Yu Hua - The Seventh Day

“Later a guy who looked like a businessman was saying goodbye to some people who looked like officials, and then he stood at the door of the restaurant talking on the phone to his driver, so she went up to him and said, We haven’t eaten all day, but we’re not begging, we’re not asking for money, we’re just asking that you do us the kindness of going to the bakery next door and buying us a couple of loaves of bread. The man put away his phone and looked at her, saying, A girl as pretty as you can’t rustle up a couple of loaves of bread? You can’t eat your looks, she said. The guy laughed and said, It’s true you can’t eat your looks, but they’re intangible assets, at least. Intangible assets are empty, she said, but bread is real. Hey, the guy went, you’re smart as well as pretty, why don’t you come with me, I’ll feed you anything you like. She turned around and pointed at me, saying, I’m spoken for. The guy looked at me as if to say, that little down-and-out!

“The guy’s Mercedes came over and he opened the door and said to the driver, go over to the bakery and get four loaves of bread. The driver got out and trotted over to the bakery. The guy’s phone rang and he picked it up. His driver ran back with the bread, and as he talked on the phone the man said to the driver, Give it to them. The driver gave her the bag of bread, and she said, Thanks. The guy got into his Mercedes and the car drove off. Her hand reached into the bag and broke off a piece of freshly baked bread and popped it into my mouth, then she put the bag inside her jacket. Her ice-cold hand took my ice-cold hand and she said to me, ‘Let’s go back home to eat.’

“We returned to our underground home and she went over to a neighbor’s to ask for a cup of hot water. We sat on the bed and she had me first drink some hot water, before eating the bread — she was afraid I might choke. She was beaming with pleasure as though we had nothing more to worry about. As I was eating, I suddenly burst into tears, but I swallowed my tears as I swallowed the bread, saying to her, we’d still better separate, best not to keep suffering with me. She put down the loaf she was eating and tears spilled from her eyes. Don’t even dream of dumping me, she said, I plan to stick with you all my life — even if I die and become a ghost I will still stick with you.

“She was so pretty and was pursued by so many men, all of whom made better money than me, but she steeled herself to live in poverty with me. Sometimes she would complain, complain that she’d chosen the wrong guy, but that was just talk, and after she said it she would forget she was with the wrong guy.”

A smile appeared on Wu Chao’s face. We had already walked a long way and on all sides was still an empty plain; we were walking on in isolation. A sweet smile now appeared on Wu Chao’s face — he was talking about the scene when he first met Mouse Girl.

“When I saw Mouse Girl for the first time three years ago, she was washing hair in a salon. I just happened to pass by and casually glance into the salon, and I saw Mouse Girl standing by the door and greeting clients. She looked at me too, and my heart started pounding right there and then, for I’d never seen such a pretty girl before — when her eyes rested on me it was as though she was stealing my soul. I walked ahead some twenty yards but couldn’t go any farther. I hesitated for a long time, then walked back, to find her still standing at the door. When I gazed at her, she gave me another look, and that look was enough to make my heart jump. After passing, I hesitated once more, and when I walked back again, the girl at the door to welcome clients was not Mouse Girl anymore. Mouse Girl was inside washing someone’s hair. Through the window I saw her face in a mirror, and she saw me in the mirror and gave me the once-over.

“After four times back and forth in front of the salon, I summoned up the courage to go inside. The girl by the door thought I had come to get my hair cut and said, Welcome. I stammered out a question, Is the manager in? A man standing by the cash register said, I’m the manager. Do you need a hairwasher? I asked. Not just now, he said. But the salon opposite is looking for someone, you could try there.

“I walked out of the salon rather forlornly, not daring to look Mouse Girl in the eyes. I walked for ages but simply couldn’t get her out of my mind. A couple of days later, I summoned up the courage to go in again and ask the manager if he needed a hairwasher. Again the manager suggested I try the salon opposite. In the month that followed I went back every week, and each time I felt that Mouse Girl was looking at me. The fourth time, as luck would have it, a male hairwasher had quit and I was able to fill his position. His work number had been 7, so now I was Number 7. Mouse Girl threw me a glance and her face twisted into a grin.

“On my first evening at the salon there weren’t many customers getting their hair done, so Mouse Girl sat in a chair flipping through a hairdressing magazine, occasionally raising her head and fluffing her hair in the mirror, as though contemplating different options. I sat down in the chair next to hers, and because I was nervous I was wheezing for breath, so Mouse Girl turned to me and said, ‘You got asthma?’ I hastily shook my head, and said no, I didn’t have asthma. ‘Your wheezing is scary,’ she said.

“I got more and more tense the longer I sat next to her, worried that my wheezing sounded like asthma, and I breathed carefully, as though holding my breath underwater. She kept flipping through the hairdressing magazine and experimenting with different hairstyles. Finally I summoned up the courage to ask, ‘What’s your name?’

“ ‘Number 3,’ she said, not even raising her head.

“Her tone was frosty, and I felt deflated. But a moment later she raised her head and looked at me with a smile. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

“ ‘Number 7,’ I said in a fluster.

“She chuckled. ‘What’s Number 7’s name?’ she asked.

“Only then did I remember my name. ‘Number 7 is called Wu Chao.’

“She closed her magazine. ‘Number 3 is called Liu Mei,’ she said.”

Wu Chao broke off his account and came to an abrupt halt as he gazed at the view before him. A look of awe appeared on his face, for now he saw for the first time the scene that had made such an impression on me — streams flowing, grass covering the ground, trees in luxuriant growth, with fruit hanging from their branches and heart-shaped leaves that fluttered to a heartbeat rhythm. And people — some fully fleshed, many just bones — were strolling at leisure, back and forth.

He turned to me in astonishment, and his perplexed expression seemed to be posing an inquiry.

“Go on over,” I said to him. “The tree leaves there will beckon you, the rocks will smile to you, the river will greet you. There’s no poverty here and no riches; there’s no sorrow and no pain; no grievances and no hate….Here everyone finds equality in death.”

“What’s the name of this place?” he asked.

“The land of the unburied.”

Yu Hua is the author of five novels, six story collections, and four essay collections. His work has been translated into more than twenty languages. He has received many awards, including the James Joyce Award, France’s Prix Courrier International, and Italy’s Premio Grinzane Cavour. Yu Hua lives in Beijing. ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

Allan H. Barr is the translator of Yu Hua’s debut novel, Cries in the Drizzle, his essay collection China in Ten Words, and his short story collection Boy in the Twilight. He teaches Chinese at Pomona College in California.