VI. His Rise and Fall

CHAPTER VI

HIS RISE AND FALL

THE next time Weichuang saw Ah Q, it was just  past the midautumn of the year. On speaking of Ah Q’s return, the people were astonished and would review the past, saying, “Where has he been heretofore?” When about to go to the city on former occasions Ah Q had enthusiastically told others about it, but it was not so on this occasion; therefore, no one had paid any attention to his going. He may have informed the old man who took charge, of T‘uku Temple, but according to the old customs of Weichuang, only the departure of the Venerable Messrs. Chao and Chin and the Hsiu-ts’ai would constitute an event worth mentioning. If the “False Foreigner” were not worthy of consideration, what then of Ah Q? Thus, the old man would not have spread the report for him, and so the inhabitants of Weichuang would have had no means of knowing about this particular visit.

But on this occasion Ah Q’s return was vastly different from those in the past and was, in truth, worthy of the astonishment it caused. The heavens had just begun to darken when he, seeing indistinctly before him, appeared before the door of the wine shop. Approaching the counter, he thrust out from his girdle a handful of silver and coppers, which he tossed upon the counter, saying, “Cash, bring on the wine!”

He wore a new lined jacket, while from his waist hung a large purse, which with its great weight sagged his trouser-string into a very sharp loop. In accordance with the old established customs of Weichuang, a newcomer of imposing appearance was to be treated with respect rather than with disdain; and in this present case, although it was obvious that this was Ah Q, still, because of the slight difference from the Ah Q of the tattered jacket—the Ancients say: “When a scholar has been absent from his village for three days, he is treated with increased honor”—the waiters, the cashier, the patrons, and the passers-by unconsciously revealed a kind of respect commingled with suspicion.

The cashier first nodded his head and followed the nod with the words: “Hello, Ah Q. You’ve come back?”

“I’ve come back!”

“Good fortune, good fortune! You’ve been—”

“—in the city!”

On the following day, this bit of news had spread throughout the entire length of Weichuang. Every one was anxious to know just how Ah Q, with his ready cash and new lined jacket, had attained his prosperity. So it came about that in the wine shop, in the tea shop, and in the temples, there were stealthy and eager ears which gradually gathered the news. The result was that Ah Q attained a new status of respect and admiration.

According to his own accounts, he had been employed in the household of Chii-jen Lao-yeh, which part of the narrative filled his listeners with awe. This Lao-yeh’s surname was originally Pai, but, due to the fact that the whole city contained only one Chii-jen, it accordingly came about that his surname was not added to his title. Whenever Chii-jen Lao-yeh was mentioned, he alone was the person referred to. It was not as if this condition held true merely for a place the size of Weichuang, but it held good for a region within a radius of one hundred li, where the people almost believed that his name actually was Chii-jen Lao-yeh. Now a person in the employ of such a household ought to inspire respect, but according to Ah Q’s further accounts, he no longer deigned to hold this position because this Chii-jen Lao-yeh was really too hateful. This part of the tale caused his hearers to sigh with sympathy, but secretly made them feel glad because Ah Q was unfitted to help in the household of Chii-jen Lao-yeh; but the fact that Ah Q did not help his employer was to be pitied.

It seemed, according to the account given by Ah Q, that the reason for his return was due to his dislike of urbans because they called a long bench a tiao bench and because they used finely shredded scallion as a garnish for fried fish; and added to this, the latest fault he discovered was that the women did not sway at all gracefully in their walking.

But more than that, he had found still another matter which demanded great respect of him; to wit, while the villagers of Weichuang played with thirty-two bamboo dominoes and only the “False Foreigner” could play mah-jong, even the street urchins in the city could play mah-jong with exceeding great skill, and it would only be necessary to place the “False Foreigner” in the hands of ten-year-old “dark turtles” and he would straightway become the humble shade abasing itself before the King of Hades. This part of the tale also made his hearers blush.

“Have you folks ever seen a decapitation?” Ah Q asked. “Whee, it’s a fine sight … slaughtering the Revolutionists. Whee, an interesting sight, a grand one . . . ,” he would continue, his head swaying about, while the spittle from his mouth sprayed across to the cheek of Chao Szu-ch‘en, who was directly opposite him. This part of the account filled his auditors with trembling. Gazing about, Ah Q had suddenly lifted his right hand when he beheld Wang-hu, who, completely mesmerized by his interest in the tale, had stretched forward his neck. Ah Q straightway let his hand down upon the curve of wang-hu’s neck and cried, “Tutt!”

Wang-hu jumped with alarm, withdrew his neck with the speed of lightning; even the other listeners shivered with delight. Wang-hu remained bewildered for some days; and furthermore never again dared to come near Ah Q. Others acted likewise.

In regard to the position occupied by Ah Q in the eyes of the Weichuangites at this time, although we dare not say that his position surpassed that of the Venerable Mr. Chao, still we must confess that this was about the state of affairs. Roughly speaking, we have not made much of a misstatement.

It was not long before Ah Q’s great name was conveyed into the private apartments of the fair sex of Weichuang. Although in Weichuang there were only two large households, namely, those of Chin and Chao, and apart from these, nine out of ten were poor homes, still, women’s apartments are, in the end, women’s apartments; consequently, this affair may be considered a matter extraordinary. On meeting, women would say: “Tsou Ch‘i-sao bought a blue silk skirt from Ah Q; although it had been worn, yet, it cost only ninety cents. Then there was the mother of Chao Pai-yen—some one said it was Chao Szu-ch‘en’s mother, but this is subject to. further investigation—purchased a child’s coat of red foreign cloth, seven-tenths new, for the small sum of three hundred cash, eight per cent off.”

They would therefore peer about for Ah Q with longing eyes. Those who needed silk skirts, wished to ask him to sell them silk skirts; those who wanted garments of foreign cloth, wished to ask him to sell them garments of foreign cloth. Not only did they no longer evade him, but there were times when he had already passed by that they would run calling after him as they asked: “Ah Q, have you still some silk skirts or not? We need garments; have you any?”

It afterwards came about that this bit of news travelled from the poor households to the wealthy ones, because, in her happy satisfaction, Tsou Ch‘isao had taken her-silk skirt to Mrs. Chao’s for inspection. Mrs. Chao spoke of the matter to her husband, the Venerable Mr. Chao, and put in a word of praise. Furthermore, at the dinner table, the Venerable Mr. Chao held a discussion with his eldest son, the Hsiu-ts‘ai, in which he intimated that there was something mysterious about Ah Q and added that they should be careful to keep their doors and windows locked. Yet, with all that, they wondered whether he still had any more goods for sale; perhaps, there might be something good left over; and what was more, Mrs. Chao was just thinking of purchasing a high quality and low-priced fur vest. Having held a council, the family, therefore, immediately sent Tsou Ch‘i-sao to seek Ah Q; and for this reason brought into effect for the first time the third new exception to an established rule; namely, that on this evening, it would be permissible to light the lamps.

Not a little lamp oil had been burned, but still Ah Q had not arrived. All the female members of the Chao household were very impatient and kept yawning, some complaining that Ah Q was too changeable, others angry that Tsou Ch‘i-sao had not taken her mission seriously. Mrs. Chao feared that Ah Q did not dare to come on account of the agreements he had made in the spring, but the Venerable Mr. Chao considered this no reason for worry because, in this instance, as he said, “I sent for him.” In the end, the Venerable Mr. Chao’s wide experience proved him an unerring judge, for Ah Q eventually came, following Tsou Ch‘i-sao.

“He just kept saying, ‘I have no more, have no more.’ I told him, ‘You had better go tell them yourself,’ but he still insisted on talking, I said …” gasped Tsou Ch‘i-sao as she ran in.

“Venerable Sir!” murmured Ah Q, seeming to smile and yet not smiling, as he stood under the eaves.

“Ah Q, we’ve heard that you’ve made a fortune yonder,” began the Venerable Mr. Chao, walking out and eying the newcomer from head to foot. “Very fine, indeed, very fine. This … We have heard that you have some old goods . . . We should like you to bring them to show us . . . There is no other reason for this request excepting we want …”

“I have already told Tsou Ch‘i-sao that all has been sold.”

“Sold out?” The Venerable Mr. Chao’s voice dropped unconsciously in disappointment as he went on, “How could your goods have been sold out so quickly?”

“The things, which belonged to my friend, were not many in the first place. Others have purchased more or less and …”

“But even so, there should be something left.”

“At present there is a door curtain left.”

“Then, bring along the door curtain,” muttered Mrs. Chao in her confusion.

“It will do to bring it to-morrow,” the Venerable Mr. Chao weakly insisted. “Hereafter, Ah Q, should you ever have anything whatsoever, you may bring it to show us first….”

“And the prices we will offer will in nowise be lower than those others would give,” added the Hsiu-ts‘ai. The wife of the Hsiu-ts‘ai glanced anxiously at Ah Q’s cheek to see whether he had been influenced or not.

“I need a fur vest,” murmured Mrs. Chao plaintively.

Although Ah Q promised to do what he could for them, he walked out lazily and indifferently and it could not be ascertained whether he had taken the matter seriously or not. This caused the Venerable Mr. Chao to lose all hope; and so intense were his chagrin and anger that they put a stop to his yawning. So highly displeased was the Hsiu-ts‘ai with Ah Q’s attitude toward them that he accordingly said, “We should take protective measures against that bad egg of a dark turtle; perhaps there is nothing so good as to tell the ti-pao not to permit him to live in Weichuang.” But the Venerable Mr. Chao did not agree with him, explaining that he feared such action might make an enemy; furthermore, that one who was “in the business” most likely would not steal in his native haunts, just as the eagle does not eat the things in its own nest, that the village need not worry, and that a little watchfulness and precaution at night would be all that was necessary. Having listened to his father’s advice, the Hsiu-ts‘ai fell into hearty agreement with the idea and immediately put away the intention of driving Ah Q off; moreover, he strictly warned Tsou Ch‘i-sao not to mention his words to others.

But on the following day, Tsou Ch‘i-sao had her blue skirt dyed black, and also spread abroad the suspicion which hovered about Ah Q. Although she did not actually mention the fact that the Hsiu-ts‘ai wanted to drive him away, still, what she did say had a most unfavorable affect upon Ah Q. First of all, the ti-pao came to his door and took away the curtain. When Ah Q explained that Mrs. Chao wanted to see it, the ti-pao did not return it, but furthermore demanded a certain sum of money each month as a present. Next, the awesome respect of the villagers underwent a sudden change. Although they did not dare to make light of him, they seemed to avoid him assiduously, and this attitude, compared with their former fear of his “tutt,” bore a marked difference and was mixed with a savor of “respect at a distance.”

One group remained who still persisted in ferreting out Ah Q’s affairs to the very depths. But Ah Q made no attempt whatsoever to conceal his past, and proudly told of his experiences without reserve. Thereafter, they knew that he was only an inconsequential member of a thieving gang, who was not only unable to scale a wall but could not even enter an opening, merely standing at the entrance to receive the goods.

It was on a certain evening when he had just received a package and his robber lieutenant had gone in again that he heard loud clamors from within, and dashed away with all speed. He crept out of town during the night and escaped back to Weichuang. Henceforth, he did not dare to return to the work again. This story, however, had even more of an unfavorable effect upon Ah Q’s reputation. As for the villagers’ attitude of “respect at a distance” they feared first of all lest they incur his. enmity. How was it to be known that he was a thief who did not dare to steal again? He was, in truth, unworthy of being feared.