Explore Chapter 17 of "生死场" with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
Er Li Ban was so eager it seemed he would run straight to the revolutionary army at once. Qingshan told him in a drawn-out voice: "The revolutionary army is in Panshi. Can you even get there? I see you have no courage whatsoever. You cannot even kill a goat." Then, as if to deliberately humiliate him, he added: "How is your old goat, by the way?"
Angered, the whites of Er Li Ban's eyes instantly outnumbered the blacks. His fervor froze solid in his heart. Li Qingshan did not speak another word to him. He looked out the window at the trees on the horizon, shook his head softly, and began to sing a little tune. As Er Li Ban was about to leave, Qingshan's wife, sweating in the kitchen, said to him: "Uncle Li, have some food before you go!"
Seeing Er Li Ban's pitiful state, Qingshan laughed and said: "Why go home? You have no wife anymore. Eat first!" Having no family of his own, he clung to others'. As soon as he picked up his chopsticks, he quickly finished a bowl of barley rice, then devoured two more large bowls in succession. Before the others had even finished, he was already smoking! He drank no soup at all; he just ate the rice and went straight for his tobacco.
"Have some soup. The cabbage soup is good." "No. My wife died three days ago. I haven't eaten solid food for three days!" Er Li Ban shook his head.
Qingshan hurriedly asked: "Has your goat eaten any solid food?" With his belly full, Er Li Ban seemed hopeful about everything again. He was not angry and laughed to himself as was his habit. Feeling satisfied, he left Qingshan's house. On the small path, he kept smoking his tobacco pipe. The vast, hazy sky did not evoke sadness in him. Frogs croaked one after another by the little stream. The small trees along the bank rustled in the wind. He walked upon his former vegetable patch, stirring up waves of old memories. Not a single vegetable grew in that patch anymore.
Over there, the old woman and the children crawled across the field, the dusk settling heavily upon them. They met at the field's edge. Er Li Ban said: "Are you digging? Are there treasures in the ground? If so, I'll squat down and dig too!" A very small child piped up crisply: "We're gathering wheat ears!" The child seemed joyful, but the grandmother over there sighed: "Treasures? Oh, dear heavens! The children are crying from hunger. I brought them to gather a few wheat ears, to make some dry rations for them to eat at home."
Er Li Ban offered his tobacco pipe to the old woman. She took it and, without even wiping the mouthpiece, put it straight to her lips. Clearly, she was accustomed to smoking and was desperate for it. She hunched her shoulders high, squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and thick smoke billowed continuously from her mouth and nostrils. It looked perilous, as if her nose were about to catch fire.
"It's been over a month since I last held a tobacco pipe," she said, seemingly still reluctant to part with it, but reason forced her hand. Er Li Ban took it back and tapped the pipe loudly against the ground.
The old woman slowly drew a crumpled ball of paper from her waist. The paper slowly unfolded in her hands, then she smoothed it flat. "Go home and look! Your wife and children are all dead! Who can save you? Go home and see! You'll understand once you see!" She pointed at the paper as if pointing at a magical talisman.
The sky grew darker still! So dark it pressed against one's face like a heavy curtain. The youngest child, after just a few steps, would cling to his grandmother's leg. He kept crying out: "Grandma, my basket is full. I can't carry it!" The grandmother took the basket for him and pulled him along. The older children ran ahead like a guard. When they reached home, the grandmother lit a lamp to look. The basket was full of weeds, so full they were about to spill over the rim, yet there were no wheat ears. The grandmother tapped the child's head and laughed:
Dragon Boat Festival: Though it was summer, it felt as if an autumn wind had begun to blow. Er Li Ban put out the lamp and emerged from under the eaves, grim and determined. He picked up the kitchen knife and searched everywhere-in the corners of the yard, in the goat shed, even under the white tree outside the courtyard. He wanted to free himself from all attachments; it seemed he absolutely had to kill the old goat immediately.
This was the night before Er Li Ban's departure. The old goat came back bleating, wild grass tangled in its beard, rubbing against the fence until the rails creaked. The knife in Er Li Ban's hand was raised higher than his head as he strode toward the pen. The kitchen knife flew out. With a crash, it cut down a small tree. The old goat walked over and scratched an itch between his legs. For a long, long time, Er Li Ban stroked the goat's head, feeling deeply ashamed, as if offering a prayer like a Christian would.
Early in the morning, he seemed to speak to the goat, mumbling for a while in the shed. He secured the gate of the pen, and the goat stayed inside, eating grass.
Dragon Boat Festival, under a clear, blue sky. Old Zhao San thought this did not look like a proper Dragon Boat Festival at all; the wheat had not grown tall, there was no scent of it in the air, and no paper gourds hung before any house. He felt everything had changed! Changed so swiftly! Last Dragon Boat Festival, so clear and bright, seemed just before his eyes. Were the children not catching butterflies? Was he not drinking wine? He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree before his door, mourning all that was lost.
Li Qingshan passed by him, disguised as a laborer, barefoot with his trousers rolled up. He said to Zhao San: "I'm leaving! Someone is waiting for me in the city. I must go now..." Qingshan did not mention the festival.
Er Li Ban came limping from afar, his face pale as a horse's, yet seemingly bearing a smile. He said: "Sitting here, I reckon you'll soon rot away on this log..." When Er Li Ban looked back, the old goat, confined to its pen, had actually followed behind him. Immediately, his face grew even longer. "This old goat... keep it for me, will you? Brother Zhao San! Keep it for me for as long as you live!" Er Li Ban's hand bid a fond farewell upon the goat's wool; his tearful hand stroked the fleece one last time. He hurried off, catching up with Li Qingshan ahead. Behind him, the old goat kept up its mournful bleating, its beard swaying slowly... Er Li Ban's unsound leg stumbled and faltered. He grew distant! Blurred! The hills and the woods receded farther and farther. The goat's cries accompanied old Zhao San's bewildered wails in the distance.