Tomorrow

Tomorrow

No sound—what has happened to the little one?

Old Gong with the red nose held a bowl of yellow wine, spoke, and jerked his neck toward the next room. Blue-skinned Ah-Wu then set down his wine bowl and gave him a hard thump on the back, mumbling:

"You... you're brooding again..."

The old ways still lingered in Luzhen, a quiet backwater. Before the first watch of the night, everyone closed their doors and went to sleep. Only two households kept late hours: the Xianheng Tavern, where a few boon companions clustered around the counter, eating and drinking merrily; and next door, Sisi's widow, who had been left alone these two years past and had to rely entirely on her own two hands spinning cotton yarn to feed herself and her three-year-old son. That was why she stayed up late too.

These past few days, there had truly been no sound of spinning. But since only two households stayed up late at night, if Sisi's widow's house made a sound, only Old Gong and his sort would hear it; and if it made no sound, only they would hear that too.

Old Gong, having been struck, seemed to take great pleasure in it. He drank a big mouthful of wine and began to sing a little ditto in a humming voice.

At this hour, Sisi's widow was sitting on the edge of the bed holding her Bao'er, the spinning wheel standing silently on the ground. The dim, heavy lamplight fell on Bao'er's face, a flush of red tinged with blue. Sisi's widow's mind was working: she had already consulted the temple lots, made her vows, and tried the single remedies. If they still didn't work, what could be done?—there would be nothing for it but to consult Dr. Ho the Quack. But perhaps Bao'er's illness was lighter by day and heavier at night; by tomorrow, when the sun came up, the fever might recede and the panting grow calmer: this was, after all, common enough with sick people.

Sisi's widow was a simple, clumsy woman who did not understand the terror of that "perhaps": many bad things had indeed been turned good by its grace, but many good things had also been ruined by it. Summer nights were short; it was not long after Old Gong and his fellows had finished their humming song that the east began to whiten; and before long, a silvery dawn light was seeping through the cracks in the window.

Sisi's widow waited for the dawn, but not as easily as others did; it seemed to come unbearably slowly. Each breath of Bao'er's seemed to last a year longer than the last. Now at last it was bright; the brightness of the sky overpowered the lamplight—she could see Bao'er's nostrils, fluttering in and out.

Sisi's widow knew this was no good. She gave a silent cry of "Ai-ya!" Her mind was working: there was nothing for it but to consult Dr. Ho the Quack. Though she was a simple, clumsy woman, she had resolve in her heart. She stood up, drew from the wooden chest the thirteen small silver dollars and eighty coppers she had saved each day, put them all in her pocket, locked the door, and carrying Bao'er, ran straight to Dr. Ho's house.

It was still early, but four patients were already sitting in Dr. Ho's house. She produced four silver dollars, bought a number ticket, and Bao'er was the fifth in line. Dr. Ho the Quack extended two fingers to feel the pulse—his fingernails were over four inches long. Sisi's widow marveled inwardly and thought: Bao'er ought to have a chance at life now. But anxiety was unavoidable; she could not help asking, and said, nervously:

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

"His middle burner is blocked."

"Is it nothing serious? He..."

"Take two doses of medicine first."

"He can't catch his breath; his nostrils are fluttering."

"This is fire overcoming metal..."

Dr. Ho the Quack had spoken only half a sentence before closing his eyes; Sisi's widow felt too embarrassed to ask more. A man of over thirty sitting opposite Dr. Ho had already written out a prescription. He pointed to some words at the corner of the paper and said:

"The first ingredient, the Baby-Life-Saving Pills, can only be found at the Jiuji Old Shop of the Jia family!"

Sisi's widow took the prescription, walking and thinking at the same time. Though she was a simple, clumsy woman, she knew that Dr. Ho's, the Jiuji Old Shop, and her own house formed a triangle; naturally it would be cheaper to buy the medicine and go home. So she made straight for the Jiuji Old Shop. The shop assistant, with his long fingernails, slowly read the prescription and slowly wrapped the medicine. Sao'er's widow sat holding Bao'er and waiting; suddenly Bao'er raised his little hand and with force pulled a strand of her disheveled hair—a gesture he had never made before. Sisi's widow was frightened into a daze.

The sun was already up. Sisi's widow carried the child and the medicine bundle, and the farther she walked, the heavier it felt; the child struggled incessantly, and the road seemed to grow longer. She had no choice but to sit on the threshold of a big house by the roadside to rest for a while. Her clothes gradually chilled against her skin, and only then did she realize she had broken into a sweat; Bao'er, however, seemed to have fallen asleep. She stood up again and walked slowly, still unable to support herself, when suddenly she heard a voice at her ear:

"Sisi's widow, let me carry him for you!" It seemed to be Blue-skinned Ah-Wu's voice.

She looked up, and it was indeed Blue-skinned Ah-Wu, following her with sleep-heavy eyes.

At this moment, though Sisi's widow greatly wished for a heavenly general to descend and lend her a hand, she did not want it to be Ah-Wu. But Ah-Wu had a certain gallantry about him; no matter what, he insisted on helping. So after some pushing and yielding, she finally gave her consent. He stretched out his arms, reaching down between Sisi's widow's breast and the child, and took the child from her. Sisi's widow felt a line of heat run across her breast, and in an instant it spread to her face and earlobes.

They walked together, about two feet apart. Ah-Wu chattered away, but Si-Sao mostly did not answer. Before long, Ah-Wu handed the baby back to her, saying that it was time for the meal he had arranged with a friend the day before. Si-Sao took the baby from him. Fortunately, home was not far away; she could already see Old Dame Wang from across the street sitting by the road, calling out from a distance:

"Si-Sao, how is the baby?—Have you seen the doctor?"

"Yes, we have. Old Dame Wang, you are old and have seen much. Why don't you take a look with your experienced eyes and tell me…"

"Mm…"

"Well…?"

"Mm…" Old Dame Wang examined the baby carefully, nodded twice, then shook her head twice.

By the time Bao-er took his medicine, it was already afternoon. Si-Sao watched his expression carefully and thought he seemed a little calmer. Then, in the late afternoon, he suddenly opened his eyes, called out "Ma!" and closed them again, as if falling asleep. After sleeping a moment, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and the tip of his nose. Si-Sao touched them gently—they stuck to her hand like glue. She quickly felt his chest and could not help but break into sobs.

As Bao-er's breathing went from steady to nothing, Si-Sao's cries turned into loud wailing. By now several groups of people had gathered: inside the gate were Old Dame Wang, Blue-Skinned Ah-Wu, and the like; outside the gate were the proprietor of Xianheng and Red-Nosed Old Gong, and the like. Old Dame Wang gave orders, burned a string of spirit money, and also pledged two wooden stools and five pieces of clothing as security to borrow two silver dollars for Si-Sao, so that she could prepare a meal for those who helped.

The first problem was the coffin. Si-Sao still had a pair of silver earrings and a gold-wrapped silver hairpin, which she gave to the proprietor of Xianheng, asking him to act as guarantor so that she could buy a coffin, paying half in cash and half on credit. Blue-Skinned Ah-Wu also put out his hand, quite willing to volunteer. But Old Dame Wang would not allow it, and only permitted him the task of carrying the coffin the next day. Ah-Wu cursed "Old beast!" and stood there pouting sullenly. The proprietor then went off himself. When he returned in the evening, he said the coffin had to be made from scratch and would not be ready until the second half of the night.

By the time the proprietor returned, the helpers had already eaten. Because Luzhen still preserved some old customs, everyone went home to sleep before the first watch of the night. Only Ah-Wu remained leaning against the counter of Xianheng, drinking, while Old Gong sang his mournful songs.

At this hour, Si-Sao 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 time, Si-Sao's tears came to an end. She opened her wide eyes and looked around at everything, feeling that it was strange: none of this could possibly be real. She reasoned in her mind: it was nothing but a dream; all these things were a dream. Tomorrow she would wake up and find herself sleeping peacefully in bed, with Bao-er sleeping peacefully beside her too. He would also wake up, call "Ma!" and go bouncing off to play, alive and full of vigor.

Old Gong's singing had long since fallen silent, and Xianheng had put out its lamp. Si-Sao lay with open eyes, refusing to believe any of it.—The rooster crowed; the east gradually grew pale, and a silver-white dawn light seeped through the cracks in the window.

The silver-white dawn light gradually turned crimson, and the sunlight reached the roof ridge. Si-Sao lay with open eyes, sitting in a daze. Hearing a knock at the door, she was startled and ran out to open it. Outside stood a stranger carrying something on his back; behind him stood Old Dame Wang.

Oh, they had brought the coffin.

It was not until the afternoon that the coffin lid was nailed on, because Si-Sao would cry for a while and look for a time, and was never willing to let them close it for good. Fortunately, Old Dame Wang grew impatient, ran forward in a fury, dragged her away, and they nailed it shut in a flurry of hands.

But Si-Sao had already done everything in her power for her Bao-er; there was nothing lacking. The previous day she had burned a string of spirit money; that morning she had burned forty-nine rolls of the Great Compassion Mantra. When she laid him out, she dressed him in his newest clothes and placed beside his pillow the playthings he had loved in life—a clay figure, two small wooden bowls, and two glass bottles. Later, Old Dame Wang counted carefully on her fingers but could ultimately think of nothing lacking either.

That day, Blue-Skinned Ah-Wu was absent almost the entire day. The proprietor of Xianheng hired two porters for Si-Sao at two hundred and ten coppers each, to carry the coffin to the pauper's burial ground. Old Dame Wang helped her cook, and everyone who had lent a hand or spoken a word ate a meal. The sun gradually took on the look of a setting sun; the people who had eaten also gradually took on the look of people going home—and so they all went home.

Si-Sao felt very dizzy. After resting a while, she actually felt a little steadier. But then she felt something very strange: she had encountered something she had never encountered in her life, something that should not have happened, yet it had indeed appeared. The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed, and then she felt another strange thing:—the room was suddenly too quiet.

He stood up and lit the lamp. The room grew even more quiet. In a daze, he got up to close the door, then came back and sat on the edge of the bed. The spinning wheel stood silently on the ground. He steadied himself and looked around, feeling all the more that he could neither sit nor stand. The room was not only too quiet, but also too large, and the things in it too sparse. The overly large room hemmed him in on all sides; the overly sparse things pressed down on him from every direction, making it hard for him to breathe.

He now knew for certain that his Bao'er was truly dead. Unwilling to look at the room, he blew out the lamp and lay down. As he wept, he thought: back then, when he was spinning cotton yarn and Bao'er sat beside him eating fennel beans, those small black eyes would gaze thoughtfully for a moment before he'd say, "Mama—if Father sells wontons, when I grow up I'll sell wontons too, sell lots and lots of money—I'll give it all to you." In those days, even the cotton yarn he spun seemed to have meaning in every inch, to be alive in every inch. But what about now? As for present matters, Sishazi—Single Four's Wife—truly hadn't thought of anything at all.—I said before: she was a simple, unrefined woman. What could she think of? She only felt that the room was too quiet, too large, too empty.

But though Single Four's Wife was simple and unrefined, she knew that resurrection was impossible, and that her Bao'er truly could never be seen again. He sighed and said to himself, "Bao'er, you should still be here. Come see me in a dream." Then he closed his eyes, wanting to fall asleep quickly, to meet his Bao'er, his labored breathing passing through the stillness and the vastness and the emptiness, which he heard quite clearly.

At last Single Four's Wife drifted off into a hazy sleep, and the whole room was very quiet. By now the little song of Old Gong with the red nose had long since finished; he stumbled and lurched out of Xianheng, then raised his voice to a shrill pitch and sang:—

"My wretched one!—Poor you,—all alone..."

Then Blue-Skin A-Wu reached out and grabbed Old Gong by the shoulder. The two of them, grinning and squeezing past each other at drunken angles, walked on.

Single Four's Wife had long since fallen asleep, Old Gong and his kind had left, and Xianheng had closed its doors. At this hour, Luzhen was completely enveloped in silence. Only the dark night, trying to become tomorrow, still hurried through the silence; and a few dogs, hiding in the darkness, whimpered softly.

(June 1920.)