The Brothers Shu
SU TONG
The story of Fragrant Cedar Street is legendary among people in my hometown. In the south of China, there are lots of streets just like it: narrow, dirty, the cobblestones forming a network of potholes. When you look out your window at the street or at the riverâs edge, you can see dried meat and drying laundry hanging from eaves, and you can see inside houses, where people are at the dinner table or engaged in a whole range of daily activities. What I am about to give you isnât so much a story as it is a word picture of life down south, and little more.
The brothers Shu Gong and Shu Nong lived on that particular street.
So did the Lin sisters, Hanli and Hanzhen.
They shared a building: 18 Fragrant Cedar Street, a blackened two-story structure, where the Shu family lived downstairs and the Lins above them. They were neighbors. Black sheet metal covered the flat roof of number 18, and as I stood at the bridgehead, I saw a cat crouching up there. At least thatâs how I remember it, fifteen years later.
And I remember the river, which intersected Fragrant Cedar Street a scant three or four feet from number 18. This river will make several appearances in my narration, with dubious distinction, for as I indicated earlier, I can only give impressions.
Shu Gong was the elder son, Shu Nong his younger brother.
Hanli was the elder daughter, Hanzhen her younger sister.
The ages of the Shu brothers and Lin sisters can be likened to the fingers of your hand: if Shu Nong was fourteen, then Hanzhen was fifteen, Shu Gong sixteen, and Hanli seventeen. A hand with four fingers lined up so tightly you canât pry them apart. Four fingers on the same hand. But where is the thumb?
Shu Nong was a timid, sallow-faced little devil. In the crude and simple classroom of Fragrant Cedar Middle School, he was the boy sitting up front in the middle row, dressed in a gray school uniform, neatly patched at the elbows, over a threadbare hand-me-down shirt with a grimy blue collar. The teachers at Fragrant Cedar Middle School all disliked Shu Nong, mainly because of the way he sprawled across his desk and picked his nose as he stared up at them. Experienced teachers knew he wasnât listening, and if they smacked him over the head with a pointer, he shrieked like splintered glass and complained, âI wasnât talking!â So while he wasnât the naughtiest child in class, his teachers pretty much ignored him, having taken all the gloomy stares from his old-manâs eyes they could bear. To them, he was âa little schemer.â Plus he usually smelled like he had just peed his pants.
Shu Nong was still wetting the bed at fourteen. And that was one of his secrets.
At first, we werenât aware of this secret. It was Hanzhen who let the cat out of the bag. Devoted to the act of eating, Hanzhen had such a greedy little mouth she even stole from her parents to buy snacks. One day when there was nothing to steal and she was standing outside the sweetshop looking depressed, Shu Nong happened by, dragging his schoolbag behind him. She stopped him: âI need twenty fen.â He tried to walk around her, but she grabbed the strap of his bag and wouldnât let him pass. âAre you going to lend it to me or not, you little miser?â she demanded.
Shu Nong replied, âAll Iâve got on me is two fen.â
Hanzhen frowned and casually slapped him with his own strap. Then, jamming her fists onto her hips, she said, âDonât you kids play with him. He wets the bed. His sheets are hung out to dry every day!â
I watched her spin around and take off toward school, leaving Shu Nong standing motionless and gloomy, holding his face in his hands as he followed her pudgy figure with his eyes. Then he looked at meâgloom filled his eyes. I can still see that fearful look on his fourteen-year-old face, best described as that of a young criminal genius. âLetâs go,â I said. âI wonât tell anybody.â
He shook his head, jammed his finger up his nose, and dug around a bit. âYou go ahead. Iâm skipping school today.â
Shu Nong played hooky a lot, so that was no big deal. And I assumed he was already cooking up a way to get even with Hanzhen, which also was no big deal since he had a reputation for settling scores.
On the very next day, Hanzhen came into the office to report Shu Nong for putting five dead rats, some twisted wire, and a dozen or more thumbtacks in her bed. The teachers promised to punish him, but he played hooky that day, too. On the day after that, Hanzhenâs mother, Qiu Yumei, came to school with a bowl of rice and asked the principal to smell it. He asked what was going on. Qiu Yumei accused Shu Nong of peeing in her rice pot. A crowd was gathering outside the office when the gym teacher dragged in Shu Nong, who had sauntered in to school only moments earlier and flung him into the corner.
âHere he is,â the principal said. âNow what do you want me to do?â
âThatâs easy,â Qiu Yumei replied. âMake him eat the rice, and heâll think twice about doing that again.â
After mulling the suggestion over for a few seconds, the principal carried the offending bowl of rice over to Shu Nong. âEat up,â he said, âand taste the fruit of your labors.â
Shu Nong stood there with his head down, hands jammed into his pockets as he nonchalantly fiddled with a key ring. The sound of keys jangling in the boyâs grimy pocket clearly angered the principal, who in plain view of everyone, forced Shu Nongâs head down over the rice. Shu Nong licked it almost instinctively, then yelped like a puppy, and spat the stuff out. Deathly pale, he ran out of the office, a single kernel of rice stuck to the corner of his mouth. The bystanders roared with laughter.
That evening, I spotted Shu Nong at the limestone quarry, wobbling across the rocky ground, dragging his schoolbag behind him. He picked an old tree limb out of a pile of rubbish and began kicking it ahead of him. He looked as gloomy and dejected as always. I thought I heard him announce, âIâll screw the shit out of Lin Hanzhen.â His voice was high-pitched and shrill but as flat and emotionless as a girl saying to a clerk in a sweetshop, Iâd like a candy figurine, please. âAnd Iâll screw the shit out of Qiu Yumei!â he added.
A male figure climbed onto the roof of number 18. From a distance, it looked like a repairman. It was Shu Nongâs father. Since the neighbors all called him Old Shu, thatâs what weâll call him here. To members of my family, Old Shu was special. I remember him as a short, stocky man who was either a construction worker or a pipe fitter. Whichever, he was good with his hands. If someoneâs plumbing leaked or the electric meter was broken, the lady of the house would say, âGo find Old Shu.â He wasnât much to look at, but the women on Fragrant Cedar Street liked him. In retrospect, Iâd have to say Old Shu was a ladiesâ man, of which Fragrant Cedar Street boasted several, one of whom, as I say, was Old Shu. Thatâs how I see it, anyhow.
Letâs say that some women doing their knitting see Old Shu on the roof of number 18. They start gossiping about his amorous escapades, mostly about how he and Qiu Yumei do this, that, and the other. I recall going into a condiments shop once and overhearing the soy sauce lady tell the woman who sold pickled vegetables, âOld Shu is the father of the two Lin girls! And look how that trashy Qiu Yumei struts around!â The condiments shop was often the source of shocking talk like that. Qiu Yumei was walking past just then but didnât hear them.
If you believed the womenâs brassy gossip, one look at Lin Hanzhenâs father would strengthen your conviction. What did Old Lin do for a living? you ask. Letâs say itâs a summer day at sunset, and a man is playing chess in the doorway of the handkerchief makerâs. That will be Old Lin, who plays there every day. Sometimes Hanzhen or Hanli brings his dinner and lays it next to the chessboard. Old Lin wears thick glasses for his nearsightedness. He has no special talents, but once after losing a chess game, he popped the cannon piece into his mouth and would have swallowed it if Hanli hadnât pried open his mouth and plucked it out. She knocked over the chessboard, earning herself a slap in the face. âYou want to keep playing?â she complained tearfully with a stomp of her foot. âI should have let you swallow that piece!â
Old Lin retorted, âIâll swallow whatever I want to swallow, and you can just butt out!â
People watching the game laughed. They got a kick out of Old Linâs temper. They also got a kick out of Hanli, because she was so pretty and had such a good heart. The neighbors were unanimous in their appraisal of the sisters: they liked Hanli and disliked Hanzhen.
Now all the players in our drama have made an appearance, all but Shu Gong and his mother, that is. There isnât much to be said about the woman in the Shu family. Craven and easily intimidated, she padded like a mouse around the downstairs of number 18, cooking meals and washing clothes, and I have virtually no recollection of her. Shu Gong, on the other hand, is very important, since for a time he was an object of veneration among young people on Fragrant Cedar Street.
Shu Gong had a black mustache, an upside-down V sort of like Stalinâs.
Shu Gong had delicate features and always wore a pair of white Shanghai-made high-top sneakers.
Shu Gong had been in a gang fight at the limestone quarry with some kids from the west side, and he had had a love affair. Guess who he had the affair with.
Hanli.
In retrospect, I can see that the two families at number 18 had a very interesting relationship.
Shu Gong and Shu Nong shared a bed at first and fought night after night. Shu Gong would come roaring out of a sound sleep and kick Shu Nong: âYou wet the bed again, you wet the goddamned bed!â Shu Nong would lie there not making a sound, eyes open as he listened for the prowling steps and night screeches of the cat on the roof. He got used to being kicked and slugged by his brother since he knew he had it coming. He always wet the bed, and Shu Gongâs side was always clean as a whistle. Besides, he was no match for Shu Gong in a fight. Knowing how reckless it would be to stand up to his brother, Shu Nong let strategy be his watchword. He recalled the wise comment someone made after being beaten up one day on the stone bridge: a true gentleman gets revenge, even if it takes ten years. Shu Nong understood exactly what that meant. So one night after Shu Gong had kicked and slugged him again, he said very deliberately, âA true gentleman gets revenge, even if it takes ten years.â
âWhat did you say?â Shu Gong, who thought he was hearing things, crawled over and patted Shu Nongâs face. âDid you say something about revenge?â He smirked. âYou little shit, what do you know about revenge?â
His brotherâs lips flashed in the darkness like two squirming maggots. He repeated the comment.
Shu Gong clapped his hand over his brotherâs mouth. âShut that stinky mouth of yours, and go to sleep,â he said, then found a dry spot in bed and lay back down.
Shu Nong was still mumbling. He was saying, âShu Gong, Iâm going to kill you.â
Shu Gong had another chuckle over that. âWant me to go get the cleaver?â
âNot now,â Shu Nong replied. âSome other day. Just donât turn your back.â
Years later, Shu Gong could still see Shu Nongâs pale lips flashing in the dark like a couple of squirming maggots. But back then, he could no longer endure sharing a bed with Shu Nong, so he told his parents, âBuy me a bed of my own, or Iâll stay with a friend and forget about coming home.â
Old Shu was momentarily speechless. âI see youâve grown up,â he said as he lifted his sonâs arm to look at his armpit. âOK, itâs starting to grow. Iâll buy you a real spring bed tomorrow.â
After that, Shu Nong slept alone. He was still fourteen.
At the age of fourteen, Shu Nong began sleeping alone. He vowed on his first night away from his brother never to wet the bed again. Letâs say that itâs an autumn night forgotten by all concerned and that Shu Nongâs dejection is like a floating leaf somewhere down south. He lies wide awake in the darkness, listening to the surpassing stillness outside his window on Fragrant Cedar Street, broken occasionally by a truck rumbling down the street, which makes his bed shake slightly. Itâs a boring street, Shu Nong thinks, and growing up on it is even more so. His thoughts fly all over the place until he gets sleepy, but as he curls up for the night, Shu Gongâs bed begins to creak and keeps on creaking for a long time. âWhat are you doing?â
âNone of your business. Go to sleep, so you can wet your bed,â Shu Gong snaps back spitefully.
âIâm not wetting my bed anymore.â Shu Nong sits up straight. âI canât wet it if I donât sleep!â
No response from Shu Gong, who is by now snoring loudly. The sound disgusts Shu Nong, who thinks Shu Gong is more boring than anything, an SOB just begging to get his lumps. Shu Nong looks out the window and hears a cat spring from the windowsill up to the roof. He sees the catâs dark-green eyes, flashing like a pair of tiny lamps. No one pays any attention to the cat, which is free to prance off anywhere in the world it likes. To Shu Nong, being feline seems more interesting than being human.
That is how Shu Nong viewed the world at fourteen: being feline is more interesting than being human.
If the moon is out that night, Shu Nong is likely to see his father climbing up the rainspout. Suddenly, he sees someone climbing expertly up the rainspout next to the window like a gigantic house lizard. Shu Nong experiences a moment of fear before sticking his head out the window and grabbing a leg.
âWhat do you think youâre doing?â That is exactly how long it takes him to discover it is his father, Old Shu, who thumps his son on the head with the sandal in his hand. âBe a good boy, and shut up. Iâm going up to fix the gutter.â
âIs it leaking?â
âLike a sieve. But Iâll take care of it.â
Shu Nong says, âIâll go with you.â
With a sigh of exasperation, Old Shu shins down to the windowsill, squats in his bare feet, and wraps his hands around Shu Nongâs neck. âGet back to bed, and go to sleep,â Old Shu says. âYou saw nothing, unless you want me to throttle you. And donât think I wonât do it, you understand?â
His fatherâs hands around his neck feel like knives cutting into his flesh. He closes his eyes, and the hands fall loose. He sees his father grab hold of something, spring off the sill, and climb to the top floor.
After that, Shu Nong goes back and sits on his bed, but he isnât sleepy. He hears a thud upstairs in Qiu Yumeiâs room, then silence. Whatâs going on? Shu Nong thinks of the cat. If the catâs on the roof, can it see what Father and Qiu Yumei are up to? Shu Nong thought a lot about things like that when he was fourteen. His thoughts, too, are like leaves floating aimlessly somewhere down south. Just before dawn, a rooster crows somewhere, and Shu Nong realizes he had fallen asleepâand had wet the bed. Mentally he wrings out his dripping-wet underpants, and the rank smell of urine nearly makes him gag. How could I have fallen asleep? How come I wet the bed again? His nighttime discovery floats up like a dream. Who made me go to sleep? Who made me wet the bed? A sense of desolation wraps itself around Shu Nongâs heart. He slips off his wet pants and begins to sob. Shu Nong did a lot of sobbing at the age of fourteen, just like a little girl.
Shu Nong asked me a really weird question once, but then he was always asking weird questions. And if you didnât supply a satisfying answer, heâd give you a reasoned reply of his own.
âWhatâs better, being human or being a cat?â
I said human, naturally.
âWrong. Cats are free, and nobody pays them any attention. Cats can prowl the eaves of a house.â
So I said, âGo be a cat, then.â
âDo you think people can turn into cats?â
âNo. Cats have cats, people have people. Donât tell me you donât even know that!â
âI know that. What I mean is, Can someone turn himself into a cat?â
âTry it, and see.â
âMaybe I will. But I have lots to do before that. Iâm going to make you all sit up and take notice.â Shu Nong began chewing his grubby fingernails, making a light clipping n...