The Real Story of Ah Q

Chapter One

Preface

For more than a year, I’ve been contemplating writing the definitive biography of a certain Mr. Ah Q. Yet, as I prepare to put pen to paper, I find myself reflecting on the past, a clear sign that I’m not a person of unwavering conviction. The immortal pen, they say, must record the deeds of an immortal soul. Thus, the person is immortalized through the writing, and the writing through the person – a cycle that blurs the lines of dependency. Eventually, I find myself tasked with telling Ah Q’s tale, as if compelled by some unseen force.

However, embarking on this fleeting piece of writing presents a myriad of challenges. The first being the title. Confucius once said, “When the name is not correct, the words will not sound proper.” A title is crucial. There are many types of biographies: official, autobiographical, internal, external, separate, family, and minor, but none seem fitting. This account doesn’t belong among the distinguished in an official history, nor am I Ah Q to author an autobiography. An “external biography” implies an “internal” one, which doesn’t exist. Ah Q is no immortal to warrant an “internal biography.” A “separate biography” suggests a “main biography” that Ah Q lacks. As for a “family biography,” I’m unsure if Ah Q and I share lineage, and I’ve received no request from his descendants. A “minor biography” would imply a “major biography” that also doesn’t exist. In the end, this account stands as the “main biography,” though I hesitate to claim such a title due to the humble nature of the narrative. Borrowing from a common phrase used by novelists, “let’s stop the idle chatter and get to the point,” I’ve chosen the term “main biography” for its title, despite the potential for confusion with other historical texts bearing the same name.

Secondly, the convention of a biography typically begins with “So-and-so, styled So-and-so, a person from such-and-such a place.” Yet, I am unaware of Ah Q’s surname. There was an instance where it appeared he was surnamed Zhao, but it became unclear the following day. This occurred when the son of Master Zhao became a scholar, and the news reached the village with the sound of gongs. Ah Q, having consumed two bowls of yellow wine, jubilantly claimed a connection, boasting of a familial link that placed him three generations senior to the new scholar. His listeners, initially impressed, were soon corrected by the village elder, who summoned Ah Q to Master Zhao’s residence. Upon his arrival, Master Zhao, his face flushed with anger, demanded, “Ah Q, you scoundrel! Do you dare claim kinship with me?”

Ah Q remained silent.

Master Zhao, growing increasingly furious, pressed, “How dare you lie! I could never be related to the likes of you. Do you bear the surname Zhao?”

Ah Q, silent and retreating, was struck by Master Zhao, who then questioned, “How could you possibly bear the surname Zhao? You are unworthy!”

Ah Q did not argue his claim to the surname Zhao but instead retreated, hand to his cheek, after paying the village elder two hundred coins for wine. The villagers deemed Ah Q’s actions absurd, provoking his own beating. His surname remained a mystery, and thus, I am left uncertain of Ah Q’s true family name.

The third issue concerns the proper writing of Ah Q’s name. In life, he was known as Ah Quei, a name that faded into obscurity upon his death. If one considers the act of recording in the annals of history, this article represents the first such instance, presenting the initial challenge. I pondered: Was it Ah Quei, Ah Gui, or Ah Gui? If he had a courtesy name like Yue Ting or celebrated his birthday in August, it would undoubtedly be Ah Gui. However, Ah Q had no known courtesy name, nor was there any record of a birthday announcement, making the assumption of Ah Gui unfounded. If he had a brother named Ah Fu, it would suggest Ah Gui, but Ah Q was known to be an only child, rendering Ah Gui an unsupported conclusion. Other characters with a similar pronunciation to Quei were also incongruent. I inquired with Mr. Zhao’s son, Mr. Mao Cai, a man of great learning, but even he was at a loss. He attributed the untraceable nature of Ah Q’s name to the decline of national essence due to the promotion of foreign characters by Chen Duxiu in the “New Youth” magazine. With no other recourse, I entrusted a fellow townsman to search the records of Ah Q’s criminal case. Eight months later, the response indicated no individual with a name resembling Ah Quei. Whether this is true or a result of an incomplete search remains unknown, but it leaves me with no alternative. Anticipating the limited adoption of phonetic alphabets, I reluctantly adopt the “foreign character” spelling, following the British convention, and write his name as Ah Quei, abbreviated to Ah Q. This decision, while aligning with the “New Youth,” leaves me with a sense of regret, as even the learned Mr. Mao Cai was unaware of the correct form.

The fourth issue pertains to Ah Q’s place of origin. If he bore the surname Zhao, it would be customary to claim a prestigious lineage, as per the “Hundred Family Surnames of Prefectures,” and identify him as “a person from Longxi Tianshui.” However, the unreliability of his surname casts doubt on his true origin. Although he resided in Wei Village for an extended period, his transient nature prevents him from being definitively labeled a native. Even if referred to as “a person from Wei Village,” it would still conflict with historical conventions.

The only solace I find is in the accurate “Ah” prefix, free from any spurious associations, which I trust can be verified by the learned. The remainder of the details, however, elude my limited scholarship. I hope that future enthusiasts of history and textual research, akin to Mr. Hu Shi’s disciples, may uncover new leads. Yet, by that time, my “Biography of Ah Q” may have already been forgotten.

This introduction sets the stage for the narrative to follow.

Chapter Two

A Sketch of Victories

Ah Q’s obscurity extends beyond his name and place of origin to include his past actions. The people of Wei Village were only concerned with Ah Q’s assistance and ridiculed him, never taking an interest in his past actions. Ah Q himself remained silent on the matter, except during disputes when he might assert, “In the past, we were far more prosperous than you! What are you in comparison?”

Ah Q lacked a home, residing in the Tugu Temple of Wei Village, and had no fixed occupation, working odd jobs for others, whether it be reaping wheat, pounding rice, or rowing boats. If the work was extended, he might stay with the temporary host but would depart upon completion. Thus, when the villagers were occupied, they might recall Ah Q for his labor, not his past actions. In times of leisure, even Ah Q himself was swiftly forgotten.

There was an occasion when an elder praised Ah Q, saying, “Ah Q is truly capable!” At that moment, Ah Q, bare-chested and lazily thin, basked in the praise, unsure if it was genuine or sarcastic. Ah Q also held a strong sense of self-respect, considering himself superior to all the residents of Wei Village, even showing a dismissive attitude towards the “literary children” who were destined to become scholars. He thought, “My son will be far more distinguished!” His trips to the city only fueled his arrogance, yet he also looked down on the city dwellers. For instance, a bench known as a “long bench” in Wei Village was called a “strip bench” in the city, and he deemed it incorrect and laughable. Similarly, the city’s practice of garnishing fried fish with finely chopped green onions, as opposed to the longer green onion leaves used in Wei Village, was also seen as wrong and laughable. However, he considered the people of Wei Village to be unsophisticated country folk who had not witnessed the city’s culinary practices.

Despite Ah Q’s perceived superiority due to his “past prosperity,” “high knowledge,” and “capability,” he was not without physical flaws. The most bothersome was the scabby sores on his scalp, which he considered insignificant. He avoided mentioning “scabies” and any word sounding similar, including “light,” “bright,” and eventually, “lamp” and “candle.” Any accidental mention of these words would provoke Ah Q’s anger, leading to verbal or physical retaliation, depending on his assessment of the offender. However, he often found himself at a disadvantage, leading to a change in tactics, opting for a glare instead.

After adopting this “glaring principle,” the idle villagers of Wei Village took even greater pleasure in teasing Ah Q. Upon seeing him, they would feign surprise and say, “Ah, it’s brightened up here.”

Ah Q would respond with his characteristic glare.

“Looks like there’s an insurance lamp here!” they would continue, undeterred.

With no other recourse, Ah Q would devise a retort: “You’re not even worthy…” At that moment, the scabby sores on his head seemed to transform into a noble and honorable mark, distinct from ordinary scabies. However, recognizing the conflict with his “taboo,” he would refrain from further comment.

The idlers, undeterred, continued to provoke him, eventually leading to physical altercations. Despite being formally defeated, with his yellow braid seized and his head banged against a wall, Ah Q would walk away, internally justifying his loss by considering his defeat as being beaten by his own “son,” a thought that brought him a sense of satisfaction and victory.

Ah Q would often vocalize these internal thoughts, leading the villagers who teased him to become aware of his method of spiritual triumph. Consequently, whenever they seized his braid, they would preemptively declare, “Ah Q, this is not a son hitting his father, but a person hitting a beast. Admit it, a person hitting a beast!”

Ah Q, clutching the roots of his braid with both hands and tilting his head, would respond, “Beat the vermin, how about that? I am vermin – will you let go now?”

Even as he referred to himself as vermin, the idlers would not release him, continuing to bang his head against a nearby surface before leaving, content in their victory. Yet, within seconds, Ah Q would also walk away, feeling triumphant and satisfied, considering himself the first to debase himself and, apart from that, the “first” in some undefined sense. Wasn’t the top scholar also the “first” in his own right? What of the question, “What are you?”

Having overcome his adversaries with such ingenious methods, Ah Q would then joyfully head to the tavern for a few bowls of wine, engage in banter and arguments, secure another victory, and return to the Tugu Temple to sleep contentedly. If he had money, he would join in gambling games, where he would be found among a huddled group on the ground, his voice the loudest:

“Green dragon, four hundred!”

“Ahem – open -” The banker, also sweating profusely, would lift the lid and sing out, “Heaven’s door – corner back – the human and pass through the hall are empty there – Ah Q, hand over your copper coins!”

“Pass through the hall, one hundred – one hundred and fifty!”

Ah Q’s money would gradually find its way into the pockets of another participant, as the games continued and his fortunes fluctuated. Eventually, he would be forced to step out of the circle, standing behind and watching anxiously as others played, until the game dispersed. Then, with swollen eyes, he would reluctantly return to the Tugu Temple and face another day of work.

However, in a twist of fate that echoes the saying, “The loss of a horse by the old man from the frontier pass, how could one have known that it is a blessing in disguise,” Ah Q’s fortune took an unfortunate turn when he won a gambling game, which nearly led to his downfall.

It was the night of the Wei Village deity festival, a time when the usual opera performance was accompanied by numerous gambling stalls. To Ah Q, the opera’s music seemed a distant echo, drowned out by the calls of the gambling bankers. He found himself on a winning streak, his copper coins transforming into silver, which then turned into gold, and finally accumulating into a substantial sum. Ecstatic, he shouted, “Two pieces on the heavenly gate!”

He was oblivious to the sudden commotion of a fight breaking out nearby. Amidst the shouting, scuffling, and running, he finally rose, only to find the gambling stall and the crowd had vanished. He felt a pang of pain, as if from a few punches and kicks, and noticed the startled glances of a few onlookers. With a sense of loss, he made his way to the Tugu Temple, where he realized his winnings were gone. The gambling stall operators were not locals, leaving him no one to hold accountable.

The once bright and sizable pile of coins, his very own, was now gone! He tried to convince himself that it was as if his son had taken them, but the unease lingered. Calling himself a “worm” did little to ease his discomfort; for the first time, he felt the bitter taste of defeat.

Yet, he swiftly turned this defeat into a form of victory. He raised his hand and struck himself twice across the face, the stinging pain bringing a strange sense of calm. It was as if he had struck another version of himself, and soon it felt as if he had triumphed over another person. With a sense of satisfaction, he lay down to sleep.

He fell into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Three

Further Sketch of Victories

Despite his frequent victories, Ah Q only rose to prominence after being slapped by Master Zhao.

After paying the local constable two hundred coins for wine, he lay down in anger, musing over the absurdity of a world where sons strike their fathers. Then, he recalled the prestige of Master Zhao and felt a sense of pride in being his supposed son. Emboldened, he rose and hummed “The Little Widow Visits the Grave” on his way to the tavern. At that moment, he felt a renewed respect for Master Zhao.

Curiously, from that day on, the villagers seemed to hold him in higher regard. Ah Q believed this newfound respect was due to his connection with Master Zhao, but the truth was more complex. In Wei Village, disputes between commoners like Ah Qi and Ah Ba, or Li Si and Zhang San, were inconsequential. It was only when a person of note, such as Master Zhao, was involved that the incident became noteworthy. Once it entered the collective gossip, the one who struck gained fame, and by association, so did the one who was struck. As for Ah Q being at fault, that was a given. Why, then, did the villagers seem to respect him more? It was a puzzling question. Perhaps it was because Ah Q claimed kinship with Master Zhao, and despite the beating, there might be some truth to it. It was safer to show respect than to risk offending a potential relative, just as the sacrificial animals in the Confucian temple were treated with reverence because they had been blessed by the sage.

Ah Q basked in this pride for many years.

One spring day, he stumbled down the street, drunk and basking in the sunlight near a wall. There, he saw Wang Hu, bare-chested and scratching for lice. Suddenly, Ah Q felt an itch himself. Wang Hu, known to others as Wang Lai Hu due to his scabies and unkempt hair, was despised by Ah Q, who chose to omit the character for scabies when referring to him. However, Ah Q considered scabies unremarkable compared to Wang Hu’s thick beard, which he found truly grotesque. With a sense of superiority, Ah Q sat down next to Wang Hu, a gesture he would not have dared with other idlers. But next to Wang Hu, Ah Q felt no fear.

Ah Q also removed his worn jacket and searched for lice. After much effort, he found only a few, while Wang Hu continued to find more, one after another, crushing them between his teeth with a satisfying crunch. Initially, Ah Q felt disappointed, but soon he became indignant. How could he, who looked down on Wang Hu, have so few lice compared to him? It was an unbearable loss of face!

He wished to find a large louse to make up for his lack, but to no avail. After much searching, he finally found a medium-sized one and, with a sense of resentment, crushed it between his lips. The sound, however, was not as loud as Wang Hu’s.

His scabby sores flushed red with embarrassment, Ah Q threw his clothes to the ground and spat, exclaiming, “These worms!”

“Scabby dog, who are you insulting?” Wang Hu retorted with disdain, looking up at Ah Q.

Although Ah Q had recently gained some respect and grew more arrogant, he was still intimidated by the seasoned idlers, except this time he felt unusually brave. How dare someone as disheveled as Wang Hu speak so rudely?

“I’m scolding whoever it concerns!” he declared, standing up and placing his hands on his hips.

“Are you itching for a fight?” Wang Hu stood up as well, putting on his clothes.

Thinking Wang Hu was about to run, Ah Q took the initiative and threw a punch. However, before his fist could make contact, Wang Hu grabbed it, pulled Ah Q off balance, and then twisted his braid, slamming his head against the wall as was the custom.

“A gentleman uses his mouth, not his hands!” Ah Q protested, his head tilted to the side.

Wang Hu, not appearing to be a gentleman, ignored the remark and continued to hit Ah Q’s head against the wall five times before pushing him away with force, sending Ah Q sprawling more than six feet. Only then did Wang Hu leave, seemingly satisfied with the outcome.

This encounter was likely the first significant humiliation Ah Q had ever experienced. Wang Hu, with his bearded defect, had always been the subject of Ah Q’s ridicule, never the one to ridicule or fight him. The unexpected aggression left Ah Q feeling exposed and confused. Could it be, as the market rumors suggested, that the emperor had abolished the exams, no longer requiring scholars and juren, thus diminishing the Zhao family’s prestige? Was this the reason they dared to belittle him?

Ah Q stood there, unsure of his place in the world.

From a distance, another figure approached, one of Ah Q’s most despised adversaries: the eldest son of Master Qian. This man had gone to the city to attend a foreign school and then, for reasons unknown, ended up in the East. Upon his return half a year later, he had straightened his legs and lost his braid, causing his mother to weep profusely and his wife to attempt suicide by jumping into a well three times. His mother later claimed that his braid had been cut off while he was drunk by some villain, robbing him of the chance to become a high official. She said they would have to wait until his hair grew back before he could pursue that path again. Ah Q, however, refused to believe this story and instead labeled him a “fake foreign devil” or “one who colludes with foreigners.” Whenever he saw him, Ah Q would silently curse him in his heart.

Ah Q harbored an even deeper hatred for the man’s fake braid. To him, a fake braid signified a loss of one’s humanity. If his wife hadn’t jumped into the well a fourth time, she wouldn’t be considered a good woman either.

As the “fake foreign devil” drew near, Ah Q, who usually only cursed him silently, felt a surge of anger and a desire for revenge. Unable to contain himself, he muttered insults under his breath.

To his surprise, the bald man was wielding a yellow-painted stick, which Ah Q referred to as a “mourning stick,” and approached with determined strides. Sensing an impending attack, Ah Q tensed up and braced himself. Sure enough, there was a loud smack, seemingly hitting him on the head.

“I was talking about him!” Ah Q quickly pointed to a child nearby in an attempt to deflect the blame.

Crack! Crack, crack!

This incident likely ranked as the second significant humiliation in Ah Q’s life. However, after the strikes, it felt to him as if a chapter had closed, bringing a sense of relief. The power of “forgetting,” a family heirloom of sorts, began to take effect. As he slowly made his way towards the tavern, he started to feel somewhat cheerful.

Then, he encountered a young nun from the Jingxiu Temple. Ordinarily, Ah Q would feel compelled to insult her, and today, after his humiliation, he felt even more inclined to do so. As memories and resentments welled up within him, he approached her, spat loudly, and said, “Ah, phew!”

The young nun paid him no mind, keeping her head down as she continued to walk. Ah Q moved closer, suddenly reaching out to touch her freshly shaved scalp, chuckling as he said, “Baldy! Hurry back, the monk is waiting for you…”

“What are you doing, touching and grabbing like that…” the nun said, her face turning red as she quickened her pace.

The people inside the tavern burst into laughter. Encouraged by the audience’s reaction, Ah Q grew even more excited and, to satisfy the onlookers, gave her cheek a harder twist before releasing it.

With this single act, Ah Q seemed to have forgotten all about Wang Hu and the fake foreign devil. It was as if he had avenged all the misfortunes of the day. Strangely, he felt lighter than ever, almost as if he could float away.

“The childless, descendant-less Ah Q!” came the distant, tearful voice of the young nun.

“Hahaha!” Ah Q laughed triumphantly.

“Hahaha,” the people in the tavern also laughed, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Chapter Four

The Tragedy of Love

It’s often observed that some victors relish the challenge of a worthy adversary, finding joy in triumphing over the likes of tigers and eagles. But when the foe is more like a sheep or a chick, the victory feels empty and unexciting. And then there are those who, after conquering all, find themselves without enemies, without rivals, without companions—alone at the top, surrounded by a chilling solitude. Yet, our Ah Q remains perpetually smug, perhaps an emblem of Chinese cultural supremacy on the global stage.

Look at him, he’s as light as a feather, almost ready to float away!

But this victory, too, has left him with a peculiar feeling. After a day spent floating on air, he enters the Tugu Temple, where he would usually lay down and drift off into snoring slumber. But tonight, sleep is elusive. He notices an unusual smoothness in his thumb and forefinger, as if they’ve been coated with an uncharacteristic slickness. Could it be a trace of the nun’s smoothness that clings to his skin, or have his fingers become polished from the contact with her face?

“Ah Q, the one fated to a childless and heirless life!”

The insult rings in his ears once more. He reflects, “Indeed, a wife is essential; without an heir, there’s no one to provide for me in my twilight years… A wife is a necessity. ‘The greatest of the unfilial acts is to have no descendants,’ and the prospect of ‘the ghosts of the Ao starving’ is a profound sorrow indeed. Thus, my thoughts are in harmony with the sacred texts and the wisdom of the sages, though I’ve perhaps been somewhat ‘unable to keep my heart at ease’ since then.”

“Woman, woman…” he contemplates.

“…Even a monk can… woman, woman… woman!” He ponders further, “We may never know when Ah Q finally succumbed to sleep that night. But it seems that from then on, he always felt a certain smoothness in his fingers, a constant sense of buoyancy. ‘Woman…’ he constantly thought.

This single insight reveals the destructive nature of women. Most Chinese men have the potential to become sages, yet they are all corrupted by the fairer sex. The Shang dynasty fell due to Daji; the Zhou dynasty was brought low by Bao Si; the Qin, though history doesn’t explicitly state it, we might assume that women were likely a significant factor in its downfall; and Dong Zhuo was undoubtedly killed by Diao Chan.

Ah Q, once a paragon of virtue, had always been strict about the boundaries between men and women, showing a righteous disdain for heretics like the nun and the so-called ‘foreign devils.’ His beliefs were that any nun must be having an affair with a monk, any woman out in public must be seeking to entice men, and any conversation between a man and a woman must be part of a clandestine affair. To punish such behavior, he would often glare menacingly, speak harsh words, or, in a secluded spot, throw a small stone from behind.

Who would have thought that as he approached the age of maturity, Ah Q would be so beguiled by the nun. This sense of lightheadedness is inappropriate in the eyes of propriety, and thus, women are truly detestable. If the nun’s face had not been so smooth, Ah Q would not have been so enchanted. And if the nun’s face had been covered, Ah Q would not have been so enchanted either. He had once grabbed a woman’s thigh in a crowd under a stage, but the layer of clothing between them had left him unaffected. However, the nun was a different story, further proof of the detestable nature of heretics.

“Women…” Ah Q mused to himself with disdain.

He was always watching those women he suspected of “trying to snare wild men”, but they never so much as smiled his way. Whenever women spoke to him, he listened intently too, but not a whisper about wanton affairs ever escaped their lips. Ah, that was one of the most infuriating things about the fairer sex – they ALL insisted on putting on such prim and “upright” airs.

On this particular day, Ah Q had been husking rice all morning and afternoon at the manor of Squire Zhao. After the evening meal, he settled into the kitchen puffing his dry tobacco pipe. If working another household, he could have left once dinner was done. But the Zhaos dined early, following the rule of no lamps after supper and straight to bed. There were, however, occasional exceptions permitted: when young Master Zhao was studying for the imperial exams, he could light a lamp to read into the night; and when Ah Q took on odd jobs there, he too could keep a lamp lit to husk rice after hours. It was this second exception that found Ah Q lingering in the kitchen that evening, savoring a few puffs before starting his husking.

Wu Ma, the sole maidservant at the manor, had finished washing up and joined Ah Q on the bench for some gossip:

“The lady hasn’t eaten for two days now, because the master wants to take a concubine…”

“Hah, women… this poor widow Wu Ma…” Ah Q scoffed inwardly.

“Our young mistress is due to give birth come August…”

“Women!” he thought again with contempt.

Ah Q set his pipe down and abruptly rose to his feet.

“Our young mistress…” Wu Ma droned on obliviously.

“I pledge myself to you, I pledge myself to you!” Ah Q suddenly cried out, dropping to his knees before the startled maid.

An awkward silence descended.

“Oh!” Wu Ma froze, eyes wide, then shuddered and fled shrieking from the kitchen, her wails turning to sobs.

Ah Q remained kneeling, stunned against the wall. Using the bench for support, he slowly pulled himself up, an uncomfortable realization seeming to wash over him. At this point, he felt quite apprehensive. He hurriedly stuck his pipe back in his waistband, intending to escape to the husking shed. But then a heavy blow caught him on the back of the skull. Whipping around, he saw young Scholar Zhao looming with a stout bamboo rod in hand.

“You madman…you depraved wretch!”

The rod came slashing down again. Ah Q raised his hands just in time to catch the strike painfully on his fingers. He bolted from the kitchen, as if struck across the back on his way out.

“Scoundrel! Deviant!” the young scholar roared in formal official tones.

Ah Q fled to the husking shed, standing alone. His fingers throbbed and that fancy word “scoundrel” burned in his mind – formal parlance never used by the common peasant folk, making it cut all the deeper. But his lascivious “women…” thoughts from moments before had utterly vanished amid the explosive turmoil. Indeed, the violent outburst seemed to bring that whole distressing episode to a close, oddly leaving Ah Q with a sense of relief and unburdened calm. So he simply set to husking again, stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes as he worked up a fresh sweat in the stuffy shed.

It was while disrobing that he first heard the commotion echoing from outside. Ever the poster child for idle curiosity, Ah Q went to sate his rubberneck urges. He traced the ruckus to the Zhaos’ inner courtyard where, by the dim light, he made out a crowd of figures including the lady of the manor who had starved herself for two days, the loquacious neighbor Mrs. Zhou, and the Zhao family’s stern patriarch and heir Baiyan and Sichen.

At the heart of the furious drama was the young mistress, practically dragging the hapless maid Wu Ma out from a side room, chastising her:

“Out here where we can see you… don’t go hiding away dwelling on whatever notions are running through that head of yours!”

“Anyone with eyes can see your virtue is beyond reproach,” Mrs. Zhou clucked supportively from the sidelines.

But poor Wu Ma could only respond with muffled sobs and gibberish.

Here is the continuation of the translation:

“Hah, what fresh mischief has this poor widow found herself embroiled in now?” Ah Q wondered, edging closer to eavesdrop near Sichen. But that’s when he caught sight of Daye, bamboo rod gripped menacingly, storming towards him again. The mere sight of that rod instantly reminded Ah Q of his recent thrashing. Clearly this entire ruckus was related to his perceived transgression with Wu Ma. He spun and bolted towards the husking shed, but Daye cut him off with the bamboo rod. Ah Q pivoted and fled blindly in another direction, soon finding himself outside the back gate in the grounds of the local earth god’s shrine.

He sat for a spell, goosebumps rising on his bare skin in the lingering night chill of early spring, regretting leaving his clothes behind at the Zhaos’. But he dared not go retrieve them for fear of further reprisals from their young scholarly scion and his bamboo rod of justice. Just then, the local constable strode into the shrine grounds.

“You whoreson Ah Q! Trying to seduce the hired help at the Zhaos’ manor, practically rebelling against the natural order!” the constable roared. “Made me lose a whole night’s sleep dealing with your lecherous misdeeds, you bastard!”

And so he carried on, lecturing and excoriating the shamed Ah Q, who naturally had no defense to offer. Finally, since it was well into the night requiring double the fee, but Ah Q being penniless, the constable demanded his felt hat as a pawn. He also imposed five stern conditions:

1. Come morning light, Ah Q must present himself at the Zhaos’ manor with a pair of thick red candles and a large bundle of incense to atone for his trespasses.

2. He would pay from his own meager funds for the Zhaos to hire a Taoist priest to exorcise any evil spirits and purify the manor after his unforgivable acts.

3. From that day forth, he could never again set foot on Zhao property, on pain of severe reprisal.

4. Should any further misfortune or harm befall poor Wu Ma in the future, Ah Q alone would bear full culpability.

5. Finally, he forfeited any claim on wages still owed or belongings still at the Zhaos’ manor.

With no funds or alternative, the hapless Ah Q could only agree to these draconian terms. Luckily it was already spring, so he could pawn his heavy cotton quilt for 2,000 measly cash to satisfy the oppressive penalties. After baring his chest to kowtow in full abject apology, he even had a few paltry coins left over to get blisteringly drunk, rather than redeem his hat.

As for the Zhaos, they never did burn those candles and incense, instead saving them for the lady’s Buddhist altars and observances. The torn and tattered clothes Ah Q left behind were put to use as well – half went towards making diapers for the child the young Zhao mistress birthed that August, while the remaining bare scraps were recycled as soles for new shoes for poor Wu Ma herself.

Chapter Five

The Quest for a Livelihood

Post the ceremony, Ah Q made his way back to the Earth and Valley Temple. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he sensed an unusual shift in the atmosphere. Upon reflection, he identified the cause: his bare chest. Remembering his torn jacket, he draped it over his shoulders and reclined. Upon waking, he found the sun’s rays once again warming the western wall. He sat up, muttering under his breath, “Damn it…”

He resumed his aimless wandering, the discomfort of his previous state of undress now absent, yet an odd sensation lingered. It seemed that from that day on, the women of Weizhuang had adopted a newfound modesty, hiding from view at his approach. Even Sister Zou, nearing fifty, joined the others in retreat, pulling her eleven-year-old daughter indoors with her. Ah Q found this behavior quite peculiar and mused, “These women have suddenly started to act like young ladies. These harlots…”

Yet, the true oddity unfolded days later. First, the tavern ceased extending credit; second, the elderly caretaker of the Earth and Valley Temple hinted at his departure with vague words; third, despite his inability to keep track of the days, it had been an extended period since anyone had sought his labor for odd jobs. The tavern’s refusal to lend was bearable; the old man’s insistence on his departure was a minor annoyance; but the lack of work was a hunger-inducing predicament, a truly “damn it” situation.

Unable to endure his hunger any longer, Ah Q decided to inquire at the homes of his regular patrons—except for the Zhao residence, where he was forbidden to enter. Yet, the responses were uniformly unwelcoming: a man would emerge, displaying a look of clear irritation, and dismiss Ah Q with a wave of his hand as one would a beggar, “Nothing for you here! Be on your way!”

Ah Q was baffled. He knew these families had always relied on his help, and it seemed unlikely that they would suddenly have no need for his services. There must be some hidden reason for this change. Upon investigation, he discovered that they had all turned to a young man named Xiao Don for assistance. This Xiao D, a poor and frail boy whom Ah Q had previously considered beneath him, had somehow taken his job. This revelation fueled Ah Q’s anger like never before. As he stormed along, he suddenly flung out his arm and shouted, “I’ll take you down with my steel whip…”

Several days later, fate brought him face to face with Xiao D in front of the Qian family’s screen wall. “Foes recognize each other with heightened clarity,” and Ah Q wasted no time in confronting him. Xiao D stood his ground.

“Vile creature!” Ah Q spat, his anger evident in his glare and the spittle flying from his mouth.

“Am I but a lowly worm, then?” Xiao D retorted with a show of humility that only served to further infuriate Ah Q. With no steel whip in hand, Ah Q lunged forward, attempting to grab Xiao D’s queue. Xiao D defended his queue with one hand while reaching for Ah Q’s with the other. Ah Q mirrored the action with his free hand. Once, Ah Q would have dismissed Xiao D as insignificant, but recent hardships had left him as thin and weak as his rival, resulting in a stalemate. For what felt like half an hour, the two men grappled, each trying to outdo the other, their forms casting a blue arc against the Qian family’s whitewashed wall.

“Enough, enough!” cried the onlookers, perhaps in an attempt to intervene.

“Good, good!” others chimed in, their intentions unclear—whether to encourage, praise, or incite further.

But the two men paid them no heed. Ah Q advanced, and Xiao D retreated; Xiao D advanced, and Ah Q retreated. After what seemed like half an hour—or perhaps twenty minutes, as the village lacked a self-striking clock to mark the time—their heads began to smoke and their brows to sweat. At the same moment, both men released their grip, stood upright, and stepped back, parting the crowd and retreating from the scene.

“Remember this, damn it…” Ah Q called over his shoulder as he left.

“Damn it, remember this…” Xiao D echoed as he too walked away.

The so-called “battle of the beasts” ended in a draw, with no clear winner or loser. The spectators offered no commentary, seemingly unsatisfied, while Ah Q found himself still without work.

One mild day, with a gentle breeze that hinted at the onset of summer, Ah Q felt a chill despite the warmth. But it was the gnawing hunger that concerned him most. His cotton quilt, felt hat, and cloth shirt were gone, followed by the sale of his cotton coat. His trousers were all he had left, and his tattered jacket was of no value except to a cobbler. He had hoped to find a lost purse on the road or stumble upon hidden treasure in his dilapidated home, but his hopes were in vain. With no other options, Ah Q resolved to seek sustenance elsewhere.

As he set out, he passed familiar sights—the tavern, the steamed buns—but his focus was not on these. He was searching for something else, though he wasn’t quite sure what. Weizhuang was not a large place, and soon he found himself at the edge of the village. Beyond lay fields of rice, their vibrant green punctuated by the dark, moving figures of farmers at work. Ah Q paid no heed to this pastoral scene, for he knew it held no answer to his quest for food. Eventually, he found himself outside the walls of the Jingxiu Temple.

The temple was surrounded by more rice fields, its pink walls standing out against the fresh greenery, with a vegetable garden nestled behind a low earthen wall. After a moment’s hesitation and a scan of his surroundings to ensure he was alone, Ah Q hoisted himself over the wall, using the roots of the Polygonum multiflorum to aid his climb. But as he did so, the soil crumbled beneath his feet, and his legs trembled with the effort. Finally, he managed to grasp a mulberry branch and swung himself over the wall. Inside, the garden was lush, but it seemed to offer no food or drink. A bamboo grove stood by the western wall, its shoots tantalizingly out of reach, and the vegetables were either too mature or not yet ripe.

Feeling as wronged as a scholar who had failed his exams, Ah Q approached the garden gate, only to be startled by the sudden appearance of a round head, which quickly retreated—it was a young nun. Nuns, Ah Q had always considered insignificant, but he reminded himself that one must sometimes take a step back and reconsider. With that in mind, he hastily pulled up four radishes, discarded their leaves, and tucked them into his robe. But just then, the old nun emerged from the gate.

“Amitabha, Ah Q, how could you trespass and steal radishes?… Oh, what a sin, alas, Amitabha!…”

“Who says I trespassed to steal radishes?” Ah Q retorted, even as he began to back away.

“Right now… aren’t those in your robe?” the old nun accused, pointing to his robe.

“Are they yours? Can you call them and have them answer? You…”

Before Ah Q could finish, he turned and fled, pursued by a large black dog that had appeared from the front of the temple. The dog growled and chased him, nearly nipping at Ah Q’s heels, but a radish fell from his robe, causing the dog to pause just long enough for Ah Q to clamber up the mulberry tree, leap over the wall, and roll out of the garden with both himself and the radishes. The black dog continued to bark at the tree, while the old nun chanted her prayers.

Fearing the nun might release the dog again, Ah Q quickly gathered the radishes and continued on his way, picking up a few small stones as he went. But the dog did not reappear, and Ah Q discarded the stones, eating as he walked and contemplating his next move. There was nothing left for him here; perhaps it was time to venture into the city…

By the time he finished the three radishes, Ah Q had made up his mind to head into the city.As he stood at the edge of the village, the familiar sights of the tavern and steamed buns no longer held any allure for him. His focus was on the unknown, on the sustenance he sought that was not to be found in the comfort of the familiar. The fields of rice stretched out before him, the vibrant green of new growth dotted with the dark, moving silhouettes of farmers tending to their crops. But for Ah Q, there was no solace in the bucolic scene; it held no promise of the nourishment he desperately needed.

His journey led him to the periphery of Weizhuang, a small hamlet that offered no respite for his hunger. The Jingxiu Temple, with its pink walls and tranquil gardens, was a place of peace for others, but for Ah Q, it was a last resort. Overcoming the low wall, he found himself in a world of lush vegetation, yet it was a world that offered no immediate relief from his hunger. The bamboo shoots were tantalizingly out of reach, the vegetables either past their prime or not yet ready for harvest.

A sense of injustice washed over him, akin to the frustration of a scholar who has failed his exams. As he neared the garden gate, he was startled by the sudden appearance of a young nun, whose head popped out then quickly retreated. In that moment, he spotted a row of mature radishes, and in a flash, he pulled up four, discarding their leaves and tucking them into his robe. But his action did not go unnoticed.

The old nun emerged, her voice a mix of shock and piety as she accused him of thievery. “Amitabha, Ah Q, how could you trespass and steal radishes?… Oh, what a sin, alas, Amitabha!…”

Ah Q, in his defense, questioned the ownership of the radishes, challenging the old nun’s claim. But his words were cut short by the appearance of a large black dog, which had been lounging at the front of the temple and now pursued him with fierce determination. The chase was on, and as the dog almost caught up, a radish fell from Ah Q’s robe, causing the animal to pause. Seizing the moment, Ah Q scrambled up a mulberry tree, leaped over the wall, and tumbled out of the garden with both himself and the radishes, leaving the black dog to bark at the tree and the old nun to chant.

With the radishes in hand, Ah Q hurried away, picking up stones as he went, ready to defend himself should the dog return. But the dog did not follow, and Ah Q, discarding the stones, began to eat as he walked, mulling over his next move. The village had nothing more to offer him; it was time to seek his fortune in the city.

As the last radish was consumed, the decision was made. Ah Q would venture into the city, hoping to find the sustenance and the life he could not find in Weizhuang. With each step, he left behind the familiar and embraced the unknown, his resolve as firm as the road beneath his feet.

Chapter Six

The Rise and Fall of Ah Q

When Ah Q reappeared in Weizhuang just after the Mid-Autumn Festival, the villagers were astonished. His return sparked a flurry of questions about his recent whereabouts. Unlike his previous trips to the city, which he had boasted about, this time he was silent, and thus, he went largely unnoticed. He may have mentioned his travels to the old man in charge of the Tugu Temple, but according to village customs, only the visits of the esteemed Master Zhao, Master Qian, and the scholar were considered noteworthy. The “pseudo-foreigner” was not even a blip on the radar, and Ah Q was even less significant. Consequently, the old man saw no need to broadcast Ah Q’s movements, and the village remained largely unaware of his comings and goings.

However, Ah Q’s return this time was a stark contrast to his previous ones, and it was indeed a cause for wonder. As dusk approached, he appeared drowsy-eyed in front of the tavern, striding up to the counter and producing a handful of silver and copper coins, which he tossed onto the counter with a flourish, declaring, “Cash! Serve me some wine!” He was dressed in a new jacket, and from his waist hung a substantial pouch, its weight pulling the belt into a pronounced curve. In Weizhuang, it was customary to treat anyone with a hint of prominence with a measure of respect, even if it was Ah Q. The villagers, recognizing the transformation from his usual tattered attire, were reminded of the old adage, “One should view a scholar with new respect after three days apart.” Thus, the tavern’s staff, the owner, the patrons, and even passersby exhibited a blend of skepticism and reverence. The tavern owner, leading with a nod, followed with a conversation:

“Ah, Ah Q, you’ve returned!”

“I have.”

“Congratulations on your prosperity. You’ve been to…”

“The city!”

This news quickly swept through the entire village the following day. Everyone was keen to learn about Ah Q’s sudden rise to wealth, as evidenced by his cash and new jacket. Gradually, through conversations in the tavern, the teahouse, and under the temple eaves, the story emerged. As a result, Ah Q found himself the recipient of newfound respect.

According to Ah Q, he had been assisting a distinguished scholar in his household. This revelation commanded respect from all who listened. The scholar, known simply as “Master Bai” due to his unique status as the only such individual in the city, was a figure of considerable esteem. To have been in service in his household was a mark of honor. However, Ah Q claimed that he no longer wished to continue this work, finding the scholar to be excessively “motherly.” This confession elicited a mixture of sighs and satisfaction from the villagers, who felt that while Ah Q was unworthy of such service, his departure was a loss.

Ah Q also expressed his dissatisfaction with the city’s inhabitants, who referred to long benches as “strip benches” and garnished fried fish with green onions. He criticized the women’s walking style as lacking grace but admitted that there were aspects of city life that impressed him, such as the city dwellers’ adeptness at playing card games, even the children mastering the game of “Mahjong” with ease. Any “pseudo-foreigner” placed in the hands of a city child would be no match, as Ah Q colorfully put it, “a small ghost before the king of hell.” This comparison left the villagers feeling somewhat embarrassed.

“Have you ever witnessed an execution?” Ah Q asked, “Ah, it’s quite a spectacle. Beheading revolutionaries. Ah, it’s a sight to behold…” He shook his head, inadvertently flicking spit onto Zhao Sichen’s face. This caused a collective shiver among the listeners. But then Ah Q, glancing around, suddenly raised his hand and struck a chopping motion towards the nape of Wang Hu’s neck, who was intently listening:

“Chop!”

Wang Hu leaped in fright, retracting his neck with lightning speed, while the onlookers reacted with a mix of horror and amusement. From that moment on, Wang Hu became timid and avoided Ah Q, as did the others.

In the eyes of the villagers, Ah Q’s status, while not surpassing that of Master Zhao, was now considered nearly equal. It wasn’t long before Ah Q’s name spread to the women’s quarters of the village, a remarkable feat given that only two surnames, Qian and Zhao, represented the wealthier households, with the majority being more modest. Yet, the inner quarters held a certain allure, and the women would excitedly discuss how Sister Zou had purchased a blue silk skirt from Ah Q, albeit used but for a mere ninety cents. Similarly, the mother of Zhao Baiyan (or possibly Zhao Sichen’s mother, the details were unclear) had acquired a nearly new red foreign yarn shirt for a child, for a mere three hundred and ninety-two strings of large money. This sparked a desire among the women to meet Ah Q, to inquire about purchasing silk skirts or foreign yarn shirts from him. They no longer shied away from him; instead, they would even call out to him after he had passed, asking:

“Ah Q, do you have any more silk skirts? If not, a foreign yarn shirt would do, do you have one?”

This excitement eventually reached the wealthier households, as Sister Zou, in her pride, showed off her silk skirt to Mrs. Zhao, who then shared the news with Master Zhao and lavished praise upon it. Master Zhao, during dinner, discussed with the scholar the peculiarities of Ah Q, suggesting that they should be cautious with their doors and windows. However, they also wondered if there might be more items of interest to purchase from him. Mrs. Zhao, in particular, was interested in acquiring an affordable yet quality leather vest. The family decided to entrust Sister Zou with the task of seeking out Ah Q, and for this purpose, they made a special exception to the usual rules: they allowed the lighting of an oil lamp that evening.

The oil lamp had burned for some time, yet Ah Q had not arrived. The Zhao household was growing anxious, yawning and grumbling about Ah Q’s unreliability or blaming Sister Zou for her lack of urgency. Mrs. Zhao worried that Ah Q might be hesitant to come due to the conditions of spring, but Master Zhao dismissed these concerns, confident that Ah Q would come since “I” had summoned him. Indeed, Master Zhao’s foresight proved correct, as Ah Q eventually arrived with Sister Zou.

“He kept saying there’s nothing left, but I told him to speak for himself, and he still insisted, so I said…” Sister Zou panted, recounting her efforts.

“Master Zhao!” Ah Q called out with a half-smile, stopping beneath the eaves.

“Ah Q, I’ve heard you’ve struck it rich out there,” Master Zhao remarked, eyeing Ah Q’s attire. “That’s excellent, truly excellent. I’ve heard you have some old items… perhaps you could bring them by for a look… It’s not for anything else, but I’m genuinely interested…”

“I’ve already told Sister Zou. It’s all gone.”

“Gone?” Master Zhao exclaimed in disbelief. “How could it be gone so quickly?”

“It belonged to a friend, and there wasn’t much to begin with. They bought some…”

“There must be something left.”

“All that remains is a door curtain.”

“Then, bring the curtain to have a look,” Mrs. Zhao urged.

“I’ll bring it tomorrow,” Ah Q replied nonchalantly, much to Master Zhao’s disappointment. “Ah Q, when you come across anything in the future, do bring it to us first to see…”

“The price will certainly not be less than what others would offer!” the scholar interjected. The scholar’s wife quickly glanced at Ah Q to gauge his reaction.

“I need a leather vest,” Mrs. Zhao added.

Ah Q agreed, but he left with a lack of enthusiasm, leaving the Zhao family uncertain of his sincerity. This caused Master Zhao great disappointment and concern, even causing him to cease his yawning. The scholar was also displeased with Ah Q’s indifferent attitude, suggesting that they should be wary of him and perhaps even instruct the local authorities to prevent him from residing in Weizhuang. However, Master Zhao disagreed, fearing it might lead to resentment and believing that those in Ah Q’s line of work typically do not “prey on their own doorstep.” He assured them that their village was safe and that they only needed to be more vigilant at night. The scholar, convinced by this “family lesson,” immediately retracted his suggestion to drive Ah Q away and instructed Sister Zou not to mention their conversation to anyone.

The following day, Sister Zou dyed her blue skirt black and spread rumors about Ah Q’s dubious activities, omitting the scholar’s proposal to expel him. However, this was already detrimental to Ah Q. The local authorities were the first to act, confiscating his door curtain under the pretense that Mrs. Zhao wished to see it. They refused to return it and demanded a monthly tribute. The villagers’ respect for Ah Q then shifted to a more distant and cautious stance, though they did not dare to act rudely. Their behavior towards him was now one of avoidance, a marked contrast to the previous fear of his “chop” gesture. This change in attitude was mixed with a sense of “respectful distance,” different from the earlier wariness.

Only a group of idle villagers remained curious about Ah Q’s background. Ah Q was unashamed, proudly sharing his experiences. It was then that they learned he was merely a small-time accomplice, incapable of scaling walls or entering hideouts, relegated to receiving items outside the hideout. One night, after receiving a package, he was about to re-enter when an uproar broke out inside. He fled immediately, scrambling out of the city and returning to Weizhuang, vowing never to engage in such activities again. However, this revelation further damaged Ah Q’s reputation. The villagers, who had previously kept their distance out of fear of offending him, now saw him as a thief who no longer dared to steal, leading to a sentiment of “there’s no need to fear him either.”

Chapter Seven

Revolution

On the fourteenth of the ninth lunar month during the reign of Emperor Xuantong—also the day when Ah Q traded his tunic to Zhao Baiyan—a large thatched boat stealthily made its way to the Zhao estate’s riverside dock at the fourth watch of the night. The vessel’s approach from the gloom was undetected by the slumbering villagers; yet, as it slipped away near the break of dawn, a handful of eyes were privy to its departure. Through the subtle inquiries of the curious, it was revealed that the boat belonged to none other than a respected imperial scholar.

The boat brought a palpable disquiet to Weizhuang, and by noon, the village was abuzz with anxiety. The boat’s errand was a secret closely held by the Zhao family, but the chatter in the tea houses and taverns was that the revolutionaries were on the brink of entering the city, and the scholar-official had fled to our village for sanctuary. Only Sister Zou demurred, suggesting it was merely a few tattered trunks the scholar-official intended to leave in the Zhaos’ care, but had been politely declined by Master Zhao. Given the longstanding discord between the scholar-official and Zhao Xiucai, the Zhao family’s scholar, it was unlikely they shared a bond of camaraderie in adversity. As Sister Zou, being a neighbor with a close vantage point, her insights were likely more accurate.

Rumors, however, thrived, suggesting that despite his apparent absence, the scholar-official had sent a lengthy letter, forging a “circuitous kinship” with the Zhao family. After some internal debate, Master Zhao concluded that there could be no harm in retaining the trunks, which were now concealed beneath his wife’s bed. As for the revolutionaries, it was whispered that they had stealthily entered the city that very night, clad in white helmets and armor as a tribute to the deceased Emperor Chongzhen.

Ah Q had heard the term “revolutionary” bandied about and had even witnessed the execution of one this year. Yet, he clung to a belief, the source of which he could not identify, that revolutionaries were rebels, and rebels were his adversaries. Consequently, he had always harbored a “deep loathing and detestation” for them. To his astonishment, this very perception had struck fear into the heart of the illustrious scholar-official, a man renowned for miles around, which stirred a sense of “wonder” within Ah Q. Moreover, the consternation etched on the faces of the men and women of Weizhuang only served to amplify Ah Q’s gratification.

“A revolution might not be such a bad thing,” Ah Q mused to himself. “To topple these despicable and hateful individuals would be utterly satisfying. Even I am inclined to side with the revolutionaries.”

Of late, Ah Q had found himself in somewhat straitened circumstances, which had left him with a hint of resentment. Coupled with the two bowls of liquor he had consumed on an empty stomach at midday, he was feeling the effects of the alcohol more swiftly. As he mused and meandered, a giddy sensation overcame him. In a moment of whimsy, he imagined himself as a revolutionary, with the people of Weizhuang as his captives. Buoyed by this fantasy, he couldn’t help but exclaim with gusto:

“Rebellion! Rebellion!”

The residents of Weizhuang regarded him with a mixture of terror and astonishment. This look of abject fear was something new to Ah Q, and it was as refreshing to him as a sip of snowmelt on a hot summer’s day. With a surge of elation, he strode forward, his shouts growing increasingly jubilant:

“Splendid, … I shall have whatever I please, and I shall favor whomever I choose.

Didi, qiangqiang!

How I regret, in my drunken folly, having mistakenly executed Brother Zheng.

Regrettably, ya ya ya…

Didi, qiangqiang, didi, qianglingqiang!

I wield a steel whip to strike you down…”

Two men from the Zhao household and two of their blood relatives were engaged in a discussion about the revolution at the main gate. Ah Q, oblivious, strode past them, singing with his head held high.

“Didi,…”

“Old Q,” Zhao Taigong greeted him timidly in a hushed tone.

“Qiangqiang,” Ah Q, not expecting his name to be prefixed with “old,” thought it was an unrelated remark and continued his song. “Didi, qiang, qianglingqiang, qiang!”

“Old Q.”

“Regrettably…”

“Ah Q!” the scholar had to call him by his name directly.

Ah Q halted, tilting his head, and inquired, “What is it?”

“Old Q, … at present…” Zhao Taigong faltered, “are you prospering?”

“Prospering? Naturally. I can have whatever I want…”

“Ah… Q brother, for us, poor friends like us, it’s of no great consequence…” Zhao Baiyan spoke cautiously, as if probing for the revolutionary party’s stance.

“Poor friends? You’re always wealthier than I am,” Ah Q retorted and walked away.

Everyone was left speechless, and Zhao Taigong and his son returned home to discuss matters until the lamps were lit. Zhao Baiyan, upon returning home, removed the cloth bag from his waist and handed it to his wife to hide at the bottom of the chest.

Ah Q, feeling a light-hearted elation, floated back to the Tugu Temple. By the time he arrived, the effects of the alcohol had worn off. That night, the elderly keeper of the temple was uncharacteristically kind and offered him tea. Ah Q then asked for two cakes, and after eating, he also requested a four-tael candle that had been lit and a tree candlestick. He lit it and lay alone in his small room, feeling an indescribable sense of novelty and joy. The candle flickered like on the night of the Lantern Festival, and his thoughts also began to leap:

“Rebellion? How intriguing, … a group of revolutionaries in white helmets and armor, all armed with swords, steel whips, bombs, foreign cannons, tridents, and sickle-pole spears, passed by the Tugu Temple, calling out: ‘Ah Q! Join us, join us!’ And so we went together…

“At that time, the crowd of men and women in Weizhuang would be quite amusing, kneeling and begging: ‘Ah Q, spare our lives!’ Who would listen! The first to die would be Xiao D, Zhao Taigong, the scholar, and the fake foreign devil… How many to spare? Wang Hu could have been spared, but not anymore…

“Things… I would go straight in and open the boxes; gold ingots, foreign money, foreign shirts… First, move the scholar’s wife’s Ning-style bed to the Tugu Temple, and then arrange the Qian family’s tables and chairs there—perhaps Zhao’s family’s instead. I won’t do it myself, I’ll have Xiao D move it, and if he doesn’t move it quickly, I’ll slap him…

“Zhao Sichen’s sister is really ugly. Sister Zou’s daughter can be considered in a few years. The wife of the fake foreign devil sleeps with men without queues, shudder, not a good thing! The scholar’s wife has a scar on her eyelid… I haven’t seen Wu Ma for a long time, I don’t know where she is—what a pity, her feet are too big.”

Ah Q hadn’t thought it all out when he had already started snoring. The four-tael candle had only burned a small half-inch, and the red flame illuminated his open mouth.

“Hehe!” Ah Q suddenly shouted, raising his head and looking around in a panic. When he saw the four-tael candle, he lay down and went back to sleep.

The next day, he woke up very late and went out to the street. Everything was the same as before. He was still hungry, and he couldn’t think of anything; but suddenly, as if he had an idea, he slowly walked, intentionally or unintentionally, to the Jingxiu Temple.

The temple was as quiet as in spring, with white walls and a pitch-black door. He thought for a moment, then went to knock on the door, and a dog barked inside. He hurriedly picked up a few broken bricks and knocked again more forcefully, hitting the black door until it was full of many spots, and only then did someone come to open the door.

Ah Q quickly clenched the bricks, took a horse stance, and prepared to fight the black dog. But the temple door only opened a crack, and no black dog rushed out. Looking inside, there was only an old nun.

“What’s the matter with you coming again?” She said in great surprise.

“The revolution… do you know?…” Ah Q spoke very vaguely.

“Revolution, revolution, we’ve had a revolution before… What do you want to revolutionize us into?” The old nun said with bloodshot eyes.

“What?…” Ah Q was astonished.

“You don’t know, they’ve already come and revolutionized!”

“Who?…” Ah Q was even more astonished.

“The scholar and the foreign devil!”

Ah Q was quite surprised and couldn’t help but be taken aback. Seeing that he had lost his edge, the old nun quickly closed the door. When Ah Q pushed again, it was firmly shut, and when he knocked again, there was no response.

That was in the morning. Zhao the scholar was well-informed and as soon as he knew that the revolutionaries had entered the city at night, he coiled his queue on top of his head and went to visit the foreign devil Qian, who he had never gotten along with before. This was the time of “joining the new,” so they talked very well and immediately became like-minded comrades, also agreeing to go to the revolution together. They thought and thought: they finally thought of a “Long Live the Emperor for ten thousand years” dragon tablet in the Jingxiu Temple that should be quickly revolutionized, so they immediately went to the temple to start the revolution. Because the old nun blocked them and said three words, they took her as the Qing government and gave her a lot of sticks and chestnuts on the head. After they left, the nun calmed down and checked, and the dragon tablet was naturally broken on the ground, and moreover, a Xuande stove in front of the Guanyin Bodhisattva was missing.

Ah Q only found out about this later. He regretted falling asleep very much, but he also deeply blamed them for not inviting him. He took a step back and thought:

“Could it be that they still don’t know that I have already surrendered to the revolutionary party?”

Chapter Eight

The Unpermitted Revolution

The tranquility of Weizhuang’s populace grew day by day. News filtered through that the revolutionaries had entered the city, yet there was no dramatic shift in the order of things. The county magistrate retained his post, albeit with a new title that eluded the residents of Weizhuang. The military leadership remained unchanged, with the old general still at the helm. The only disquieting element was the presence of a few disruptive revolutionaries who began cutting off queues the following day. It was rumored that a boatman from a neighboring village, known as Seven Jin, had fallen victim to this, leaving him in quite a state. However, this did not incite widespread fear, as the people of Weizhuang seldom ventured into the city, and any who considered doing so promptly reconsidered, thus avoiding the danger.

Ah Q had thought about venturing into the city to seek out an old acquaintance, but upon hearing the news, he abandoned the idea.

Yet, Weizhuang was not immune to change. Over the next few days, the number of individuals sporting their queues coiled atop their heads began to increase. As previously noted, the trend was spearheaded by Mr. Mao, followed by Zhao Sichen and Zhao Baiyan, with Ah Q joining their ranks. While it was not unusual to see such hairstyles during the summer months, the onset of late autumn made this fashion statement a daring one, indicative of a bold decision by the wearers and reflective of the reformative spirit sweeping through Weizhuang.

Zhao Sichen, his queue now absent from the back of his head, strolled by, prompting onlookers to exclaim, “Ah, the revolutionaries are upon us!”

Ah Q, hearing this, felt a twinge of envy. Although he was already aware of the scholar’s new hairstyle, he had not considered that he himself could adopt it until he saw Zhao Sichen doing so. Inspired, he resolved to emulate the style, using a bamboo chopstick to secure his queue atop his head. After much hesitation, he ventured forth with newfound confidence.

As he walked the streets, he drew glances but no comments, which initially irked Ah Q. Over time, he grew increasingly resentful. His life had not become more challenging since the revolution, and he was treated with a degree of respect. Yet, Ah Q felt a profound sense of disappointment, believing that the aftermath of a revolution should yield more significant changes. His frustration only intensified upon encountering Xiao D, who further fueled his ire.

Xiao D, too, had taken to wearing his queue coiled on his head, even using a bamboo chopstick for the purpose. Ah Q was taken aback, having never expected that Xiao D would dare to adopt such a style, and he was determined not to allow it. In Ah Q’s view, Xiao D was beneath such an act of defiance. He longed to confront Xiao D, to break his chopstick, release his queue, and chastise him for his audacity. However, he ultimately held back, opting instead to express his disdain with a scornful look and a spit, “Pah!”

In the days that followed, only a single “pseudo-foreigner” ventured into the city. Zhao Xiucai, who had considered visiting the imperial examination candidate to leverage their shared history of storing boxes, was deterred by the risk of having his queue cut off and thus abandoned the idea. Instead, he penned a letter in the “yellow umbrella format” and entrusted it to the pseudo-foreigner, along with a request for an introduction to the Freedom Party. Upon the pseudo-foreigner’s return, he claimed four foreign coins from Zhao Xiucai, who then sported a silver peach pendant on his robe. The people of Weizhuang were awestruck, believing it to be a symbol of the persimmon oil party, a status rivaling that of a Hanlin scholar. As a result, Zhao Taiye’s prestige soared, eclipsing the heights of his son’s early days as a distinguished scholar. He became so arrogant that he barely acknowledged Ah Q when they crossed paths.

Ah Q, already feeling aggrieved and neglected, believed he had discovered the source of his current predicament upon hearing about the silver peach: to be part of the revolution, mere surrender or adopting the fashion of coiled queues was insufficient. The key was to establish connections with the revolutionaries. The only revolutionaries he knew were one in the city, now deceased, and the remaining pseudo-foreigner. Seeing no alternative, Ah Q decided to seek counsel with the latter.

As he timidly entered the Qian residence, he was taken aback to find the pseudo-foreigner in the courtyard, dressed in dark, presumably foreign attire, with a silver peach hanging from his person and wielding a stick Ah Q had encountered before. His once lengthy queue was now loose and draped over his shoulders, giving him a disheveled appearance. Facing him were Zhao Baiyan and three onlookers, who listened with utmost respect.

Ah Q stealthily approached and positioned himself behind Zhao Baiyan, contemplating a greeting but unsure of the appropriate address. Referring to him as a pseudo-foreigner was out of the question, as were “foreigner” or “revolutionary.” Perhaps “Mr. Foreigner” would suffice.

Unbeknownst to Mr. Foreigner, who was deeply engrossed in his discourse, “I am impatient by nature, so when we meet, I always urge, ‘Brother Hong, let’s take action!’ But he invariably responds with ‘No!’ — a foreign word, beyond your comprehension. Had he agreed, our cause would have already succeeded. Yet, this is a testament to his cautious approach. He has repeatedly invited me to Hubei, but I have yet to accept. Who would want to be confined to such a small county town…”

“Ah, this…” Ah Q, seizing a pause in the conversation, mustered the courage to speak, though for some reason, he did not address him as “Mr. Foreigner.”

The four listeners turned around in surprise, and Mr. Foreigner finally noticed Ah Q’s presence, “What?”

“I…”

“Out with you!”

“I wish to join…”

“Get out of here!”

Mr. Foreigner brandished his staff, prompting Zhao Baiyan and the others to chorus, “The gentleman has ordered you to leave; do you not hear?”

Ah Q raised his hand to shield his head and fled the scene, with Mr. Foreigner making no attempt to follow. After running some sixty paces, he slowed to a walk, and a profound sense of melancholy washed over him. Mr. Foreigner’s refusal to allow his participation in the revolution left him without a path forward. The prospect of being summoned by someone in white armor was now a distant dream, and all his ambitions, aspirations, hopes, and future prospects had been dashed. The ridicule he would face from Xiao D, Wang Hu, and others was a secondary concern.

He had never experienced such a profound sense of aimlessness. Even his coiled queue, once a symbol of defiance, now seemed meaningless to him, a target for ridicule. In a bid for retribution, he contemplated releasing his queue but ultimately decided against it. As night fell, he indulged in two bowls of wine on credit, which gradually lifted his spirits and brought fleeting visions of white armor to his mind.

One night, as was his custom, he tarried until the tavern was on the verge of closing before making his way back to the Tugu Temple.

Thud, bang—!

A peculiar sound reached his ears, distinct from the crackle of firecrackers. Ah Q, ever the spectator and meddler, stealthily made his way toward the source of the noise. He could hear footsteps ahead and, as he listened intently, a figure suddenly emerged from the shadows, running away. Without hesitation, Ah Q turned and pursued. The person took a turn, and so did Ah Q. Once they had turned, the figure halted, and so did Ah Q. Seeing no immediate threat, he recognized the person as Xiao D.

“What’s going on?” Ah Q demanded, indignation rising within him.

“Zhao… The Zhao family has been robbed!” Xiao D panted, out of breath.

Ah Q’s heart raced at the news. Xiao D continued on his way, while Ah Q, after a moment’s hesitation, decided to investigate further. He strained to listen and heard a commotion, and upon closer inspection, he saw figures in white helmets and armor carrying out boxes, utensils, and even the scholar’s wife’s Ning-style bed, although the scene was not entirely clear. Despite his initial impulse, he decided against approaching any closer and instead retreated to the solitude of his temple.

Inside the Tugu Temple, it was even darker; he secured the main gate and felt his way into his own room. After lying down for a while, he finally calmed his nerves and began to ponder his own thoughts: the people in white armor had clearly arrived, yet they did not come to greet him, and they carried away many valuables without any share for him—this was all due to the detestable pseudo-foreigner, who forbade him from rebelling. Otherwise, how could he have been left out this time? The more Ah Q thought about it, the angrier he became. Eventually, he could not help but harbor deep resentment, nodding his head viciously: “You forbid me to rebel, yet you are allowed to? Damn you, pseudo-foreigner—fine, go ahead and rebel! Rebellion is a crime punishable by beheading. I will surely file a complaint and see you arrested and beheaded by the county authorities—executed along with your entire family—Chop! Chop!”

Chapter Nine

The Grand Reunion

After the Zhao family was robbed, the people of Weizhuang felt a mix of satisfaction and panic, and so did Ah Q. But four days later, in the dead of night, Ah Q was suddenly arrested and taken to the county town. It was a dark night when a troop of soldiers, a group of local militia, a team of police officers, and five detectives quietly arrived at Weizhuang, surrounded the Tugu Temple in the dim light, and set up a machine gun directly in front of the gate. However, Ah Q did not make a dash for it. After a long period of silence, the commander became anxious and offered a reward of twenty thousand coins, which only then prompted two militiamen to take the risk, climb over the wall, and storm the temple, capturing Ah Q with a coordinated effort. It was not until he was taken out of the temple and near the machine gun that he began to regain his senses.

Upon entering the city, it was noon, and Ah Q saw himself being led into a dilapidated government office. After turning through five or six bends, he was pushed into a small room. He had barely stumbled when the door, made from an entire piece of wood, closed behind him, and the other three sides were all walls. Upon closer inspection, he noticed two other people in the corner.

Although Ah Q was somewhat apprehensive, he was not very distressed because his bedroom in the Tugu Temple was not much better than this room. The two others, who seemed to be country folk, gradually struck up a conversation with him. One said that the imperial examination candidate wanted to collect the overdue rent owed by his grandfather, while the other did not know what he was there for. When they asked Ah Q, he readily replied, “Because I wanted to start a revolution.”

In the afternoon, he was taken out of the barred door again and brought to the main hall, where an old man with a completely shaved head sat above. Ah Q suspected he was a monk, but seeing a row of soldiers standing below and more than a dozen figures in long robes on both sides—some with their heads shaved like the old man, others with hair a foot long draped behind like the pseudo-foreigner—all with stern faces and glaring at him, he realized that this person must be someone of importance. His knees naturally relaxed, and he knelt down.

“Speak while standing! Do not kneel!” the figures in long robes shouted.

Ah Q seemed to understand but felt he could not stand firmly and involuntarily squatted down, eventually kneeling again.

“Slave-like!…” the figures in long robes said disdainfully, but they did not ask him to stand up.

“You should confess the truth to avoid suffering. I already know everything. Confessing will set you free,” the bald old man said calmly and clearly, looking at Ah Q’s face.

“Confess!” the figures in long robes also shouted loudly.

“I originally wanted… to join…” Ah Q thought in confusion for a while before speaking intermittently.

“So, why didn’t you come?” the old man asked kindly.

“The pseudo-foreigner didn’t allow me!”

“Nonsense! It’s too late to talk about it now. Where are your accomplices now?”

“What?…”

“The group of people who robbed the Zhao family that night.”

“They didn’t call me. They moved away by themselves.” Ah Q became indignant when he mentioned it.

“Where did they go? Tell me, and you’ll be set free,” the old man said even more kindly.

“I don’t know… they didn’t call me…”

However, the old man gave a signal, and Ah Q was taken back into the barred door. The second time he was taken out of the barred door was the next morning.

The situation in the hall remained the same. The bald old man still sat above, and Ah Q knelt as usual.

The old man asked kindly, “Do you have anything else to say?”

Ah Q thought for a moment and had nothing to say, so he replied, “No.”

Then a figure in a long robe took out a piece of paper and a pen and placed it in front of Ah Q, trying to put the pen in his hand. Ah Q was very surprised at this point, almost “frightened out of his wits”: this was the first time his hand had anything to do with a pen. He didn’t know how to hold it; the man pointed to a place and instructed him to make a mark.

“I… I… don’t know how to read,” Ah Q said, grabbing the pen, feeling frightened and ashamed.

“Then, it’s a good thing for you, just draw a circle!”

Ah Q was about to draw a circle. His hand holding the pen was trembling. So the man spread the paper on the ground for him. Ah Q bent down and exerted all his strength to draw a circle. He was afraid of being laughed at and was determined to draw it perfectly round, but the hateful pen was not only very heavy but also disobedient. Just as it trembled and almost closed, it suddenly jerked outward, resulting in a melon seed shape.

Ah Q was ashamed that he had not drawn a circle, but the man did not care and had already taken the paper and pen away. Many people then took him back into the barred door for the second time.

The second time he entered the barred door, he was not very upset. He thought that in the world, there might be times when one is captured and released, and sometimes one has to draw circles on paper. The only thing that troubled him was that the circle was not round, which was a stain on his “behavior.” But soon he felt at ease, thinking: Only a grandson could draw a perfectly round circle. So he fell asleep.

However, that night, the imperial examination candidate could not sleep: he had a quarrel with the commander. The candidate advocated for the first priority to be the recovery of stolen goods. The commander advocated for the first priority to be a public display. The commander had recently not taken the imperial examination candidate seriously, slamming the table and chairs, saying, “Punish one to warn a hundred! Look, I’ve been a revolutionary for less than twenty days, and there have been more than a dozen robberies, none of which have been solved. Where is my face? If the case is solved, you are still pedantic. No way! This is under my jurisdiction!” The imperial examination candidate was in a difficult position but insisted that if the stolen goods were not recovered, he would immediately resign from his position assisting with civil affairs. However, the commander said, “Please do!” So the imperial examination candidate did not sleep that night, but fortunately, he did not resign the next day.

The third time Ah Q was taken out of the barred door was the morning after the night when the imperial examination candidate could not sleep. He arrived at the main hall, where the usual bald old man still sat above; Ah Q also knelt as usual.

The old man asked kindly, “Do you have anything else to say?”

Ah Q thought for a moment and had nothing to say, so he replied, “No.”

Many figures in long and short robes suddenly dressed him in a white cotton vest with some black characters on it. Ah Q was very upset because it was like wearing mourning clothes, and wearing mourning clothes was considered unlucky. However, at the same time, his hands were tied behind his back, and he was immediately taken out of the government office.

Ah Q was lifted onto a cart without a canopy, and several figures in short robes also sat with him. The cart started moving immediately, with a group of soldiers and militia carrying foreign guns in front, and many onlookers with open mouths on both sides. Ah Q did not see what was behind him. But he suddenly realized: was this not going to be executed? He panicked, his eyes turned black, and there was a loud buzzing in his ears, as if he was about to faint. However, he did not faint. Sometimes he was anxious, but sometimes he was calm; in his mind, it seemed that in the world, there might be times when one inevitably has to be executed.

He still recognized the road and was somewhat surprised: why was he not heading towards the execution ground? He did not know that this was a parade, a public display. But even if he had known, he would have thought that in the world, there might be times when one inevitably has to parade and be publicly displayed.

He realized that this was the road leading to the execution ground, and he was definitely going to be “chopped” and executed. He looked around in a daze, surrounded by people like ants, and inadvertently spotted Wu Ma among the crowd on the side of the road. It had been a long time; she had been working in the city. Ah Q suddenly felt very ashamed that he had no ambition and had not sung a few lines of opera. His thoughts swirled like a whirlwind in his mind: “The Young Widow Visiting the Grave” was not grand enough, and “Regret Should Not…” from “Dragon and Tiger Fight” was too lacking. Instead, he decided on “I hold a steel whip to beat you.” He also wanted to raise his hand, only to remember that both of his hands were tied, so he did not sing “I hold a steel whip” either.

“After twenty years, another one will come…” In the midst of all the hustle and bustle, Ah Q, without any guidance, uttered half a sentence that he had never spoken before.

“Good!” From the crowd, a voice as harsh as a jackal’s howl emerged in approval.

The cart kept moving forward, and amidst the cheers, Ah Q turned his eyes to look at Wu Ma. It seemed as though she had never really seen him before, for she was simply engrossed in staring at the foreign rifles on the soldiers’ backs.

And so, Ah Q looked again at the cheering crowd.

In that fleeting moment, Ah Q’s thoughts swirled in his mind like a whirlwind. Four years prior, he had encountered a starving wolf at the foot of a mountain, which had followed him at a constant distance, intent on consuming his flesh. He had been so frightened then that he thought he was about to die, but luckily, he had a wood-chopping knife in his hand, which had bolstered his courage and enabled him to make it back to Weizhuang; yet he would forever remember the wolf’s eyes—ferocious yet timid, flickering like two ghostly flames, as if trying to penetrate his flesh from afar. And now, he saw even more terrifying eyes than he had ever seen before—dull yet sharp, which had not only chewed on his words but also seemed to want to chew on something beyond his flesh and blood, following him at an unchanging distance.

These eyes seemed to act in unison, already gnawing at his very soul.

“Help me…,”

However, Ah Q did not utter a word. His vision had already darkened, and with a buzzing in his ears, he felt as if his entire body had dispersed like dust.

As for the impact at that time, the greatest was actually on the imperial examination candidate’s family, as they were spared the pursuit of confiscated property, and the whole family wailed in grief. Next was the Zhao household, not only because the scholar had his queue cut off by the unruly revolutionaries when he went to the city to report to the authorities, but also because they had to pay a reward of twenty thousand coins, which led the whole family to wail as well. Since that day, they gradually began to exude the aura of the old guard.

As for public opinion, in Weizhuang there was no dispute; naturally, everyone said that Ah Q was bad, and his execution was proof of his wrongdoing. If he were not bad, how could he have been executed? However, the sentiment in the city was not as favorable. Most people were not satisfied, believing that an execution was not as entertaining as a beheading; moreover, what a ridiculous prisoner he was, having paraded through the streets for so long without singing a single line of opera: they felt they had followed along for nothing.

(December 1921.)