Explore Chapter 3 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.
Old Mother Wang did not lead her horse by the reins. She drove it forward from behind with a short stick.
In the great woods, yellow leaves swirled and danced, leaves that seemed to cry out. Gazing toward the far end of the forest, all the trees appeared like great umbrellas that had been shut and fallen. The gloomy sunlight beat down on all the bare trees. Across the fields, one could see houses near and far. The late autumn fields lay spread out like senseless, hairless leather hides. The houses that had been buried in summer vegetation now stood out clearly, as if newly risen from the ground.
The yellow leaves brought by late autumn had driven away the butterflies of summer. A leaf fell onto Old Mother Wang's head and lay there quietly, adhering to her. Old Mother Wang drove her old horse forward, with falling yellow leaves crowning her head. The old horse, the old woman, accompanied by an old leaf, they walked on the main road into the city.
At the crossroads, a figure gradually came into view, then the sight of that person smoking. Er Li Ban approached from the opposite direction. His long face paired with his swaying body made him somewhat resemble a tame ape. He said, "Ah! You're up too early! Do you have business in the city? Why are you driving the horse into town without loading it with grain on a cart?"
Er Li Ban felt profound grief. He convulsed. After a moment, he turned around and hurried after her, saying, "The boiling pot is not to be entered... the boiling pot is not to be entered..." But what could be done? Er Li Ban was left without half a word to say! He twisted his body and stepped forward, stroking the horse's mane with his hand. The old horse immediately snorted! Its eyes seemed to weep, moist and blurred. Sorrow instantly swept through Old Mother Wang's heart. In a hoarse voice, she said, "Let it be! Let it be! If not the boiling pot, isn't it just waiting to starve to death?"
Old Mother Wang thought to herself: How could a person become so affected? In her youth, hadn't she often sent old horses or oxen to the slaughterhouse? She shivered with cold, imagining the slaughter knife piercing through her own spine. Then, the short stick fell from her hand! She stood dazed and faint by the roadside, her hair dancing like a ghost's. When she picked up the stick again, the old horse was gone! It had gone to drink at a small ditch ahead. This must be its last drink. The old horse needed water, and it also needed rest, so it lay down by the ditch. It breathed slowly. Old Mother Wang called out in a low, gentle tone, "Get up! Let's go into the city. What other choice do we have?" The horse remained lying on its back. Old Mother Wang saw that it was noon. She still had to hurry back to cook lunch. But no matter how she pulled on the reins, the horse did not move.
They were walking peacefully on the main road again. They passed some desolate houses and several dilapidated small temples. Before one small temple lay a dead child, bundled up with a sheaf of straw. The child's small head was exposed, and its pitiful little feet stuck straight out from the straw ends. Whose child was this, sleeping before this wilderness temple?
The slaughterhouse was drawing near, the city gate right before them. Old Mother Wang's heart churned even more incessantly.
Five years ago, it had also been a young horse. For the sake of plowing, it had been injured until only its skin covered its skeleton. Now it was old. The end of autumn. The harvest was done. It was of no more use. For the sake of a single horsehide, its master heartlessly sent it to the slaughterhouse. And the value of that horsehide, the landlord would snatch from Old Mother Wang's hands.
Old Mother Wang's heart felt as if it were suspended, about to fall, when she saw a cowhide nailed to the plank wall. The small street was lined with crumbling houses. Women and children gathered on both sides. Dust raised from the ground soiled their shoes and rushed into their nostrils. Children picked up clods of earth or balls of garbage to strike the horse. Old Mother Wang scolded:
It was a short street. At the end of the short street, two black door leaves stood open. Drawing closer, one could discover speckled bloodstains on the door leaves. The old woman, frightened by the blood traces, felt as if she had stepped onto an execution ground herself. She tried hard to suppress herself, not letting the memories of execution grounds she had seen in her youth stir. But those memories began to weave continuously: a young man fell down, an old man also fell down. The man wielding the knife made gestures toward a third person.
It was like arrows, or like fire stabbing at Old Mother Wang. She could not see the group of children hitting the horse. She forgot how to scold those mischievous children. Walking, walking, she stood in the center of the courtyard. On all four plank walls were nailed countless hides. Near the eaves stood two tall poles, with a crossbeam between them. Horse hooves or ox hooves were broken off and tied together at the ends with hemp rope, forming a fork shape hung above. Clumps of intestines were also tangled there. The intestines, due to long exposure, had dried into black, motionless, stiff rope-like strips. And some of the broken leg bones still dripped blood from the fractures.
The entire courtyard exuded a rank stench. In this stench-filled human world, Old Mother Wang was about to turn into a block of lead. Heavy and numb!
Old Mother Wang received three banknotes, enough to pay the rent for one mu of land. Looking at the money gave her some comfort. She lowered her head and headed for the gate. She thought she could use the remaining money to buy some wine at the tavern to take back. She had already stepped out of the gate when a sound came from behind:
Old Mother Wang turned back. The horse was walking behind again. The horse knew nothing, still wanting to go home. Some men came out from the slaughterhouse, those fierce-faced men, trying to carry the horse back. Finally, the horse lay down by the roadside. Like tree roots entwined in the earth. Helpless, Old Mother Wang walked back into the courtyard, and the horse followed. She scratched the horse's head, and it gradually lay down on the ground. Gradually, it seemed to fall asleep. Suddenly, Old Mother Wang stood up and rushed toward the gate. At the crossroads, she heard the sound of a door closing.