Yu Hua - Cries in the Drizzle

Sun Kwangtsai was not easily satisfied, and when the neighbors had finished digging the grave and were about ready to go home, my father kept grumbling away in the background, saying that if they were going to help they should go whole hog, otherwise they'd do better not to help at all. He asked them to carry my grandfather out, while he stood by the doorway, opting not to join them in the room. When Wang Yuejin (the one who was later to get into a fight with him) screwed up his face and complained about the awful smell, my father said unctuously, “Dead people are like that.”

My grandfather chose to open his eyes at the very moment that he was being lifted off the bed. He had no idea, of course, that they were just about to bury him, and he gave a little chuckle as he regained consciousness; the sudden appearance of a smile on his face gave them the fright of their lives. I heard a chaotic medley of shouts erupt inside the room, and the next thing I knew, every one of the neighbors bolted out in a panic. Wang Yuejin, the most strongly built of all, was white as a sheet, and he patted his chest and kept saying, “That scared the shit out of me!”

Then he started hurling curses at Sun Kwangtsai. “I screw your ancestors, all eighteen generations of them! You stupid bastard, what sort of joke is that to play on people?”

My father looked at them quizzically, not knowing what the problem was, until Wang Yuejin said, “Fuck it, the man's still alive!”

Hearing that, Sun Kwangtsai rushed into Sun Youyuan's room. On seeing him, my grandfather gave another titter, so infuriating my father that he started cursing even before he left the room. “All your talk about dying is just a load of shit! If you really want to die, then string yourself up or throw yourself in the river, don't just fucking lie in bed!”

Like a fine stream of water that just keeps on flowing, Sun Youyuan's life carried on unbroken, to the villagers’ amazement. Practically everyone was convinced that he was about to die, but he had succeeded in making his passing a very protracted affair. The biggest surprise came that summer evening. It was stiflingly hot inside the house, so we moved the table out and set it down underneath the elm tree. We were eating there when Granddad suddenly appeared.

Though bedridden for some three weeks now, he had managed to clamber to his feet, and putting a hand against the wall for support he tottered outside like a child just learning to walk. We watched him in speechless astonishment. By now he was gripped by a deep unease about his inability to die properly. With difficulty he positioned himself next to the threshold and then lowered himself unsteadily onto the sill. He seemed oblivious to our reaction and sat as motionless as though he were a sack of sweet potatoes. We heard a dejected mumble, “Still not dead! What a pain!”

It was the following morning that Sun Youyuan died. When my father went over to his bed, he opened his eyes wide and looked at him steadily. Granddad's look must have been chilling or my father would not have been so petrified. He told us later that Granddad's expression seemed to be saying that he wanted to take him along, so they could die together. But my father did not make a run for it, or rather he could not make a run for it as his hands were now held in his father's viselike grip. Two tiny tears fell from the corners of my grandfather's eyes, and then he closed his eyes forever. Sun Kwangtsai could feel his clamped hands gradually recover their freedom, and that's when he left the room all flustered and in a slurred voice told my mother to have a look. Compared with him, she was much more composed. She hesitated a little as she went in, but she came out with a steady step, telling my father, “He's gone cold.”

My father smiled with relief, and as he headed outside he cried, “Finally, damn it! Finally!”

He sat down on the doorstep, grinning at some hens that strutted about nearby. But before long his face grew dark with grief, his mouth went out of shape, and he started crying; soon he was blubbering. I heard him murmuring to himself, “Dad, I let you down. Dad, you had such a hard life. I'm a lousy bastard, I didn't treat you right! But I really had no choice, you know.”

When Granddad at last fulfilled his ambition and died, this failed to evoke the feeling that I had lost a real, living person. It left me in a strange state of mind, a combination of sorrow and disquiet. What was clear to me, however, was that one particular spectacle would fade from view and be lost forever. At twilight Sun Youyuan used to appear on the road into Southgate, shuffling along toward me and the pond. Even from a considerable distance I could always recognize the oilskin umbrella clutched to his chest and the blue bundle dangling over his shoulder. That tableau had so often brought me warmth and comfort, as reassuring as sunshine itself.

GRANDFATHER'S VICTORY

Sun Youyuan was no coward; at least inside he was not. If he was humble, this servility stemmed to a large extent from low self-esteem. In my fourth year away from Southgate, after my little brother had adjusted the table legs, Granddad's sorry predicament at home grew even more dire.

The table-leg episode did not mark the end of hostilities between Sun Youyuan and Sun Kwangtsai, for my father was a tenacious adversary and would not allow Sun Youyuan to rest easy for long. Soon he forbade my grandfather to sit at the table at mealtimes, insisting that he sit in the corner with a small bowl. My grandfather had to learn to put up with hunger. Although an old man, he had the appetite of a young newlywed, but now he was allowed only this one small bowl. Sun Kwangtsai's put-upon expression made it very difficult for him to request a second helping, and he could only watch with rumbling stomach as my parents and brothers dug into their meal with gusto. The only way of alleviating his hunger was to lick all the plates before they were washed, and now, through our back window, the villagers would often see Sun Youyuan assiduously scouring the dirty dishes with his tongue.

My grandfather did not easily resign himself to suffering such humiliation, and given that he was no coward he had no choice but to go head to head with Sun Kwangtsai since it was impossible to outflank him. After a month or so, when my mother passed Granddad his little bowl, he deliberately failed to take a firm hold and instead let it drop and shatter on the floor. I can imagine how this would have infuriated my father, and sure enough he leapt up from his stool, and pointing a finger at Sun Youyuan cursed him loudly. “You old wastrel, you can't even hold a fucking bowl properly! How do you think you're going to eat now?”

By then my grandfather was already down on his knees, gathering up the bits of food off the floor. He put on an expression that seemed to acknowledge he had committed a terrible crime, and he said to my father, “Oh no, I shouldn't have smashed that bowl! Oh no, that family heirloom — it was supposed to be passed on to the next generation!”

This last sentence left my father nonplussed, and it was a moment before its implications sank in. Then he said to my mother, “You keep telling me the old man is so pitiful, but don't you see how devious he is?”

My grandfather did not look at Sun Kwangtsai. His eyes filled with tears while he kept crying stubbornly, “Oh no, that bowl was to go to my son!”

Sun Kwangtsai was now at the end of his tether, and he roared at Granddad, “Stop that fucking playacting!”

Sun Youyuan started to bawl, crying in an anguished voice, “Now that the bowl is broken, how's my son going to eat?”

At that point my little brother began to cackle. In his eyes Granddad looked so ridiculous that he burst out laughing, despite the inappropriateness of the occasion. My big brother Sun Guang-ping knew that this was not the time for levity but Sun Guang-ming's mirth so infected him that he could not stop himself from joining in. My father now found himself under fire from all quarters: on the one side, Sun Youyuan with his ominous prediction of hardship late in life; on the other, his progeny seemingly savoring with their laughter the prospect of his future sufferings. Sun Kwangtsai glanced suspiciously at his darling sons and thought to himself: its true I can't really count on these two guys.