To Live (3 page)

No one in the House of Qing ever saw Mr. Shen lose. The blue veins in his hands would be practically popping out as he shuffled the deck of cards. All you could hear was the fluttering sound of wind as the deck became long and short, disappearing and reappearing in his hands. It made my eyes tired just watching.

Once when Mr. Shen was drunk he said to me, “Gambling relies entirely upon a good set of eyes and a quick pair of hands. You’ve got to train your eyes to open wide as a melon and your hands to be as slippery as an eel.”

After the Japanese surrender, Long Er came. He spoke with a mixed accent, and just by listening to him you could tell he was a rather complicated person. He was a man who had been to many places and seen the world. He didn’t wear a long gown; instead he wore clothes made from pure white silk. Two other men came with Long Er to help him carry a large wicker chest.

The games between Mr. Shen and Long Er that year were really amazing. The gambling room at the House of Qing was flooded with people as Mr. Shen gambled with Long Er and his men. Behind Long Er stood a waiter with a dry towel on a serving tray. From time to time Long Er would grab the towel to wipe his hands. We all thought it interesting that he didn’t use a wet towel to wipe his hands, but a dry one; he would wipe his hands as if he had just finished a meal. In the beginning Long Er would always lose. Although it didn’t seem to bother him, the two men who came with him could barely take it. One of them would curse under his breath while the other would take deep sighs. Mr. Shen always won, but the expression on his face was not that of a winner. Mr. Shen
knitted his brow as if he had lost a bundle. He was getting on in years, and after gambling half the night he would start to breathe heavily, and the sweat on his forehead would drip down. His head hung down, but his eyes bore into Long Er’s hands like nails.

“This round decides everything,” Mr. Shen said.

Long Er took the towel from the tray, and as he wiped his hands one last time he said, “All right.”

They piled all of their money on the table. The money took up practically all the space, leaving just a small open area in the center. Each of them got five cards. After Long Er showed four of his cards, his two men instantly lost hope and, pushing the cards aside, said, “It’s over, we’ve lost again.”

But Long Er quickly said, “We haven’t lost, we’ve won.”

As he spoke, Long Er showed his last card—it was the ace of spades. When the two workers saw, they began to laugh. Actually, Mr. Shen’s last card was also an ace of spades—he had three aces and two
kings. Long Er had three queens and two jacks. When Long Er showed his ace of spades, Mr. Shen seemed to be in shock for a while, then he finally put his cards away and said, “I lost.”

Both Long Er’s and Mr. Shen’s ace of spades had come from their pockets. One pack of cards can only have a single ace of spades, so when Long Er showed his first, Mr. Shen
knew he had no choice but to admit defeat. That was the first time we ever saw Mr. Shen lose. Leaning on the table to stand up, Mr. Shen clasped his hands and bowed to Long Er and his men before turning to leave. As he approached the door he smiled and said, “I’m getting old.”

From then on no one saw Mr. Shen again. I heard someone say that he rode away on a rickshaw the next morning at the crack of dawn.

After Mr. Shen left, Long Er quickly took his place as the top gambler in town. Long Er was different from Mr. Shen. While Mr. Shen would never lose, Long Er would lose when the stakes were low, but never when the stakes were high. I used to gamble with Long Er at the House of Qing. Sometimes I lost and sometimes I won, but because of this I never really felt like I was losing. Actually, when I won it was always small change, but when I lost it was a fortune. I was left in the dark, all the while thinking that I was just about to bring honor back to my ancestors.

Jiazhen came looking for me on what would be my last night of gambling. When she arrived it was almost dusk—Jiazhen told me that later; at the time I had no idea if it was night or day. Jiazhen, who was seven or eight months pregnant with our son, Youqing, came to the House of Qing. When she found me she
kneeled down before me in silence; at first I didn’t even see her. I was doing exceptionally well that day. We were playing dice, and, eight or nine times out of ten, the numbers were coming up in my favor. Sitting across from me was Long Er. As soon as he saw the numbers he’d giggle, “Well my friend, it looks like I’ve lost again.”

After Long Er beat Mr. Shen by pulling a fast one, no one in the House of Qing, including me, dared bet on cards with Long Er. Long Er and I would always play dice, but even at dice Long Er was an expert. He almost always won and rarely lost. But that day I had him in the palm of my hand—he
kept losing to me. With narrow eyes and a cigarette dangling from his lips, he acted as if everything was all right. He would snicker whenever he lost, but as his thin arms pushed the money over to my side of the table, he couldn’t have appeared more begrudging. I thought, Long Er, you should suffer at least once. People are all the same: When they’re taking the money from someone else’s pocket, their faces light up and it’s all smiles, but as soon as it’s their turn to lose they all cry like they’re in mourning. I was ecstatic until I felt someone tugging on my clothes. I looked down and saw my wife. Seeing Jiazhen
kneeling there made me mad. I thought, my son hasn’t even been born yet, and here she is
kneeling. This really was too much. I said to Jiazhen, “Get up! Get up! Stand the fuck up!”

Jiazhen really listened—she stood right up. I said, “What the hell did you come here for? Hurry up and go home.”

When I finished with what I had to say, I just ignored her and watched Long Er raise the dice above his head, shaking them a few times as if he were praying to the Buddha. As soon as he threw them down, his face lost all color.

“Rubbing too many women’s asses must bring bad luck,” he said.

As soon as I realized I had won again, I said, “Long Er, you’d better go wash your hands.”

Long Er laughed as he said, “After you wipe your mouth clean, we’ll see.”

Jiazhen tugged on my clothes. As soon as I looked I realized she was
kneeling again. She quietly pleaded, “Come home with me.”

Go home with a woman? If Jiazhen wasn’t intentionally trying to make a fool out of me, I didn’t
know what she was doing. All at once my temper flared. I looked at Long Er and the others— they were all laughing at me. I screamed at Jiazhen, “Take your ass home!”

But Jiazhen persisted. “You come with me.”

I slapped her twice, and her head swayed back and forth like a toy rattle. After having been hit, she still
kneeled there, saying, “I won’t get up until you agree to come home with me.”

It hurts to think about it now. When I was young I was a real asshole. A great woman like that, and I hit and
kicked her. But no matter how hard I hit her, she just kneeled there and wouldn’t get up. In the end I would grow tired of hitting her. Her hair was a mess, and tears were running down her face. I took a handful of the money I had just won and gave it to two of the guys who were standing there watching. I had them carry Jiazhen away. As they left I told them, “The farther the better!”

As Jiazhen was carried out, her hands firmly clasped her protruding belly, which held my son. She didn’t scream or yell. She was carried out to the main street, where the two men left her. Leaning against the wall to support herself, she struggled to get to her feet. By then it was completely dark out. She slowly made her way home. Years later, when I looked back on that incident, I asked Jiazhen whether she hated me back then. She shook her head, “No.”

Wiping the tears from her face, my wife passed the entrance to her father’s rice shop. She stood there a long time watching the silhouette of her father’s face reflected on the wall by the
kerosene lamp. She knew that he was checking the accounts. After standing there for a while, lost in her tears, she left.

That night Jiazhen walked over ten li
²
in the dark to get home. All alone, and more than seven months pregnant with Youqing, she walked that wet, bumpy road home, with dogs barking after her the whole way.

A few years before, Jiazhen had been a student. At the time there was a night school in town. Jiazhen, carrying a
kerosene lamp and wearing a moon white cheongsam, was going to class with a few of her girlfriends. I saw her while I was turning a corner; she walked over with a swing in her step. The sound of her high-heeled shoes tapping the stone pavement was like the sound of falling rain. Jiazhen was really beautiful back then, and my eyes froze on her. Her hair was neatly combed behind her ears, and when she walked her cheongsam would crease at the waist. I thought to myself, I want her to be my wife.

After Jiazhen and her friends passed by giggling, I asked a cobbler sitting on the ground nearby, “Whose daughter is that?”

“That’s the rice dealer Chen Ji’s daughter,” the cobbler said.

As soon as I got home I told my mom, “Quick, find a match-maker. I want to marry the daughter of the rice shop owner, Mr. Chen.”

The night after Jiazhen was carried off, my luck started to go sour. I lost a whole bunch of games in a row. Before my eyes, the pile of money I had accumulated disappeared like the water you wash your feet in. Long Er couldn’t stop giggling—his face was almost disfigured from his excessive laughing. My losing streak lasted until sunrise. I gambled until my head was dizzy, my vision blurry and I burped up smelly gas from my stomach. Finally I bet the biggest stakes I had ever risked in my life. I wet my hands with my saliva thinking that the fruits of a thousand springs were resting on this throw. Just as I was about to throw the dice, Long Er stretched out his hand to stop me. “Slow down.”

Long Er waved to one of the waiters, saying, “Give Master Xu a hot towel.”

It was then that the people watching went back to sleep. Aside from Long Er’s two right-hand men, the only people paying attention were the people at the gambling table. Later I learned that Long Er had bought off that waiter. The waiter handed me a hot towel, and, as I wiped my face, Long Er secretly switched the dice to a pair he had tampered with. I didn’t notice a thing. After wiping my face I threw the towel down on the tray. Then I picked up the dice and shook them with all my might. After throwing them I thought, not bad, a pretty big number.

When it was Long Er’s turn, he let everything ride on number seven. He cupped his hands, then tightly clasped them together, yelling, “Seven.”

One of the dice had a hole dug out of it and was filled with mercury. When Long Er’s hands met and the dice came together, the mercury in the fixed die fell to the bottom. He tossed the die and, after rolling over a few times, it stopped on seven.

As soon as I saw that it was a seven, my head began to pound. This time I lost bad. But when I thought again I figured, it’s okay, I can play on credit, and then I’ll have a chance at winning everything back like I always did. Feeling a bit relieved I said to Long Er, “Put it down in the book.”

Long Er waved for me to sit down and said, “I can’t let you play on credit anymore. You’ve already lost your family’s 100
mu
of land. If I extend your credit, what will you use to pay me back?”

When I heard Long Er’s words I violently cut off my yawn before it was finished.

“That’s impossible,” I stuttered. “It can’t be.”

Long Er and two other creditors took out the account book and systematically went through it with me. Then Long Er patted me on the head, saying, “Young master, take a good look. The signatures are all written in your hand.”

I suddenly realized that six months ago I had begun to owe them, and in the past six months I had gambled away all the property my ancestors had left. After going through half the books I said to Long Er, “Don’t bother counting.”

I stood back up and, like a diseased chicken, walked out of the House of Qing. By then it was already light out. I stood in the middle of the street, not
knowing where to go. Someone I knew carrying a basket of bean curd brightly called out to me, “Good morning, Mr. Xu!”

His voice nearly scared the hell out of me, and I blankly stared back at him. His eyes squinted as he smiled, and he said, “Look at you! You look like shit!”

He thought I’d worn myself out with those women. He didn’t realize that I was bankrupt, as poor as a hired worker. I forced a smile as I watched him saunter away. I figured it was a bad idea to stand there, so I started to walk.

I made my way over to my father-in-law’s rice shop, where two workers were replacing a door panel. When they saw me they started to laugh—they thought I was going to yell out “good morning” to my father-in-law again. But where would I have had the courage or strength for that? I drew my head back and, staying close to another house, quickly passed by. I heard my father-in-law inside coughing followed by the “puh” sound of him spitting on the floor.

And so just like that, muddleheaded and confused, I walked to the edge of town. For a while I even forgot I had lost my family’s fortune. My mind had become empty, like a hornet’s nest that has been stirred up. When I got outside of town I saw a small trail extending out toward me, and once again I was scared. I wondered what I should do next. I took a few steps down the trail, but my feet wouldn’t move. In all directions there was not a soul in sight. I simply wanted to hang myself with my belt and be done with it. Lost in thought I dragged myself forward, but when I passed an elm tree it took only one look for me to realize that I had not the slightest inclination to take off my belt. I didn’t really want to die, I just wanted to find a way to punish myself. I figured there was no way that damned debt would hang with me, so I said to myself, “Forget it, don’t
kill yourself.”

This debt was to be paid by my dad. As soon as I thought of Dad, my heart went numb. This time he would probably beat me to death. As I walked I
kept trying to think of a way out, but no matter what, everything seemed to lead to a dead end. I had no choice but to head home. Being beaten to death by my dad was better than hanging from a tree like some stray dog.