Explore Chapter 2 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.
In the vegetable garden, the lonely, bright red tomatoes have ripened. Little girls are picking the tomatoes, big and red ones, filling their baskets. Others are pulling green radishes and red radishes.
Jinzhi heard the crack of a whip and the sound of a whistle. She suddenly stood up, picked up her basket, and fearfully walked out of the vegetable garden. She stopped at the place with the willow fence on the east side of the vegetable field. She listened: was the whistle gradually fading away? The sound of the whip had separated from her. She waited patiently for a moment. The whistle came melodiously from behind. She was about to approach him again. Some women in the vegetable field saw her and called out from afar:
Pretending to head home, the girl detoured around people's fences, avoiding all eyes in the vegetable field, and made her way toward the river bend. Her basket hung from her wrist, swinging loosely. The distant whistle incessantly urged her on, as if she were a piece of iron drawn by a magnet.
Five minutes later, the girl was still pinned there like a chick under a beast. The man had gone mad. His large hands gripped another piece of flesh with hostility, wanting to devour it, wanting to destroy that hot flesh. His blood vessels swelled to the limit, as if he were jumping on a white corpse. The woman's pale, round legs could not entangle him. And so all sounds were created from the two greedy monsters.
Flower tassels trembled there in a daze. The tall stemmed grass behind was broken. Not far away, an old man gathering firewood was cutting wild grass. They were startled. The robust young man, with the girl, descended into the sorghum field like a hound with its prey. His hand moved under the girl's clothing as they went.
The aunt expressed her grief, pressing a hand to her chest as if to prevent her heart from changing. She added:
"Chengye, let me tell you. When I was young, a maiden, I also went to the river to fish. On a September morning with drizzling rain, I sat on the riverbank wearing a rain cape. I hadn't intended it, nor did I wish for it. I knew being a man's wife was a bad thing. But your uncle, he dragged me from the riverbank to the stable. In the stable, I lost everything. Yet my heart wasn't afraid. I was happy to be your uncle's wife. But now look: I fear men. Men are as hard as stones, making me dare not touch them."
Chengye's words made his uncle think he was drunk. Uncle said nothing more, sitting in thought for a while. Then he smiled and looked at his wife:
The woman went over to pull Fufa's arm, trying to charm him. But she didn't move. She felt his smiling face was not like before. Her heart filled with countless angry expressions of his. She didn't move. She smiled briefly, then quickly withdrew the smile. She feared if she smiled too long, she might be scolded.
The woman quietly tiptoed out and stopped by the door. She heard the paper window humming in her ear. She felt utterly powerless, completely grayed out. In the front yard, dragonflies buzzed around the sunflower blossoms. But this was absolutely cut off from the young wife.
The paper window gradually turned pale, gradually revealing the window lattice. The girl who had entered the sorghum field wept while lost in fantasy. Her sobs were so soft, even softer than the humming of the window paper.
When her mother turned over, she groaned and sometimes ground her teeth. Jinzhi feared a beating and even wiped her tears clean in the dark. Like a mouse, she seemed to sleep under a cat's tail all night.
But in the early morning, when her daughter had combed her braids and was about to go to the fields, she snatched the basket away like a madwoman:
"You still want to pick tomatoes? Jinzhi, you don't seem like someone picking tomatoes. You even lost your basket! I see you have no sense at all. Fortunately, it was Old Zhu who found it while gathering firewood. If someone else had picked it up, could it have been recovered? If others got the basket, your reputation would be ruined. Wasn't Fufa's wife ruined at the riverbank? Even the children in the village gossip about it. Ah! ... What kind of person was she? Afterwards, no family would marry her. She had a child and couldn't become Fufa's wife. Her mother was so ashamed she could hardly lift her head when seeing people in the village."
Then they ate. Jinzhi ate nothing, only having some porridge before leaving the table. Her mother cleared the table herself, saying:
"Come back, put on another lined jacket. You must have caught a chill, that's why your stomach hurts."
Jinzhi shook her head and left. Her mother's small jacket draped over her shoulders was unbuttoned, fluttering in the wind.
Jinzhi's family had a tomato plot as large as a courtyard. Entering it, one smelled a pungent odor, sharp and indefinable. The tallest tomato plants reached two feet, bearing golden-red fruits among the branches. Each plant hung many, some green or half-green. Besides another tomato plot adjoining Jinzhi's, the vicinity was all vegetable fields. In August, people busied themselves digging "potatoes." Some cut cabbages, loading carts to sell in town.
Er Li Ban was the one who cultivated vegetable fields. Pockmarked Woman moved back and forth, carrying kohlrabi to the cart at the field's end. Bowlegs also ran back and forth toward the end. Sometimes he carried two large round cabbages, his arms looking as if they were lifting stones.
Pockmarked Woman saw that the pumpkins beside someone else's field had turned red. She glanced around; no one was near. She began to pick the four large pumpkins growing by the vegetable field. Two were as big as small watermelons, and she made the child carry them. Bowlegs's face flushed red like a pumpkin from exertion. He couldn't carry them anymore. His arms felt as if they would break under the weight. Before reaching the field's end, just passing Jinzhi, he cried out as if for help:
In his hurry, he called the pumpkin a watermelon. Many people in the vegetable field laughed at this child. Fengjie looked at Jinzhi and said:
Pockmarked Woman followed behind. Seeing her son in trouble, she cleverly bent down and tossed two even larger pumpkins into the tomato plants. Everyone saw her do this, but she felt clever. Er Li Ban asked her:
Even those usually least interested in spectacles, who buried themselves in their work regardless of what happened in the fields, now came to surround them. It was like watching a martial opera, with the three of them performing on stage. Er Li Ban cursed the child:
Everyone laughed, the laughter rising above their heads. But Jinzhi, like a chick with a contagious disease, blinked and squatted under the tomato plants. She paid no attention, having escaped the world before her.
Er Li Ban was so angry he could hardly breathe. When he said the "pumpkins" were their own, kept for seeds, Pockmarked Woman standing there finally sighed in relief. She thought there was no fault in stealing her own pumpkins. She raised her head and declared to everyone, "You see, I didn't know, truly didn't know the pumpkins were our own!"
"I saw her wicked intentions long ago. Look how she takes half a day to pick one tomato. Yesterday she even forgot her basket at the riverbank!"
Jinzhi's heart kept palpitating. Time stretched long like flies spinning silk threads. Her mood was at its worst. Jinzhi's face was fragile and hazy, as if veiled. She listened: the whistle hadn't sounded yet. She could vaguely see the wall of Fufa's house, but the young man in her heart never appeared. She continued picking tomatoes, even the green ones. She didn't notice their color, and her basket was already full. She didn't take the tomatoes home, scattering multicolored ones all over the ground. Over there, women deliberately spoke loudly about her:
Jinzhi ignored all the sights and sounds before her. She pressed her belly so tightly, as if something jumped inside. Suddenly, the whistle came. She stood up, crushing a tomato underfoot. It made a squelching sound like a crushed toad. She stumbled, and the whistle vanished with her. After that, no matter how she listened, the whistle never sounded again.
Jinzhi was in too much pain. She felt her belly had become a terrifying monster, with a hard spot inside. The harder she pressed, the more obvious it became. When she was convinced she was with child, her heart immediately trembled as if nauseous. She was seized by terror. Strangely, two butterflies perched one on top of the other on her knees. Jinzhi watched this evil pair of insects without brushing them away. She resembled a scarecrow in a rice field.
Her mother came. Her mother's heart was tied to her daughter from afar. But she approached calmly. From a distance, her body almost formed a complete square. Gradually, one could discern the rising and falling of her pointed feet under the sack-like hem of her clothes. What was her distinguishing feature among the village's old women? When angry, she looked as if smiling, with joyful, multifold wrinkles gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her mouth was completely joyful too, except for her upper lip, which differed. When truly happy, her upper lip was shorter. When angry, it grew particularly long, and the central part was pointed, exactly like a bird's beak.
It was time to sleep. The mosquito-repellent rope hung down from the wire by the door where towels were hung. No mosquito could be heard flying in the room. Every summer night, each household hung such ropes. The rope burned slowly and lingeringly. Accustomed to it, it resembled incense burning in a temple, heavy and somnolent, making everything inaudible, gradually lulling people to sleep. The scent of mugwort gradually wove into some weary dreams. Mosquitoes were driven away by the mugwort smoke. Jinzhi and her mother hadn't slept yet when someone came outside the window, coughing lightly.
The mother hurriedly lit the lamp, but the door creaked open. It was Er Li Ban. No matter how hard she tried, the mother couldn't light the lamp. At the wick, there was a sizzle of water. Holding a match, the mother raised the small lamp to eyebrow height, saying:
Jinzhi went to the outer room to fetch oil. During this time, they discussed something sudden. The mother, seemingly alarmed, resolute, and feeling ashamed, shook her head:
The mother pressed a hand on the pillow, as if thinking. Her two straight eyebrows nearly met. Her daughter bowed her head toward the small lamp beside her. Er Li Ban's tobacco glowed red each time he took a puff. Mugwort smoke mixed with the smell of tobacco leaves, making the small room as dark and heavy as an underground cellar. Er Li Ban coughed awkwardly a few times. Jinzhi replaced the bloodied cotton in her nose with another piece. Without words, each made tiny, subconscious movements.
They sat like this until the lamp sputtered again. When the layer of oil on the water burned out, the small lamp was about to go out. Er Li Ban left gloomily. Er Li Ban had been rejected as a matchmaker and left as if humiliated.
Mid-Autumn Festival passed. The fields turned desolate. The sun's rays gradually descended from the high sky with melancholy. A damp, chilly air drifted everywhere in the fields. The sorghum in the south was completely flattened. Stretching continuously, soybean plants lay tangled and messy on the ground like disheveled hair. Some patches were completely bare and plucked.
Mornings and evenings were alike. The fields waned. Only carts, ox carts, and horse carts with rolling wheels were laden with sorghum ears and soybean stalks. Oxen drooled, dangling foolishly, as the noisy carts advanced.
Fufa's nephew drove a bluish ox toward his own threshing ground, hauling sorghum. He deliberately took a winding path, passing Jinzhi's home. Her heart felt as if it would burst with panic, and the whip cracked.
Jinzhi's braids were disheveled. Her face was fully flushed. But her sickly appearance made her like a paper figure, as if floating as she appeared by the back wall.
"Are you sick? What's wrong?" But Chengye was a country-bred boy. He didn't know how to ask. He dropped his whip and leaped over the wall like a bird, using the strength of his wrist to grab the sick girl. He pressed her against the ash pile in the corner. He didn't want to kiss her or passionately speak sweet nothings. He was merely driven by instinct to act. Jinzhi struggled, saying:
"Hey, didn't Uncle Li come? You didn't know at all? He said your mother did not agree. Tomorrow he'll come with my uncle."
Tears pooled at the edges of her daughter's eyelashes, then rolled down. Even at night, Jinzhi got up to vomit outside. Her mother heard her calling "Mother" in a daze. Moonlight on the window was almost as bright as day, clearly showing Jinzhi's half body dragged off the kang, the other half bent over the pillow. Her hair completely obscured her face. When her mother pulled her hand, she twisted and said: