I Live in the Slums Page 16

  “Who are you laughing at?”

  “Nobody. People like us enjoy sneering a couple of times when we have nothing else to do.”

  His words weren’t very friendly. I certainly didn’t want to stick around here, but where could I go? This person was hanging on the wall, and a faint smell emanated from him. He made me feel really uncomfortable. Maybe I smelled even worse and I simply wasn’t aware of it. In despair, I raised one hand to my eyes. My hand had withered. It was like two layers of skin wrapped around bones. And that wasn’t all: the bones in my hand had become thin and pliable.

  “Brother, I see that you’re extruding yourself. You’ll soon become as thin as a sheet of paper.”

  After saying this, he floated away from the door with a puh. The form of a person was hanging where he had been. Involuntarily, I pressed myself against the vacancy, and then heard another puh sound. Had I also been transformed into a shadow, glued up here? I could still see and touch my hands, my chin, my shoulders, and my vulgar face. It’s just that these parts had somehow become thinner.

  I could still move. I strode toward the door and looked out from a crack in the door. The rays of light were no longer so dazzling, and a dark green color had appeared everywhere. I saw three shadows against the trashcan; their voices reached my ears. They were scrambling for a box of fast food that someone had thrown away. At first, they argued loudly, and then they compromised and took turns grabbing things and eating. I remembered the cook and the broth in the house. Why didn’t these shadows go into the house? Had they also been evicted? It appeared that those who were inside the house were powerful. No wonder their talk betrayed a superiority complex. When I first arrived, had they thought I was important and discovered only later that I wasn’t?

  The sky’s deep green color grew darker and darker. A sentimental watery hue unfolded in the air. All of a sudden, I remembered why I had come to this place: someone had stolen my family heirloom, a valuable ink stone. I had sued him and been crushingly defeated. I’d almost forgotten this, but now at last I began to remember. I skipped trippingly along the road like a swallow. Why did I feel so humiliated just then? I looked at the people who had been picking up food to eat from the trashcan; now the three of them were wrapped around the top of the concrete lamppost. They were on top of the world as they rested. Their heads took on their original triangular shapes as they slept. Even in slumber, these heads didn’t behave well: they bumped into each other like naughty children.

  A lot of old houses stood on both sides of the road. Taking stock of them, I thought that, although they were old and damaged, the gray walls and black doors appeared forbiddingly haughty. Probably the shadows in the houses had undertaken a significant project. I looked straight across and saw a long, black shadow extrude itself from the eaves and then hang from the wall. Next to it another shadow did the same. They shook in the watery air, looking hopeless. This old house was the very one I had just stayed at. What was going on inside?

  “Now he’s much more composed than before, but he still has a frivolous tail.”

  I looked up: it was one of the people twisted around on the lamppost who had said this. All three of them were awake now, and their heads had become thick dark shadows again—stretching out and drawing back as they looked at me.

  “Perhaps he will never lose that tail. He can’t transform himself into one of us.”

  I skipped a few times on the sidewalk. My body really was as light as a swallow’s. Could I fly, too?

  I walked in front of the two shadows hanging on the wall and heard the sound of weeping. It was a man and a woman. The woman’s shadow was a little thicker. The outline of the man’s shadow was difficult to distinguish if you didn’t look carefully. Perhaps this was because the woman had exerted herself more in life. Why were they so woeful?

  “The sun will come out again. Sooner or later, we’ll have nowhere to hide,” the woman said through tears.

  “You chose to get out of there. No one forced us,” the man said.

  “I can’t help but belittle myself in there. I’d rather take the risk of leaving.”

  “Sweetheart, I love you so much.”

  The two shadows embraced briefly and separated quickly.

  My skin felt prickly. All around, the dark green color was gradually lightening: the sun was coming out. The two shadows both looked dejected: they were elongated and thin on the old wall, as if wanting to blend in. Would they die from being exposed to the sun?

  It was hard to tolerate the sun. I had to slip back into the old house.

  “I’ve come to occupy the space again,” I said to the Shadow People in the house.

  The room was silent. I smelled the broth. Had they slipped out like the two on the wall? I groped my way to the large bed. It was empty. I wanted to lie down and rest a while, but a sense of inferiority seeped out from the bottom of my heart. This wasn’t my bed: how could I lie on it?

  Then it would be all right if I lay down under the bed. I felt around under the bed. There were cobwebs all around. I grabbed a large bunch of them. This gave me goose bumps. I flicked my hands repeatedly and brushed them off repeatedly, too. And still I was uncomfortable. The backs of my hands itched and prickled. Had I been bitten by a poisonous insect? Little by little, I could see the furniture in the room. I walked toward that enormous stove.

  “Ha-ha.” Someone on the front of the stove laughed.

  This was the person I had run into outside.

  “You can’t drink that broth.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you still have a tail. Wherever you go, you occupy space. This broth isn’t for people like you. The old man thought that as soon as you entered this room you’d be able to transform into one of us, but you still have a tail.”

  This person apparently wanted to make things difficult for me.

  “May I at least rest on the bed?”

  “No.”

  “Are you the manager here?”

  “We manage ourselves. But you’re a different matter.”

  As we spoke, he twisted around, and two gusts of evil wind blew toward me. It seemed that everyone here was my superior. I had a tail which I couldn’t cast off.

  “Try swaying as I’m doing,” he said.

  Imitating these shadows, I twisted a few times. God! I was almost done for. I fell apart. The sky was no longer the sky, and the earth no longer the earth. My body seemed to be turning into a worn-out fishing net suspended in the air. I felt like throwing up, which was even worse; I was going to make a complete mess of myself.

  “Sway a few more times.” I heard his voice again.

  But I couldn’t. This was harder to take than dying. I collapsed, my face on the floor. The broth on the stove was bubbling. I heard him stoking the fire with an iron hook. Evidently when a person was transformed into a shadow, he could still do his work. It was clear that I wasn’t made of the same stuff. I will always have a tail, but lamentably I’ll never be able to touch it. At this moment, I so much wanted to be transformed into one of the Shadow People. I really admired these guys who swayed to and fro. Even their sadness was sublime. If I died some day and became a nut-brown strip hanging on the wall and thus didn’t occupy any space, how wonderful that would be! I remembered that in my childhood, when the southern snowflakes floated to the adobe wall of our home, the wall’s color deepened and the snowflakes disappeared. The fire which heated the house of course also warmed the adobe walls.

  He slowly floated to the large bed over there, swayed elegantly a few times, and then calmly dropped down onto the bed. A small green star twinkled briefly in the dark and just as quickly disappeared.

  “Did you see that just now? It was really bright!” I burst out with this, despite my stomachache.

  “It’s something inside us. Some folk say that we became Shadow People precisely in order to see it.”

  “When you saw it just now, were you happy?”

  “Uh-huh. But it’s meaningless to answer qu
estions like that.”

  I was depressed. I felt it would be tough for me to go on staying here, but I couldn’t go back either. It was out of the question for a shadow with a tail to live among people at home. In my hometown, physical labor was the only work available, and I would have to work every day there; I wouldn’t be able to live the idle life as I was doing now. I had yearned for an idle life since I was a young man. Finally it was being realized, but why was I still wavering between considerations of gain and loss? People are never content.

  It was noisy outside: people were coming back. They probably saw me, for they fell silent. Just then I was squatting, sticking tightly to the side of the stove. I figured they hadn’t yet made up their minds whether they wanted to drive me out again. I was prepared to leave at once if they drove me out.

  “I never imagined that he could be transformed this way.” The cook was the first to speak. “He just has a tail left on the outside.”

  “Now we probably shouldn’t drive him out,” said the old man who had slept beside me.

  They all entered, leaving the door wide open. At this moment, the light outside was very strong; it shone snow white on the area next to the entrance. I figured they had left the door open for me. I thought they wanted me to decide on my own to leave. The stillness in the house had told me this much. Gnashing my teeth, I rushed out. I rushed out with my feet, certainly not with my tail. It was only they who could see my tail.

  I heard people inside the room applauding. They appreciated what I had done.

  The burning sun stabbed my skin, and I ran around crazily. I wanted to find a shady spot for shelter. All unaware, I fell into an underground carport. I could finally relax. The gasoline odor was hard to take. I looked up. Several shadows were hanging on the damp wall. They kept whispering.

  “Is this up or down?”

  “I think it’s up.”

  “I think it’s down. Isn’t there something dusky here?”

  “Take another look. It definitely isn’t something dusky.”

  “No, it isn’t. There is layer upon layer inside. Then it must be up.”

  “I don’t think it’s up, either. If it were up, then how could people trample on that thing?”

  A big truck drove up, dark and blurry. But it was a strange truck—it made no noise. That was terrifying. It was being driven slowly, and it approached gradually. The guys on the wall were silent. The truck scraped against the wall as it drove up. Was it going to crush me to death? Clinging to the wall, I stood on tiptoe. How I wished I could hang effortlessly on the wall as these people were doing.

  “Help!” I heard myself shout.

  But it drove past, and I was still alive. I had just let out a sigh of relief when it came back.

  “This time, it’ll turn him into meat pie,” someone above me said.

  I held my breath, feeling absolute despair. It was my destiny, since I couldn’t transform myself into a shadow. When it pounded past, my ribs hurt a little, because I was terrified of death. Yet they didn’t hurt too much.

  I hadn’t died yet. I felt my ribs: they were fine. But hadn’t I seen the iron front of the truck crushing me? Now none of those shadows on the wall above made a sound.

  The truck kept going back and forth for a long time, and I became rather used to it. Nonetheless, it was unquestionably a truck—I even touched it with my hand. Then I must be the issue. Was I still a human being? If I was, how could I have been repeatedly crushed and yet still be okay? If I had already turned into a shadow, why did my ribs hurt?

  The truck drove ahead into the dark tunnel. I stood stuck to the wall, not knowing what to do. The other vehicles in this carport looked like junk, abandoned years ago. But it was hard to say whether the truck that struck me was also a piece of junk. Someone was driving it. I had made eye contact, and he looked like a robot. But he had a real hand, a man’s hairy hand. He had even reached out and touched my face as he passed. The hand was icy cold. I shivered.

  “I want to leave.” I couldn’t stop myself from saying this to the people above me.

  It was a long time before someone asked, “How is that possible?”

  Following the wall, I made my way toward the exit. I heard them talking about me behind my back, but I couldn’t hear their exact words. Each time I moved, the air made a puh sound, as though I’d broken a layer of membrane. I would soon reach the exit. The sunshine dazzled me, and I hadn’t yet decided what to do. Should I actually go out? Just now, hadn’t someone said it was impossible? As I wavered, the large truck drove up again. This time, it bumped into me and sent me flying. Slowly, I landed in a dark spot—perhaps the innermost part of the carport. I fell onto the ground, but I was unhurt. Maybe that’s because I had already transformed into a shadow. The cement floor was a little damp from humidity. The odor of gasoline was less pungent now; perhaps I had grown accustomed to it. The large truck had disappeared. It was as though it had driven up especially to bump into me.

  “There’s no broth here. How do you live?” I asked loudly.

  No one answered. They must have thought I was very vulgar. I had really begun longing for the broth in that old house. You could never forget the food once you had tasted it. At that moment, the large stove and the cook were magnified in my imagination. I thought that life in the old house was the life of my ideals. Like that other person, I could stick to the wall of the stove and go to the stove whenever I wanted to drink the broth.

  I wasn’t a bit hungry, so why did I keep thinking about the broth?

  Against the wall, I unconsciously shifted toward the outside once more.

  “He is really stubborn,” groaned someone above.

  I came rushing out. I figured out where the old house was and closed my eyes as I rushed over there. The sun was burning this deserted city—it was quiet everywhere. I was accustomed now to hurrying along with my eyes closed, and in any case no vehicles were on the road so nothing could run into me. I could open my eyes a crack every thirty seconds and see a little of the surroundings. And so, after a short time I reached the old house.

  “I’m back again,” I said as I entered.

  “But no one here welcomes you.” I heard the cook’s voice. “There’s only one use for someone like you: to be added to the stew in this large pot. You still have a tail, don’t you?”

  He asked me to approach him so he could look at my tail. I did, but he changed his mind and said, “I don’t have to look at it. It’s too hard; it hasn’t ripened yet.” Then he told me, “You’d better lie on your stomach on the floor and not move. Then no one can see you. If they can’t see you, they won’t be annoyed.”

  Complying with his instructions, I lay down. It was incredibly different this time. I heard all manner of noises coming up nonstop from cracks in the floor, from the walls, and from the ceiling: a lot of people were telling stories from those places. Their voices were bewitching—wonderful in both tone and expression. I was carried along by those fantastic snippets of sound. The mysterious voices narrating these stories filled this old house—waves upon waves, like a big river surging. Although I couldn’t hear the end of any story, I was so excited my body shook as though I had malaria. I—this shadow with a tail—began twisting around crazily. I was hurting so much I groaned loudly, but I couldn’t keep my body from moving. I was going to die! I was going to die!

  All of a sudden, a bell rang, and the voices fell silent. Ah, the wind chime! I was still twisting, immersed in a beautiful story: even if I died, I wouldn’t regret this. The ringing stopped, then started again. This time it sounded like a warning; perhaps I was the one who needed a warning. I involuntarily stopped twisting. I hadn’t fainted even though it had been unbearable. How odd! The wind chime didn’t ring again after warning me. I looked up and gazed around the room. All the shadows had disappeared. Where had they gone?

  I stood up and walked around. I couldn’t hear my footsteps. I jumped, and then jumped some more, and still I heard no sound. The only sound in the enti
re house was the puh, puh, puh coming from the broth in the big pot on the stove. I walked over, scooped soup into a bowl, and drank it. The broth smelled good but I couldn’t detect any flavor. Maybe the flavor was too complex, and I just couldn’t describe it. After finishing a bowl of soup, I felt strong all over.

  I lay down on the floor again and listened intently. I didn’t hear those sweet voices. I heard only the depressing north wind blowing hard outside, one gust after another. Tired of listening, I twisted my head around and looked back. Ah, there was my tail. My tail was as large as a dinosaur’s. In the dim light, I could sometimes see it and sometimes not. It was real and illusory at the same time. It had grown on my back and was a support for my whole body. Now I understood what the cook had said. He had spoken that way because he envied me.

  I—a shadow with a tail: I belonged to the Shadow People, and yet I was different from the others.

  CROW MOUNTAIN

  I’d been waiting for a long time for Qinglian, who lived on the fifth floor, to take me to a place called Crow Mountain. It was a vacant five-story building on the brink of collapse. It used to be the municipal office. I had passed by it only once, the year I was four. I remembered Mama pointing at the large, tightly closed windows and saying to me, “This is Crow Mountain!” All kinds of questions occurred to me right away. “What do you mean, it’s a mountain?” I asked. “It’s obviously a building. Where are the crows? Are these windows shut so tightly because they’re afraid the crows inside will fly away?” Dad was standing beside me. I wanted to ask still more questions, but he cut me off: “Come on, let’s go!”

  Later we moved to another part of the city. It was Qinglian who told me more about that building. Qinglian was only fourteen but already a beauty, and I envied her. She always frowned as she said to me, “Juhua, Juhua, how can you be so ugly? I’m embarrassed to be seen with you.” I knew she was kidding, so I didn’t get mad. We had been talking about Crow Mountain for a long time. Everything I knew about it came from Qinglian. Though I could still vaguely remember that large building outside the city, I hadn’t been back a single time. The city was too big. But Qinglian went every year because her uncle was a gatekeeper there.