Old Land, New Tales: Twenty Short Stories by Writers of the Shaanxi Region in China by Chen Zhongshi, Jia Pingwa
Authors: Chen Zhongshi, Jia Pingwa
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train. From the train station he hitched a ride in a car and slept in an inn over a thousand miles away. Finally home, he carefully took out the money; after days of soaking in his sweat, it stank.
The villagers regarded Mu Du as a homecoming hero; he had earned a small fortune within a few months. He spoke grandly about his adventures in Tong Guan, as if he’d just come back from abroad. While money had made the credit agent’s son sink further into degeneracy, it made Mu Du crazy with excitement.
Only at night did Mu Du give a true account of what a dark and terrible underground world the coal mine was. A shift lasted for a whole day. He’d had to take thirty-two pancakes with him, chewing them like a wolf down in the pits. When he’d emerge from the mine, a crowd of coal miners’ relatives would be waiting at the entrance, staring expectantly for their loved ones; nobody ever awaited him. At first, the bright sunshine offended his eyes. He’d be unable to move and would have to squat there like a black spider or a blind bear, waiting for his pupils to adapt to the dizzying rays.
Mu Du learned to worship gods and bought a protective peachwood talisman. One time, the pits caved in. He had watched as a boulder fell and crushed one of his workmates to death. The blood burst out from the man’s head like spurting water.
All these details made Darky’s hair stand on end. Covering Mu Du’s mouth with her hand, she threw herself at her husband, embracing and gently warming his stinking breast, arms, and head, her face bathed in tears. She said not a single word about Lai Shun.
One day Mu Du came across the credit agent at the town fair. The agent asked jovially: “Mu Du, you made a fortune?”
Mu Du answered humbly: “Comparing me with you is like comparing a man’s lean pinky to his waist!”
The agent roared with laughter. “I didn’t hire you in my factory, nor would I lend you money. I wanted you to work on your own. Now you’ve really made a killing! How will you manage your two thousand yuan? Would you like to invest it in our credit cooperative and have your money produce sons and grandsons?”
When Mu Du told Darky about the creditor’s suggestion, Darky insisted that the money should be neither saved nor spent extravagantly. They should start a business with the capital.
Eventually they decided to start a restaurant. They began modestly, since Mu Du was good at nothing but hard labor. They found a small storefront at the eastern end of town with a rent of only forty yuan a month. A big willow tree stood in front of the restaurant. During the day, a signboard flapped like a flag amid the bright green of the thousands of thin branches dancing in the breeze.
The locals were not used to eating outside their homes in the daytime. However, the town was a hub of communications—so businessmen, workers, and passersby, coming and going from all directions, came to eat at the restaurant. The customers were gods. Darky and Mu Du would greet them with smiles, letting them take a seat on the stone stool beneath the willow and offering them a pot of tea while they awaited their meals.
The couple would light the fire and make noodles. Darky, her large, full breasts trembling beside the kneading board, rolled the dough as thin as paper. Before Mu Du brought the water to a boil, she would lean over the windowsill and chat with the customers.
The customers were well traveled and had wide experience. They liked to chat with women. They would make up fabulous stories—a mouse that gained human wit, or a wedding between a woman and a ghost. Darky was a good listener; her rich facial expressions showed interest, surprise, and joy. Her captivating face left a deep impressionon the diners, and they talked about her everywhere they went. The restaurant’s business was booming every day.
The town’s nighttime culture centered on drinking, so the restaurant bustled with noise and excitement after dark. Liquor changed
The villagers regarded Mu Du as a homecoming hero; he had earned a small fortune within a few months. He spoke grandly about his adventures in Tong Guan, as if he’d just come back from abroad. While money had made the credit agent’s son sink further into degeneracy, it made Mu Du crazy with excitement.
Only at night did Mu Du give a true account of what a dark and terrible underground world the coal mine was. A shift lasted for a whole day. He’d had to take thirty-two pancakes with him, chewing them like a wolf down in the pits. When he’d emerge from the mine, a crowd of coal miners’ relatives would be waiting at the entrance, staring expectantly for their loved ones; nobody ever awaited him. At first, the bright sunshine offended his eyes. He’d be unable to move and would have to squat there like a black spider or a blind bear, waiting for his pupils to adapt to the dizzying rays.
Mu Du learned to worship gods and bought a protective peachwood talisman. One time, the pits caved in. He had watched as a boulder fell and crushed one of his workmates to death. The blood burst out from the man’s head like spurting water.
All these details made Darky’s hair stand on end. Covering Mu Du’s mouth with her hand, she threw herself at her husband, embracing and gently warming his stinking breast, arms, and head, her face bathed in tears. She said not a single word about Lai Shun.
One day Mu Du came across the credit agent at the town fair. The agent asked jovially: “Mu Du, you made a fortune?”
Mu Du answered humbly: “Comparing me with you is like comparing a man’s lean pinky to his waist!”
The agent roared with laughter. “I didn’t hire you in my factory, nor would I lend you money. I wanted you to work on your own. Now you’ve really made a killing! How will you manage your two thousand yuan? Would you like to invest it in our credit cooperative and have your money produce sons and grandsons?”
When Mu Du told Darky about the creditor’s suggestion, Darky insisted that the money should be neither saved nor spent extravagantly. They should start a business with the capital.
Eventually they decided to start a restaurant. They began modestly, since Mu Du was good at nothing but hard labor. They found a small storefront at the eastern end of town with a rent of only forty yuan a month. A big willow tree stood in front of the restaurant. During the day, a signboard flapped like a flag amid the bright green of the thousands of thin branches dancing in the breeze.
The locals were not used to eating outside their homes in the daytime. However, the town was a hub of communications—so businessmen, workers, and passersby, coming and going from all directions, came to eat at the restaurant. The customers were gods. Darky and Mu Du would greet them with smiles, letting them take a seat on the stone stool beneath the willow and offering them a pot of tea while they awaited their meals.
The couple would light the fire and make noodles. Darky, her large, full breasts trembling beside the kneading board, rolled the dough as thin as paper. Before Mu Du brought the water to a boil, she would lean over the windowsill and chat with the customers.
The customers were well traveled and had wide experience. They liked to chat with women. They would make up fabulous stories—a mouse that gained human wit, or a wedding between a woman and a ghost. Darky was a good listener; her rich facial expressions showed interest, surprise, and joy. Her captivating face left a deep impressionon the diners, and they talked about her everywhere they went. The restaurant’s business was booming every day.
The town’s nighttime culture centered on drinking, so the restaurant bustled with noise and excitement after dark. Liquor changed
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