The Garlic Ballads

Her perfect Beijing accent established her credentials, and Jinju, as if given a glimpse of Paradise, sighed appreciatively over both her good looks and her lovely way of speaking.

The attendants responded politely, “Eight-thirty.”

In contrast to the well-spoken woman in red, the attendants were beneath Jinju’s contempt. They began sweeping the floor, from one end of the room to the other. It seemed to Jinju that every man and half the women were puffing on cigarettes and pipes, whose smoke slowly filled the room and led to a round of coughing and spitting.

Gao Ma returned with a bulging cellophane bag. “Is everything all right?” he asked when he saw the look on her face. She said it was, so he sat down, reached into the bag, and pulled out a pear. “The local restaurants were all closed, so I bought you some fruit.” He offered her the pear.

“I told you not to spend so much,” she groused.

He wiped the pear on his jacket and took a noisy bite. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “I’ve got more.”

A ragamuffin was walking up and down the rows of benches begging from anyone who was awake. Stopping in front of a young military officer, who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he struck a pitiful pose and said, Officer, Colonel, could you spare a little change?”

“I don’t have any money!” the moon-faced officer snapped in reply, rolling his eyes to show his displeasure.

“Anything will do,” the young beggar pleaded. “Wont you take pity on me?”

“Youre old enough to work. Why don’t you get a job?”

“Work makes me dizzy.”

The officer fished out a pack of cigarettes, opened it, removed one, and stuck it between his lips.

“If you wont give me money, Colonel, how about a smoke?”

“Do you know what land of cigarettes these are?” The officer looked him in the eye as he whipped out a shiny cigarette lighter and— click—flipped it on. Instead of touching the flame to the tip of his cigarette right away, he just let it blaze.

“Foreign, Colonel — they’re foreign cigarettes.”

“Know where they came from?”

“No.”

“My father-in-law brought them back from Hong Kong, that’s where. And look at this lighter.”

“You’re lucky to have a father-in-law like that, Colonel. I can see that life has smiled on you. Your father-in-law must be a big official, and his son-in-law will be one himself one of these days. Big officials are well-heeled and generous. So how about a smoke, Colonel?”

The young officer thought it over for a moment, then said, “No, I’d rather give you money.”

Jinju watched him fish out a shiny aluminum two-fen piece and hand it to the beggar, who wore a pained grin as he accepted the paltry gift with both hands and bowed deeply.

Now the beggar was walking this way, sizing up people as he came. Passing on Jinju and Gao Ma, he went up to the woman in red and her permed young man, who had just sat up. Jinju saw skin show through the beggar’s worn trousers when he bowed.

“Madam, sir, take pity on a man who’s down on his luck and give me some spare change.”

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” the woman in red asked sanctimoniously. “A healthy young man like you should be out working. Don’t you have any self-respect?”

“Madam, I don’t understand a word you’re saying. I’m only asking for a little change.”

“Would you bark like a dog for it?” the permed fellow asked the beggar. “I’ll give you one yuan for every bark.”

“Sure. What do you prefer, a big dog or a little one?”

The permed young man turned to the woman in red and smiled. “That’s up to you.”

The young beggar coughed and cleared his throat, then began to bark, sounding remarkably doglike: “Arf arf — arf arf arf — arf arf arf arf arf arf arf arf arf, arf, arf, arf arf, arf arf arf arf arf arf arf arf! That was a little dog. Twenty-six barks. Ruff! Ruff ruff! Ruff ruff! Ruff ruff ruff! Ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff ruff! Ruff ruff ruff! Ruff ruff!! Ruff!!! That was a big dog, twenty-four barks. Big and little together comes to fifty barks, at one yuan apiece, for a total of fifty yuan, sir, madam,”

The permed young man and the woman in red exchanged glances, both looking quite abashed. He took out his billfold and counted its contents, then turned to his companion and said, “Do you have any money, Yingzi?”

“Just a few coins,” she replied.

“Elder Brother,” the permed young man said, “we’ve had a long trip, and this is our last stop. All we’ve got left is forty-three yuan. If you’ll give us an address, we’ll send the seven we owe you as soon as we get home.”

The young beggar took the money, wetted his finger, and carefully counted the bills — twice. Removing a red one-yuan note with a missing corner, he said, “I can’t take this one, sir. You can have it back, and I’ll take the forty-two. Now you owe me eight.”

“Write down your address for us,” the young man said.

“I don’t know how to write,” the beggar said. “Just send it to the President of the United States and ask him to forward it to me. He’s my uncle!”