He carefully asked, “How about asking him . . . over for a meal?”
Caidi kept silent and waited to see what he would say next.
She asked Pingping to visit Big-Beard. Pingping told her afterward, “The big-bearded uncle wished to be remembered to you!”
“Will he come?”
“He won’t come. He said that he had too much work to deal with and there would be more chances later on. And just then Lao Wu came to call on him. They are old colleagues, you know.”
“What else did he say?”
“He said, ‘You are Pingping? That year when I saw you, you were not taller than the table. Aunt Gu loved you so much that I thought you were her child. I wondered if Aunt Gu could love me instead!’”
Perhaps because he merely wanted to have a chat with Big-Beard, Wu Ran had not invited the man over.
Big-Beard had not been to their home since then.
Year in, year out, they both had grown some gray hair without noticing it. God knows whether the gray hair was the result of torment or anxiety.
One day, Wu Ran brought back an inscribed plaque, awarded for successful relations with neighbors, and presented it to Caidi, discreet in word and deed.
She did not take it. “What rare thing is this?” she sneered.
“The Five-Good . . . Family Award.”
“The Five-Good Family Award?” she snapped with biting sarcasm. “Must it be hung?”
“It’s up to you.”
“Change ‘Family’ to ‘Husband,’ then hang it.”
Caidi had hit her target. His colleagues awarded Wu Ran the Five-Good Family Award just for his individual performance; but what did he know about family?
He threw the inscribed plaque on the top of the double-doored cupboard. Caidi felt that was not enough, so she smashed it behind his back.
Was she callous to him? She made a careful survey of herself. She knew what people said—that he had a cruel fate, for he’d married a wife who was beautiful yet useless and a chronic invalid. Who was the one suffering? Or were they both suffering? Who paid the highest price?
She thought about the meaning of a smile. Perhaps she could no longer smile sincerely.
There was a knock at the door. Someone asked loudly, “Is Lao Wu’s wife in?”
At the door stood Big-Beard, whom she hadn’t seen since that first visit. He looked old and grizzled.
Caidi did not hold a job because she had to recuperate at home. The newer neighbors did not even know her real name; they just called her “Lao Wu’s wife.” Unexpectedly, Big-Beard also greeted her that way.
“Oh, are you here to see Lao Wu? You should go to the hospital!” said Caidi, who had already become eccentric.
“I was just passing by. Since Lao Wu is critically ill, I thought I’d see whether you need, uh, any help at home . . .”
“Please come in.”
“You are Lao Wu’s wife, so take care of yourself and stay calm in front of him. You shouldn’t provoke . . .”
Big-Beard’s continually calling her “Lao Wu’s wife” severely upset Caidi. She didn’t hear what he said next, merely felt her body tense with anger. She unconsciously reached out her hand for something to support her and knocked over the thermos by accident. She pulled herself together, coming to terms with the absence of Lao Wu and the emptiness inside her.
“Pingping, Pingping!”
“Don’t bother anyone,” he protested. “I don’t need any water.”
“No, I was going to call her anyway. Pingping!” she called earnestly.
Pingping rushed over, her hands across her pregnant belly. “Aunt Gu, you called me?”
“Keep me company, Pingping. Were you just going out?”
“I heard you calling . . . but I’m suffering from labor pains. I’m at home by myself.”
Hearing this, Caidi was more nervous than Pingping—but she seemed quite experienced, asking the young woman, “Is it time to have the baby? Hurry, call the hospital and ask for an ambulance.”
“Well . . . yes . . .”
Big-Beard stepped in to help. “Allow me—I’ll go call for an ambulance. You wait.”
Gazing at Big-Beard’s receding figure, Caidi remained steady and calm. She helped Pingping sit down and then hurried to wash her own hands. Her hands were already fair and clean, without any dirt, but she carefully covered them with soap and scrubbed, as if they were the ones that had ruined her life and the ones she’d had to depend upon to meet all her needs.
Thoroughly scrubbed, she sat down near Pingping, waiting quietly. She felt a burning maternal desire, stronger than any she’d felt before. Maybe it was simply because she was accompanying a soon-to-be mother.
Later she would go to the hospital, sending Pingping off into motherhood and looking after Lao Wu. Suddenly she had a powerful realization: She was Wu Ran’s wife. If he died, she was still his wife. Even if she married again, she would always have been his wife. This was his family and also hers; it belonged to them both. What could she do with it?
God provided. But she knew with certainty that she could do no more with it!
Translated by Guo Yingjie
Old Land, New Tales: Twenty Short Stories by Writers of the Shaanxi Region in China Page 41
