Explore Chapter 102 of 'The Story of the Golden Powder Family' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
Ever since the death of Jin Quan, the family's fortunes of Jin Yanxi had dwindled away. His brothers had each gone their separate ways to seek their own fortunes. Alone and adrift in Beiping, Yanxi found life a daily struggle. His former fair-weather friends, seeing him now without money or influence, had long since scattered like dust.
Occasionally, his thoughts would turn to Leng Qingqiu. He felt both ashamed and remorseful. Yet things had gone too far, and there was nothing left to be done.
Yanxi looked up. It was Feng Youliang, a fellow he used to spend time with. Feng was wearing a slightly worn silk-lined gown, his face bearing the marks of a hard life. Yanxi stood up and offered him a seat. "Brother Youliang, where have you found success all this time?" Feng sighed. "Success? I'm just scraping by, to be honest. I work as a proofreader for a small newspaper now, earning twenty or thirty dollars a month. It just covers expenses. You don't look too well yourself. How have things been lately?"
Touched on a raw nerve, Yanxi let out a long sigh as well. "It's shameful to say. I'm just living off dwindling savings, and things get worse each day. The money I inherited after my father passed has almost all been spent. I always thought money was endless. Who knew it could come to this!" Feng Youliang said, "That's understandable. You were raised in luxury, never knowing the hardships of the world. But you're still better off than us. A starved camel is still bigger than a horse. You must have some foundation left."
Yanxi shook his head. "What foundation? I can barely afford the rent for my room now. Thinking of the days when I spent money like water feels like a dream." As he spoke, his eyes reddened. Seeing his state, Feng Youliang thought it unwise to press further. He changed the subject. "Why dwell on the past? We're old friends after all. It's rare we meet today. Let me treat you to a meal at a small restaurant."
The two left the teahouse and walked to a small eatery. They ordered four liang of wine and two small dishes, then sat drinking together.
After three cups, Yanxi became more talkative. He recounted everything. How the family had scattered. How he had fallen into destitution. How Leng Qingqiu had left. When he reached the sad parts, he couldn't help but shed tears. Feng Youliang consoled him. "Brother Yanxi, what's done is done. Grieving is useless. A real man must find a way to stand on his own. If you're willing, I can ask at the newspaper for you. Maybe we can find some small job."
Yanxi wiped his tears. "Thank you for your kindness. But I have no particular skills. What can I do?" "You can manage proofreading," Feng said. "The salary is meager, but it's better than eating through your savings." Yanxi thought for a moment. "Since you're offering, I'll give it a try." They talked more about what had happened since they last met. They didn't part until the sun began to set in the west.
Yanxi returned to his lodgings - a small, dark room that cost three dollars a month in rent. As soon as he entered, he felt its gloom. Remembering the grand mansions of his past, a pang of bitterness shot through his heart. He sat blankly for a long while. Suddenly, he remembered he was to see Feng Youliang tomorrow and ought to wear something halfway decent. He opened his battered leather trunk, looking for a fairly presentable long gown.
Rummaging to the bottom, his hand touched a soft bundle. He took it out and opened it. Inside were a few old silk garments. Their colors had faded, but they were well preserved. Yanxi recognized them. They were clothing that Leng Qingqiu used to wear often. He didn't know how they had gotten mixed into his trunk. He held the clothing, staring blankly for a long moment. A faint, lingering fragrance seemed to cling to the fabric.
He remembered the first time he saw Leng Qingqiu in Falling Flowers Lane. She stood beneath the curtain of jujube blossoms, dressed in simple, elegant robes. How delicate and gentle she was then! He remembered the grievances she later suffered. How he had wronged her... Thinking of this felt like a knife twisting in his heart. Tears streamed down his face, dropping onto an old lilac-colored gown.
He wept for a long time. Finally, he wrapped the clothing up again and placed it back at the bottom of the trunk. He sighed to himself. "Who knows where she is now, adrift in this world? And I, a man, have fallen to this land. I must still scramble for food and clothing. I brought this upon myself!" That night, he tossed and turned, unable to close his eyes until dawn.
Early the next morning, Yanxi changed into a relatively neat long gown and went to find Feng Youliang. Feng Youliang was quite eager to help. True to his word, he spoke for him at the newspaper office, arranging a trial period of a few days. From then on, Yanxi went to the paper every day to proofread manuscripts. The work was dull, but with a fixed income, his life stabilized for the time being. Yet thoughts of the past always left him somber and despondent.
One day, he met Jin Rong on the street. Jin Rong was pulling a rickshaw, sweating profusely as he ran. Seeing Yanxi, he quickly set down the shafts and bowed respectfully. "Seventh Master, how have you been all this time?" Yanxi saw his tattered clothes, sallow and thin face, and felt a stab of pity. "Jin Rong, how have you also fallen to this state?"
Jin Rong sighed. "After the mansion broke up, we servants all had to find our own way. I first rented a rickshaw from a company. Later, business was bad. I couldn't even afford the rental anymore. I had to borrow loan-shark money to buy this old rickshaw. I earn just a few dimes a day, not even enough to pay the interest. Seventh Master, where are you finding fortune now?" Unwilling to say he was a proofreader, Yanxi replied vaguely, "I'm helping out at a newspaper office."
They stood talking at the street corner for a few sentences. Seeing Jin Rong's genuine wretchedness, Yanxi took the only two dollars he had on him and pressed them into his hand. "Take this, buy some rice." Jin Rong refused adamantly, pushing back several times. Yanxi said, "We were master and servant once. Just take it. I'm not well-off now either. This is all I can do to help."
Only then did Jin Rong accept it with a thousand thanks. Watching Jin Rong's hunched back as he pulled his rickshaw away, Yanxi was overwhelmed with emotion. He remembered how, in the old days when he went out, he was surrounded by attendants. What pomp that was! Now even an old servant had to make a living pulling a rickshaw. Lost in thought, he suddenly heard someone call from behind, "Isn't that Seventh Master Jin?"
Yanxi turned. It was the Second Madam Liu who used to frequent the Jin Residence. She wore a half-new, half-old qipao, her face devoid of makeup. She looked much older than before. Yanxi hurried forward to greet her. Second Madam Liu said, "Seventh Master, long time no see. You look much the same. The other day at Dong'an Market, I saw your elder sister-in-law. She had set up a stall on the ground selling embroidery with her child. Pitiful sight!"
Yanxi's heart ached again at the words. "Elder sister-in-law... is she well?" "How to put it?" Second Madam Liu said. "She's managing to get by, I suppose. Your household has truly fallen. I hear Third Master is doing quite well in Shanghai. Fourth Master has some standing in Tianjin too. But neither is willing to look after the family. Seventh Master, why don't you go to them?"
Yanxi smiled bitterly. "Poverty shortens ambition, as a lean horse has long hair. I can barely look after myself now. What face do I have to go to them?" Second Madam Liu nodded. After a few more idle remarks, she bid farewell and left. Yanxi stood alone on the street. The sunlight seemed too bright. People's shadows swirled around him. For a moment, he didn't know where he was.
He slowly walked back to the newspaper office. Sitting at his proofreading desk, facing the dense lines of type, he couldn't take in a single word. His mind was filled with one thought. "This family, these people... have they just scattered like this? I always thought it would last forever. Who knew it was all just a spring dream!" Thinking to the extreme, he secretly wiped away tears again.
A colleague nearby noticed his strange expression. "Mr. Jin, are you unwell?" Yanxi forced a smile quickly. "It's nothing. My eyes are just a bit sore." The colleague asked no more and returned to his work. Yanxi gathered his composure, picked up the red pen with effort, and began proofreading, character by character.
Outside the window, dusk deepened. Street lamps lit up one by one. Finishing the last page of manuscript, Yanxi stood up, his whole body aching. He left the office, bought two baked wheat cakes on the street, and walked back to his lodgings, nibbling as he went. The streetlight stretched his shadow long and thin, making him look exceptionally lonely.
Back in the little dark room, he lit the kerosene lamp. From the bottom of the trunk, he took out that bundle again. He spread Leng Qingqiu's old clothing on the bed, one by one, and stared at them blankly. The lilac gown was made from fabric he had specially sent her. The moon-white skirt was what Leng Qingqiu wore the first time she visited his study... Each piece of clothing held a memory.
He looked and looked. Suddenly, he slumped over the bed, sobbing quietly. In the stillness of the night, the sound of his weeping was especially mournful. Even a stray cat passing outside stopped and pricked up its ears to listen.
After crying for a long time, Yanxi finally raised his head. He carefully folded each piece of clothing, wrapped them up again, and placed the bundle by his pillow. He sighed to himself. "Leng Qingqiu, Leng Qingqiu, where in the world are you now? If you knew my situation today, I wonder if you would hate me or pity me?"
That night, he dreamed of Leng Qingqiu again. Just like before, she stood beneath the curtain of jujube blossoms in her simple, elegant robes, smiling faintly at him. He was about to step forward to speak when a sudden gust of wind came. Her figure vanished completely, leaving only fallen blossoms scattered all over the ground...
Yanxi woke from the dream with a start. Dawn light was already faintly bright outside the window. He sat up and felt that his pillow was wet in one spot. Gathering his wits, he remembered he still had to go to the newspaper office today. He washed hastily, changed into his somewhat worn long gown, and went out.
Walking on the street, he heard newspaper boys shouting the news. A thought suddenly struck him. "I proofread for the paper now. I'm earning my own living. It's hard work, but it's more solid than those prodigal days of old. I just don't know how long this kind of life will last?"