Five Spice Street

We can’t find fault with such generous, kind, ordinary people. They were indifferent to the injuries to their souls. As for the future, they were filled with confidence, always humble and down-to-earth. They discussed the past as though all their memories were rosy and beautiful. Everyone knew that they were glossing over the fateful, calamitous attacks they had suffered. The past was still vivid, and everybody had had tearful experiences. Now it was over, and it wasn’t in their character to belabor yesterday’s sorrows. The road ahead was long and strewn with problems. You just had to brace yourself and continue: there was no other choice. It was undeniable: to this day, that spectacular, weird time remained shadowy in their minds. Whenever they mulled it over alone, their past misgivings and humiliation and their sense of being duped, along with their regrets and remorse, surged up like a flood: there was nothing good about this. Each of them suppressed it, determined to cast off the past and move ahead in high spirits. In order to put it thoroughly behind them, they established strict timetables for work and rest. The timetables accounted for every minute and every second of the day. Everyone had to abide by them; special supervisors were assigned to ensure compliance. The objective was to control the free flood of sloppy sentiments and guarantee the healthy development of ideology.

As for the beginning of the unfortunate incident, five persons had dictated reports. These were on file. Each report was vividly told from a different angle of vision. Each person’s original view refuted the views of others. Reading them, you’ll be astonished at how complicated and confusing they are. This also showed the diversity and independence of the ordinary people’s psychology. They weren’t easily swayed and were singularly repelled by those who were. Nobody could force his opinion on them. If you wanted to try to smooth things over and bring about unanimity, you’d be ridiculed.

The Report of the Old Widow in the Little Black Felt Hat

‘‘Whenever I think of my beloved cousin, I recall the time when I kicked off the blanket at midnight. You all know that the only thing on my bed that’s worth anything is that coarse blanket. My quilt is thirty years old and has been in rags for a long time. The mat under the sheet is only straw. But the blanket is really worth something: when the sun catches it, its golden wool shines as though burning up. Forty years ago, my father gave me this blanket (at the time, my handsome cousin was also on the scene) and said, ‘This is a genuine pure wool blanket.’ I can still remember his voice and can remember even more clearly my cousin’s charming little smile. (She swallowed her saliva again and again for ten minutes, closed her eyes, and didn’t move, as if she had forgotten she was speaking. Not until the other person shook her shoulders roughly did she gradually come to.) How could I have kicked the blanket off? It’s a long story. It was spring then, very humid and very hot. When you use a quilt, you shouldn’t need to add a blanket.

‘‘It was my damn nephew who caused all the problems. In fact, he wasn’t any nephew of mine. For twelve years, he had been pretending to be my nephew. Even now, everyone believes his pretense. This is really peculiar. This guy was a rootless bum-an orphan. He was also a hypocrite who had lost his humanity: he stole and robbed, and drank people’s lifeblood. A huge carbuncle hung perennially from his cheek. I don’t know what caused the misunderstanding (I curse the son-of-a-bitch who spread this rumor). A lot of people thought he was the right person to deliver my coal. I detest the ill-disposed suggestion. If this guy really did so, I would fight him to the death. Although I’m old and weak, I can still beat this guy up with no problem. Anyhow, I definitely didn’t let him set foot in my home; he would have to wait a long time before he could prevail. I watched the house for a whole winter, which is also to say that for a whole winter, I didn’t light a fire (I couldn’t do two things at the same time). It was frightfully damp in the house, but I was in a good mood. Then it was spring, and inside it seemed to be drizzling. I put the blanket on top of the quilt, and because it got too hot at midnight, I kicked it off. When I got up in the morning and looked around, the blanket was on the floor. That’s when the incident occurred. Of course, the one who came in was my cousin; he helped me by bringing coal.