Old Land, New Tales: Twenty Short Stories by Writers of the Shaanxi Region in China by Chen Zhongshi, Jia Pingwa Read Free Book Online Page A

any way he pleased.
    The evening was dark; stars lit the sky and coldness crept in from the window. Her husband was on top of her, crying out the names of other women. She recognized those of the young and beautiful in the village. When her husband rolled off, he fell asleep beside her as if seriously ill.
    Hearing her sobs, her father-in-law scolded from the next room, “Sigh and choke on shit! You’re too full of yourself to sleep.” Theold man’s temper grew worse and worse. Darky couldn’t contain her sobs; her father-in-law continued to scold, “What did you eat and wear in your mother’s home? Are you not satisfied with this happy nest you fell into?” Then came the sounds of the abacus.
    Her father-in-law was the credit agent of the town. His skill with the abacus was well known throughout the nearby villages. In recent years, as the family’s wealth increased, the other family members began to pull long faces at Darky and chide her for being ugly, dark, and fat.
    At first, Darky tried to console herself. Her mother’s home in the deep mountains was poor; her food here was indeed better than what she’d grown up with. Back home, her elder brother’s face was always sallow. He came to the town every couple of weeks with mountain produce. After a meal with her, he would say, “My sister is a real lucky bird!”
    This only made her more bitter; she would reply, “Good Brother, is a bird lucky with only good food?”
    She had no one to talk to. She badly wanted a baby—but the goddess of children did not send her one.
    Disturbed, she lay in the dark with her eyes wide open. The stars outside the window faded, and the rain began to fall. If it rained for a whole night, the sweet-potato vines on the slope would spring new roots, and she would have to hoe them again.
    There was a heavy knock on the gate, followed by three clicks. Her father-in-law quickly called out, “Coming, coming!” He hurried to the gate, his shoes half-on.
    A man’s voice asked, “Are you drinking with someone?”
    Her father-in-law answered, “No, just waiting for you.” The two men went inside, cursing the rain. Their chatter sounded like ghosts chanting scriptures.
    Darky’s mother-in-law knocked at Darky’s door with her bamboo pipe. “Darky, get up. Your dad is drinking with his guests; cook something for them. Don’t pretend you’re sound asleep!”
    Darky was used to this. Still, she didn’t understand why these visitors arrived in the middle of the night. They carried mysterious objects in wooden boxes or in sacks. Her father-in-law never allowed anyone to touch them. Darky noticed but never asked about them.
    She got out of bed. In the kitchen, she prepared plates of fried eggs, thousand-year eggs, tofu, and smoked pork, carrying them all on a platter to her father-in-law’s room.
    The visitor was a playboy. He pushed a bundle of money toward her father-in-law and said, “This is yours. What do you think about it, as long as—”
    As Darky entered, her father-in-law stepped on the guest’s foot and slapped his hat down over the money on the table. Darky was quick to pretend she’d seen nothing. She murmured shyly, “It is midnight and dark; I cannot cook anything good.” The visitor gazed at her with bold, queer eyes. Darky hurriedly felt her coat buttons in case they were buttoned wrong. Her gesture made the visitor laugh.
    “Go and sleep,” said her father-in-law. “There’s nothing else for you to do here.”
    Darky went to her room with impunity and sat on the mud-brick bed. Her small husband was already awake. “Who is it,” he asked, “the mayor?”
    “No, the mayor has a big nose. This guy looks like a large fish.”
    “It must be Wang of the east village,” her small husband said. “He’s made a killing in the transportation business, so he’s rich enough to marry a country girl with a face as tender as water.”
    Darky’s face grew dim. She said nothing.
    Her husband added, “Dad made a