Can Xue - Five Spice Street

‘‘That wall can last at least another fifty years,’’ the widow said, her saliva flying. ‘‘It’s almost ‘indestructible.’ Why did she make this application? She’s always been vain and mischief-making, unable to be serious. But we still welcome this pose. This is no different from opening doors, placing a vase on the windowsill, and then sitting at the window. She always takes a roundabout way.’’

The young coal worker and the husband’s good friend also put up articles on the blackboard newspaper. In their articles, which were as long as ten thousand characters (taking up more than ten blackboards), they told of their close relationship with this present representative. Their words moved people to tears. In the articles, they stated that they had contributed to Madam X’s enlightenment and had almost ‘‘paid with their lives for today’s beautiful scene.’’ Look where they lived, look at what they ate: you’d have to be a stone not to be moved! They were down-to-earth, practical workers. In writing his tracts, even such a high-level theorist as Dr. A could not be without the fine materials they offered. They didn’t want glory. They were willing to be invisible. This gave them even greater pleasure. Now, seeing the lady they loved and esteemed throw off her burden and stride forward buoyantly toward a beautiful tomorrow, how could they not feel relieved from the bottom of their hearts! They had been looking forward to this special day for a long time!

After the blackboard newspaper was published, they embraced tightly and shed hot tears. They were now doubly devoted to Madam X for having thought up such a brilliant pretext. They hoped she would think up even more and write even more applications so they would be able to exert their ability and wisdom even more. ‘‘To apply for help when the wall is weathered but still far from collapse is romantic. To apply when it is on the brink of collapse is merely pragmatic.’’

But two weeks later, the people saw that wall of Madam X’s home facing the street had become a heap of rubble. Luckily, Madam X had taken precautions and had moved all her valuables to a room in the back whose four walls were still very strong. They could ‘‘last at least another fifty years.’’ She seemed happy. She told others, ‘‘I foresaw this a long time ago. I submitted the application in order to watch them contradict themselves.’’

After the collapse, she enjoyed a long period of quiet. The people on Five Spice Street were concerned about Madam X’s thoughts, of course, for they were directly related to everyone’s destiny. But they hesitated about whether to rebuild her house. Was this necessary? Would they be pampering her too much? Would this make her haughty? Would she forfeit her small achievement? They had to think carefully because their reaction would affect the future. Thus, they pretended to be ignorant of the problem of the house. The people said they hadn’t seen the application or hadn’t gotten a good look at it. ‘‘That isn’t our responsibility. Our Ph.D. can take care of everything. We hear that he has an original idea about this problem.’’ The people remained concerned about Madam X, but no one visited her. If you wanted to find her, you had to go around the rubble to her room. But then she might latch on to you and suggest you work as a coolie-and that wouldn’t be great. To make a little effort was okay, but we couldn’t wreck principles. In addition, we’re all extremely busy. The best thing is just to think about Madam X. We don’t have to go to her door every day and disturb her. Later, they’ll substitute a code-‘‘T’’-for the house problem. ‘‘The T problem,’’ they would say. ‘‘Dr. A will take care of it.’’

Madam X gained experience: sometimes, to achieve oblivion, you have to be noticed. Then people will start leaving you alone. She experienced this several times and gained spiritual pleasure from it. Later, she made use of this experience. It’s said that ‘‘it all succeeded.’’ No matter what Madam X’s intention, submitting the application made it clear that she was on normal terms with everyone. Whenever an outside delegation arrived, we pointed to Madam X’s application as evidence that on our Five Spice Street impossible things became realities.

Madam X submitted five applications in a row. In addition to the one to repair her house, the others were: (1) a request for financial aid; (2) a request to relieve her of civic activities (the reason was that she had too many callers; receiving them was the same as taking part in civic activities); (3) a request to renovate the front of her shop (it was already old, and the red-painted sign was dingy); and (4) a request to provide her with a quiet environment (because she wanted to concentrate on studying the wave of the future, she didn’t want anyone to enter her house). We looked upon her applications as symbolic. Each time she submitted an application, everyone felt inexpressibly gratified, warm, and magnanimous.

An explanation was attached to each application, and they were framed and hung below pictures of our elite citizens in the meeting hall. We hoped that Madam X would continue to write applications. What more could she desire than such an understanding and receptive community? She was terribly fortunate. From her first day on Five Spice Street, she must have decided not to move even an inch from this place that could satisfy all her desires. After quietly gaining advantages, and fearing jealousy, she wrote applications to express her firm relationship with the people. We needn’t pay much attention to the contents of her applications (she herself didn’t seem to care, for she hadn’t once come by to insist on any of them). Though half her house collapsed, didn’t she still live there comfortably? If she had received material help, she might have ceased her spiritual pursuits. We wisely ignored her requests, enabling her to redouble her efforts and achieve even more.

Madam X lived in that small, shabby, half-collapsed house. She reminded people to pay attention to her applications so that she could remain isolated from the crowds. She became as proficient in writing applications as she had been in using microscopes. She also called them creations . Initially, she began each document with distinctively large characters to indicate what she was applying for. Thus, we knew the contents of her application. But once her applications became ‘‘creations,’’ no one could understand them. They were full of disconnected, broken words and phrases. They were repetitive and excessively long. Luckily, nobody walked into the trap. Why would we want to understand those absolutely meaningless things? It was simple: almost every day, Madam X submitted applications; she had finally realized that she’d made the mistake of isolating herself. This was advantageous to us: we welcomed it. Sometimes, she wanted to complain a little, and put these complaints into her applications. This was all right. In any case, nobody would read them. We certainly didn’t read her applications, so how could we use old impressions to judge a person? Maybe there actually weren’t any complaints in her applications. Maybe they were filled with praise? Why not? From the position she had achieved (without expending the slightest effort), from the caring the people felt for her, she certainly could have written some praise: this should have been the wellspring of her inspiration. We wished she would come up with even more witty remarks and even odder ways of organizing her words to write her praise. We would preserve what she wrote for our descendants decades and centuries hence.

As a result of our encouragement, Madam X wrote even more applications, a new one almost every day. So as not to sway her, and to heed her request that others not bother her, we didn’t go to her home to pick up her applications but sent someone to her shop to pretend to buy beans. She tacitly understood: she would wrap the beans in the application sheets and give them to the person. The writer confirmed that she deeply appreciated the profound consideration of the community. Once when buying beans, the writer (this time, as it happened, he went himself) saw that Madam X’s ‘‘eyes were watering.’’ After receiving her applications, the people couldn’t help but sigh again and again: Madam X was terrific! Using the applications as bean wrappers was a splendid idea! A ‘‘post-future’’ creation! Even more wonderful was her carefree attitude-she actually was carefree as she wrapped beans with the application sheets! Our Five Spice Street had characters; all of us had become characters!