"Whose sickness is this for?" Old Chuan seemed to hear someone ask but he made no reply. Then he turned away, muttering, "Old fool." This package he thrust into Old Chuan's hand, at the same time seizing the silver and giving it a cursory feel. The other grew impatient and shouted: "What are you afraid of? Why not take it?" When Old Chuan still hesitated, the man in black snatched his lantern and tore off its paper shade to wrap up the roll. Hurriedly Old Chuan fumbled for his dollars, and trembling he was about to hand them over, but he dared not take the object. This man thrust one huge extended hand towards him, while in the other he held a roll of steamed bread, from which crimson drops were dripping to the ground. "Hey! Give me the cash, and I'll give you the goods!" A man clad entirely in black stood before him, his eyes like daggers, making Old Chuan shrink to half his normal size. There was a rumble as they pushed back, sweeping past Old Chuan and nearly knocking him down. For a moment all was still then a sound was heard, and a stir swept through the on-lookers. Craning their necks as far as they would go, they looked like so many ducks held and lifted by some invisible hand. ![]() Old Chuan looked in that direction too, but could only see people's backs. Just before the cross-road, they came to a sudden stop and grouped themselves in a semi-circle. Thereupon the small groups which had arrived earlier suddenly converged and surged forward. The next second, with a trampling of feet, a crowd rushed past. The large white circles on their uniforms, both in front and behind, were clear even at a distance and as they drew nearer, he saw the dark red border too. Presently he saw some soldiers strolling around. However, when he gazed steadily at them, he could not see anything else strange about them. ![]() Then he looked round and saw many strange people, in twos and threes, wandering about like lost souls. He patted his pocket-the hard packet was still there. Looking at his lantern, Old Chuan saw it had gone out. One of them even turned back to look at him, and although he could not see him clearly, the man's eyes shone with a lustful light, like a famished person's at the sight of food. Old Chuan started again and, opening his eyes, saw several men passing. He walked back a few steps to stand under the eaves of a shop, in front of its closed door. And the road became increasingly clear, the sky increasingly bright.Ībsorbed in his walking, Old Chuan was startled when he saw distinctly the cross-road ahead of him. It was much colder than indoors, yet Old Chuan's spirits rose, as if he had grown suddenly younger and possessed some miraculous life-giving power. Here and there he came across dogs, but none of them barked. The lantern light fell on his pacing feet. In the darkness nothing could be seen but the grey roadway. Receiving no answer, Old Chuan assumed his son must be sound asleep again so he went out into the street. When all was quiet again, Old Chuan called softly: "Son!. A rustling was heard, and then more coughing. Old Chuan pocketed it nervously, patted his pocket twice, then lighting a paper lantern and blowing out the lamp went into the inner room. Old Chuan listened as he fastened his clothes, then stretching out his hand said, "Let's have it."Īfter some fumbling under the pillow his wife produced a packet of silver dollars which she handed over. And from the small inner room a fit of coughing was heard. "Are you going now, dad?" queried an old woman's voice. He struck a match and lit the grease-covered oil lamp, which shed a ghostly light over the two rooms of the tea-house. Apart from night-prowlers, all was asleep. The moon had gone down, but the sun had not yet risen, and the sky appeared a sheet of darkling blue. ![]() ![]() It was autumn, in the small hours of the morning. Please credit “Marxists Internet Archive” as your source. You may freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work as well as make derivative and commercial works. Public Domain: Marxists Internet Archive (2005). Transcribed: Original transcription from Source: Selected Stories of Lu Hsun, Published by Foreign Languages Press, Peking, 1960, 1972
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