Lu Xun Complete Works/en/Mingtian

Tomorrow

(明天)

From the collection Call to Arms (《呐喝》)

Author: Lu Xun (鲁迅)

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Lu Town had always been a quiet place, with some old customs still intact: before the first night watch, everyone closed their doors and went to sleep. In the depths of the night, only two households remained awake — one was the Xianheng Tavern, where a few drinking companions sat around the counter, eating and drinking merrily; the other was next door, the home of Fourth Shan's Wife, who, since she had been widowed two years before, had to rely entirely on her own two hands spinning cotton yarn to support herself and her three-year-old son, and so she too went to bed late.

These past few days, the sound of spinning had indeed been absent. But since only two households were awake in the dead of night, whether there were sounds from Fourth Shan's Wife's home or not, naturally only Old Gong and his companions heard it.

Old Gong had just been punched, but as though it were a pleasure, he took a great swig of wine and began humming a little tune.

At that moment, Fourth Shan's Wife sat on the edge of the bed, holding her Bao'er in her arms, the spinning wheel standing silently on the floor. In the dim lamplight, Bao'er's face showed a flush of red tinged with blue. She calculated in her mind: she had already drawn oracle sticks, already made vows, already tried folk remedies — if none of these worked, what could she do? The only option was to see Doctor He Xiaoxian. But perhaps Bao'er's illness was lighter during the day and heavier at night; by tomorrow, when the sun came out, the fever would subside and the wheezing would ease — this was indeed common with the sick.

Fourth Shan's Wife was a simple woman who did not understand the fearfulness of that word "but": many bad things had admittedly turned out well thanks to it, yet many good things had also been ruined because of it. Summer nights were short; not long after Old Gong and his companions finished their humming, the east was already growing pale, and soon silvery-white dawn light seeped through the window cracks.

Fourth Shan's Wife waited for daybreak, but unlike others, she did not find it easy — she felt it unbearably slow; each of Bao'er's breaths seemed to last longer than a year. Now at last it was bright; the daylight overwhelmed the lamplight — and she saw that Bao'er's nostrils were already flaring open and shut.

Fourth Shan's Wife knew things were bad and silently cried, "Oh no!" She calculated in her mind: what could she do? There was only one path — to see Doctor He Xiaoxian. Simple as she was, she was capable of decision. She stood up, took from the wooden cabinet the thirteen small silver coins and one hundred and eighty copper cash she had saved up day by day, put them all in her pocket, locked the door, and ran straight to the He household with Bao'er in her arms.

It was still early, yet four patients were already sitting at the He household. She fished out four jiao, bought a number ticket, and Bao'er was fifth in line. He Xiaoxian spread two fingers to take the pulse — his fingernails were a good four inches long. Fourth Shan's Wife marveled secretly and thought: Bao'er should surely survive. But she could not help being anxious, and unable to restrain herself, she asked nervously:

"Doctor — what illness does my Bao'er have?"

"His middle burner is blocked."

"Is it serious? He..."

"First take two doses."

"He can't breathe, his nostrils are flaring!"

"That is fire overcoming metal..."

He Xiaoxian spoke only half a sentence before closing his eyes; Fourth Shan's Wife was too embarrassed to ask further. A man of about thirty sitting across from He Xiaoxian had by then finished writing a prescription and pointed to a few characters in the corner of the paper:

"This first medicine, the 'Baoying Huoming Pill,' can only be found at the old Jishi shop of the Jia family!"

Fourth Shan's Wife took the prescription and thought as she walked. Simple as she was, she knew that the He household, the Jishi shop, and her own home formed a triangle; naturally it was most convenient to buy the medicine and then go home. So she ran straight to the Jishi shop. The shop assistant also raised his long fingernails and slowly examined the prescription, slowly wrapping up the medicine. Fourth Shan's Wife waited, holding Bao'er; suddenly Bao'er raised his little hand and pulled hard at a tangled lock of her hair — something he had never done before. Fourth Shan's Wife froze with fright.

The sun had been up for some time. Fourth Shan's Wife carried the child and the packet of medicine, and the farther she walked, the heavier everything felt; the child kept struggling, and the road seemed ever longer. Having no choice, she sat down on the doorstep of a mansion by the roadside to rest awhile; her clothes gradually chilled against her skin, and only then did she realize she was drenched in sweat — while Bao'er seemed to have fallen asleep. She got up again and walked slowly, but still could barely hold on, when suddenly she heard a voice beside her ear:

"Fourth Shan's Wife, let me carry the child for you!" It sounded like the voice of Blue-skin Awu.

She looked up, and sure enough, it was Blue-skin Awu, following her with sleepy eyes.

Although at that moment Fourth Shan's Wife dearly wished some heavenly warrior would descend to lend her a hand, she did not wish it to be Awu. But Awu had something of the gallant about him and always insisted on helping regardless; so after declining for a while, she finally gave her consent. He stretched out his arms, reaching down between Fourth Shan's Wife's breast and the child, and took the baby. Fourth Shan's Wife felt a streak of heat on her breast that instantly shot up to her face and the roots of her ears.

The two of them walked along, keeping about two and a half feet apart. Awu said a few things, but Fourth Shan's Wife hardly answered. After they had not walked far, Awu handed the child back, saying he had arranged to eat with friends the day before; Fourth Shan's Wife took the child. Fortunately, home was not far away; she could already see Grandma Wang Jiu sitting across the street, calling from a distance:

"Fourth Shan's Wife, what's wrong with the child? Have you seen the doctor?"

"I have. — Grandma Wang Jiu, you're older and experienced; would you be kind enough to take a look? How is he..."

"Hmm..."

"How is he...?"

"Hmm..." Grandma Wang Jiu studied the child for a while, nodded twice, and shook her head twice.

By the time Bao'er had taken the medicine, it was already afternoon. Fourth Shan's Wife watched his expression carefully; he seemed to have stabilized somewhat. In the late afternoon, he suddenly opened his eyes, called out "Mama!" once, then closed them again as if falling asleep. After a brief slumber, beads of sweat seeped from his forehead and the tip of his nose; Fourth Shan's Wife touched them lightly — they stuck to her hand like glue. She hastily reached for his chest and could not help breaking into sobs.

Bao'er's breathing went from steady to nothing, and Fourth Shan's Wife's voice changed from sobbing to wailing. By then several clusters of people had gathered: inside the door were Grandma Wang Jiu, Blue-skin Awu, and such folk; outside were the proprietor of the Xianheng Tavern and red-nosed Old Gong and the like. Grandma Wang Jiu took command: she burned a string of paper money, and using two benches and five articles of clothing as collateral, borrowed two silver dollars on Fourth Shan's Wife's behalf to prepare a meal for the helpers.

The first question was the coffin. Fourth Shan's Wife still had a pair of silver earrings and a gold-plated silver hairpin; she handed them all to the Xianheng proprietor, asking him to act as guarantor and buy a coffin half in cash and half on credit. Blue-skin Awu also put out his hand, eager to volunteer; but Grandma Wang Jiu would not allow it, permitting him only to help carry the coffin the next day. Awu cursed "old beast" and stood with a pout on his face. The proprietor went himself; he returned in the evening and said the coffin had to be made from scratch and would not be ready until the latter half of the night.

By the time the proprietor returned, the helpers had long finished eating; because Lu Town still kept some old customs, before the first night watch everyone had gone home to sleep. Only Awu still leaned against the counter of the Xianheng Tavern drinking, and Old Gong hummed away.

Now Fourth Shan's Wife sat crying on the edge of the bed; Bao'er lay on the bed, the spinning wheel stood silently on the floor. After a long while, her tears finally ran out. She opened her eyes wide, looked around, and found everything strange: none of this could possibly have happened. She calculated in her mind: it was only a dream, all of this was a dream. Tomorrow she would wake up, safe and sound in bed, and Bao'er would be sleeping peacefully beside her. He too would wake up, call out "Mama," and jump away to play, alive and kicking.

Old Gong's singing had long since fallen silent; the Xianheng Tavern had also extinguished its lights. Fourth Shan's Wife sat with her eyes wide open, refusing to believe any of it. — The roosters crowed; the east gradually grew pale, and silvery-white dawn light seeped through the window cracks.

The silver-white dawn gradually turned to crimson, then sunlight fell upon the roof ridge. Fourth Shan's Wife sat staring with wide eyes, motionless; when she heard a knock at the door, she started with fright and ran out to open it. Outside stood a stranger carrying something on his back; behind him stood Grandma Wang Jiu.

Ah — they had brought the coffin.

It was not until the afternoon that the coffin lid was finally closed: because Fourth Shan's Wife kept crying and looking, crying and looking, and absolutely refused to let it be sealed. Fortunately, Grandma Wang Jiu finally lost patience, ran up angrily, pulled her away, and then the lid was put on in a flurry of hands.

But Fourth Shan's Wife had truly done her utmost for her Bao'er; there was nothing left wanting. The day before she had burned a string of paper money; that morning she had burned forty-nine scrolls of the "Great Compassion Mantra"; when laying him out, she had dressed him in his newest clothes, and his favorite playthings — a clay figurine, two small wooden bowls, two glass bottles — had all been placed beside his pillow. When Grandma Wang Jiu counted on her fingers and pondered carefully, even she could not think of anything lacking.

That entire day, Blue-skin Awu had not shown up at all; the Xianheng proprietor hired two porters on Fourth Shan's Wife's behalf, at two hundred and ten large copper cash each, to carry the coffin to the paupers' cemetery. Grandma Wang Jiu also helped cook rice, and everyone who had lent a hand or spoken a word ate. The sun gradually took on the colors of setting; the people who had eaten also began imperceptibly to show signs of wanting to go home — and so they all finally went home.

Fourth Shan's Wife felt quite dizzy; after resting a while, she actually felt somewhat steadier. But then she was struck by an overwhelming strangeness: she had encountered something that had never happened in her entire life, something that should not have been possible — and yet it had indeed occurred. The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed, and she noticed another strange thing — this house was suddenly far too quiet.

She stood up and lit the lamp — the room seemed even quieter for it. Dazed, she walked over and shut the door, came back and sat on the edge of the bed; the spinning wheel stood silently on the floor. She steadied herself and looked around, but found she could neither sit nor stand: the house was not only too quiet, it was also too large, and everything was too empty. The too-large house enclosed her on all sides, the too-empty things pressed down on her from all sides, until she could barely breathe.

Now she knew that her Bao'er was truly dead. She did not want to see this house; she blew out the lamp and lay down. Crying and thinking at the same time, she remembered the days when she was spinning cotton and Bao'er sat beside her eating anise beans, staring with his little black eyes for a moment before saying, "Mama! Papa sold wontons; when I'm big I'll sell wontons too, and make lots and lots of money — I'll give it all to you." In those days, truly every inch of the cotton yarn she spun seemed to have meaning, every inch seemed alive. But what about now? As for the present, Fourth Shan's Wife really had not thought of anything. — I said long ago: she was a simple woman. What could she have thought? She merely felt that this house was too quiet, too large, too empty.

But simple as Fourth Shan's Wife was, she knew that the dead do not return, and that her Bao'er truly could not be seen again. She sighed and murmured to herself, "Bao'er, you should still be here; let me see you in my dreams, at least." She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep quickly, to meet her Bao'er; her labored breathing passed through the silence, the vastness, and the emptiness, and she could hear it plainly herself.

At last Fourth Shan's Wife drifted vaguely into the land of sleep; the whole house was quiet. By then red-nosed Old Gong's little tune had long since ended; he staggered out of the Xianheng Tavern, but then raised his voice again and sang:

"Oh, my darling! — Poor thing, — all alone..."

Blue-skin Awu reached out and grabbed Old Gong's shoulder, and the two of them went off laughing and jostling, lurching this way and that.

Fourth Shan's Wife was long asleep; Old Gong and his companions were gone; the Xianheng Tavern had closed its doors. And so Lu Town fell completely into silence. Only the dark night, wanting to become tomorrow, kept rushing on through this silence; and a few dogs whimpered in the darkness.

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English: Lu Xun Complete Works