Rickshaw Boy: A Novel (22 page)

Xiangzi went out early the next morning. Most but not all of the shops were open. New Year’s scrolls still decorated the doors, but the strings of yellow paper money had been blown away by the wind. Rickshaws were plentiful on otherwise quiet streets, the men more spirited than usual in their new shoes, at least most of them; red paper streamers adorned the backs of their rickshaws. Xiangzi envied these men, with their New Year’s spirit, while he had spent the past few days bottled up. They were content with their lot; he had no job to go to and could only stand idly by, which was unlike him. Tomorrow, he was thinking, he’d have a talk with Huniu—his wife. From now on he would have to beg for food from that wife—and what a wife she was. His physique, his strength, all going to waste—useless. His first job was to take care of his wife, that fanged thing in a red dress, that blood-sucking beast. No longer could he lay claim to being a man; he was just a piece of meat. He’d ceased to exist, except to struggle in her teeth, like a mouse caught in a cat’s mouth. No, he wouldn’t talk things over with her; he’d find a way to escape; as soon as he had a plan, he’d leave without a word. He owed nothing to a crone who would trick him with a pillow. He felt terrible. How he longed to tear his new clothes to shreds and then jump into a pool of clear water to wash away the filth that clung to his body, the unspeakable grime that sickened him. He wanted nothing more than to never see her again!

But where would he go? He had no idea. When he was pulling a rickshaw, his legs went where his passenger told him. Now his legs were free to take him wherever they wanted, but his mind was a blank. At the Xisi Arch he headed south, past Xuanwu Gate. The road ahead was straight, and his mind would entertain no twists or turns. He continued heading south, through the city gate, and when he spotted a public bathhouse, he decided he needed a bath.

After stripping naked, he examined his body and was ashamed. So he went down into the numbingly hot water, shut his eyes, and felt the filth seep out through the pores of his tingling skin. His mind a blank, he could not bring himself to touch his body. Sweat beaded his forehead. Not until his breathing quickened did he lazily drag himself out of the water; by then his body was red as a newborn baby. Unwilling to walk around like that, he wrapped a towel around his waist, but even then he felt unsightly and unclean, despite the drops of sweat raining to the floor. There was, he felt, a stain on him that could not be washed away. In the eyes of Fourth Master, in the eyes of everyone who knew him, he would always be known as a womanizer.

He dressed quickly, before he’d stopped sweating, and ran out, afraid to let anyone see his naked body. A cool breeze greeted him outside and had a relaxing effect. The atmosphere on the streets was even more festive than when he’d gone into the public bath; people’s faces had brightened under a cloudless sky. But Xiangzi’s mind was as conflicted as ever, and he didn’t know where to go next. South first, then east, and south again, he headed for Tianqiao, where, in the days after New Year’s, shop clerks congregated at nine in the morning after breakfast, since that was where peddlers of everything imaginable had set up stalls and entertainers put on shows. The place was swarming with people by the time he arrived, attracted by the clamor of drums and cymbals; but he was in no mood to take in the fun. He had forgotten how to laugh.

Comic dialogue performers, dancing bears, magicians, storytellers, balladeers, drumbeat singers, and acrobats had once brought him pleasure, making him laugh out loud. Tianqiao was half the reason he could not stand the idea of leaving Beiping. Seeing the mats spread on the ground and the crowds forming around them reminded him of so many happy times. But not now. Since he could not share in the laughter, he had no desire to elbow his way into the crush of people. Instead, he needed a quiet spot, away from the crowds, but he couldn’t tear himself away. No, he could not leave this bustling, happy place, not Tianqiao and certainly not Beiping. Go away? All roads were closed to him. So he would have to return to talk things out with her—with
her
. He couldn’t leave, but neither could he remain idle. He had to stop and think, just as everyone must do when things appear hopeless. After suffering every wrong imaginable, why should this one be special? He could not change the past, so why not just carry on?

He stood and listened to the clamor of voices and to the drumbeats and crashing cymbals, and as he watched the people and horse-drawn carts stream past, he was reminded once more of those two small rooms. Suddenly, there were no more sounds to be heard, no more people to be seen, nothing but those two white, toasty rooms, with their red happiness scrolls, standing squarely in front of him. He’d only slept there one night, but they were already so familiar, so intimate, that he realized he could not easily rid himself of the red-jacketed woman. In Tianqiao he had nothing and was nobody, but in those two rooms he had everything. There was no way around it—he had to go back. That was where his future lay. Shame, timidity, and sorrow were useless. If he was going to survive, he had to find a place where things were possible.

He went straight home, walking in the door around eleven o’clock. Huniu was preparing a lunch of steamed buns, cabbage with meatballs, and platters with jellied pork skin and pickled turnips. Everything was on the table except the cabbage, which still simmered on the stove and gave off a tempting aroma. She had changed out of her red jacket and was wearing ordinary padded trousers and jacket. But a red velvet flower with a little gilded paper ingot was pinned to her hair. To Xiangzi she seemed more like a woman who had been married for years than a newlywed—efficient, experienced, and at least somewhat self-satisfied. Though she may not have looked like a bride, there was something new in the air: the food on the table, the way the room was arranged, the sweet-smelling air, and the warmth—these were all new to him, and whatever else might be said, he had a home. There was something endearing about a home, and now he did not know what to do.

“Where did you go?” she asked as she scooped up the cabbage.

“I went for a bath.” He took off his robe.

“I see. Next time tell me where you’re going. Don’t walk out with just a wave of your hand.”

He didn’t respond.

“What’s wrong, forget how to talk? I can teach you, you know.”

He merely grunted. What else could he do? He knew he had a shrew for a wife, but one who could cook and clean house, who could yell at him one minute and help him out the next, and that made him uncomfortable. He picked up a steamed bun and ate it. This was better food than he was used to, and piping hot. And yet something was missing—it didn’t bring as much pleasure as the food he wolfed down most of the time, and it didn’t raise a sweat.

When lunch was finished, he lay down on the heated bed, pillowed his head in his hands, and stared at the ceiling.

“Hey, come here and help me wash up,” she called from the outer room. “I’m not your housemaid, you know!”

He sat up lazily and looked her way as he went to help with the dishes. Normally ready to help with almost anything, this time he worked with feelings of resentment. Back at the rickshaw shed he’d given her a hand plenty of times, but all he felt now was disgust. He had never hated anyone as much as he hated her. But he couldn’t say why that was. He kept his anger bottled up inside, knowing he couldn’t break it off with her and that there was no point in arguing. As he paced the floor of the two rooms, life seemed to be one endless grievance.

After she put the dishes away, she took a look around and sighed. “Well,” she said with a smile, “what do you say?”

“What do you mean?” Xiangzi was crouched down by the stove, warming his hands. They weren’t really that cold, but that was one way to keep them busy. The two rooms really did seem like a home, but he didn’t quite know where to put his arms and legs.

“Take me out for some fun. How about White Cloud Monastery? No, too late for that. Let’s just go out for a stroll.” She wanted to get as much enjoyment out of this new marriage as possible. The wedding itself hadn’t been anything to brag about, but the freedom to do as she pleased felt good, so why not have a grand time with her new husband, at least for a few days? In her father’s home she’d always had food to eat, clothes to wear, and money to spend, but she’d lacked the companionship of a man; now she looked forward to strolling the city’s streets and temple fairs with Xiangzi at her side.

Xiangzi said no. In the first place, he considered walking in public with one’s wife shameful. Second, the only thing you could do with a wife like this was keep her hidden at home. This was nothing to be proud of, but the less she was in the public eye the better. To top it off, he was sure to meet acquaintances out there, since there wasn’t a rickshaw man anywhere in West City who didn’t know all about Huniu and Xiangzi. The last thing he wanted was for people to whisper behind his back.

“Let’s talk things over, all right?” He remained crouching by the stove.

“What’s there to talk about?” She walked up to him. Xiangzi rested his hands on his knees and stared at the flames. After a long silence he managed to say, “I can’t sit around with nothing to do.”

“You live to suffer!” She laughed. “Your hands itch if you can’t pull a rickshaw for one day, isn’t that right? Look at my father. After he was too old to keep living only for pleasure, he opened a rickshaw shop. He doesn’t have to pull a rickshaw, doesn’t have to work at all. He gets by on his wits alone. You could learn a thing or two from him. What’s so great about pulling a rickshaw anyway? We can continue this conversation after we’ve enjoyed a bit of life. Nothing has to be decided immediately. What’s the rush? I’m not going to argue with you over the next few days, so please don’t pick a fight.”

“I want to talk things over first.” Xiangzi was not going to back down. Since he could not pack up and leave, he had to find something to do, and that meant taking a firm stand. He did not want to keep swinging back and forth, getting nowhere.

“All right,” she said as she moved a stool up next to the stove, “let’s hear what you have to say.”

“How much money do you have?”

“I knew it. That’s exactly what I expected to hear. You married me for my money.”

Xiangzi felt like he was choking. He swallowed hard. Old Man Liu and all the men at Harmony Shed thought he was money-hungry and that he’d taken up with Huniu only for what he could get. And now she was saying the same thing! After losing his rickshaw and all his money, he wound up subjugated by what little money she had. Even the food he ate was hers to dispense. He could hardly keep from grabbing her around the neck and throttling her! Choke her till he saw the whites of her eyes. Then, once she was good and dead, he’d slit his own throat. They both deserved to die. He was no more human than she, and he deserved to die, too. What right did they have to go on living?

Xiangzi stood up to go out, regretting having come home. Huniu softened her attitude once she saw the look on his face. “All right, I’ll tell you. I started out with about five hundred yuan. The sedan chair, three months’ rent, the papering, the clothes, and what I gave you, altogether nearly a hundred, which leaves four hundred. I tell you, there’s nothing to worry about, so let’s enjoy ourselves while we can. You’ve been sweating away in front of a rickshaw for years, and you deserve to have a good time for a change. And me? I’ve been a spinster all this time, and I’m ready for some fun. We’ll keep at it till the money’s gone, then go to the old man and get some more. I’d never have left home if not for the fight we got into that day, but I’m not mad anymore, and he is, after all, my father. I’m all he’s got, and he’s always liked you, so we throw ourselves at his feet and apologize, and he’ll be in a forgiving mood. It’s foolproof! He’s rich, and we stand to inherit his money. There’s nothing unreasonable or improper about that. It’s better than being a slave for somebody else. You go over in a few days. Now, he might refuse to see you, so you return a second time. That will give him enough face to come around sooner or later. Then I’ll go and sweet-talk him, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked us to move back. When that happens, we can throw out our chests and not have to worry about anyone looking crooked at us. But if we stay here and try to stick it out alone, we’ll always be on people’s blacklist. Am I right or aren’t I?”

This was all new to Xiangzi. Since the day Huniu had come to the Cao house looking for him, his only thought had been that, after they were married, he’d get her to buy him a rickshaw and he’d be back on the street. Spending his wife’s money was not honorable, but since their relationship was the kind he couldn’t talk about, what did it matter? That she might have other ideas never occurred to him. He could hold his nose and do as she said, but that was not in his nature. As he mulled over what she said, he realized that if someone steals money from you, there is nothing you can do about it. And when someone gives you money, you have no choice but to take it, and from that moment on, you are no longer the master of your own aspirations and strength: you belong to someone else. You are your wife’s plaything and your father-in-law’s servant. A man alone is nothing—a bird, perhaps, that falls into a trap when it tries to feed itself. But if it’s content to be fed, it must live in a cage and sing for its food until the day it’s sold to someone else.

He did not want to go see Fourth Master. He had a physical relationship with Huniu but not with the old man. She’d tricked him, and he refused to go to her father with his hand out. “I can’t sit around doing nothing” was all he said. Best to avoid wasting breath or getting into an argument.

“A man born to suffer,” she taunted. “If you want to keep busy, open a shop.”

“Not me,” Xiangzi replied tensely, the veins in his forehead standing out. “I can’t make money doing that. I pull a rickshaw. I like pulling a rickshaw!”

“Well, I tell you, I’ll not have you pulling a rickshaw. I won’t let you climb into my bed all sweaty! You see things your way, I see them mine, and we’ll find out who comes out on top. You got yourself a wife, but I paid for it, every cent of it. So who do you think ought to listen to whom?”