by Yu Hua
He sold the suits soon after he got to Shanghai. Within a few days so many scrap kings had come from all over the country that they were said to have completely filled a four-star hotel on Nanjing Road. The scrap kings hauled their cash around in large hemp sacks—dragging these sacks behind them as they trudged into the lobby of the hotel to register, dragging them onto the elevators, and continuing to drag them into their respective rooms. In the end, however, all the money in their sacks ended up in Baldy Li's hands. Li's junk suits were thereby distributed throughout the entire country via railways, highways, and waterways. As a result, throughout China people were removing their old wrinkled Mao suits and donning instead Baldy Li's Japanese junk suits.
Baldy Li of course never forgot those of us back in Liu, and he specifically set aside five thousand junk suits to bring back. By this point, Western suits had become quite fashionable in Liu, and when the town's young men needed new suits for their weddings, they would always ask Tailor Zhang to make them. After twenty years making Mao suits, now that Western-style suits had become fashionable Zhang switched to making them instead. The way he saw it, it was quite simple: Both kinds of suits had the same shoulder padding, so all you had to do was add a collar and lapels to a Mao suit and you would have a Western one. Invariably, though, after a couple of months, the young men of Liu found that Zhang's knock-off Western suits would begin to lose their shape. So when Baldy Li brought his suits back from Japan, the town found itself in a consuming frenzy, with huge crowds jostling toward the warehouse, diving into Baldy Li's pile of suits as if they were diving into a river. While searching feverishly for their size, everyone remarked on how the suits, even though they looked brand-new, were cheaper than secondhand ones sold elsewhere. Within a month Baldy Li had sold his entire stock of five thousand suits.
Li's Salvage and Recycling Company was livelier than a teahouse. Upon returning to Liu, Baldy Li had immediately changed back into his tattered old clothes and cheerfully sat there as people crowded around him every day, listening attentively to tales of his adventures in Japan. Every time he got to the part about how expensive things were in Japan, he would grit his teeth in mock anguish. He described how, for the price you would pay for a breakfast of fritters and soy milk in Japan, in Liu you could buy an entire pig. Plus, he added, a bowl of soy milk there was absurdly small, "not like the huge bowls we have here in Liu. The bowls they use in Japan are even smaller than our teacups, and their fritters are thinner than chopsticks." Everyone listened intently and agreed that it would be impossible to live in Japan. Indeed, were the gluttonous Pigsy from Journey to the West to spend time there, even he would become thinner than the White-Boned Demon.
"That's right, you simply can't live there," said Baldy Li. "Japan has money but no culture."
"Japan has no culture?" everyone repeated in surprise.
Baldy Li jumped up, and everyone opened a path for him. He walked over to the blackboard for recording sales, took up a piece of chalk, and wrote the number 8. Then he turned around and asked, "How do you pronounce this number?"
Everyone shouted, "Ba."
"Correct." Baldy Li nodded with satisfaction. "This is an Arabic numeral."
Baldy Li threw down his chalk, sat back down in his seat, and announced, "The Japanese don't understand Arabic numerals."
"Really?" Everyone's jaws dropped in astonishment.
Baldy Li crossed his legs and said proudly, "While I was in Japan, I wanted to spend some of the money I was earning, so where do you think I went? Naturally, I wanted to go to the poshest place I could find: a bar. But would I know where to find such a bar? I didn't even know the Japanese word for ‘bar.’ If I used the Chinese word for ‘bar,’ the Japanese wouldn't know what I was talking about. What could I do?"
Baldy Li paused dramatically. He licked his lips and gazed out at the crowd, savoring for a moment the crowd's impatient anticipation before continuing. "I, Baldy Li, had an inspiration. It occurred to me that even if the Japanese don't understand Chinese, shouldn't they at the very least understand Arabic numerals?"
The crowd nodded, and Baldy Li continued: "Therefore, I wrote the number 8 on my palm, which, read out loud, sounds like the word for ‘bar,’ right?"
"That's right," the crowd shouted back.
"I, Baldy Li, therefore was completely flabbergasted to find that, when I showed seventeen different Japanese people the number on my palm, not a single one of them had any idea what I was talking about. Is it therefore not true that the Japanese have no culture?"
"They indeed have no culture," the crowd cried out.
"But," Baldy Li concluded, "they do have money."
CHAPTER 51
ANYONE IN LIU with any pride and self-respect whatsoever wore one of Baldy Li's junk suits. As for those without any pride and self-respect, they also wore his suits. After the men put on their handsome suits, they beamed with pride and bragged that they looked just like foreign heads of state. When Baldy Li heard this, he burst into peals of laughter, declaring that he was doing the town a great service by populating it with thousands upon thousands of foreign heads of state. The women, meanwhile, all continued to wear the same old hick-ish clothing they'd always had, leading the men to mock them as "local specialties." After mocking the women in this way, the men would then stand in front of the shop windows admiring themselves in their Western suits, remarking that if they had known that they would come to look like foreign heads of state, would they have married such local specialties in the first place? Of all the men in town, Baldy Li was the only one who didn't wear a Western suit. In Baldy Li's mind, even the best Western suit was ultimately still someone else's "junk suit," and no matter how tattered his own clothing was, it was nevertheless still his own. He didn't express these opinions out loud, and when people asked him why he kept wearing such tattered clothes, he would reply modestly, "I'm in the tattered-goods business, so of course I should wear tattered clothes."
Those Japanese junk suits each had a family surname stitched on their inner breast pocket. When the Liu men started donning the suits, they were fascinated by these surnames and would spend all day opening their jackets and looking to see which family's suits they were wearing, then bursting into fits of laughter.
At that time, Poet Zhao and Writer Liu were still wrapped up in their literary daydreams. Upon hearing that Baldy Li had brought over a shipment of Japanese suits, they immediately rushed over to his warehouse to rummage through the huge mountain of clothing. Writer Liu searched for three hours before eventually finding a Mishima suit. Poet Zhao refused to take this affront lying down and proceeded to spend four hours before finally finding himself a Kawabata suit.
As a result, Liu's two most eminent literary figures were both quite pleased with themselves, and when they ran into people, they immediately pulled open their jackets, showing off their Mishima and Kawa-bata labels. They informed the towns ignorant masses that these two surnames belonged to extraordinary families, and that Japan s two most accomplished authors were named Mishima and Kawabata—that is, Yukio Mishima and Yasunari Kawabata. While explaining this, their faces flushed bright red as if, in wearing Mishima and Kawabata suits, they had already become the towns own Yukio Mishima and Yasunari Kawabata. Now when Liu's two Men of Talent ran into each other in the street, they would first bow to each other before politely exchanging pleasantries.
One such time Writer Liu nodded his head and smiled as he inquired of Poet Zhao, "You have been well lately?"
Poet Zhao also smiled and nodded. "I have been well."
Writer Liu asked, "Have you penned any poems lately?"
"Lately I haven't been writing poetry," Poet Zhao replied. "Instead I have been planning out an essay. I already have a title: ‘Liu Town the Beautiful and Myself"
Writer Liu shouted his approval: "But for two words it could be Yasunari Kawabata's famous essay ‘Japan the Beautiful and Myself!"
Poet Zhao nodded modestly and inquired of Writer Liu, "And you, sir, have y
ou penned any short stories lately?"
"These days I haven't been writing stories," Liu answered. "Instead I have been plotting out a novel, whose title will be Temple of the Peaceful Heaven."
"That is a great title," Poet Zhao exclaimed loudly. "But for two words it could be Yukio Mishima's masterpiece Temple of the Golden Pavilion."
The town's two Men of Talent bowed to each other once more and then set off at stately paces in opposite directions. Liu's townspeople watched them with amusement, remarking that these two idiots had just been seen chatting with each other, so how was it that an hour later this had become "lately"? And what was up with this business of bowing to each other? The Liu elders who still remembered having seen Japanese soldiers during the war explained that when Japanese meet, they always bow to each other. Some of the townspeople pointed to the departing Writer Liu and Poet Zhao and said skeptically, "But those two are quite obviously Liu town idiots, not Japanese idiots."
Yanker Yu and Popsicle Wang strutted spiritedly through the streets of Liu. Baldy Li had struck it rich with his Japanese junk suits, and since these two had bought in, their boats now rose with the tide, and cash filled their pockets. Yanker Yu tossed out his thick Human Anatomy textbook, put away his dentistry implements, and announced his retirement. He added that from now on there wouldn't be another tooth pulled within a hundred-mile radius of Liu, and even if all the Liu townsfolk were about to die from toothaches, he would still pay them no heed. Popsicle Wang immediately followed Yu s lead, throwing away his icebox and announcing that the following summer there would be no sight of it and that even if the Liu townspeople were all dying of thirst, he would still pay them no heed.
Yanker Yu wore a Matsushita suit while Popsicle Wang wore a Sanyo one, and both strolled idly up and down the streets of Liu. When they ran into each other, they couldn't help laughing, happier than a pair of toads feasting on the succulent flesh of a swan. Then Yanker Yu would pat his pocket and ask Wang, "Do you have any money?"
Wang would pat his own pocket and answer, "Yup."
Yu, intoxicated with his sudden wealth, concluded, "This is what is called reaching heaven in a single step."
Then, out of curiosity, Yanker Yu asked Popsicle Wang which family's suit he was wearing. Wang dramatically pulled open his jacket and displayed the Sanyo name embroidered on the inside of his breast pocket. Yu exclaimed in surprise, "It's the Sanyo family, the electronics kings!"
Wang laughed with satisfaction. Yu, not to be outdone, pulled open his own suit jacket. Wang looked in and saw the name Matsushita and also remarked in surprise, "Yours belongs to the Matsushita family, owners of Panasonic!"
"Sanyo and Matsushita are both electronics kings, meaning that you and I are in the same field." Yu waved his hand and added, "We're not only in the same field; we're fierce competitors."
"That's right." Wang nodded emphatically.
At that point Song Gang, who was also wearing a Japanese junk suit, walked over. When all the men in Liu started wearing suits, Lin Hong rushed over to Baldy Li's warehouse and spent a couple of hours rummaging around for a suit for her husband. Song Gang's handsome figure in a handsome black suit was a sight to behold as he strutted through town. Everyone who saw him in his suit shouted out their approval, saying that Song Gang was even more commanding than the Warring States period poet Song Yu and even more dashing than the Western Jin Dynasty gallant Pan An. Yanker Yu and Popsicle Wang heard everyone's shouts of approval and made a show of also nodding their heads, although in reality they were a bit envious. Yu gestured for Song Gang to come over, and when he approached, Yu asked him, "Whose is yours?"
Song Gang pulled open his jacket and said, "The Fukuda family's."
Yu looked at Popsicle Wang, and Wang said, "I've never heard of them."
"I haven't heard of them either," added Yu with satisfaction. "Compared with the Matsushita and Sanyo families, the Fukuda are clearly quite insignificant. However," Yu suggested, "if you change a single character in Fukuda, then you have Toyota, which is a huge car manufacturer."
Song Gang smiled. "Well, this Fukuda suits me fine."
Yu shook his head regretfully at Wang, who did the same. Even though their physiques and appearance could not compare with Song Gang's, the lineage of their suits was obviously far superior. Yu and Wang therefore continued to strut proudly though the streets of town, then entered the little alley where they both lived and walked right up to Tailor Zhang's little stand. At that moment, Zhang, also in a junk suit, was sitting on the bench where his customers usually sat. Yu and Wang laughed as they stood in his doorway, but Zhang merely stared at them blankly, completely lost in thought. Yu asked Zhang, "Whose is yours?"
Zhang snapped out of his reverie and saw Yu and Wang standing there. He laughed bitterly. "Baldy Li is such a bastard. Now that he's brought all these imported suits here, no one wants me to make them anything."
Yanker Yu had no interest in Tailor Zhang's woes. He repeated, "Whose is yours?"
Tailor Zhang sighed and waved his hands. "No one will ask me to make them suits anymore."
Yanker Yu shouted impatiently, "I'm asking you which family's suit are you wearing?"
Finally understanding, Tailor Zhang peeked inside his jacket: "Jiushan."
Yanker Yu and Popsicle Wang looked at each other, and Wang asked Tailor Zhang, "Is that the same Jiushan who was one of the Japanese enemies in the Cultural Revolutionary model opera The Red Lantern?"
Tailor Zhang nodded. "Yes, that's the one."
Somewhat disappointed to discover that Tailor Zhang wasn't wearing a no-name suit, Wang asked, "Does this also count as a famous name?"
"It is indeed a famous name," Yu replied. "But infamous." Popsicle Wang nodded emphatically. "Yes, definitely infamous." Yanker Yu and Popsicle Wang felt as if they had survived a close call at Tailor Zhang's. They smugly continued forward, finally reaching Little Scissors Guan's stand. Little Guan had found himself two junk suits, one black and the other gray, whereupon he abruptly decided he no longer wished to keep sharpening scissors. He stood in front of his stand flaunting his exquisite sense of style, wearing his black suit in the morning and his gray suit in the afternoon. Whenever he encountered anyone, he would start chattering endlessly while lightly brushing the dandruff off his shoulders—using his left hand to brush his right shoulder and his right hand to brush his left. Ever since the men of Liu started wearing these junk suits, at every occasion they would open each other's jackets and ask, "Whose is yours?" This quickly became a fad, and Little Scissors Guan finally noticed that his own suits were not name brands, which left him depressed for several days. Eventually he plucked off the no-name labels from the breast pockets of his suits and stitched the names Sony and Hitachi in their place. Little Scissors Guan was thinking that Sony and Hitachi were famous electronics brands, but what he didn't realize was that they were brand names, not surnames. When Yanker Yu and Popsicle Wang approached, Little Scissors Guan, wearing his black Sony suit, proudly leaned over and eagerly asked, "Whose are yours?"
"The Matsushita family's." Yu opened his jacked to show Little Scissors Guan and pointed to Popsicle Wang, saying, "His is a Sanyo."
"Not bad," Little Scissors Guan said, nodding approvingly. "Those families are not bad at all."
Yanker Yu laughed, saying, "Which family's is yours?" "Also not bad." Little Guan pulled open his jacket. "Sony." "You too are an electronics king!" Yanker Yu shouted with glee. Little Scissors Guan pointed behind him, saying proudly, "In my closet I also have a Hitachi brand suit."
Popsicle Wang noted with surprise, "Your two suits are in the same business?"
Yanker Yu added, "You are your own competitor."
"You are correct." Little Scissors Guan was very satisfied with Yu's remark and patted him on the shoulder. "This is called challenging oneself."
Yanker Yu and Popsicle Wang tittered as they left Little Scissors Guan's shop and proceeded to Blacksmith Tongs. Tong was wearing a dark blue suit, over which he ha
d his trademark apron. The apron was covered with little comet-shaped burn holes. Yu and Wang stared in disbelief at the sight of Tong wearing a suit to do his hammering and soldering, leading Popsicle Wang to whisper to Yanker Yu, "Can a Western suit also be used as work clothes?"
Overhearing them, Tong proclaimed, "A suit is work clothes." He put down his iron hammer and added, "The foreigners on television all wear suits to work."
"Yes, that's true." Yanker Yu instructed Popsicle Wang, "Suits serve as foreigners’ work clothes."
Popsicle Wang looked at his own suit and said, somewhat disappointed. "So all this time we've been wearing work clothes?"
Unfazed, Yanker Yu excitedly asked Blacksmith Tong, "Whose is yours?"
Blacksmith Tong calmly removed his apron and opened his jacket. "It's the Tong family's."
Yanker Yu was startled. "They also have the Tong surname in Japan?"
"I stitched it on myself," Tong explained with unmistakable pride. "I asked my wife to remove the original Japanese name and replaced it with my own."
Yu nodded and said, "Your own surname is certainly fine, it's just that it isn't famous."
Tong snorted and, putting his apron back on, said, "You people in your foreign clothes have completely forgotten your Chinese ancestry and have lost all integrity. Why were there so many traitors during the war? One has only to look at people like you to understand why."
Saying this, Tong lifted his hammer and continued pounding the iron, whereupon Yu and Wang turned around and walked away. Yanker Yu said angrily to Wang, "Damn, if he has so much integrity, then why's he still wearing a Japanese suit?"
