The Pearl Jacket and Other Stories. Shouhua Qi
he mumbled, terrified by his own voice, terrified for the lives of his kids; his heart nearly froze.
He told his wife to cook the fish and then left on the pretext of an errand. Not that he didn’t want to die himself, but that he didn’t want to watch with his own eyes how his family would die. So he wanted to stay away for the time being.
It was well past noon and he was still not back. The kids had been pleading with their mother for the fish
Now, his wife, who had been through a lot with him and loved him dearly, would never let the kids eat or taste anything before he had the first bite.
By the time the sun began to set in the west, the blowfish was still being cooked in the wok. It was then that he came back home, as if walking on air, dreading each step, his mind filled with pictures of his family, all dead, sprawled here and there.
Remembering his resolve to end the family’s suffering, he quickened his steps. Even from a distance he could see the glistening eyes of his children waiting outside; then, he heard a chorus of their voices welcoming him home.
“Why, not dead yet?” he thought aloud softly.
“Pop! We’ve been waiting for you to eat together!”
“Oh!” He now knew.
The family scrambled to the table and ate with gusto. They hadn’t had any fish for so long and every tiny bite tasted delicious. Afterwards, he lay in bed quietly and soon fell asleep, waiting for the Dark Angel of Death to descend.
The blowfish, however, had been cooked for so long its poison had all disappeared. So the family lived and would have to suffer hunger again, day by day.
He woke up and sighed: “Why is it so hard even to ask for death?” as tears welled in his eyes.
(1936)
Two Letters
Tang Xunhua
July 1, 1984
Dear Younger Brother:
Greetings!
I’m writing this letter to ask you to forgive me: I’ve lied to you for the last five years.
Each day of the last five years I was being tortured by the feeling of guilt and wanted to write and tell you the truth, but was forced to keep the lie alive again and again thanks to the hard life we led and to your sister-in-law being bedridden with paralysis. I am not a worthy brother! Remember the 10 yuan a month you have been sending to support our father out of filial love for him? The truth is: our father passed away five years ago!
Now, for reasons known to you, our life has turned around and your sister-in-law has been cured completely. It’s high time to tell you the truth!
It is with heartfelt gratitude that I am sending you the 600 yuan you earned with your toil and sweat, which I took from you through lies and in the name of our dead father.
Could you forgive me? Could your wife, the sister-in-law I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, forgive me?
Best wishes!
Your elder brother
July 7, 1984
Dear Elder Brother:
Greetings!
I was saddened by the news that my father-in-law has long passed away and regret that as a daughter-in-law I have never had a chance to show him my filial love. How can I face my father-in-law when I meet him in my next life?
You were forced to lie by hard life, so I can fully understand. But could you forgive me for the lie I have told? In order not to devastate my father-in-law and to disturb your life, I did not tell you the news that your brother had laid down his life during the border war with Vietnam.
The money sent to you was taken from your brother’s compensations. Since I am not hard-pressed financially, I am returning to you the 600 yuan. Please accept it.
I’d be so happy if Elder Brother could kindly forgive me, too. Please give my hearty congratulations to my sister-in-law on her complete recovery!
Best wishes!
Your younger sister-in-law
(1986)
Black Butterfly
Liu Guofang
His son nestled in his arms. A butterfly flew over, a big black butterfly. His son bolted from his arms and ambled after the butterfly. His son didn’t catch the butterfly. Instead, he ran over and caught his son.
“Don’t go after the butterfly,” he said.
“Why?” his son looked up and asked.
“Butterflies are dead people.”
“Do all dead people become butterflies?” his son asked.
“Yes, they do.”
“Will Pa become a butterfly?”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
His son still wanted to chase after butterflies, so he held his son’s hands tightly in his own. So many butterflies were hovering and dancing overhead. His son lifted his head and chased them with his eyes, crying out: “See, so many people have become butterflies!”
He took his son back home.
From then on he didn’t spend much time with his son. Soon he acquired a lover, a pretty girl. The girl liked him and stayed with him every day. Once the girl said, “Let’s get married.”
He said, “I’ll miss my son.”
The girl said, “Easy. I’ll bear you a son.”
For a long while he didn’t say a word. Then he nodded.
So he divorced his wife. When he was packing his things up, his son grasped his hand and asked: “Where’re you going, Pa?”
“A long business trip,” he lied.
“Pa doesn’t want me any more,” his son said.
There was nothing he could say.
Just then a butterfly flew over, a very big black butterfly. He saw his son’s eyes glued to the butterfly. It hovered around a few times and left.
So did he.
For a long time afterwards he didn’t see his son. He missed him. When he missed his son badly, his new wife would pat her belly and say to him, “No need to worry. I’ll bear you one.”
There was nothing else he could do about it.
Except for waiting, waiting for his wife’s belly to grow bigger. He waited and waited but his wife didn’t bear him a son. He missed his son even more.
One day, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he went to see his son without telling his new wife. Since he hadn’t visited him for years, he didn’t know where his son had moved. It took him a while to find the new address.
There he saw a child, much taller than he remembered, the innocent curiosity gone. He knew in his heart that the child in front of him must be his son but didn’t dare to trust his eyes. He said to the child: “Do you know me?”
The child shook his head. He told the child to look harder.
The child looked again and said, “I don’t know you.”
“I’m your pa,” he said.
“You are not my pa,” the child said.
“I am your pa.”
“You aren’t my pa.”
“I am your pa,” he insisted.
The child stopped arguing with him. He ran into the inner room, came back with a small wooden