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

“I don’t need to wash my hands.” Their son replaced the earphone. “I took a cab.”

SHI ZHIKANG COULDN’T GET TO SLEEP that night. For five months now, his wife had been bringing home only a little over a hundred yuan. He was in a better position — four hundred yuan — but still their combined monthly income was less than six hundred. The cost of rice had now risen to one yuan thirty a pound, and pork was twelve yuan a pound — even chili peppers were three yuan a pound. They still gave their son three hundred yuan a month for living expenses all the same, leaving a bit over two hundred for themselves. But this hadn’t stopped their son from taking a taxi when he came home on Saturday.

Li Xiulan had not fallen asleep either. She noticed her husband was tossing and turning. “You can’t sleep?”

“No.”

She turned to face him. “How much do you think our son paid to come home in a taxi?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never taken a taxi.” He paused. “I guess it would have cost at least thirty yuan.”

“Thirty yuan?” she moaned.

“We sweated blood for this money,” he sighed.

They said nothing more. Before long he fell asleep, and soon she was asleep too.

The next morning, their son again put on his earphones and watched TV as he listened to music. Shi Zhikang and Li Xiulan decided to have a good talk with him, so she sat down by his side, while her husband brought a chair over and sat in front of them. “Your mother and I would like to have a chat with you,” Shi Zhikang said.

“What about?” Because of the earphones, their son spoke loudly.

“Family matters.”

“Go on.” He was practically shouting.

Shi Zhikang leaned over and removed his right earphone. “These past few months, we’ve had a few problems. We didn’t want to tell you, for fear of distracting you from your studies …”

“What’s happened?” Their son removed the other earphone.

“Nothing much,” Shi Zhikang said. “Beginning this month, there’ll be no more night shift in our factory, and of the three hundred in the workforce, half will be laid off. As far as I’m concerned, it’s no big deal — I have skills, the factory still needs me … It’s more what’s happening with your mom. Currently she is just bringing home a bit over one hundred yuan a month. She’s due to retire in four years, and if she was to take early retirement, she could get three hundred yuan a month, and that would carry on for three years …”

“You get paid more if you take early retirement?”

They nodded. “In that case, why don’t you retire?” their son asked.

“Your mother and I are thinking that too,” Shi Zhikang said.

“Yeah, retire.” Saying this, their son prepared to put his earphones back on. Shi Zhikang threw his wife a glance. “Son,” she said, “our family finances aren’t what they used to be, and in the future they may be in even poorer shape …”

Their son already had one earphone in place. “What was that?” he asked.

“Your mom was saying that the family finances aren’t what they used to be,” Shi Zhikang said.

“Never mind about that.” Their son waved his hand. “State finances aren’t what they used to be either.”

His parents exchanged glances. “Tell me this,” said Shi Zhikang. “Why did you come home in a taxi yesterday?”

Their son looked at them, perplexed. “Why didn’t you take a bus?” Shi Zhikang persisted.

“The bus is too crowded.”

“Too crowded?”

Shi Zhikang pointed at Li Xiulan. “Your mom and I cram ourselves onto buses every day of the week. How can a young guy like you be afraid of crowded buses?”

“It’s not the pushing that’s the problem, it’s the smell.” Their son frowned. “I really hate smelling other people’s body odor. In buses, everybody’s jostling you, forcing you to smell their stink. It’s so packed and stuffy, even perfume smells bad. Plus, there are people letting off farts as well …

“I feel like throwing up every time I get on a bus,” he concluded.

“Throwing up?” Li Xiulan was shocked. “Son, are you ill?”

“No, of course not.”

She looked at Shi Zhikang. “Could it be stomach trouble?”

Her husband nodded. “Have you got a bellyache?” he asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Their son was getting impatient.

“What’s your appetite like these days?” Li Xiulan asked.

“I don’t have any stomach trouble!” their son yelled.

“Are you sleeping all right?” Shi Zhikang asked. He turned to Li Xiulan: “If you don’t get enough sleep, it’ll make you feel nauseous.”

Their son stretched out all ten fingers: “I sleep ten hours a day.”

Li Xiulan was still anxious. “Son, you’d better go to the hospital for a checkup.”

“I told you, there’s nothing wrong with me.” Their son jumped to his feet. “This is all about me having taken a taxi for once, isn’t it?” he cried. “Well, I won’t be taking any more taxis …”

“Son, we’re not bothered about the taxi fare,” said Shi Zhikang. “We’re thinking of you. You’ll be starting a job soon, and when you rely on your own salary you’ll understand that money doesn’t come easily and you have to budget accordingly …”

“That’s right.” Li Xiulan went on. “We never said you couldn’t take a taxi.”

“In the future there’s no way I’ll be taking taxis.” Their son sat back down on the sofa. “In the future I will drive my own car,” he explained. He put the earphones over his ears. “My classmates take taxis all the time.”

“His classmates take taxis all the time,” Li Xiulan repeated, looking at her husband. Seeing him nod, she went on. “If other people’s sons can take taxis, why shouldn’t ours?”

“I never said he couldn’t,” said Shi Zhikang.

Their son was maybe now listening to one of his favorite songs, for he was rocking his head back and forth and mouthing some lyrics. They looked at each other and smiled as they studied his contented air. Maybe the future would bring more and more difficulties, but this did not distress them unduly, for they could see their son was now his own man.

In a street-corner vending kiosk that sells groceries and fruit, a tired and sagging face spends year after year in the company of cookies, instant noodles, candies, tobacco, and cans of soda, like an old calendar stuck on the wall. A body and limbs are attached to this face, along with the name Lin Deshun.

Lin Deshun sat in a wheelchair, looking through the tiny window in front of him at the street outside. A young couple was standing on the sidewalk opposite, with a little boy between them who looked to be about six or seven. The boy was wearing a thick down jacket and a red hat, and a scarf just as red was tied around his neck. Although it was now the season of spring balm and flower blossoms, the boy was dressed for winter’s cold.

They were outside a hospital, and stood together quietly amid the commotion of people going in and out. The father, hands in his pockets, gazed intently toward the entrance, and his wife, her right hand holding the boy’s left hand, watched with equal concentration. It was only the boy whose eyes were turned in the direction of the street. With his mother clasping his hand, he had to twist himself around to look, but his eyes dwelled avidly on the scene before him. His head was continually on the move and often he would raise his free hand to point something out to them. It was clear there was no end of things he wanted to tell his parents, but they just stood there like statues.

After a little while, the parents led the boy a few steps closer to the entrance and Lin Deshun saw that a rather plump nurse was approaching them. They came to a stop and began to talk, but the boy maintained his sideways stance, his eyes glued to the street.