Five Spice Street

This is how the younger sister explained her sister’s activity, each time so distressed that she wanted to die. Once, after finishing up, she entangled a listener and asked him to find a sharp knife to ‘‘dig out her heart and examine it.’’ He broke into a cold sweat. This sort of woman loves to stir up the waters and find a theoretical basis for future scandals. Nothing such a shameless piece of work could do would surprise us. She was capable of anything, and afterwards would act crazy, diddling with the cheap sympathy of others. After hearing that her older sister’s scandals had come to light, she rushed to her sister’s home. Having comforted her grieving, despairing, infantile brother-in-law, she made off with their biggest mirror, took it home, and beamed sunlight on the earthen wall on the other side of the street while letting out a sharp and piercing scream. An ink- black tramp walking past identified the light on the wall and stood stock-still. He squatted down and didn’t move. At nightfall, he lit a fire with wastepaper and firewood. Leaning against the wall, he entered into a deep stupor. After three days and three nights, she packed up her belongings to join the tramp, and the two of them ‘‘eloped’’! Isn’t this the most fantastic thing? What does it mean when people stare openmouthed? Before long, word came about this tramp: ‘‘one ink-black slap left her deaf in both ears.’’ Thinking of the words ‘‘ink-black slap,’’ the crowds on Five Spice Street vented their disgust. This woman deserved a slap-the more, the better. We couldn’t do it but were glad someone else had. Whenever she came to Five Spice Street, everyone’s palms grew sweaty in anticipation. Everyone was sure that she came simply to provoke and incite, to instigate evil winds and stir up trouble. She was confused, but lewd and stubborn by nature. She particularly enjoyed novelty and deviant ideas. No one could deal with her.

No one could produce reliable information; even the shortcuts we tried all failed. We could only ‘‘sit and wait’’ for Madam X to betray herself. From our experience on Five Spice Street, no matter how shady and crooked one’s conduct, as soon as the right time came, the truth would see the light of day. One mild spring morning, Old Woman Jin, who sold used books for a living next to the grocery store, struggled to wake up from a whole winter’s lethargy: shuffling in old cotton shoes, her hair disheveled as a lion’s mane, she stood under the eaves, pounding her chest and cursing herself. She remembered that before the winter, her hair was really glossy: you could almost call it ‘‘beautiful.’’ Sleep had made a mess of it. After she finished cursing, she gazed around and saw the young coal worker swaying toward her. She dragged him inside, pushed him down on a worn-out cane chair, and whispered to him quietly. Stockpiled for a winter, her words poured out like a river. Every time he wanted to get up, she pushed him down again. Her old hands were like iron clamps; even the vigorous young coal worker could do nothing about it. Didn’t people say, ‘‘The older the ginger, the hotter’’? This is the secret that she had stored away like a treasure:

‘‘I’ve been strangely confident all along. Sometimes when I wake up, I can’t avoid being annoyed for a moment, as if my brain is empty. But that doesn’t amount to anything: all I have to do is look at my palms for a minute and my strength returns. I’ve had this confidence ever since I was a young girl; at the time, I vowed I would poke an opening in the wall with an iron drill. And, sure enough, I did this later. When I walked on the street, I never gave way to the people I encountered. I am a strong person. One time, an old fart rushed up at me head-on. I rammed him with my hipbone and he fell over. My fiance (unfortunately, I had a fiance; fortunately, though, I didn’t get married) stood nervously next to the door and said, ‘Don’t do that.’ I glanced at him and persisted. Later, I thought I would test his endurance, so I kicked him in his thin chest. The beautiful kick killed him. How joyfully everything ended. What spunk. This is my unique spiritual temperament. The people of Five Spice Street might think I’m broke and down-and- out with no meat to eat. They look at me as they would a power pole. But they’re wrong! One day I’ll control everything, and everyone’s welfare will be in my hands. This day will come. Things will occur that they can’t imagine.