages, and tips split evenly with Old Mama Liu. No leaves allowed, no visitors. Start right now. You bring her things over, and I'll pay for your round-trip rickshaw!" The donkey saw little profit on this side, and wanted to squeeze the wet nurse. She tugged the wet nurse's sleeve. The old lady had already handed Tianci to the wet nurse, and said to the donkey, "How much are you taking from her wages?" "If it please you, ma'am, she's been eating at my house for several days. It's hard for everyone, ma'am." "Fine. I'll give you ten dollars. From now on, you're not to come looking for her. If I need you, I'll send someone to fetch you." The wife's official style was impeccable. The donkey admitted defeat, but knew she hadn't lost; the wife's method had hit just the right spot. The donkey went back to gather the wet nurse's things, and the wife began to scrutinize the wet nurse.
The wet nurse's usefulness lay in her milk. If the milk was good, that was everything. What her face looked like, how long her feet were - those were no issue. The wet nurse had already unbuttoned her blouse, revealing two big sack-like breasts. The wife nodded. The face wasn't too objectionable either: originally a long face, somehow it had expanded sideways at the cheeks, then suddenly a nose, then hurriedly a chin, making it long on top and wide on the bottom, the corners of the mouth and the ends of the eyebrows at the same length, like a high-crowned steamed bread that had been pressed down. But that had nothing to do with the milk, so it passed. The feet weren't small, and the toes pointed upward, as if wanting to fly up and see what was in the air. That also had nothing to do with the milk, so it passed. "What's your name?" the wife asked. "Me? My name is Ji." Her wide flat mouth seemed about to slide down her cheek. She was pleased. The wife was even happier: Nanny Ji was a first-timer. Training people was a kind of exercise of ability and not without its interest. The wife began planning how to train the wet nurse. "Who's in your family?" "Me?" "Don't say 'me'!" "There's the old folks, my husband, a brother-in-law, and a two-month-old baby. No food!" Nanny Ji's nose twitched. "Let him nurse and see." Mrs. Niu felt sorry for the wet nurse, but Tianci had to have milk; one could not be charitable beyond reason. Tianci's little mouth began to work, and the wife was overjoyed. Tianci had milk, and Nanny Ji's own baby had no milk - it worked out perfectly. Besides, country babies are easy to manage. "Which village?" "Me?" "Say 'ma'am,' and don't say 'me'!" "Shiliupu." "Which Shiliupu?" "Near Huangjia Town." "Coun-" The wife swallowed the word "fellow villager." She couldn't acknowledge the wet nurse as a fellow villager. But she was very happy inside. One must have everything of a kind - the same principle governs running a household, governing a state, and pacifying the world. "I say," the wife called out, and went to find Old Niu. "I say, where did you dig up this wet nurse?" The wife was uneasy: if her old man had deliberately gone looking for one of her own fellow villagers, even if out of a desire to please, it showed he had some sense. "What's wrong?" The old man wondered what the problem was. "Shopkeeper Zhou found her." "Oh, nothing." The wife thought of something else. "I've named him Tianci; his milk name is Fuan - 'Heaven bestows blessings.'" "Heaven bestows blessings? Very good!" "Tianci probably has some luck. Everything is a happy accident, hmm."