The Execution of Mayor Yin and Other Stories from the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, Revised Edition

The Big Fish

126 The Big Fish Kuai Shifu came home early one February day. He popped his head inside the door and asked his wife, who was lying in bed, ‘‘How are you feeling? Any better?’’ Mama Kuai had turned her head at the sound of the door opening, and now her face lit up at the unexpected pleasure of seeing her husband. She didn’t want to worry him so she answered evasively, ‘‘Seems better. Doesn’t hurt so much.’’ The windows and doors were tightly shut against the bitter cold, with wads of newspaper stu√ed into the cracks. The odor of Chinese herbal medicine permeated the room. ‘‘Have you taken your medicine?’’ Kuai Shifu asked as he glanced at the earthen pot on the small round table beside the bed. ‘‘Yes, Zhang Sao prepared it. She even cooked lunch for me.’’ Mama Kuai’s voice was filled with gratitude, even though the person who had done all these favors was not present. Her old backaches had recurred, and for the past few days she’d the big fish 127 spent most of her time in bed. Without their neighbors’ help, Kuai Shifu wouldn’t have been able to go to work. ‘‘Why are you home so early?’’ asked Mama Kuai, looking at the old clock on the wall near the foot of the bed. It was only three o’clock. Kuai Shifu worked at the dockyards, some distance away. His work and his meetings usually kept him busy from morning to night, and since he had to change buses to get from the Yangtze River Bridge to Cockcrow Temple, he never got home before dark. ‘‘This afternoon we were supposed to have political study, but they said some American newspapermen were coming to Nanjing, so at the last minute it was changed to a general cleanup . Those two apprentices of mine are really very thoughtful. They know you’re sick and they wouldn’t let me do anything. They practically forced me to go home.’’ As he talked, the old man took o√ his gloves and poured himself a glass of hot water from the vacuum bottle on top of the chest of drawers. He cupped his hands around the glass for warmth. Mama Kuai smiled. ‘‘Those two young fellows seem to be all right. Let’s just hope they won’t turn out like the last one, who cursed you as though you weren’t worth anything as soon as the Cultural Revolution began!’’ The old man grinned as he sat down by the small round table. He blew on the glass of hot water before taking a tentative sip; finding that it was not too hot, he gulped it all down. ‘‘What else could he have done under the circumstances?’’ he asked without a trace of resentment. ‘‘The campaign was in full swing and he had to take a radical stand if he didn’t want to get in trouble himself. He felt sorry about it afterward, and he 128 chen ruoxi used to come when no one was around to apologize for what he did. At the time he thought about nothing but the revolution, so he neglected his work entirely. Now whenever he’s in trouble , doesn’t he always come running to me?’’ ‘‘That’s because you’re so good-hearted!’’ Mama Kuai laughed. She was able to accept the incident now, but two years earlier, when she’d learned that the old man’s apprentice had attacked him in wall posters, she’d been very upset. Especially disturbing was the fiasco of inviting the apprentice over for dinner one New Year’s eve. It was entirely her idea, but the apprentice accused the old man of having ulterior motives, of going the way of the ‘‘imperialists,’’ trying to ‘‘cultivate’’ and ‘‘corrupt’’ young workers. When the old man was subsequently forced onto the stage for ‘‘confession and criticism,’’ the old woman seethed with anger. ‘‘Speaking of my apprentices, I nearly forgot!’’ the old man exclaimed. ‘‘They said that during the welcome for the American newspapermen, for the next couple of days the markets will be better stocked than usual, especially the one on Dongren Street. They said you can get anything you want, so tell me what you feel like eating and I’ll go get it for you.’’ The old woman closed her eyes and thought it over. Since she hadn...