Chapter Ten: Insults in the Night

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Shao Qiu returned to his room once more and sat before the dilapidated window, facing the howl of the gale outside. His mood was wretched.

As for the Black Bandit, having nothing better to do, he came again to the desolate village and wandered about in front of Shao Qiu’s door. What he actually wanted was something no one could say.

Still, with the Black Bandit lingering outside his room, Shao Qiu could hardly feel at ease. He had been about to hum a little tune, but the moment he saw the man arrive, he suddenly dared do nothing at all.

Fortunately, the Black Bandit remained outside the door only a while before vanishing like the wind. The room—the battered, crumbling room—immediately grew quiet, almost warm and comforting.

Lyu Town, a small settlement lying beside a great river with mountains rising behind it, had once again welcomed a market day.

At the town’s ruined wharf, laughter and conversation rang out without end, along with people calling to one another and shouting at the tops of their voices. Here and there came the furtive giggles of young women.

Along the main street, pedestrians crowded together, sweating as though in rain and grinding the earth beneath their feet into dust. The shops lining both sides were not exactly filled with rare treasures, yet they were splendid enough to make passersby look on with envy, longing to go inside and admire the beautiful wares—even if they could do nothing more than look.

Automobiles blared their horns as they crawled along the street, but the people walking on either side continued as they pleased, paying no attention to the incessant honking.

The drivers would then fly into a rage and roar out curses of the vilest kind. Their listeners, however, took none of it to heart, treating the abuse as wind passing their ears. They continued chatting and laughing as they went, leaving the drivers utterly helpless.

On the street, lovers passed in pairs, brushing hands, nudging feet, and swaying their hips. Afterward, they might go to the riverbank to watch the dragon boats, or sit beside a little roadside stall and eat a bowl of fine rice tofu. Either way, it was a pleasure.

That day, Shao Qiu also came to the market, carrying a shoulder pole laden with jicama, hoping to sell it in Lyu Town and earn a little spending money.

Jicama sold fairly well in Lyu Town. In less than an hour, nearly all of it had been sold. The few remaining roots left Shao Qiu in a quandary: if he did not sell them, it seemed a waste; if he tried to sell them, no one wanted them.

Just then, a gang of burly men carrying broadswords came rushing after a dark-faced fellow, hacking at him as they gave chase. No one knew how he had offended these villains, but they pursued him with murderous fury. Had his hands and feet not been quick, a single stroke would have ended his life.

The dark-faced man had no choice but to run for all he was worth. He dared not stand and fight. Otherwise, he would surely die in Lyu Town.

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The dark-faced man plunged through the crowds, doing everything he could to escape the pursuit of those desperadoes. But they were numerous and powerful; shaking them off was easier said than done.

They drove him all the way to the riverbank. He could only race along the riverbed, fleeing with every ounce of strength and trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the killers. If he failed, returning to see his family would be nothing more than a dream.

“You miserable bastard! Today, I’m going to kill you if it’s the last thing I do!”

As the bandit shouted, his cleaver flashed brilliantly in the sunlight, its glare stabbing across the dark-faced man’s face. Terror seized him, and for a moment he felt that this might be the end of his life.

There, by the river not far from Lyu Town, the dark-faced man was finally killed by the gang. The murderers then slipped away without a sound, and from that day onward, no trace of them was ever found.

After selling his jicama in Lyu Town, Shao Qiu took a boat back to his room. He sat once more inside the battered house, whose roof leaked everywhere, and prepared to cook some vegetables and fry a little meat.

At dusk, the desolate village seemed especially bleak. The girls’ songs had fallen silent, and the men’s hearty calls to their oxen had also vanished. Only the ceaseless murmur of the long river flowing eastward remained, as though it were endlessly confiding something to the heavens and the earth.

Beneath a battered kerosene lamp, Shao Qiu sat in sorrow, pondering matters he would never be able to understand.

The sound of the little river flowing eastward was beautiful in the stillness of the night. A fierce wind swept down from the mountain slopes, scattering leaves that whispered like a young woman murmuring in a dream.

Someone sat atop the barren hills, cursing and swearing at the village below. Why he did so, perhaps only Heaven knew.

Beneath an old shrine tree, a dog barked furiously. Perhaps it thought the man was cursing at it; otherwise, why would it bark with such anguish?

Shao Qiu remained in his crumbling room, listening to all this, his spirits sunk low. The next day he would have to climb the mountain to tend his crops. Yet he had never understood how to do such work, and no one had ever taught him. Still, he had no choice but to go and care for the fields.

Then, for some unknown reason, a gust of wind suddenly blew out the lamp. The room plunged into darkness, and in an instant almost nothing could be seen. Only one or two stars outside remained visible.

Some days passed, and another market day arrived. Whenever market day came, Lyu Town grew extraordinarily lively. People from every walk of life crowded the streets—peddlers, porters, traveling merchants, and all manner of others—making the town unbearably congested. Yet amid those packed crowds, one could always catch sight of pretty young women.

Shao Qiu’s main purpose in coming to Lyu Town was still to sell jicama. But he had another secret purpose as well: to admire the young women passing by. For some reason, whenever he saw such lovely girls, the vast emptiness and despondency in his heart vanished at once, and happiness took root within him.

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After selling his jicama, Shao Qiu sat on a stone bridge in Lyu Town, gazing at the scenery near and far while sipping tea. His spirits rose wonderfully.

Beneath the bridge, a man and woman were locked in an embrace, engaged in an act that was not especially respectable, yet was being carried out quite openly. Shao Qiu did not dare look too closely, afraid it might affect his luck. After all, there was still no telling what kind of harvest he would get from his mountain fields.

Shao Qiu crossed the stone bridge and returned to the wharf. He was not the only one there. The Black Bandit was there too. By then, however, several men had surrounded him. They were broad-shouldered brutes who glared at him in a fury and hurled abuse too filthy to repeat. The Black Bandit could do nothing about that.

One of them stepped forward and punched him squarely in the face. The Black Bandit did not dodge. He struck back, knocking out one of the brute’s teeth and sending him sprawling to the ground, where he cried out without pause.

Seeing that no one dared do anything to him, the Black Bandit rushed forward and rained punches upon the man lying on the ground. Before long, the fellow could only breathe out; he could no longer draw breath in.

When the other men saw how dangerous the Black Bandit was, they scattered in haste like stray dogs. Even as they fled, however, they called back resentfully, “Just you wait!”

“Fine. Your granddaddy will sit right here and wait for you. If you don’t come looking for me, I’ll think even less of you.”

Having said this, the Black Bandit dusted off his hands, boarded the boat along a narrow wooden plank, and stared idly at the scenery outside the window.

Shao Qiu could not remain at the wharf any longer, for he heard people shouting that the boat was about to depart.

By then, Lyu Town had become only a wisp of dust beneath the setting sun. It rested quietly beside the little river, as though remembering the glories and humiliations of days gone by.

At that moment, a beautiful young woman in a short skirt sang a little tune that set the heart aflutter. Carrying a bamboo basket, she sat on a stone slab and began beating her clothes against it, one strike after another. Amid the rhythmic slapping, Lyu Town gradually settled into silence. The bustling crowds had disappeared, and beneath the dying sun, the empty old street took on a touch of desolation.

Sitting in the little boat, Shao Qiu returned once more to the desolate village. He ducked into his ruined room and began building a fire to cook dinner. Otherwise, what would he eat that evening?

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