Explore Chapter 5 of "Divorce" with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
Old Li was off to the yamen! Elder Brother Zhang had indeed shown good judgment-the place he'd rented for Old Li was conveniently close to the yamen, just about two li away. Saving on rickshaw fare was one benefit; getting a bit of exercise walking back and forth was another; and being able to eat lunch at home was a third! Old Li hadn't calculated exactly how much he might save each month on transport, but a faint glimmer, a hope of putting a little more aside, flickered in his heart. The thought of saving inevitably led to another: with his family here, would there be anything left to save? Elder Brother Zhang was forever urging people to marry and send for their families, his sole argument seeming to be: "A couple doesn't necessarily cost more than a single man!" As if women were born incapable of spending, devoid of any needs, and forbidden from having any. But Old Li saw women as people too! And yet, Ying's mother-even raising a chicken meant you had to feed it millet. Old Li began to feel that bringing his family here was a mistake. The head of a household? The more he looked at himself, the less he seemed to fit the role! As he neared the yamen, his spirits sank further. How had he ever become a clerk? He could scarcely recall. Being a clerk and a family man might not be the worst fate. Without a clerk's salary, how could one be a family man? Clerk and family man were a pair forged in the very furnaces of hell-what! There was the yamen, its black gates gaping like a great mouth exhaling a chill, waiting each morning to swallow up that flock of petty bureaucrats. Swallow, swallow, swallow, until they grew old, ugly, withered, and ossified within the belly of this monstrosity-dead. Though from time to time one was expelled by a slip of paper stamped with a red seal, to be cast out from the monster's gut was hardly a stimulating prospect. The idea of leaving this place to start afresh with some new, meaningful work never even crossed his mind. If this place doesn't want me, another will. There was more than one government office. The maggots who fed off these places didn't think of, didn't know how to, and wouldn't deign to do anything else. Hateful monstrosity! And yet Old Li had to crawl into its belly every day, and now he was crawling in again. With each entry, he could feel his hair turning a little grayer. But crawl in he must. A profession that was no true profession, a charade he was forced to act out. Now that he had sent for his family, the need to crawl in was even more desperate. This great maw waited for him here, and "she" waited for him at home. Caught between a monster and a she-devil, Old Li stood his ground-clerk, family man. He could barely take another step. He saw an old, ugly version of himself and an old, ugly version of her, trudging together down the road to death, where the roadside weeds were but tattered banknotes and greasy copper coins. Yet trudge he must; he could not simply stand still. Poetic sentiment! Romance! Freedom! Mere fine-sounding words. Life was about buying a stove, renting a room-had the stove been delivered yet? She'd be sure to tell him how to install the bloody stovepipe! At the very gates of the yamen, he truly wanted to turn back. But the policeman on guard seemed to mock him deliberately, snapping to a rigid salute. He could only enter!
His palms were sweaty. That gaggle of colleagues was surely lying in wait to interrogate him. "Old Li! Brought the family up without a word? When's the feast?" A feast-those creatures were the flies' own kin; keeping their mouths busy was life's crowning glory. Entering his own office brought a slight sense of relief. No one else had arrived yet. He took a deep breath. The battered official desk, the ghost of a tablecloth haunting its surface, teacup rings, ink blots, cigarette burns-they were always here, eternal! The large, hideous calendar; five days' worth of sheets remained untorn. If Old Li didn't come, no one would bother to tear them! Dust on the windowpanes. In the belly of the monster, no one managed anything. He tore off the five pages and tossed them into the wastepaper basket-if it deserved the name, forever leaning against two walls and ready to topple over on its own! He sat down in his own chair, the shabbiest in the room, and stared blankly. Official business-official business meant having no business at all. If there were no official business in the world, mankind would be none the worse for it. Documents, documents, documents, endless, interminable documents. Only one thing was real-hateful that it was real-squeezing money out of the people! This monster devoured money and shat documents. Where did the money go? No one knew. One only saw people buying foreign-style houses, automobiles, concubines. Documents were the only thing anyone ever laid eyes on. Old Li wished he could smash that broken chair, that battered desk, that pathetic wastebasket, and this monster to pieces on the spot. But he could not smash the monster; he could not even destroy this wretched tablecloth! To destroy this cloth would be to condemn the three mouths back in Brick Pagoda Lane to starvation! He sat down again, waiting for them. Them! This world was made for them. At home, it was oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, and mahjong tiles; arriving at the yamen, a policeman saluted you at the gate; entering the workroom, it was all titters and sniggers, discussions and debates over private affairs: a child's earache, an old lady's birthday party, the waitress at Table One, Chunhualou Restaurant. Arrive a minute late if you could; leave a minute early if you could. Battered desks, chipped teacups, endless rounds of tea, cigarettes and pipes burning together, shrouding the calendar in such a haze you could hardly make out the dates. Old Li waited for them. They were his friends, and to a degree, his judges. He had to wear Western clothes for them. He had to join in their sniggering. For bringing his family, he had to treat them to a feast. He had to apologize to them with tedious regularity. Mr. Qiu arrived. "Ah, Old Li! Back? How's the family?" He shook Old Li's hand. There was a hint of improper mirth in Mr. Qiu's eyes. Old Li flushed. Mr. Qiu said nothing more, but that smirk lingered at the corner of his eye, promising not to fade anytime soon. Thus, the heat in Old Li's face continued to rise. Mr. Qiu took off his overcoat, called for an attendant to bring tea. Though he wasn't looking directly at Old Li, those two points of mirth in his eyes seemed to arc through the air toward Old Li like a pair of twin meteors. Mr. Wu arrived as well. "Ah, Old Li! Back? How's the family?" He shook Old Li's hand. His hand was a good two sizes larger than Old Li's-going by glove sizes-soft, slick, radiating the peculiar warmth of a petty official. Then, he pulled out a ten-cent note: "Zhang Shun, go pay the rickshaw fare!" Mr. Wu was a very upright man, yet there was also a trace of a smirk at the corner of his eye, similar to Mr. Qiu's, though less pronounced. Old Li's face grew hotter still. He held his breath, waiting specifically for Little Zhao. When Little Zhao arrived, he would know his sentence: was it to be five years' hard labor, or release on bail? Little Zhao did not come!
Why hadn't Little Zhao come? Old Li didn't dare ask. Though Mr. Wu was a relative of Little Zhao's, he was the least concerned with Little Zhao's affairs. Aside from relying on Little Zhao to maintain his own position, he hardly even deigned to speak to him. Mr. Wu was an upright man, so Old Li naturally dared not inquire about Little Zhao from him. As for Mr. Qiu, he was older than Little Zhao but possessed far less social brass. So, with Little Zhao taking the lead, he would join in any joke played on colleagues. But if Little Zhao did not initiate, he was loath to put himself forward as the instigator; in fact, when Little Zhao wasn't around, he scarcely even uttered the name "Little Zhao." When not engaging in banter, Mr. Qiu was quite adept at savoring his own bitter ennui! But both Mr. Wu and Mr. Qiu knew what Little Zhao was up to. He had gone to Tianjin on an errand for the department head's wife. Both felt a twinge of jealousy toward Little Zhao, but it was inconvenient to mention this to Old Li. Old Li earned his keep by the sweat of his brow and didn't meddle in others' affairs, so the two naturally couldn't count him as a kindred spirit. Moreover, Mr. Wu was an upright man and took particular care to appear especially righteous in Old Li's presence. Old Li began his work, but the shadow of Little Zhao lingered in his mind. Mr. Wu sat ramrod straight, practicing his braised-pork-knuckle calligraphy. Mr. Qiu drank tea and smoked, savoring his bitter ennui, his eyes fixed on his wristwatch. Elder Brother Zhang wasn't in the same section as Old Li, but he made a point of coming over to greet him: "Ah, Old Li! Back? How's the family?" He gave Old Li's palm a diagnostic poke with his finger. Old Li was immensely grateful to Elder Brother Zhang-a man forever loyal in serving others' interests. Sure enough, the look in Mr. Qiu and Mr. Wu's eyes shifted slightly in hue and expression. If Old Li had sent for his family, Elder Brother Zhang would surely know all about it; yet Elder Brother Zhang had also asked, "How's the family?" Little Zhao's words must be rumors. Definitely. Or perhaps, not necessarily-that would be even better.
"The harvest in the countryside wasn't bad this year, I trust?" Elder Brother Zhang naturally addressed a countryman in a country fashion, making Mr. Wu and Mr. Qiu instantly feel they still fell short of being true Beiping natives. "Not bad, though the common folk still have it hard," Old Li replied with feeling. "This year we're all hoping for a good heavy snow to drive out the pestilent miasmas; the wheat would benefit too." Driving out pestilent miasmas was, in fact, the real crux of Elder Brother Zhang's interest; whether the wheat prospered or the people suffered were matters too remote from Beiping to truly concern him. If wheat failed the world over, Beiping would still have its white flour to eat. Elder Brother Zhang exchanged a few more perfunctory yet perfectly sincere pleasantries with Old Li, a masterful blend of genuine courtesy and empty form. Elder Brother Zhang rather admired his own performance-having sincerely gone through the motions with Old Li, he then proceeded to chat with Mr. Qiu and Mr. Wu for a good hour. Elder Brother Zhang had even less to do than they did. He was in the general affairs section. His duties consisted of assigning office attendants and purchasing supplies. Regarding the assignment of attendants, he ruled by inaction, so the attendants were exceptionally eager and diligent in performing his personal errands, as they had so little to occupy them at the office. As for purchasing, the shops delivered everything on their own; he merely had to make phone calls and check quantities, and the job was done. Concerning the customary kickbacks, Elder Brother Zhang never refused them as a matter of principle, nor did he pocket them all himself. He distributed them to whomever was due a share, even the lowly attendants getting their cut. Elder Brother Zhang was a past master of general affairs. Thus, he was never busy, except with the business of circulating among the various sections-and the staff of every section universally welcomed his visits: calling the doctor, hiring a wet-nurse, booking a theater box, buying old carpets, selling a squirrel-fur gown to buy one with fox-fur trim, renting rooms, placing orders for new-style furniture, having medicinal pills prepared-everything a clerk needed required Elder Brother Zhang's guidance and advice. Approving marriage documents, managing betrothal gifts-needless to say, he handled it all single-handedly. New colleagues from the south sought him out specifically to practice their Mandarin-Mr. Sun was one such. Even those returned from studying in America consulted him on physiognomy and marital compatibility. These services were purely gratis. Elder Brother Zhang's only reward was two phrases of praise: "Beiping is truly a land of treasures!" and "Beiping people certainly know how to get things done." With these two phrases, Elder Brother Zhang felt he must have accumulated hidden virtue in a past life, for not only did he live in Beiping, but he was born there as well. "Capable of being a prime minister, yet not destined to be one." He would sigh thus after downing two cups of wine, yet not without a certain self-consoling satisfaction-the two "zhi" characters lending the phrase a peculiarly lingering and self-satisfied flavor.
Elder Brother Zhang fell into conversation with Mr. Qiu and Mr. Wu. The two had been hoping for someone to chat with; otherwise, they'd have felt rather embarrassed leaving all the official work to Old Li, though everyone was well aware Old Li had an addiction to work-he was a veritable monster among clerks. Mr. Wu, with his military background, was exceedingly upright. He had just mastered writing in that braised-pork-knuckle style and was planning to take a wife. He brought up the subject again: "Old Wu is a military man, sir. No other virtues to speak of, just upright, as straightforward as a mountain howitzer. Over forty, and no son. Time to change fronts, sir!" Mr. Wu never let the word "sir" leave his lips, as if using it proved he had abandoned the martial for the literary arts. His back was perpetually ramrod straight, his neck and head swiveling as one unit, either left or right, as if calling the ranks to attention. This presented Elder Brother Zhang with a dilemma. He didn't absolutely refuse to help procure concubines, but if he could possibly avoid it, he would. If forced to handle the matter, however, there was a fundamental condition: the man seeking a concubine must be at least a civil official of department-head rank or a military officer no lower than regimental deputy. Whether women should become concubines was a question for women's magazines; Elder Brother Zhang was not in a position to inquire. He looked at the matter purely from the man's practical standpoint. A minor clerk or a middle-school teacher, no matter how compelling his reasons, would do best to avoid taking a concubine if at all possible. Energy, money, domestic troubles-all these factors shook their heads in disapproval at clerks and teachers contemplating concubinage. Why go looking for a cangue to wear? In truth, buying a concubine wasn't an easy matter; it all depended on what sort of metal a man's head was made of in the marital market-was it gold, silver, copper, or iron? Mr. Wu's head, according to Elder Brother Zhang's assessment, was iron. Though sizable in area, what was an iron head worth per catty? Concubinage was a form of amusement, perhaps even a necessity. Whichever it was, it required money and status as insurance! But Elder Brother Zhang could not directly tell Mr. Wu his head was iron. He was at a loss with both Mr. Wu and the youths from the schools. Of these two types, Mr. Wu was the more troublesome. The youths falling in love? One could only let them be; Elder Brother Zhang couldn't very well go falling in love on anyone's behalf. And yet Mr. Wu specifically wanted Elder Brother Zhang's help. To refuse, to put him off, to change the subject-all amounted to giving offense to Mr. Wu. There was nothing in the world one couldn't do, except offend people. But if he debated the point, Mr. Wu might immediately invite him to a meal. Once you'd eaten a man's food, you couldn't very well spit it back up; then you'd be firmly in his grip. Elder Brother Zhang's left eye narrowed almost to the point of staying shut forever. He had it-talk about Tai Chi. Mr. Wu's fists were so enormous, by his own account, entirely from practicing Tai Chi. Only by bringing up Tai Chi could he make Mr. Wu temporarily forget about concubinage. Tai Chi was everything! Applying the techniques of "Cloud Hands" and "Step Back and Repulse Monkey" to the tip of his brush, he could produce that braised-pork-knuckle calligraphy. Elder Brother Zhang produced his pipe with a "Needle at the Bottom of the Sea" gesture. Mr. Wu promptly struck a "White Crane Spreads Its Wings" pose. After chatting for about an hour, Elder Brother Zhang seized the "Apparent Close-Up" opportunity to slip away!
Neither Mr. Qiu nor Mr. Wu subjected Old Li to an interrogation, which left him feeling a shade more at ease. At noon, he left the yamen and stepped out onto the street. His breathing seemed a little freer. For the first time, he was not heading back to his lodgings after work, but going home! Three hearts were there yearning for him, three mouths there murmuring about him. He felt a certain weight, a certain scrap of purpose. He regretted his pessimism that morning. His environment, all his work, indeed held little meaning. But he bore the burden of supporting his family and educating the two children. This was, at the very least, important work, if not exactly heroic. Leaving that monstrous bureaucratic machine and returning to his family did hold a glimmer of meaning, after all. This glimmer might be akin to smoking opium-selling yourself to the devil for a scrap of pleasure. From now on, he would have to endure the poisonous atmosphere of that monster for the sake of his family. He would have to sacrifice all the grand ideals and freedoms of life for the sake of his children. Old Li's heart began to race again! No way out. Better to forget himself. To forget his own potential for shouldering greater work, and to give himself over to his wife and children. To live for them, to work for them. This way, he could at least maintain a temporary, makeshift equilibrium. How wretched and flavorless those two descriptors-temporary, makeshift. Life was so utterly devoid of vigor. But-he stopped thinking. He must seize upon some concrete fact to drive away these thoughts. Right, buy some playthings for the children. He went and promptly bought a few rubber animals-a horse, a cow, a sheep. How much joy could these lifeless, floppy skins possibly bring the children? Perhaps life was originally a cheap commodity. He walked home with swift steps. Mrs. Li was in the kitchen preparing the meal. The stove had been installed. A new hole had been torn in the window paper. The two children were playing hide-and-seek. Little Meat-Gourd was squatting under the table. The dark little fellow was shouting from inside the room, "Are you ready yet?" "Ying! Ling! Come here, look at the playthings!" Old Li didn't know why he had to shout with such hearty abandon, but his heart was indeed flooded with a simple, hearty joy. Back in the village-though he only returned occasionally-he hadn't dared play freely and unrestrainedly with his own children. Now he could play with them freely, to his heart's content. Everything was his! Ying and Ling's eyes widened into saucers as they stared at those gaudy rubber toys, not daring to reach out and touch them. Ling stuck her thumb in her mouth. Ying wiped her nose twice with the back of her hand, to no practical effect. "Do you want the cow or the horse?" Old Li asked. The children hadn't yet discerned what those soft skins were supposed to be, but they chorused in unison, "The cow!" Old Li, like a giant from a myth, picked up the cow, put his mouth to the valve, and blew with all his might. Ying caught on first: "It's a cow! Give it to me, Daddy!" "Give it to Ling, Daddy!" Old Li knew he couldn't give it to both, and he couldn't blow up two at once with one mouth. "Ying, you blow it up yourself. Blow up that old goat!" He didn't know how he'd hit upon this excellent idea, only that he felt remarkably clever. Ying squatted down, picked one up-she wasn't sure if it was the horse or the sheep-and, tremendously excited, managed to blow so hard on her first attempt that her nose broke out in sweat. She didn't even want the cow anymore. Blowing it up yourself was such a marvelous thing! "Ling, you blow one up too." She grabbed the horse, as if the cow had suddenly lost all value. Old Li helped blow up all the animals. Once the valves were plugged, Ying rubbed her hands on her pant legs, speechless, simply gulping in air. Ling hugged the goat, Little Meat-Gourd's face wreathed in smiles. Ying suddenly dashed off to drag her mother over. Her mother's hands were dusted with flour. "Mama! Mama!" Ying called, tugging at the front of her mother's jacket, "Look, Daddy brought cows, and horses, and sheep! Mama, look!" She took another gulp of air. Her mother smiled. She seemed to want to say something to her husband, yet there seemed nothing to say. Not saying anything, however, made things seem awkward. The look in her eyes showed that she regarded Old Li as the head of the household-even as a kind of god. Back in the village, in front of others, she naturally couldn't speak freely to her husband. Besides, with her in-laws around, there was no need to seek her husband's opinion on matters. Now, he was everything. Without him, Beiping would chew her and the children up and swallow them. She ought to say something. He was suffering and earning money for her and the children. But she couldn't think where to begin. "Mama, can I take the cow to show Granny in the west room?" Ying asked, eager to exhibit her new treasure. Her mother seized the opportunity: "Ask your father." Father felt somewhat uneasy. Why should she have to ask him? Weren't the children theirs together? And yet, such a response from his wife surely meant she truly regarded him as her husband and master. Old Li dared not decide anything definitively; he only felt that something stood between husband and wife. Let it be. Let his mind rest for a while. "No need for now, Ying. Let's eat first, you can go afterwards." "Daddy, Ling wants to hold the sheep while she eats her din-din." "Alright." Old Li had another sentence in mind: "Give the old goat some din-din too." But he couldn't muster the energy to say it. They all ate together, and ate with hearty enjoyment. Ling spilled soup all over the sheep. The sheep didn't cry, and Mother didn't spank Ling. After the meal, Mother cleared the table, and Ying, Ling, the cows, the sheep, and Daddy played for a long time. Old Li studied his children closely. The more he looked, the more he felt the profound, intimate connection between them. Ying's mouth and nose were like his own, especially those large, somewhat dull eyes. Old Li thought to himself, "I was probably this dark as a child." Ling's arms and legs were short; she might grow up stocky like her mother. The children's future was a hazy uncertainty. Would Ying take after him, and Ling after her mother? No, surely not. But never mind that! "Ling, come here, let Daddy give you a kiss." After kissing Little Meat-Gourd, he called toward the kitchen, "I say-Ling doesn't have a decent padded gown, does she?" "Isn't the one she's wearing quite nice enough?" His wife shouted from the kitchen, as if wanting the whole street to hear, "She's got a purple one too, saved for going out." "Keep your stinking purple gown!" Old Li thought. It was necessary to have a new gown made for Ling. Dressed up, she would certainly be a darling little girl. He hoped his own mother could also come see Ling's new clothes, though at present the new clothes were not even a stroke on paper. "See you tonight, Ling!" "Daddy, buy peanuts." Ling assumed that as soon as Daddy went out, he would buy peanuts. "Daddy, bring back another cow next time, so we can get a pair." Ying assumed that whenever Daddy went out, he would buy cows. Old Li paused for a moment in the doorway. She did not come out. The door to the east room was open a crack. Old Li caught a glimpse of a figure, though not clearly, only a fleeting impression of a flash of red.
Elder Brother Zhang arrived. Old Li felt as if he were meeting an old family friend. The gifts Elder Brother Zhang brought were a scenic print, a pair of scroll couplets, and a central scroll painting, all without dedicatory inscriptions. Elder Brother Zhang remarked with satisfaction, "That should do it. The walls won't look so bare now." Old Li also hastened to thank him. Elder Brother Zhang surveyed the room. "Still short of a few things, but things come slowly, creeping up on you." Old Li thought to himself, "Things come slowly, creeping up on you. I'm afraid they'll come soon enough." But he didn't dare say it aloud. Elder Brother Zhang sat for a while, then departed. After he left, Old Li remembered he had forgotten to ask his advice on where to hang the print, where to paste the couplets. The central scroll should go in the middle, but there was no nail for it. Mrs. Li returned, quite delighted, because Mrs. Square-Block had visited, bringing her a package of dried lychees and discussing many matters with her, including making a new gown for Ling. Old Li sat there gloomily, thinking, "Things come slowly, creeping up on you! Things come slowly, creeping up on you!"