Rickshaw Boy by She Lao

Author:She Lao
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sky seemed to lighten a bit earlier, thanks to the gleaming snow. The old year was coming to an end, and many families had begun raising chickens, whose crows and cackles were more numerous than before. The roosters’ early morning crowing lent an aura of snowy abundance to the scene. But Xiangzi could not sleep. Sometime before daybreak he dozed off a time or two, in an uneasy daze, as if floating atop rolling waves. The night kept getting colder, until, finally, when the roosters crowed, he stopped trying to sleep. Not wanting to wake Old Cheng, he curled his legs and covered his mouth with the quilt to muffle his coughs, but he was unwilling to get up. He waited impatiently, sticking it out as best he could. Finally, dawn arrived, and the sounds of wagon wheels and drivers’ shouts out on the streets broke the silence. He sat up. Cold as ever, he stood up, buttoned his jacket, and opened the door a crack to peek outside. The snow wasn’t as thick as he’d imagined, which likely meant that no more had fallen during the night. A gray sky blurred everything in sight; there were even gray patches on the snowy ground. He saw indentations from the night before, dusted by new snow but clearly his footprints.

Both to keep busy and to erase all traces of his arrival, he found a short broom and, without a sound, stepped outside to cover his tracks. The wet snow made for heavy going—he had to bend over and press down hard as he swept. He cleared away the top layer, but damp snow clung to the ground like a layer of skin. He wound up sweeping the whole yard, straightening up to stretch twice, and piling the snow under a pair of young willow trees. The effort had him sweating and considerably warmed him, which made him feel better. He stomped his feet and released a long, steamy breath.

After walking back inside, Xiangzi put the broom away and decided to roll up his bedding. Old Cheng, who had just awakened, yawned grandly. Before even shutting his mouth, he said, “It must be getting late.” The simple statement seemed to have hidden meanings. After rubbing his sleepy eyes, he took out a cigarette from the pocket of his coat and was wide awake after two deep puffs. “Don’t go anywhere, Xiangzi. I’ll get some water so we can make tea. I’m betting you had a bad night.”

“I’ll get it,” Xiangzi offered. But the words were scarcely out of his mouth when the terror of the night before returned in a flash. His heart skipped a beat.

“No, I’ll go. You’re my guest.” Old Cheng quickly dressed and, without buttoning up, threw his jacket over his shoulders and ran out, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “What? You’ve already swept the yard? You’re really something! Now you have to stay for tea.”

Xiangzi began to relax a bit.

Old Cheng returned with two bowls of sweet porridge and an armful of little buns shaped like horses’ hooves and oily crisps.

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