Can Xue - Five Spice Street

It’s worth mentioning that one day, our beloved widow crossed swords with Madam X. The widow met Madam X’s wanton eyes with her own pure, righteous gaze. In one bout, she ‘‘defeated’’ her. The next day, this news was posted in large characters on the blackboard. ‘‘It’s no big deal,’’ the widow said calmly with a slight smile. ‘‘If you confronted her gaze directly, you’d see that she was too weak to withstand even one blow. I have long since foreseen this. If you’re interested, all of you can give it a try.’’ No one did, however. Our widow’s test was enough proof: and the widow epitomized everyone’s ability. Anyhow, Madam X’s gaze was too weak to withstand one attack. All of us had absolute confidence in ourselves.

Fourth, the widow’s discernment, diligence, and calmness when facing danger also precisely represented the collective character of the people on Five Spice Street. These qualities enabled us to get through difficulties easily, to accommodate and even assimilate aliens from outer space like X and her family. Not only were we not assimilated by her, but we made them nourishment for our organism. How rare this is in human history!

For example, when the female colleague was clamoring to ‘‘break into the adultery scene,’’ our people demonstrated admirable calmness. No one made a move. No one discussed it or argued about it: there was only a quiet, iron-like consistency. An atmosphere like this can’t be achieved in a day or two. We can proudly state that only in this place of ours and with our people could Madam X develop freely and contentedly and give birth to such a heroic and romantic story. Even if she finally became one of us, the story moves people greatly (who wouldn’t be moved by a history about themselves?). Anywhere else, she would certainly have been caught ‘‘with her pants down’’ or she would have been exterminated before the adultery ever had time to sprout. It’s also possible that this adultery would have been endlessly repeated with the approbation of the people, and licentiousness would have swept through society.

Don’t you see that only our Five Spice Street could offer X the ideal home? Her landing here was only superficially an accident. In fact, it was inevitable. Without Five Spice Street, X would not have existed, nor would the story about X. Five Spice Street was X’s hothouse, her cradle, her mother (in the end, she would finally return to this mother’s womb-and dissolve). It was only after X arrived that she became X. We molded her, we helped her fulfill her wishes. In the refraction of her sincere performance, our collective spirit was carried forward. All of this also profited from our drive to refine ourselves and achieve control over the environment. A mother can’t casually abandon her child, even if that child is a rascal or a traitor. As soon as Madam X reached Five Spice Street, our people, although sniffing out her dissidence, behaved as usual and received her with open arms. All the people here are children of the great mother. She kindly takes care of all of her children. Our people had long since blended with this land into one organism. Preeminent individuals like the widow are constantly born here. They sit unmoving in the dark room facing the street, but their bright minds discern every movement in the outside world. There is no way to measure the usefulness of this highly developed ability. Now, never mind one X, even if there were ten Xs, we had well- thought-out plans and could deal with them. It would be no problem to welcome them. Previously, the widow’s profound theory about sex had become a milestone in our history. Not only was she not out of step with the times, she had directed our progress over a long historical period. The creator of this theory was in the midst of a new breakthrough. Her ability wouldn’t dry up, nor could she stay in the same place a long time. ‘‘She was always pushing forward.’’ Her face shone with kindness. She became more like the Earth Mother by the day. She, who had no children, was the heavenly symbol of motherhood on our Five Spice Street. Everyone who ran into her was moved to call her ‘‘mother.’’

Someone recalled that before X had come to this street of ours, and before X and Q’s adultery, our widow hadn’t yet fully demonstrated her genius. Back then, Five Spice Street was really like a small, quiet island, and the people were as simple as ants. Was it because X came here that our lives were turned upside down? We should put it this way: it was because of X that our good character and our noble sentiments had the chance to be revealed. Indeed, Madam X was the person we had earnestly longed for. She had come to Five Spice Street, and not some other place, in response to our summons. ‘‘That was an unforgettable day. That morning, the earth was filled with large, beautiful chrysanthemums…’’ We all loved this sentimental song. From that day on, we-these silent ants-loudly proclaimed our existence to the world. Each of us revealed his or her true self. How could we be ants? Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve seen our story. How will you answer? X will go on living here, and our performance will pause for a while because of Q’s disappearance, but it is not the end. Perhaps it will never be concluded. A new show awaits us! Not long ago, we ran up against a little puzzle: that was one noon when we were sitting along the street. A sixteen-year-old said to everyone in a clear voice: ‘‘This X incident actually isn’t one bit interesting.’’ We immediately surrounded him and interrogated him: ‘‘Why?’’ He said he didn’t know, but in any case it was thoroughly boring. All along, he had wanted to break away and go to the mountain to collect butterflies. He had already wasted a lot of his precious youth. He argued until his face turned purple as an eggplant. We asked how old he was. He said sixteen, ‘‘almost seventeen!’’ At first, the crowd was so angry no one could say anything. Then they appeared embarrassed, and then our widow came over. She stroked the youth’s hair and just sighed and acted as if she were going to leave. Then she stopped suddenly again, sized up the youth, and asked, ‘‘Have you ever believed in anything? Have you ever pursued anything luminous?’’

The youth stood in amazement. He looked at her blankly. Her voice gradually became tough and powerful: ‘‘What makes you qualified to talk of the shockingly big question of life’s significance? Huh? Do you want to deny the spiritual achievement of your father’s generation? From the day you began to understand things, you took it for granted that the world had always been like this, and you were coming into this world merely to enjoy it. You could never imagine that over a long period, your predecessors were crawling through a dark tunnel. They could see neither an exit nor any light.

Only by relying on our strong inner faith could we continue our struggle. We can say that it was in the midst of despair that we clung to hope. ‘We went on undeterred by the dangers ahead.’ ‘We risked our lives in the struggle.’ Only by doing so did we emerge in this world of today. Sometimes, we looked all around with wide-open eyes: everything was black, everything an impasse. Those days of extreme misery: you never experienced them at all. How dare you speak such nonsense as ‘completely boring’? How dare you disdain your forefathers’ courageous pursuit? Looking at a kid like you, we really keenly feel our oversight. Aside from having fun and being mouthy, what do you kids have in your heads? You’re rude, you want to cast off everything your forebears struggled for so that you can be-as they say-aloof. But, honey, what do you have? What do you rely on to stand up straight in this world? Do you collect butterflies to escape and show off your rebellious spirit? Have our youths all turned into playboys with butterfly nets, roaming around on the mountains all day long? Ah, I really do not dare imagine this. If you have to go straight to hell, that’s up to you. I just want to ask you: what makes you say things like this ‘are completely boring’? Did you mean that we who have made this pursuit, we who have wholeheartedly headed toward the light, are all hollow, blind, ‘completely boring’ people? Just because you can’t see the present world, do we have to let you crazy kids create a new world? All our lives, our generation has struggled! Every minute and every second, our lives have been busy and meaningful. We don’t have time to think about whether something is interesting or uninteresting-questions that people with nothing better to do come up with. After the X incident emerged, we saw a little light at the end of the tunnel. Our hopes were kindled, we were pleasantly surprised, and we threw all of our energy into this struggle. We demonstrated unprecedented courage and resourcefulness. With our spiritual strength, we conquered the darkness of the outside world and walked on the road of light. We obtained a new lease on life. This kid: is he our Five Spice Street people’s flesh and blood? He sits here and, without a care in the world, swings his skinny (of course, they’re skinny!) legs and puts on airs. How could anyone believe him? I have to say: there’s no such kid here. And he said nothing that had to do with our life. He just moved his mouth and joked with us-that’s all. It’s impossible to believe there was such nonsense and a kid who talked such nonsense. He lives on Five Spice Street; he’s everyone’s child. One noon, he joked with us. I think he will agree with this narration-right, honey?’’