Explore Chapter 3 of 'Four Generations Under One Roof' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
The warning from Fourth Master Li under the great locust tree, "Old neighbors of our venerable street, best stock some food in haste, the city gates are shut!" made Old Man Qi feel more like Zhuge Liang than ever. He could not very well shout through the barricaded gate to Fourth Master Li, "I have prepared everything!" Yet in his heart, he was profoundly satisfied with his own foresight and his uncanny ability to divine events.
Flushed with pride, he ventured an overly optimistic forecast: within three days, he judged, the matter would be settled.
His son Tianyou was a responsible man. The tighter the city gates were shut, the more obligated he felt to stay at his shop.
His daughter-in-law was sickly. Hearing that the Japanese devils were stirring up trouble, she heaved a long sigh. She dreaded the thought that she might die in the next two days, and her coffin would be unable to leave the city! This anxiety worsened her illness.
Ruifeng and his modern wife never paid attention to national affairs, nor cared much for family matters; with the main gate barricaded by their grandfather, they had no choice but to while away the time indoors playing cards. When the old man droned on in the courtyard, they exchanged glances, shrugged, and stuck out their tongues.
Though only twenty-eight, Little Shun'er's mother had already tasted hardship to the full. She sympathized with the old man's deep concern and apprehension; yet she herself remained unafraid and unflustered. Her heart seemed far older than her body. She saw with perfect clarity that hardship was the most tangible thing, utterly inescapable; but if one wanted to live, one had to find a crack in that hardship and slip through-to do one's utmost and leave the rest to Heaven. In short, born into such times, a person must constantly face danger with courage while guarding warily against the *most* dangerous eventuality. You must weave caution into your boldness, fighting as you retreat. You must learn to take grievance as part of life, and from that grievance, savor a thread of sweetness-just enough to make you want to live on.
She kept up her end of the conversation with the old man, recalling past sufferings through her tears while hoping this present danger would pass swiftly. Hearing the old man's judgment-that within three days, things would settle-she gave a slight smile. "That would be splendid!" Then she offered her own thoughts. "I simply cannot fathom what those Japanese devils are after! We've surely offended no one. Wouldn't living out our days in peace be far better than taking up swords and spears? I daresay those Japanese devils must be born troublemakers. Don't you agree?"
The old man pondered a while before speaking. "Ever since I was a child, we've suffered the bullying of those little Japanese. I simply cannot see the reason for it! Well, let us only hope this time things do not get out of hand! The Japanese love their petty gains. Who knows, perhaps they've set their covetous eyes on the Marco Polo Bridge this time."
"Why would they single out the Marco Polo Bridge?" Little Shun'er's mother wondered aloud. "You can't eat a great bridge, and you can't carry it off!"
"That's precisely why they're the little Japanese! They covet everything they lay eyes on!" The old man was quite pleased with his insight into the Japanese mind. "Back in the year of Gengzi, when Japanese troops entered the city, they searched house by house. First they demanded jewelry and watches; later, they even made off with the brass buttons from our clothes!"
"Probably mistook the brass for gold, the blind fools!" said Little Shun'er's mother, a touch of anger in her voice. She herself was not one to accept even a blade of grass without giving something in return.
"Could you keep your mouth shut for a while? All your talk churns me up inside!" In the entire household, no one dared contradict the old man except Ruiquan and Little Shun'er. By silencing the sister-in-law now, he was of course also resisting the old man by implication.
"I don't care to listen!" Ruiquan closely resembled his grandfather in appearance-lean and tall-but in thought, they were centuries apart. His eyes were also small, but sharp and spirited, the pupils like two gleaming black beans. At school, he was a basketball player. When playing, those two black beans would dart after the ball, and the moment he caught it, his mouth would clamp shut as if swallowing something with great effort. The expression in his eyes and mouth revealed his character-impatient and resolute. Now, his gaze shifted from his grandfather to his sister-in-law, then back to his grandfather, as if he were watching an opponent on the court. "The Japanese want the lions on the Marco Polo Bridge? Preposterous! They want Beiping, they want Tianjin, they want North China, they want the whole of China!"
"Enough, enough! Third Brother, not another word." The sister-in-law greatly feared Third Brother would provoke their grandfather's wrath.
In truth, Old Man Qi never truly grew angry with his grandson-had it been his great-grandson, it would be the great-grandson throwing the tantrum, and the great-grandfather who would be the one offering appeasing smiles.
"Sister-in-law, you are always like this! Regardless of who is right or wrong, no matter how grave the situation, you are always urging people to hold their tongues!" Third Master did not particularly dislike his sister-in-law, but he genuinely opposed her method of glossing things over. Though his anger was directed at her, what he despised was the general type-he had no use for anyone who avoided taking a stand and only sought to smooth things over.
"If not this way, what would you have me do?" Little Shun'er's mother had no desire to quarrel with Third Brother; she spoke at length to prevent the old man from clashing with him directly. "When you're hungry, you come to me for food. When you're cold, you ask me for clothes. How can I possibly manage the great affairs of the world?"
"Ruixuan! Go open the gate!" called Old Man Qi. "Most likely your father is back." Ruixuan enlisted his brother Ruiquan's help to move the stone-filled broken vat. Standing outside was not their father, but Mr. Qian Moyin. Both brothers were stunned. A visit from Mr. Qian was an extremely rare event. Ruixuan immediately sensed the gravity of the hour, his heart growing even more troubled. Ruiquan also saw the danger, but felt only excitement, devoid of any unease or fear.
Mr. Qian wore a very loose old blue cloth gown, its cuffs and collar frayed. He remained amiable and composed, yet he knew that breaking his custom to visit a friend's house today was in itself a sign of disquiet. With a faint smile, he asked softly, "Are the elders at home?"
Seated in the north room's parlor, Mr. Qian first said to Ruixuan, "Pray, do not trouble yourself with tea! If you stand on ceremony, I shall be even less inclined to venture here again!" This also hinted that he wished to come straight to the point and did not desire to meet every member of the Qi household, young and old.
Old Man Qi raised a practical matter first. "These past two days I have been very concerned for you! We are old neighbors and old friends. Let us have no polite talk. Do you have grain? If not, you must tell me! Grain is not like other things. You cannot do without it for a day, nor even for a single meal!"
"I-" Mr. Moyin smiled, briefly closing his eyes. "I would like to ask Ruixuan, my young friend," his glance also took in Ruiquan, "how do you believe the situation will evolve? You see, I am not one to meddle much in state affairs. Yet the freedom with which I live is entirely bestowed by our country. These past few days, I can concentrate on nothing! I do not fear poverty, nor do I fear hardship. I fear only the loss of our city of Beiping! A flower possesses its full beauty when it grows upon the tree; once plucked by human hands, its beauty is finished. Beiping is like that. It is supremely beautiful. But if seized by the enemy, it becomes a flower torn from the branch! Is it not so?" Seeing no response, he added, "If Beiping is the tree, then I am a flower upon it, though merely an idle blossom. Should Beiping be unfortunately lost, I think I should have no need to live on!"
Old Man Qi wished to voice his own faith in Beiping and advise Mr. Qian not to fret overmuch. Yet he could not fully grasp Mr. Qian's meaning. Mr. Qian's words were like the script on a pawn ticket-they were words, yes, but written in a different cipher. If you guessed carelessly and redeemed the wrong item, you would be in a fine fix! Thus his lips moved, but no words emerged.
Ruiquan had no such reservations. He had long wanted to talk but found no suitable listener. His eldest brother's learning and insight were not lacking, but Eldest Brother was so deliberately reticent that it required considerable effort to draw words from him. Second Brother-well, with Second Brother and his wife one could only discuss movies and amusements. Talking with them was still better than conversing with his grandfather or sister-in-law about the daily necessities like oil, salt, sauce, and vinegar-though dull, it at least pertained to life. Now, he had seized upon Mr. Qian. He knew Mr. Qian was a man of some thought-even if his thoughts did not run along the same lines. He straightened up, squaring his shoulders, and declared, "In my view, the choice is either to fight, or to surrender!"
Disregarding his grandfather's query, Ruiquan pressed on with righteous conviction. "Japan's religion, education, temperament, geography, military preparedness, the industrial and buccaneering foundations of its culture, the ambitions of its militarists-all are oriented toward the single path of aggression. Smuggling, fomenting trouble, riding roughshod over others-these are all necessary tactics of the aggressor! The gunfire at the Marco Polo Bridge is but one such tactic. Even if we manage to gloss things over this time, within ten days or a fortnight they are sure to stir up a greater incident elsewhere-perhaps right at Xiyuan or Huguo Temple. Japan is now riding a tiger and cannot but charge ahead blindly!"
Hearing "Huguo Temple," Old Man Qi's heart gave a tremor: Huguo Temple was far too close to Little Sheep Fold!
Ruiquan, agitated, had not spoken excessively, yet his vehemence bordered on being strained. His mind also seemed in turmoil, unable to continue. Rationally, he knew China's military preparedness was no match for Japan's. If war truly broke out, they would surely suffer a great defeat. But emotionally, he desired immediate resistance, for every day of delay gave the Japanese another day's advantage. Once the enemy was fully deployed, it would be too late to strike back! He longed to resist. If war between China and Japan truly erupted, he could devote his own life to the country. Yet he feared being countered with the question: "Will sacrificing your life ensure victory?" He never doubted his own willingness to sacrifice, but he disliked being cornered by such logic. He was about to graduate from university and could not appear rash and hot-headed before others. He broke into a sweat. Scratching his head, he sat down, several red spots appearing on his face.
Old Man Qi, lacking an opportunity or audience for conversation, swiftly seized upon his great-grandson. "Look at you! Look! The moment the gate opens, you run outside. How disobedient! Let me tell you, the Japanese devils are making trouble out there!"
Old Man Qi, with Little Shun'er in tow, went out to see the guest off. By the time he reached the doorway, Mr. Qian was already beneath the jujube tree outside the south room. Ruixuan and Ruiquan hurried after to escort him out. Guan Xiaoke was standing just inside the threshold of the street gate. He wore a blue gauze gown adorned with the coiled dragon pattern, a style that had been the height of fashion thirty years prior, had later fallen completely out of favor, only to come back into vogue once again. It fit him perfectly and looked most imposing. Below, he wore trousers of fine government-silk, white with thin blue stripes, the bottoms flared. On his feet were black silk socks and black satin shoes with white layered soles, making even his shadow appear exceptionally handsome and pleasing. Seeing Mr. Qian emerge, he gently tugged the hem of his blue gauze gown with one hand and extended the other, his face wreathed in cordial smiles, ready to shake hands.
Mr. Guan had visited the Qi household only twice before. The first time was when Old Lady Qi had passed away; he came to offer incense and libation wine but did not stay long. The second time was when rumors spread that Ruixuan was to become principal of the municipal middle school; he came to offer congratulations in advance and stayed a considerable while. Later, when the rumor proved groundless, he had not returned.
Today, he had come primarily to see Mr. Qian, taking the opportunity to drop in on the Qi family. During the era of warlord strife, Guan Xiaoke had held several official posts that, while not of the highest rank, were quite lucrative. He had been chief of a tax bureau, magistrate of a first-class county, and a minor official in a provincial government. In recent years, his official luck had waned, which was why he despised the Nanjing government and spent his days mingling with disgruntled literati, bureaucrats, and warlords. He always believed that among his friends, one or two were bound to regain their footing and wield great power again, and then he too would have another chance at good official fortune-which meant wealth. When socializing with these friends, his appearance and attire were impeccable. At the same time, his ability to sing a few lines of Peking opera and play eight rounds of mahjong was not too shabby. Lately, he had taken to studying Buddhism, delving into charms and magic arts. Consequently, he had gained entry to places like the Hengshan Society and other religious and charitable organizations frequented by the old guard. He did not truly believe in Buddha or gods but treated them as social necessities, just as he needed to know how to sing and gamble.
Only one accomplishment eluded him: he could not compose poetry, nor could he paint plum blossoms or landscapes. The literati he associated with were, naturally, adept at such arts. Even the wealthy warlords and bureaucrats living as gentleman-recluses in Tianjin often knew a trick or two. Even the illiterate Marshal Ding could wield a large hemp brush to write a single "tiger" character ten feet tall. Even those wealthy men completely incapable of writing or painting loved to discourse on such pursuits; these things were ornaments of "wealth," just as a wealthy wife must have diamonds and pearls.
He had long known that Qian Moyin was skilled in poetry and painting, and that his family circumstances were rather modest. For some time, he had wanted to send over some tuition to imbibe some of his refined culture at the Qian household. He did not hope to truly become a poet or painter himself but merely wished to learn some terminology and the names and schools of poets and painters, so as not to make a fool of himself in front of celebrities.
He had tried every means to get to know Mr. Qian, but Mr. Qian remained like a tree-you called out to it, and it paid you no heed. He dared not pay a direct call on Mr. Qian, for if rebuffed even once, it would be difficult to arrange another meeting. Today, seeing Mr. Qian go to the Qi household, he had hurried over. Once acquainted at the Qi's, he planned to immediately send over two potted plants or several bottles of good wine directly, thus securing his chance to acquire some polish. Moreover, he suspected that despite Qian Moyin's apparent straits, his home might yet harbor a few precious scrolls of calligraphy or painting. Of course, if he were willing to spend money on antiques, there were plenty ready-made at "Liulichang." But he had no wish to spend his money on such things. Therefore, he thought, once he became familiar with Mr. Qian, he was sure to find a way to acquire one or two treasures quite cheaply. What a bargain that would be! With one or two antiques displayed in his home, besides his aged Bamboo Leaf Green wine and his pretty concubines, he would have more artifacts to exhibit, further elevating his stature.
He had not expected to receive such a soft rebuff from Mr. Qian! He was exceedingly displeased. He acknowledged that Qian Moyin was a renowned scholar, but scholars far more famous than he did not put on such airs! "Offers a face but refuses to accept it. Very well, we shall see!" He thought of revenge. "Hmph! Just let me get my chance, and you, Mr. Qian, shall have your share of amusement!" Outwardly, however, he remained perfectly composed, his face wearing a smile as he made small talk with the Qi brothers.
"No news," replied Ruixuan, who also disliked Mr. Guan but had to make conversation with him. "What is your view, Mr. Guan?"
Ruiquan's face reddened again, his tone quite blunt. "Mr. Guan, how do you think they *should* have handled it?"
"I?" Mr. Guan smiled, pausing briefly in feigned thought. "That is 'not in the position, not planning the policy'! I am now almost solely devoted to studying Buddhism. Let me tell you both, the flavor of Buddhist teachings is truly wonderfully profound! Knowing even a little of the Buddha's words and the Dharma makes one's heart feel as if sipping fine wine-always pleasantly light-headed! The day before yesterday, at old Mr. Sun Qing's place (Marshal Ding, General Li, old Mr. Fang Xi were all there), we summoned the Queen Mother of the West and even took her photograph. Mystical, wonderfully inexplicable! Just imagine, the Queen Mother of the West, captured clearly, with two long whiskers on her mouth, just like a catfish's whiskers, very, very long, stretching from here-" he pointed to his mouth, "all the way-" his mouth waited as his hand circled toward his shoulder, "to here. Mystical!"
He was about to continue expounding on Buddhism when a commotion arose in his own courtyard. He stood and listened. "Oh, probably Second Miss is back! Yesterday she went to play at Beihai Park. Probably with the streets in chaos, Beihai Park closed its gates and she got locked inside. My wife was quite worried, but I was not too anxious. Those who cultivate Buddhism have this advantage: the heart is always pleasantly light-headed, never hurried, never panicked. Buddha will arrange everything for us! Well, I must go and see. Let us continue our chat another day." With that, his face calm but his steps rather quick, he walked out.
The Qi brothers saw him to the gate. Ruixuan glanced at his third brother, whose face reddened slightly for a moment.