Yu Hua - Boy in the Twilight - Stories of the Hidden China

1

There’s an expression that fits me to a T: timid as a mouse. That’s what my teacher said, back when I was in primary school. This was one autumn, I remember, in Chinese class. The teacher stood on the dais; he was wearing a dark blue cotton jacket over a clean white shirt. I was sitting in the middle of the front row, looking up at him. He held a textbook in his hand and his fingers were coated with red, white, and yellow chalk dust. As he read the lesson aloud, his face and his hands and his book towered above me and his spittle was constantly spraying my face, so that I had repeatedly to raise my hand and wipe it off. He noticed that his spittle was sprinkling my face and that I would blink my eyes fearfully when it came flying my way, so he stopped reciting and put down his book, then stepped down from the dais and walked over to me, stretched out his chalk-stained hand and patted my face, as though giving it a wash. Then he went back to the desk to retrieve his book and began to walk around the classroom as he recited the lesson. He had wiped dry the spittle on my face, but in so doing had left my face blotched with red, white, and yellow chalk dust. My classmates began to titter, because my face now looked as gaudy as a butterfly.

It was at this point that the teacher came to the place in the text where the expression “timid as a mouse” was introduced. He laid the upturned book against his thigh. “What is meant by ‘timid as a mouse’?” he said. “It’s an expression, used to describe somebody who has no more courage than a mouse …”

His mouth stayed open, for he had something more he wanted to say. “For example …”

His eyes scanned the room. He wanted to find an analogy. The teacher loved analogies. If he was trying to explain the word “irrepressible,” he would have Lü Qianjin stand up and he’d say, “For example, Lü Qianjin — he’s irrepressible. It’s as though he’s got a straw stuck up his ass all the time — he’ll just never sit still.” Or when he came to the expression “if the lips are gone, the teeth are cold,” he would ask Zhao Qing to stand up: “For example, Zhao Qing. Why does he look so miserable? That’s because his father died. His father is the lips, and if the lips are gone the teeth will chatter.” That’s the way our teacher made his analogies: “For example, Song Hai … For example, Fang Dawei … For example, Lin Lili … For example, Hu Qiang … For example, Liu Jisheng … For example, Xu Hao … For example, Sun Hongmei …”

Now he spotted me. “Yang Gao,” he said.

I got to my feet. The teacher looked at me a moment, then waved his hand. “Sit down.”

I sat down. The teacher tapped his fingers on the desk. “All those afraid of tigers, raise your hands.”

Everybody in the class raised their hands. The teacher surveyed the room. “Put your hands down.”

We put our hands down. “All those afraid of dogs, raise your hands,” the teacher said.

When I raised my hand, I heard a lot of giggles. I found that the girls had raised their hands, but none of the other boys had. “Put your hands down,” the teacher said.

The girls and I put our hands down. “All those afraid of geese, raise your hands,” the teacher now said.

Once more I raised my hand. The whole classroom erupted in laughter. This time I was the only person to raise a hand — none of the girls had. My classmates were in hysterics. The teacher did not laugh; he had to tap sharply on the desk to restore order. He looked out into the room, not at me. “Put your hand down,” he said.

I was the only person who had to do that. Then he directed his gaze at me. “Yang Gao.”

I stood up. He pointed at me. “For example, Yang Gao, he’s even afraid of geese …”

He paused for a moment, then went on, in a loud voice, “ ‘Timid as a mouse’—that’s Yang Gao.”

2

It’s true I’m timid as a mouse. I don’t dare go near the river and I don’t dare climb trees, and that’s because, before my father died, he would often say: “Yang Gao, you can go play in the school playground or along the sidewalk or at a classmate’s house. Any place is fine — just don’t go near the river and don’t go climbing trees. If you fall into the river, you might drown. If you fall out of a tree, you might break your neck.”

That’s why I was standing there in the summer sun, watching from a distance, as Lü Qianjin, Zhao Qing, Song Hai, and Fang Dawei, along with Hu Qiang, Liu Jisheng, and Xu Hao, played about in the river, watching as they splashed water, watching their glossy black heads and shiny white behinds. One after another they dived into the water and stuck their behinds into the air. They called this game “Selling Pumpkins.” “Yang Gao, come on in!” they shouted. “Yang Gao, hurry up and sell a pumpkin!”

I shook my head. “I would drown!” I said.

“Yang Gao, do you see Lin Lili and Sun Hongmei?” they asked. “See — they’re in the water. Girls get in the water, see? You’re a boy — how come you won’t join us?”

Sure enough, I could see Lin Lili and Sun Hongmei wading about in the river in their bright underpants and cheerful tank tops, but still I shook my head and repeated, “I would drown!”

Knowing I wouldn’t go in the river, they told me to climb a tree instead. “Yang Gao,” they said, “if you won’t come in, then go climb a tree.”

“I can’t climb trees,” I said.

“All of us can,” they said. “How come you’re the only one who can’t?”

“If I fall, I might break my neck,” I told them.

They stood in a line in the water and Lü Qianjin said, “One, two, three, shout …”

They shouted out in unison, “There’s a phrase ‘timid as a mouse,’ and who is it about?”

“Me,” I murmured.

“We didn’t hear that,” Lü Qianjin shouted.

So I said again, “It refers to me.”

After hearing this, they no longer stood in a line but went back into the water, and the water again began to roil and seethe. I sat down in front of a tree and went on watching as they fooled around in the river and sold those white pumpkins of theirs.

I am a biddable boy. That’s not my word — that’s what my mother says. She often sings her son’s praises to other people: “Our Yang Gao is just the most biddable boy. He’s so obedient, and such a hard worker. He’ll do whatever you tell him to do. He’s never got in trouble outside the house and never got into fights with people. Why, I’ve never heard him say any dirty words …”

My mother’s right. I never curse people and never pick a fight with anybody. But there are always people who like to come over and curse me or pick a fight. They roll their sleeves up above their elbows and their pants up above their knees, block my path, and poke me on the nose, spit in my face and say, “Yang Gao, have you got the guts to fight with us?”

“No, I don’t,” I tell them.

“In that case,” they say, “do you have the guts to curse us?”

“No, I don’t have the guts for that either,” I tell them.

“In that case,” they say, “we’re going to curse you . Listen up! You cretin! Cretin! Cretin! Cretin, and asshole too!”

Even girls — girls like Lin Lili and Sun Hongmei — give me a hard time. Once I heard other girls say to them, “You only know how to bully us girls. If you’re so tough, why don’t you go pick a fight with a boy?”

“Who said we’re afraid of boys?” they replied.

They came over and stood on either side of me, sandwiching me between them. “Yang Gao,” they said, “we want to pick a fight with a boy, so how about if we pick a fight with you? We won’t both fight with you, we’ll fight one to one. So pick between us, Lin Lili or Sun Hongmei.”