A Small Event
Six years have gone by in the blink of an eye since
I came to the capital from the countryside. During these six years I
have witnessed and heard about quite a number of big events known as
'affairs of state' None of them, however, has had any impact on my heart.
If anything, they have only made me increasingly gloomy. To tell the
truth, they have made me more and more contemptuous of other people.
But there was one small event which had deep significance
for me and which pulled me out of my gloom. I still remember it clearly
today.
It was a winter day in the sixth year of the Republic
(1917) and a strong northerly wind was blowing. I set off early in the
morning to go to work. There was hardly anybody on the street. It was
quite some time before I finally succeeded in hiring a rickshaw. I told
the rickshawman to take me to the South Gate.
After a while the north wind abated, leaving in
its wake a clean stretch of road free of loose dust, which enabled the
rickshawman to run more quickly. Just as we approached the South Gate
the right shaft of the rickshaw collided with someone, who crumpled
to the ground.
The fallen person was a woman, with streaks of
white in her hair and wearing ragged clothes. She had darted suddenly
from the side of the street and crossed directly in front of us. The
rickshawman had swerved aside, but her tattered cotton-padded vest,
unbuttoned and fluttering in the wind, still got caught on he shaft.
Fortunately, the rickshawman had slowed his pace, otherwise she would
surely have been thrown head over heels and seriously injured.
The old woman was down on all fours; the rickshawman
halted. As I was sure she was not hurt and no one else had seen the
collision, I thought the rickshawman was overreacting. He was simply
asking for trouble and delaying my journey.
"This is nothing," I said to him. "Just go on!"
But the rickshawman ignored my command, or perhaps
he did not hear me. He put down the shafts and gently helped the old
woman to her feet. Supporting her by the arm, he asked:
"Are you all right?"
"I am hurt."
I thought, "I saw you fall down slowly on the ground.
How can you be hurt? You're only pretending. This whole thing is disgraceful.
By being meddlesome, the rickshawman is bringing trouble upon himself.
So let him get out of this mess by himself."
After hearing the woman's reply, the rickshawman
did not hesitate for a moment. Still supporting her by the arm, he walked
her forward step by step. A little surprised, I looked ahead. In the
distance was a police station. No one stood outside, the wind having
driven everyone indoors. The rickshawman was guiding the woman there.
At that moment I suddenly experienced a curious
sensation. As I watched the back of his dust-covered frame, the rickshawman
suddenly seemed to loom quite large in my field of vision, continuing
to grow in size as he walked further away, until I had to raise my head
in order to take him in. At the same time he seemed to have become a
kind of pressure exuding toward me, a force that seemed to squeeze out
all the "smallness" hidden under my fur-lined cloak.
For a moment I felt as though my blood had solidified. I sat immobile,
stunned...
(Translated by David Moser and Guohua Chen)