Yu Hua - Chronicle of a Blood Merchant

There was another girl who was very pretty. She worked in a little snack shop in town, standing every morning next to a giant wok full of oil, making fried dough for breakfast. She was constantly breaking out into exclamations: when some hot oil splattered on her hand, or when she discovered a spot on her dress, or when her foot slipped as she walked down the street, or when she noticed that it had begun to rain, or when she heard a thunderclap, he invariably heard her cry out, “Aiya!”

This girl was called Xu Yulan. Her work for the day was finished by breakfast, after which she was free to spend her afternoons strolling back and forth through the streets, chewing contentedly on melon seeds wherever she went. Sometimes she would stop to shout a hello to someone she knew who was standing across the street, bursting into giggles and a series of “aiyas” as she spoke. At these times there was usually a little piece of melon seed husk stuck to her lips, and if the people who walked by just as she opened her mouth were lucky, they would even smell the sweet vegetal fragrance that emerged from between her lips as she spoke.

After she had walked a few blocks, she would usually walk back to her house, reemerging ten minutes later clad in an entirely different outfit. Then she would once again begin to amble through the streets. She changed her outfit three times a day, because the fact was that she only had three outfits into which to change. And every day she changed into four different pairs of shoes, because she only had four pairs of shoes to wear. When there was nothing new left to wear, she would wrap a silk scarf around her neck.

In truth, she had no more clothes than anyone else, but everyone thought of her as the girl with the most extensive and fashionable wardrobe in town. Her strolls through the streets made everyone feel as if her pretty face were as familiar as the stream that flowed across town. And almost everyone in town knew her as the Fried Dough Queen. “Look, there goes the Fried Dough Queen.” “Did you see the Fried Dough Queen go into the fabric shop? She buys some pretty new pattern practically every day.” “No, she just looks, she never buys.” “The Fried Dough Queen’s face smells so sweet.” “The Fried Dough Queen’s hands aren’t very pretty. Too short, and her fingers are stubby.” “So that’s the Fried Dough Queen?”

One day Xu Yulan, the Fried Dough Queen, walked a few blocks with a young man called He Xiaoyong. They talked and laughed, and later they stood by the railing of a wooden bridge until the sun started to set and night had nearly fallen. He Xiaoyong was wearing a clean white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and when he talked and laughed, he would cross his arms and wrap his hands around his elbows. Xu Yulan found this gesture enchanting, and when she looked prettily up at He Xiaoyong, her eyes sparkled with light.

Sometime later someone saw He Xiaoyong walk by Xu Yulan’s front door just as Xu Yulan herself had just emerged from inside the door. When she caught sight of him, she called out, “Aiya!” Her face was wreathed in smiles. “Come in and sit for a while.”

When He Xiaoyong walked inside, he saw Xu Yulan’s father sitting at a table drinking some yellow rice wine. Xu Yulan’s father, seeing a young stranger come in through the door with his daughter in tow, slid his chair and issued an invitation. “Have a drink?”

After that He Xiaoyong was often to be seen at Xu Yulan’s house, huddled with her father as they spoke in low tones over a pot of yellow rice wine, punctuated from time to time with what sounded like conspiratorial laughter.

And thus Xu Yulan found herself walking out of her room and standing next to the table, demanding as loudly as she could, “What are you two always talking about? What’s so funny?”

That very same day Xu Sanguan returned home from the country. As he reached town, night had already fallen. In those days there weren’t yet any street lamps installed in the city; red lanterns hung from the eaves of some of the shops, shining in uneven bands across the stone-cobbled street. Xu Sanguan walked home, enclosed one moment in darkness and the next in light. As he passed the theater, he caught sight of Xu Yulan. The Fried Dough Queen was standing sideways by the front entrance of the theater in between two big lanterns, cracking melon seeds, her face glowing luminously red in the lantern light.

Xu Sanguan walked over toward her, hesitated, turned, and walked back. He stood across the street, grinning as he watched how prettily she pursed her lips as she spit out a melon seed husk. Xu Yulan saw Xu Sanguan too. First she glanced in his direction, and then she turned to watch as two passersby walked down the street. When they had gone, she glanced back at Xu Sanguan and just as quickly wheeled around to glance inside the theater, where a man and a woman were standing and talking about the show. When she twisted her head back around, she saw that Xu Sanguan was still standing in the same place.

“Aiya!” she finally exclaimed, pointing at Xu Sanguan. “Why are you staring at me like that? And smiling that way too!”

Xu Sanguan crossed the street and stood in front of the girl bathed in crimson light. “Let me treat you to some steamed dumplings.”

Xu Yulan said, “I don’t know you.”

“I’m Xu Sanguan. I work at the silk factory.”

“I still don’t know you.”

“I know you,” Xu Sanguan said. “You’re the Fried Dough Queen.”

Xu Yulan giggled. “So you know about that?”

“Everybody’s heard of you. Let’s go. I’ll treat you to some steamed dumplings.”

“I’ve already eaten today.” Xu Yulan smiled. “Why don’t you ask me tomorrow?”

The next day Xu Sanguan took Xu Yulan to the Victory Restaurant. They sat at a table by the window, at the very same table where he had eaten pork livers and drunk yellow rice wine with Ah Fang and Genlong. And just like Ah Fang and Genlong, he slapped the table for emphasis as he called out to the waiter, “I’ll take the steamed dumplings.”

He treated Xu Yulan to the steamed dumplings. When she had finished, she told him she could still eat a bowl of wontons.

Xu Sanguan slapped the table. “Bring a bowl of wontons.”

That afternoon Xu Yulan happily ate a plate of preserved plums, but after she ate them, she said her mouth was salty, so she ate some candied fruit, but when she was finished with the fruit, she said she was thirsty, so Xu Sanguan bought her half a watermelon. They stood together on the wooden bridge as Xu Yulan happily devoured the watermelon. Then she happily proceeded to hiccup.

As her body swayed with hiccups, Xu Sanguan counted on his fingers how much money he had spent. “Steamed dumplings twenty-four fen, wontons nine fen, preserved plums ten fen, two bags of candied fruit comes to twenty-three fen, half a watermelon a pound four ounces all together seventeen fen, the grand total comes to eighty-three fen. When are we getting married?”

“Aiya!” Xu Yulan cried out in surprise. “What makes you think I’m going to marry you?”

“I spent eighty-three fen, ” Xu Sanguan explained.

“You’re the one who invited me,” Xu Yulan hiccuped. “I thought it was free. You never said I had to marry you if I ate your things.”

“What’s wrong with getting married anyway?” Xu Sanguan said. “After we get married, I’ll love you and take good care of you, and I’ll buy you this much food almost every day.”

“Aiya!” Xu Yulan cried out again. “I wouldn’t eat that much even if I were married to you. If we got married, I’d pay for my own food. And if I had known it was going to be like this, I never would have eaten anything at all.”