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= The Storm =

'''风波''' (Lu Xun (鲁迅), translated into English)

From the collection ''Call to Arms'' (呐喊, 1922)

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The Storm

On the earthen yard by the riverbank, the sun was gradually withdrawing its deep yellow rays. The leaves of the tallow tree at the edge of the yard, close to the river, seemed to catch their breath in their parched state, and a few speckle-legged mosquitoes hummed and danced beneath them. From the chimneys of the farmhouses facing the river, the cooking smoke was thinning out; women and children were sprinkling water on the earthen yards before their own doors, setting out small tables and low stools. Everyone knew: it was dinnertime.

Old men and men sat on the low stools, fanning themselves with big banana-leaf fans and chatting idly; children ran about like the wind or squatted beneath the tallow tree gambling with pebbles. The women brought out jet-black steamed dried vegetables and pale yellow rice, steaming hot. A pleasure boat carrying literati glided past on the river, and a man of letters, moved by the sight, burst into poetic rapture: "Without a care or a thought — truly, what rustic bliss!"

But the man of letters was not quite in accord with the facts, for he had not heard what Old Lady Ninecatties had to say. At that moment Old Lady Ninecatties was in a great fury, banging a broken banana-leaf fan against the legs of a stool:

"I've lived to seventy-nine, long enough. I don't want to watch this ruin any longer — I'd rather be dead. Dinner is about to be served and she's still stuffing herself with fried beans, eating the whole family into poverty!"

Her great-great-granddaughter Sixcatties, clutching a handful of beans, was just running over from across the way. Seeing the situation, she bolted straight for the riverbank, hid behind the tallow tree, stuck out her little head with its double pigtails, and called out loudly, "Old won't-die!"

Old Lady Ninecatties was advanced in years but not yet very deaf; still, she had not heard the child's words and went on talking to herself: "Truly, each generation is worse than the last!"

This village had a somewhat peculiar custom: when a woman gave birth, people liked to weigh the baby on a scale and use the weight in catties as a pet name. Ever since celebrating her fiftieth birthday, Old Lady Ninecatties had gradually turned into a chronic malcontent, forever claiming that in her youth the weather had not been so hot nor the beans so hard; in short, the present times were all wrong. All the more so since Sixcatties weighed three catties less than her great-great-grandmother, and one catty less than her father Sevencatties — truly an irrefutable piece of evidence. So she said again with emphasis, "Truly, each generation is worse than the last!"

His daughter-in-law, Sister-in-law Sevencatties, was just carrying the rice basket to the table. She slammed the basket down on the table and said indignantly, "There you go again, Grandma. Didn't Sixcatties weigh six catties and five ounces at birth? And your scale is a private scale, a heavy-weight scale, an eighteen-ounce scale. Using the standard sixteen, our Sixcatties would have weighed over seven catties. I dare say even Great-Grandpa and Grandpa didn't exactly weigh nine catties and eight catties either — the scale they used might only have been fourteen ounces …"

"Each generation is worse than the last!"

Before Sister-in-law Sevencatties could reply, she suddenly caught sight of Sevencatties turning out of the narrow lane. She promptly changed direction and shouted at him, "You corpse, why are you only coming home now? Where have you been dying? People are waiting for you to start dinner!"

Sevencatties may have lived in the countryside, but he had long shown signs of going up in the world. For three generations, from his grandfather down to him, no one in the family had gripped a hoe handle. He helped steer a ferryboat as usual, making one trip a day — in the morning from Luzhen to the city, in the evening back to Luzhen — and so he was quite well informed about current affairs: for example, that in such-and-such a place the Thunder God had struck dead a centipede demon, or that somewhere else a maiden had given birth to a yaksha, and things of that kind. Among the villagers he was indeed already something of a personage. But in summer they ate dinner without lighting lamps, keeping to the farmer's custom, so coming home so late deserved a scolding.

Sevencatties, one hand gripping his six-foot-long Xiangfei-bamboo pipe with its ivory mouthpiece and white-copper bowl, came walking slowly with his head lowered, and sat down on the low stool. Sixcatties took the opportunity to slip out and sit beside him, calling him Papa. Sevencatties did not answer.

"Each generation is worse than the last!" said Old Lady Ninecatties.

Sevencatties slowly raised his head, sighed, and said, "The Emperor has ascended the Dragon Throne."

Sister-in-law Sevencatties was stunned for a moment, then suddenly saw the light: "Well, that's wonderful! Doesn't that mean there'll be another imperial amnesty?"

Sevencatties sighed again. "I don't have a queue."

"Does the Emperor require queues?"

"The Emperor requires queues."

"How do you know?" asked Sister-in-law Sevencatties, somewhat alarmed, pressing him urgently.

"Everyone at the Xianheng Tavern says so."

At this point Sister-in-law Sevencatties felt instinctively that things were looking bad, for the Xianheng Tavern was a place where news traveled fast. The moment her eye fell on Sevencatties' bare head, she could not help flaring up — blaming him, resenting him, reproaching him. Then suddenly she was seized by despair. She ladled out a bowl of rice, shoved it in front of Sevencatties, and said, "You'd better eat quickly! Do you think pulling a long face will make a queue grow?"

The sun had gathered in its last rays; coolness rose imperceptibly from the water. On the earthen yard the clatter of bowls and chopsticks filled the air, and beads of sweat broke out again on everyone's back. Sister-in-law Sevencatties had finished her third bowl of rice and happened to look up, when her heart began to pound. Through the tallow-tree leaves she could see the short, stout Mr. Zhao the Seventh crossing the plank bridge — and he was wearing a long gown of sapphire-blue bamboo cloth.

Mr. Zhao the Seventh was the proprietor of the Maoyuan Tavern in the neighboring village, and the only distinguished personage and man of learning within a radius of thirty li. Being learned, he also gave off something of a whiff of the old regime. He possessed over ten volumes of Jin Shengtan's annotated "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" and often sat reading them character by character. He could not only recite the names of the Five Tiger Generals but even knew that Huang Zhong's courtesy name was Hansheng and Ma Chao's was Mengqi. After the revolution, he had coiled his queue on top of his head like a Taoist priest, and often sighed that if Zhao Zilong were still alive, the world would never have descended into such chaos. Sister-in-law Sevencatties had sharp eyes and could see at once that today's Mr. Zhao the Seventh was no longer a Taoist but sported a smooth-shaven scalp and a jet-black crown — and she knew at once that the Emperor must have ascended the Dragon Throne, that queues were certainly required, and that Sevencatties was certainly in great danger. For Mr. Zhao the Seventh's bamboo-cloth gown was not one he wore lightly; in three years he had worn it only twice: once when his bitter enemy, the pockmarked Ah Si, fell ill, and once when Squire Lu, who had once smashed up his tavern, died. This was the third time — and that could only mean he had cause for celebration and his enemies had cause for grief.

Sister-in-law Sevencatties remembered that two years earlier, Sevencatties had got drunk and called Mr. Zhao the Seventh a "base-born wretch," and so she instantly sensed the danger Sevencatties was in, and her heart began to pound wildly.

Mr. Zhao the Seventh came walking along. Those who were eating stood up one after another, pointing with their chopsticks at their rice bowls: "Seventh Master, please do us the honor of dining with us!" The Seventh nodded as he went: "No, no, please," but walked straight to the Sevencatties' table. The Sevencatties hastened to greet him, and the Master smiled: "Please, please," while carefully studying their food.

"What fragrant dried vegetables — have you heard the news?" said Mr. Zhao the Seventh, standing behind Sevencatties and facing Sister-in-law Sevencatties.

"The Emperor has ascended the Dragon Throne," said Sevencatties.

Sister-in-law Sevencatties looked at the Seventh's face and said, forcing a smile, "So the Emperor has ascended the Dragon Throne — when will the imperial amnesty be proclaimed?"

"Imperial amnesty? — Sooner or later there is bound to be an amnesty." Here the Seventh's voice and expression suddenly turned severe. "But where is your Sevencatties' queue — his queue? That is a matter of some urgency. You do know: in the time of the Long-Hairs, it was keep your hair and lose your head, keep your head and lose your hair …"

Sevencatties and his wife had never had any schooling and did not quite grasp the profundity of this classical allusion, but since the learned Seventh said so, the matter must be extremely grave and beyond remedy. It was as if a death sentence had been pronounced — their ears buzzed, and they could not utter another word.

"Each generation is worse than the last —" Old Lady Ninecatties was in full complaint and seized the opportunity to address Mr. Zhao the Seventh: "Today's Long-Hairs just cut off people's queues — neither monk nor priest. Were the Long-Hairs of old like that? I've lived to seventy-nine, long enough. The Long-Hairs of those days — they wrapped their heads in whole bolts of red satin, trailing down, trailing down, all the way to the heels; the princes wore yellow satin, trailing down, yellow satin; red satin, yellow satin — I've lived long enough, seventy-nine years."

Sister-in-law Sevencatties stood up and muttered to herself, "What are we to do? Such a family of old and young, all depending on him for their living …"

Mr. Zhao the Seventh shook his head: "There's nothing to be done. Having no queue — what punishment that merits is written in the books, point by point, in black and white. It makes no difference who he has at home."

When Sister-in-law Sevencatties heard that it was written in the books, all hope was truly lost. In her desperation she suddenly turned her fury on Sevencatties again. She pointed her chopsticks at his nose and said, "This corpse brought it on himself! When the rebellion started, I told him, stop boating, don't go to the city. But he had to go and die his way into the city, roll himself into the city — and as soon as he got there they cut off his queue. It used to be a silky, jet-black queue, and now he looks neither monk nor priest. This convict brought it on himself — but that he's dragged us down with him, what can we say? This living-corpse convict …"

The villagers, seeing Mr. Zhao the Seventh arrive, had quickly finished eating and gathered around the Sevencatties' table. Sevencatties himself knew he was a personage and that being publicly abused by his wife in this way was hardly dignified, so he raised his head and said slowly:

"You talk glibly today, but at the time you …"

"You living-corpse convict …"

Among the onlookers, Sister-in-law Eighty-one was the kindest-hearted person; holding her two-year-old posthumous child, she had been watching the excitement beside Sister-in-law Sevencatties. Now, feeling it had gone too far, she hastened to mediate: "Sister-in-law Sevencatties, let it go. We're not immortals — who can foresee the future? Even you, Sister-in-law Sevencatties, said at the time that having no queue was nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, the magistrate at the yamen hasn't issued any proclamation yet …"

Sister-in-law Sevencatties had not heard her out before both her ears were burning red. She turned the chopsticks around and pointed them at Sister-in-law Eighty-one's nose: "Oh my, what kind of talk is this! Sister-in-law Eighty-one, I'd like to think I'm a sensible person — would I spout such addled nonsense? At the time, I cried for three solid days, everyone saw it; even little Sixcatties cried …" Sixcatties had just finished a big bowl of rice and was holding out her empty bowl, clamoring for more. Sister-in-law Sevencatties was already in a foul mood; she jabbed down with the chopsticks right between Sixcatties' double pigtails and roared, "Who asked for your opinion! You man-stealing little widow!"

Splat — the empty bowl fell from Sixcatties' hand, and happened to strike the corner of a brick, immediately cracking into a large chip. Sevencatties leapt to his feet, picked up the broken bowl, fitted the pieces together and examined it, then shouted, "Damn it!" and knocked Sixcatties down with a slap. Sixcatties lay on the ground crying; Old Lady Ninecatties took her by the hand, saying "Each generation is worse than the last" over and over, and they walked away together.

Sister-in-law Eighty-one was now angry too and said loudly, "Sister-in-law Sevencatties, you're lashing out in your rage …"

Mr. Zhao the Seventh had been watching all this with an amused smile; but ever since Sister-in-law Eighty-one had said "the magistrate at the yamen hasn't issued any proclamation," he had grown somewhat annoyed. By now he had stepped out from behind the table and continued: "'Lashing out in rage' — what's that supposed to mean? The soldiers will be here any day. Do you know who is escorting the throne this time? Generalissimo Zhang! Generalissimo Zhang is a descendant of Zhang Yide of Yan, and with his eighteen-foot serpent-headed spear he has the valor of ten thousand men — who could stand against him?" He clenched both fists as if grasping an invisible spear and lunged a few steps toward Sister-in-law Eighty-one: "Could you stand against him?!"

Sister-in-law Eighty-one was shaking with fury, clutching her child, when she suddenly saw Mr. Zhao the Seventh charging toward her, his face streaming with oily sweat, his eyes popping. She was terrified, dared not finish her sentence, and turned and fled. Mr. Zhao the Seventh followed after her; the crowd blamed Sister-in-law Eighty-one for meddling and made way at the same time. A few who had cut their queues and were growing them back hastily hid behind the crowd, afraid he might notice them. Mr. Zhao the Seventh did not bother to investigate closely; he passed through the crowd, ducked suddenly behind the tallow tree, called out, "Could you stand against him?!" stepped onto the plank bridge, and strode off with his head held high.

The villagers stood staring, calculating in their minds, all concluding that they truly could not withstand Zhang Yide, and therefore deciding that Sevencatties was sure to lose his life. Since Sevencatties had broken imperial law, they recalled how he used to hold his long pipe in his mouth and put on that proud air when telling people the city news, and felt a certain satisfaction at his transgression. They seemed to want to offer some opinion but could not think of any opinion to offer. With a confused buzz of voices, the mosquitoes bumped past bare torsos and swarmed under the tallow tree to hold their market; and the villagers, too, gradually dispersed, went home, shut their doors, and went to sleep. Sister-in-law Sevencatties grumbled as she cleared away the dishes, table, and stools, went inside, shut the door, and went to sleep.

Sevencatties carried the broken bowl back into the house and sat on the doorstep to smoke; but he was so worried that he forgot to smoke, and the fire in the white-copper bowl of his six-foot-long Xiangfei bamboo pipe with its ivory mouthpiece gradually went dark. He felt in his heart that the situation was extremely dangerous and tried to think of some way, some plan, but everything remained hopelessly confused and could not be strung together: "Queue — what about the queue? Eighteen-foot serpent-headed spear. Each generation is worse than the last! Emperor on the Dragon Throne. The broken bowl needs to be repaired in the city. Who can stand against him? It's all written in the books, point by point. Damn it! …"

The next morning, Sevencatties set off from Luzhen as usual, poling the ferryboat to the city, and returned to Luzhen in the evening, carrying his six-foot-long Xiangfei bamboo pipe and a rice bowl. At the dinner table he told Old Lady Ninecatties that the bowl had been mended in the city; because the crack was large, it needed sixteen copper rivets at three cash each, forty-eight small cash altogether.

Old Lady Ninecatties said very crossly, "Each generation is worse than the last; I've lived long enough. Three cash for a rivet — were the rivets of the old days like that? The rivets of the old days were … I've lived to seventy-nine —"

From then on, although Sevencatties went to the city as usual every day, the atmosphere at home was rather gloomy. The villagers mostly avoided him and no longer came to hear his news from the city. Sister-in-law Sevencatties was disagreeable too, and often called him "convict."

More than ten days later, Sevencatties came home from the city and found his wife in remarkably good spirits. She asked him, "Did you hear anything in the city?"

"Didn't hear anything."

"Is the Emperor still on the Dragon Throne?"

"They didn't say."

"Didn't anyone at the Xianheng Tavern say anything either?"

"No one said anything either."

"Then I'm sure the Emperor is no longer on the Dragon Throne. I walked past Mr. Zhao the Seventh's shop today and saw him sitting there reading his books again, his queue coiled on top again, and no long gown."

"…………"

"Don't you think he's no longer on the throne?"

"I think he's probably not."

In time, Sister-in-law Sevencatties and the villagers had long since restored to Sevencatties their proper share of respect and proper treatment. When summer came, they still ate dinner as always on the earthen yard before their door; everyone who saw them greeted them with cheerful smiles. Old Lady Ninecatties had long since celebrated her eightieth birthday and was still discontented and still in excellent health. Sixcatties' double pigtails had grown into a single thick braid; although her feet had recently been bound, she could still help Sister-in-law Sevencatties with the housework, hobbling back and forth across the earthen yard carrying the rice bowl with its eighteen copper rivets.

October, 1920.

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