Chinese Stories in English
Ordinary People 09
Stories printed in 百姓人家(2023), 秦俑/赵建宁选编
Page citation and link to online Chinese text noted after each story.
1. Watery Rose-Apple 3. The Weakling’s Game 4. A Gardenia on the Windowsill
2. Plain but Glorious Years 5. Two Sides
1. A Watery Rose-Apple’s Relocation (一棵水蒲桃的迁徙)
Wang Qin (王溱)
I’m the watery rose-apple tree standing at the back door of the small restaurant near where the river flows, 5.2 meters from the water. That’s too far, but my roots have been extending quietly, reaching for the river. I firmly believe that a strong root system which has absorbed its fill of water will be enough to drag my heavy trunk along. In one year, or ten years, or a hundred, I can creep over the surface of the river and watch the water cockroaches kick their legs foolishly in circles; watch aquatic plants scratch playfully against stones as they ride tiny waves; and watch lovers thinking their thoughts while they gaze on their reflections in the ripples.... The river is the destination. "Water" is part of my name for a reason.
A young couple runs the restaurant.... Victor and Lotus.
Lotus often picks vegetables and washes them by the back door. She works hurriedly and can pick and wash several large buckets of veggies in just a few minutes. Victor occasionally appears outside the back door, too, to clean a fish, and he wields his knife speedily. He works so quickly that the fish doesn’t realize when its head is separated from its body -- it keeps opening and closing its maw to let the next mouthful of water rush in.
Victor uses a powerful high-pressure hose to flush sewage, rotten vegetable leaves, fish innards and scales into the river in a flash. The water pressure is so strong that it’s not easy to control, and he sometimes flushes the detritus down to the base of my trunk. It stinks, oh, boy, does it stink!
Next to me is a rain shelter made of plastic film and woven cloth. It’s past being dilapidated, with holes big enough for five or six mice to squeeze through at once. A shabby broom and a headless mop have been stuck upside down in a rusty paint bucket, and behind them is a pile of plastic stools missing arms or legs, most likely old stuff discarded from the restaurant. A small sampan with loose siding lays across the pile. A rotten wooden stick with mushrooms growing on it is propped against the boat -- I can hardly tell that it used to be an oar….
Get away! I’ve got to get away from this place.
Maybe the heavens heard my desperate cries and summoned a thunderstorm. At the moment a "sharp axe" of lightning cut through the pitch-black night sky, I actually shuddered and pulled my roots out of the ground. I moved forward a step before sticking them back in the ground. The bamboo pole that had been leaning against me lost its support, and the entire shelter fell to the ground with a "boom".
I’d made it nearly a foot towards the river!
Victor thought the rain had collapsed the shelter, so he just leaned a longer bamboo pole against me to prop it up again. Women are more perceptive by nature. Lotus stared at me suspiciously, which made me nervous.
"This tree seems different," she said.
Victor glanced at it casually. "Yeah, the rain knocked its flowers off."
Lotus looked at the fallen flowers laying on the ground like a carpet. Her eyes turned to pity when she looked back at me.
I didn't feel pitiable. I’d tasted the sweetness of triumph and began to look forward to thunderstorms.
It was midsummer, a time when wishes for a thunderstorm are most likely to be granted. Two days later, I succeeded in moving more than a foot closer to the river’s edge. This time, not only did the shed collapse, but the pile of dilapidated plastic stools was left scattered on the ground.
"This tree really did move, Victor. Yesterday I hung the mop right here, right where a branch forks off, but now it's this far away from the fork!"
"That’s crazy! How can a tree move?"
"Really. It's moving toward the river!"
"The river?" Victor patted Lotus's shoulder worriedly. "You've worn yourself out these last few days. Go home and get some sleep."
When I succeeded in moving a third time, Lotus finally lost it. She stroked the old sampan and oar that had fallen to the ground and cried. "Really, this tree does want to go to the river, too. It keeps moving!"
"Too"? That confused me. Did she mean there were other trees or things that wanted to relocate to the river?
Later, I got a clue from her tear-filled eyes and guessed what her past with Victor had been like: him paddling the little sampan on the river while she sat in it humming some ditty; or maybe she’d be walking by the river with a parasol and he’d sneak up behind and cover her eyes.
The "too" that she’d said referred to herself.
It wasn’t a surprise. Long, long ago, this area was a sea, and a love-hate struggle between the sea and the land yielded the current situation. In short, the land is in blood of the people here, but the sea is in their blood as well. I have no doubt that Lotus is a native of this area, because only a local would cultivate romantic genes in water. My roots, and Lotus's eyes, are all longing for the river.
"You’re tired, Lotus. When we get everything done here, I’ll take you to the beach to relax.”
"No. I know why it wants to move, Victor. Its flowers express its dreams, like a peacock raising up its crest, like an angel spreading its wings. It doesn't fit in with this place.”
Victor's eyes were filled with trepidation. "Don't be like this, Lotus. I know you don't like your current life, but we have to make a living."
She looked at him sadly and said no more.
I decided not to relocate. I couldn't provoke Lotus any further, and even more, I couldn't leave her alone while I relocated.
My downy flowers bloomed and bloomed again. Season after season, they harvested my fruit. Then, one day, to my surprise, a construction team came to dredge the river. They said mud and sand washed down from upstream, along with garbage thrown into the water, had caused the river to silt up. It was getting narrower and narrower.
"A waterfront recreation area is going to be built in this area,” someone from the construction team said. “The river needs to be dredged, and rumor has it that all illegal buildings along the river will be demolished. Throwing garbage into the river will be prohibited."
"A waterfront recreation area?"
“Yep. A place where people can enjoy getting close to the water."
"Getting close to the water?!" Lotus was so excited that she called Victor right away to help her dismantle the shelter. I thought there was no way Victor’d agree. After all, if they lost so much land, they might not be able to keep their restaurant going. In fact, though, he was happy about it and they dismantled the shelter in no time at all. They also cleaned up all the debris, stored whatever they could and threw everything else away. Before I knew what had happened, the area outside the back door of the restaurant became bright and clean. "Will our restaurant stay open?" Lotus asked.
"Of course! But I've been thinking of changing the way we operate it."
"In what way?"
“A way you’ll like.”
Lotus no longer busied herself picking vegetables, and Victor no longer cleaned those stinky fish. They solemnly took down the "Victor’s Eatery" sign and put up one saying "Sea Dreams House". They put exquisite specialty dishes on the menu and served them in limited quantities.
It's strange, isn’t it, that a restaurant by the river dares call itself "Sea Dreams House"? Even stranger, more and more young people came to dine under this "grandiose" sign. They listened to Lotus tell the story of this place and the sea, and tasted the epicurean delights of "Sea Dreams House". Even me, an ordinary watery rose-apple tree, has become a part of the scenery in their photos.
When they’re in season, Lotus picks up the ripe fruits that have fallen to the ground and holds them up to her ear. She shakes them and tells the diners, with a hint of mystery in her voice, “There’s a hidden sea roaring inside!”
Chinese text at《百姓人家》p. 208. Also available here.
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2. Plain but Glorious Years (素色华年)
Leng Qingqiu (冷清秋)
China Zhang had been promoted to grandmother.
That autumn, she felt she was getting old.
That kind of old was so fulfilling, it straight away made her feel satisfied.
Her life was suddenly more acceptable with the change in her identity. After all, she’d been sick and tired of being a mother for so many years, but now being a grandmother was so fresh and new. At age 56, what could be more encouraging for a woman?
Two of them, twins. When she saw the two chubby pink babies in the hospital ward, crying loudly with their eyes tightly closed, she was so happy that tears welled up in her eyes. She forgave her daughter-in-law, Daybreak Bamboo Xu, right then and there for all her disrespect. Yes, they were all family, and she could bite her tongue.
China choked up as she grasped the hand of her relative sitting beside her tightly and shook it again and again. Her relative was as happy as China and knew what China wanted to say without China needing to say it. He just held out one hand and patted the back of China's hand repeatedly.
"Mom,” her son said, “you haven't had a good rest for days. Just go home and get some sleep. Come back tomorrow!" China wiped her eyes and turned around to stuff the wad of banknotes she’d taken from her pocket into her son's pocket. What a decent young man! She was quite satisfied to spend her money where it counted.
The city, which had gradually gone to shadows in the fading sunset, came alive again with flickering lights.
The sweet osmanthus had just started to bloom. China sat quietly on a recliner in the hospital. Yes, she was sitting, not lying down. The small hospital was peaceful and quiet compared with the hustle and bustle outside. Although it was only separated from the city by a wall, it seemed like another world.
The emptiness of the night sky above the osmanthus tree brought clarity, and the wind came and went softly with a touch of coolness. China sat quietly and enjoyed this moment of tranquility. She knew that everything here would be gone before long, but what did that matter? People always move ahead and look forward.
Yes, China was no longer the little woman who’d shed so many desperate tears at that incident twenty years before. Life had taught her to calm down, to keep cool and accept the status quo. Now she was overjoyed, especially when she thought of her daughter-in-law Daybreak giving birth to twin granddaughters. How good, how good, how good it was. What else could she want? That was enough, for sure!
People gradually grow up, and they learn to accept things and become tolerant in the process.
Many years had passed since she first learned that her family’s courtyard home would be demolished. Enough time for her son, Blameless Wang, to graduate from junior high and high school, to go on to college, to join the company after graduating from college, and to get married.
That’s right, the order of events during this period can’t be confused. China was still young when she learned of the scheduled demolition. She felt so betrayed at the time. She kept wondering where her family would live after the demolition, since they had so few assets. How would they stay alive? She and Guest Wang had talked about divorce several times during this period. He didn’t have a suitable job back then. He was just hanging on, feeling empty, and China was kept hanging every day because of it.
China pushed like the devil for her husband to set up a stall under the overpass to sell socks, masks, stuffed toys, woolen hats, small items like that. They didn't make much money, but she kept pushing him to keep at it. If he hadn't used the money they earned to buy a camera without telling her, she wouldn’t have been angry enough to file for divorce and go back to her parents' home to live for three months. She had no doubt that was why she was able to keep going.
But a married daughter is like spilled milk, and her parents couldn’t keep her around for long. Fortunately her husband got a job, and she became heavy with child. She was busy every day. How had so many years passed just as she was getting used to her new life! The news of their home’s demolition passed like a gust of wind, sweeping away their agitation and disputes. People living in this place will do what they have to do. Houses are houses, people are people, and roads are still the same old roads. But this time, China knew it wasn’t all just a gust of wind.
Eventually, even the small goods market was torn down, even though it had just been built a little over a decade before. China had witnessed the market go from being deserted to being bustling with people. When it was demolished last year, the loudspeakers of merchants trying to sell off their goods kept ringing in her ears. It made her head hurt. Lots of times, she stood at the door of a soon-to-be-gone store wanting to go in and shout to the owner, "Don't scream. It's too noisy. People won't buy things when you’re shouting." But she ended up holding herself back.
China told that to her husband. He said, "You just don’t have enough to do!”
Now, fences surround the land where the market was. Large tower cranes and pile drivers work day and night with bright lights on. When the fences are taken down, the area will look drastically different.
By then, though, the two children should be able speak well enough to call her grandma, right? The thought made China laugh softly to herself.
Chinese text at《百姓人家》p. 247. Also available here.
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3. The Weakling’s Game (弱者的游戏)
Zhang Hongjing (张红静)
Sky stopped growing physically when he was seven, but his intelligence remained at a five-year-old’s level. His facial features didn’t mature either: his small eyes, short nose and red lips kept him looking like a baby. Later, his body expanded in all directions until it became equally thick from top to bottom. From a distance he looked like a little round bucket.
His classmates never bullied him because of his short stature and mental retardation. On the contrary, they simply avoided him. They did say he was a strongman, though.
When I was teaching two classes in a row, I didn’t want to go back to my office to get my textbook and lesson plan during the break, so I took them all with me to the first class. Sky discovered this habit of mine and something interesting happened one day. As I stood on the podium and looked around at all the students, every child's eyes were bright and clear, except Sky’s. He looked at me and then lowered his head.
"My lesson plans and textbooks are missing. Whoever helps me find them will get a piece of candy as a reward." It reminded me of Tao Xingzhi's story "Four Candies" used as rewards to keep boys out of mischief: the first candy for coming to class on time, the second for listening to the principal's admonitions to stop fighting immediately, the third for teaching boys who bullied girls a lesson in justice, and the fourth for correcting his mistakes.
Sky immediately walked up to the podium and said, "Report, Teacher! I saw your things behind the bookcase. I'll show you!" His chubby little hand pulled me to the bookcase and pointed to the narrow gap between it and the wall, where I could vaguely see my books and notebook in the dark space. Sky's eyes were like two round black beans, shining brightly at this moment. He looked at me, expecting the piece of candy I’d promised.
I was thinking about how to get my things out from behind the bookcase. The space was too narrow to reach in with my hands, and my teaching pointer was too short. Bottom line, there was only one way... move the bookcase. It was full of books, though, as if it weren’t heavy enough in itself. Moreover, it was located in the northeast corner of the room with its back and left side against the wall. The only place to exert force was on the right side.
There was only room for two people at most to work together there, so two boys who were recognized as stronger came to help. They shouted war cries and pushed as hard as they could, but the bookcase seemed to be welded to the ground. It didn’t budge an inch.
I knew this was Sky’s doing but held back my anger. He had only three vocations in his life: eating, playing and misbehaving. His classmates loved him as if he were in his terrible twos, and the more they loved him, the more willful and naughty he became.
So I asked him what he could do. I told him he wouldn't get the candy unless he got my things for me. He took off his shirt as soon as he heard that, and I noted that the little guy's head and body still exuded steam. He was like a fully charged motor, constantly ready to go.
"Watch me, Teacher!" He grasped the edge of the bookcase with both hands and the muscles in his arms tightened up. He pushed his shoulders forward and the bookcase angled away from the wall.
His strength shocked us all. We’d known he was strong, but not that strong. Are all musclemen short and barrel-waisted? He was looking at me proudly. He’d instigated the situation, but now he was waiting for his reward like a conquering hero. I guessed if he entered a weightlifting competition, a gold medal would await him instead of a piece of candy.
I had a bunch of tiny candies wrapped in silvery white wrappers in my office. Sky knew which drawer I kept them in -- he was more astute than most people when it came to treats. "I'll get it myself Teacher,“ he announced. “I won't take more than one!" Then he ran out of the classroom.
This kind of thing -- taking books and hiding them, then asking for candy -- happened many times after that. He never tired of it. His classmates and I pretended not to know and played along with him. He thought he could not only get candy by doing this, but also show off his strength. His classmates played along because they regarded him as a cute little imp and enjoyed watching him. We always look at weaklings from God’s perspective, perhaps embodying His benevolence and superiority.
At the same time, this game the weakling was playing reminded me of those clever villains who secretly create problems in order to solve them, thus gaining both fame and fortune. This kind of vice isn’t fun at all and just encourages more wrongdoing.
Eventually I decided Sky should admit the error of his ways. If he did, I’d reward him with two candies, twice as many as he’d been getting. He jumped for joy and immediately admitted that he’d been hiding my books and notes. I was pleased with my educational insight and planned to write a paper on the psychological education of mentally retarded children. I even thought of a title: Keeping a Watchful Eye on the Mental Health of Slower Children. But before I’d even started writing, my textbooks and lesson plans disappeared once again. I asked Sky, "Have you seen my books and notes?"
"I know where they are, Teacher. I'll get them for you.”
After he retrieved them, he asked me for three candies. He figured he should get one for finding the materials for me, and two more for admitting what he’d done.
He followed me to my office after class to get the candy. I opened the drawer and brought out only one piece. He peeled off the wrapper, put his reward in his mouth and immediately spat it out. He ran out screaming.
I’d taken "Tao Xingzhi's candies" from the drawer a few days before and moved them to another place. I’d replaced them in the drawer with only one piece of "spicy candy". I believed that after Sky got his comeuppance, he wouldn’t be tempted to do mischief to get candy ever again.
The story ends with cartoons Sky drew that I occasionally found when correcting art class homework. He’d draw two children facing each other arm in arm, one all black and the other all blue. These are the two coldest colors. That’s how much loneliness and melancholy there was in Sky's heart.
Chinese text at《百姓人家》p. 250. Also available here.
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4. A Gardenia on the Windowsill (窗台上的栀子花)
Jiang Jingbo (蒋静波)
Teacher Zhou picked up her books when the bell rang, lowered her head, and hurried out of the classroom. Many pairs of bright eyes followed her, confused by her cold demeanor.
Our student group is well-known throughout town for our excellent performance in Chinese language classes. We of course love Teacher Zhou, including her classes, her lectures and her smile. We didn't know what had happened to her recently, though. She’d been overly serious, with her head hung down like a dehydrated flower.
When class ended yesterday, I timidly called out to her: "Teacher Zhou, can we go jump rope together?" She shook her head. She used to join us on her own initiative, playing kick-the-shuttlecock, Chinese jump rope with rubber bands or rock-paper-scissors with us, or singing a new song we’d just learned, or telling an interesting story. Waves of laughter floated through the air in the school. Many students either forgot or didn’t have time to go to the toilet. Two students even asked for leave to go. Later, Teacher Zhou stipulated that every student must first go to the toilet after class.
Several of us class officers gathered to discuss this important matter. Some thought Teacher Zhou was sick, or was going to be transferred, or had quarreled with someone, or many other speculations. Pearl noted, "Teacher Zhou doesn’t have any flowers on her windowsill."
That was an important clue. Teacher Zhou's dorm room was just above our classroom. You could see her windowsill if you looked up while standing in the playground. All semester long she’d often kept fiery red roses there. I went up to take a look at them and found it strange that they had many dense thorns, which was different from the Chinese roses in my yard. Later I learned that Teacher Zhou's flowers were common roses that my neighbor Auntie Celery's boyfriend had given her.
Once at the school gate, I saw a girl in a red shirt jumping on a red motorbike. The motorbike made a chugging sound as she drove away and threw up a cloud of dust on Tractor Plowed Road, as if someone had thrown a smoke bomb. After a while I realized that the girl must have been our Teacher Zhou. She habitually wore simple clothes, white shirts, white skirts and white sweaters, but now she’d all of a sudden switched to red, which is why I didn't recognize her at once. Of course, she was still the most beautiful no matter what she wore.
My dad confirmed the news before long. Teacher Zhou's boyfriend had a good job in the city. People said he wanted Teacher Zhou to transfer to another unit there.
I tried hard to hold back my tears. Who would teach us if Teacher Zhou left? We loved her like… just like our own mothers. Who wouldn't be broken-hearted if their mother were replaced?
I asked my dad when I got home that day. "Is Teacher Zhou not getting along with her boyfriend?"
"It’s normal. If you get along, you stay together. If you don't, you split up. Hey, why don’t you concentrate on your studies instead of speculating about your teacher's life?"
I laughed and Dad glared at me. I ran out to find Pearl and tell her the good news. But I also had to think of a way to make Teacher Zhou happy.
One day after school, Pearl and I laid low in the classroom. When we saw Teacher Zhou walking out of the schoolyard, we sneaked into her dorm room, grabbed a skirt from the bed and went to the creek. Pearl washed the skirt while I watched, and then we hung it in the dormitory corridor. We imagined how surprised Teacher Zhou would be when she saw it hanging there. In the next few days, we also washed a shirt and a pair of trousers for her. Eventually we couldn't find any more clothes in the dormitory to wash.
As I looked at the empty vase on Teacher Zhou's windowsill, I had an inspiration. Gardenias bloom in early summer. The pure white flowers, tender yellow stamens and green leaves are unpretentious but beautiful. More importantly, the flowers are quite fragrant, more so than osmanthus or jasmine, and can be smelled from a long distance away.
That same day, Pearl and I picked a bunch of wild gardenias from the mountain. It was already dark when we hurried back to the school. The next morning, Teacher Zhou came into the classroom carrying the sweet-smelling gardenias. I noticed that she smiled several times. Pearl and I smiled at each other.
A lot of the students knew our secret and said they wanted to join in, so I arranged a duty schedule. Teams of two students would take turns going up the mountain every other day. Teacher Zhou had gardenias blooming on her windowsill throughout May and June.
Dad told me, "Your Teacher Zhou said she has gardenias blooming on her windowsill every day."
"She must be very happy, right?"
"Of course, and she’s also quite proud." Dad stared at me and smiled inexplicably, as if waiting for me to share some secret. I was so happy that I tapped my feet under the table.
Teacher Zhou walked into the classroom the next day holding a white porcelain pot. There was a plant in it, about a foot tall, with a few tender green leaves. She placed it on the podium, bowed deeply to us and said, "The gardenias on the mountain are about to go out of bloom. I declare that your duties are cancelled as of today. You see, I’ve planted this gardenia and it’ll always bloom on my windowsill." We clapped our hands for so long that my palms got sore.
After class, Teacher Zhou picked up a long rope in the corner of the classroom, walked outside, dusted it off and asked loudly, "Who wants to jump rope with me? Those who do will get a piece of White Rabbit candy as a reward."
We all crowded around. Who wouldn't want some White Rabbit candy? When Teacher Zhou's turn came to jump, she looked like a dancing gardenia in her white shirt and a green skirt.
That night it occurred to me, "Teacher Zhou won’t be leaving now."
"Oh?” Dad asked. “How can you be so sure?"
Chinese text at 《百姓人家》p. 253, and here. Translated from
搜狐 at https://www.sohu.com/a/784158229_120886047.
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5. Two Sides (双面)
Zhu Hongna (朱红娜)
Side A
Beautiful Xu never expected that someone’s minor error would almost end her marriage.
It was a Saturday, at noon, and Beautiful frowned and pouted because her husband was drinking again. He knew she was unhappy, so he hurried to explain. "It’s Saturday, isn't it? I drink a little on Saturdays to unwind."
“You always find reasons to drink. You drink to unwind on weekends and drink to relieve stress on workdays. If you feel good you drink to feel better, and if you’re bored you drink for something to do. Is there any day you don't drink?”
Beautiful hated her husband’s drinking more than anything. He’d get drunk as soon as he started, and when he was drunk, the whole world belonged to him. But there was no room for Beautiful in his world.
He ignored her nagging and polished off three drinks, one gulp after another. He was as smug as if he were some kind of god.
Just as he was getting high, a “drip, drip” sound came from the balcony. Their washing machine was malfunctioning. Beautiful got up and went out to look. She turned off the power and restarted it, but the "drip, drip" continued. Strange how a washing machine they’d just bought three months before could break down.
“I'll go check it out.” Her husband put down his drink, walked out on the balcony and restarted the machine again. The water that had been churning in it seemed a little turbid. He looked the machine over but couldn't figure out what was wrong. He turned it off and on again, but could still hear the "drip, drip...."
“What a crappy washing machine you bought,” Beautiful complained.
“It’s the brand you wanted me to buy, isn’t it? It's not my fault it broke. Why blame me?” His voice rose eight octaves when he drank.
“What’re you talking so loud for? Can't I say anything to you?” She also raised her voice.
“You call this talking? You’re accusing me for no good reason.” He dropped his chopsticks and left the room in a snit.
Beautiful couldn't eat anymore. She slammed her half-full bowl of rice down on the table and went to the other room. Only her mother-in-law was left eating silently at the table.
Suddenly the home was again filled with the sound of quarreling, each shout louder than the one before. Old arguments were being dredged up.
The husband roared, “I want a divorce! I can’t live like this anymore!”
“So do it! Who’s afraid of who?”
The mother-in-law came over with her three-month-old grandson to mediate. She wasn’t afraid of scaring the child. It was just a trivial matter, so why were they quarreling? They were always talking about divorce as if they weren’t worried about the scandal. “Isn't there a warranty?” she asked. Why not just call the service company?”
One sentence can wake a person up from a dream. Beautiful's husband had roared out all his anger and woke up. He knew he was in the wrong, so he took out his phone right away to make the call. Beautiful also shut up the moment she saw her chubby son.
A repairman came to their home that afternoon. He found that the drain hose had been hung on a hook on the wall, so the water couldn’t drain. No one had thought about the drain hose.
"The cleaning lady must’ve done it,” the mother-in-law complained. “She’s clueless."
“That’s thirty yuan for the house call,” the repairman said.
“Isn't it under warranty?” asked the mother-in-law.
“Yeah, if the machine breaks down, we’ll repair it for free. This wasn’t a problem with the machine.”
Beautiful's husband resented having to pay but forked over the thirty yuan without saying anything. His anger was directed at Beautiful again. After the repairman left, he snarled "What kind of lousy old lady is it that you call a housekeeper?"
“Why are you blaming me?” Beautiful wouldn’t concede that she’d made a mistake and fought back at the top of her voice.
When she saw that a quarrel was about to start again, the mother-in-law interjected that it was the housekeeper's fault. “Just complain to the cleaning company!”
“Right! We can't lose thirty yuan like this.” Beautiful immediately contacted the company’s customer service, whose attitude was quite good.
The war had finally been stopped.
Side B
Cleaning companies aren’t in business to lose money. Whoever screws things up should of course clean up the mess, so the housekeeper was fined thirty yuan. She felt like a stone was pressing on her heart. She’d worked hard for a whole morning and only earned eighty yuan, and a small mistake had cost her thirty of those. It wasn’t worth it, but who could she blame? The owner had done nothing wrong and the company had done nothing wrong, so she could only blame herself and her bad luck!
“Who’s to blame if I’m uneducated and incompetent? I did all that hard work for nothing. I’ve gotta be careful all the time, or else I’ll hafta pay for teacups I drop and bowls I break. If a customer ain’t satisfied and complains, I get fined. Jeez, what a life!”
She bemoaned her fate and couldn't avoid feeling depressed. Thirty yuan was enough for her son's meals for two days at college, and she’d lost it just like that. She felt so sorry for herself that she didn't even notice it was getting dark. She forgot to cook and didn’t start preparing dinner until her husband got home.
When her husband saw his wife’s sad expression, he knew she must have been a victim of some injustice again. “Did they slap another fine on you?” he asked with concern.
His wife started to cry. “It was all my fault. I had a job this morning, and I hung the drain hose for their washing machine on the wall to let it drain while I cleaned the balcony. But I forgot to put it back after I was done. The owner had to hire a repairman and spent thirty yuan, which of course got docked from my pay.”
“So, you’re the one who did it?” Her husband hadn’t expected such a coincidence.
“How’d you know about it?” asked his wife.
“I’m the one who made the house call.”
“So you got the thirty yuan?”
“Sure did.”
“Then, we didn’t lose anything, right?” Her sadness turned to joy and her pained expression relaxed when she saw her husband nod.
“Fantastic! The thirty yuan is back in our family.” She was so happy she almost applauded. But after she thought about it, she told her husband, “No, we still lost thirty yuan.”
“No, we didn’t lose any money, just a little time.” He reminded her to pay careful attention to what she was doing at work to avoid future losses.
“Yeah, I know.” His words made her feel better and she happily proceeded to cook dinner.
Chinese text at《百姓人家》p. 256. Also available here.