I Live in the Slums

by Can Xue

  We loved playing hide-and-seek in the kitchen at night. By then, most of the stoves would be cool and the lights turned off. The two or three stoves that kept the fires burning inside looked like monsters, each with a single fiery red eye.

  Xiaoyi and I climbed from a stove to the top of the partition and stood in a dark spot under the ceiling.

  “There’s a ladder here,” Xiaoyi whispered.

  I went down the ladder with him to the other side of the partition. So dark! But you could hear noise in the kitchen: probably some hapless guy had been caught there. Xiaoyi didn’t want me to stir. I grabbed his hand and moved slowly ahead with him. I was shaking.

  “Are you here?” someone asked in a rather weary voice.

  “Yes, yes!” Xiaoyi said enthusiastically, as if trying to please that person.

  It was hot all around, and a faint aroma reached us. Was someone stir-frying soybeans? Xiaoyi wanted me to sit down, so I sat on a pitted stone bench. This wasn’t a bit comfortable. I sensed many people around me, and the atmosphere was tense. They seemed to be observing my attitude about something, but I had no idea what it was.

  “Take a stand,” Xiaoyi said, as he poked me.

  “About what?” I asked.

  “Whatever. Who cares? Hurry up!”

  Someone walked over and stepped on my instep with his heavy boot. My foot seemed to be broken. I screamed in pain.

  “Good,” said Xiaoyi. “This is also a declaration.” He relaxed.

  But the girl next to us wasn’t happy. Girls are girls, not like us boys. They’re always unhappy with others, always grumbling. Whatever you do, they’re never satisfied.

  I stood up with tears in my eyes. I was groaning. There was no way I could continue sitting on that stone bench.

  The girl put something in my palm. She said they were soybeans—as a reward to me. Hadn’t she been unhappy with me a moment ago? So why was she rewarding me?

  Soybeans were being lightly stir-fried in the iron wok, but I couldn’t see the wok, nor could I see the stove. This was truly odd. Could it be a smoldering fire that was burning with no flames? It was so hot. I put the two soybeans in my mouth and chewed. They tasted quite good. My instep still hurt a lot. I propped it up on the stone bench, and stood there bent over. The boy on my left said something to me, but I couldn’t hear him well. He was angry and shouted, “Why don’t you leave?”

  But I didn’t intend to go. Maybe I was waiting to eat soybeans, or maybe I was curious about this place.

  “I’ll wait a while,” I said in a faint voice.

  But that boy heard me right away! He shouted to everyone all around us, “He wants to wait a while! He wants to watch us! But we won’t let him do what he wants.”

  Everyone in the room roared. What they all said was: “He’s too ambitious!”

  Then they laughed their heads off. I was super scared. I thought they might attack me. But they didn’t. I heard the spatula as the soybeans were frying, and I smelled the aroma. That girl rewarded me with a few more beans. This was exciting! But Xiaoyi came over, grabbed my arm, and ordered me to leave with him.

  We went up the stairs, climbed the partition, and returned to the large kitchen. No one was there. It was already midnight. Only the few stoves with fires still burning were visible.

  I took the soybeans out of my pocket and looked at them from time to time. They were ordinary fried soybeans. When I put them in front of my nose, I could smell their aroma. What kinds of people were engaged in secret activity at midnight on the other side of the partition? I heard their voices, but didn’t see them. In the daytime, without letting Xiaoyi know, I sneaked to the workshop gate. I planted my ear against the locked door: it was silent inside. I listened for a long time, until I wearied of it.

  “I miss the tin workshop. Can you take me there again at night?” I asked Xiaoyi.

  “No way.” His answer was straightforward. “Last time we went there by accident. If we make our plans in advance, a leopard will be guarding the entrance, and you’ll have no way to get in.”

  “But how do they—and even that girl—get in?” I asked.

  “They live there. There were some buildings in this town that you thought were empty, but in fact they were inhabited. I’ve heard my grandpa speak of this. But I’ve been to only one of them—the tin workshop.”

  Afraid that I would ask him more questions, Xiaoyi took off in a hurry.

  I was bored. I had no interest in the big lively kitchen; only the mysterious air of the tin workshop could stir me up. Dad was yelling at me hoarsely, urging me to hurry up and get on with the cooking.

  I reluctantly washed radishes, chopped them, and placed them in a large pot of water. Then I stood there, dazed. I noticed a brick in the wall had loosened, and filled with expectations I watched it, but time passed and nothing happened. When I turned the radishes with my spatula, I heard a sigh from over there: “It’s so lonely here!”

  It was a girl’s voice, but not the girl who had given me soybeans.

  My sister came over with a big smile. She grabbed the spatula from me and deftly scooped the radishes and spatula into a bowl.

  “Hey—this boy is daydreaming!” she announced to everyone.

  Everyone in the kitchen burst out laughing. I hated her.

  When I looked again at the partition, I saw nothing going on at all.

  A group of people standing around a large wok fried soybeans in the dark: I was greatly attracted to this kind of thing, for you never knew what might happen next. I felt great esteem for Xiaoyi.

  Xiaoyi was hiding from me. The more he did this, the more my hopes soared. I thought, My friends are on the other side of the partition. Over there, things I’m interested in are happening. I forgot the pain I had suffered that night. What I remembered were the faint aroma of the soybeans and the vague excitement in the dark. I decided to go all out for it.

  To be safe, I waited until late to slip out of my home—it was probably midnight.

  I felt my way into the kitchen and saw those three monsters’ red eyes again. I climbed up from one of the cold stoves—climbed to the top of the wall. It was very quiet on the other side of the partition. I crouched on top of the wall and explored below with one leg. But it was useless: the ladder was gone. Damn that Xiaoyi. I was tired and afraid and filled with regret. But I didn’t want to go back to the kitchen, either. Then I heard a voice rise in midair: “You may just walk down. It’s okay.”

  This alluring voice belonged to the girl who had given me the soybeans. I couldn’t help it: my center of gravity lurched. God! With one step, I touched solid ground. I steadied myself.

  The room was still hot, still suffused with the faint aroma of soybeans, still dark. I couldn’t see anyone. For some reason, tears filled my eyes. Luckily, no one saw this. I knew that people were all around, but they didn’t make any noise. No sound came from the soybeans, or the iron wok either. Now there was a sound. It came from the kitchen. It seemed that my neighbors were frying vegetables in the kitchen. They were talking in loud voices, and their voices had turned pleasant. Was it already daytime over there?

  A hand pulled me down, and I sat once more on the rough stone bench. My butt hurt a lot.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” a voice close to me said, “in order to learn what things are like over there.”

  “Are you interested in what goes on in the kitchen over there?” I asked. I was surprised.

  “You mean you aren’t?” that person asked in return.

  And then no one said anything. With no one speaking, I couldn’t tell how many people were in the room. Maybe four or five, maybe twenty or thirty. What was certain was that they were listening attentively to the sound—the variable rolling clamor that came from the kitchen on the other side of the partition. Someone over there was laughing out loud: it seemed to be my sister. And then the others laughed, too. I should have been in the kitchen as well, but I was sitting here in the dark because it made me feel vaguely ex
cited. These people who didn’t show their faces were just like conspirators, and I kept feeling that something big was about to happen. Just think about this: I had descended from midair. This kind of thing had actually happened! I loved this kind of gathering so much. But why were these mysterious people interested in the vulgar things going on in the kitchen that I knew so well?

  Later, when I ran into Xiaoyi, I told him my thoughts. He listened without saying a word. Then he sighed and said that this kind of question was rather abstruse, and he wasn’t the right person to ask.

  His little-adult expression made me laugh, and my interest in the partition over there increased. Tomorrow night, I would climb over there again. Without using a ladder, I still could descend to the ground. This was my secret.

  SHADOW PEOPLE

  I was one of the Shadow People in this torrid city. In the daytime, when the city was blazing hot, people moved their activities to dark places—to rooms with windows covered with thick drapes. It was said that in the past many people were on the streets, but before long they began to go into hiding, partly out of shame and partly out of cowardice. Who dared confront the sun? Naturally, this change didn’t take place overnight. At first, because of inner extrusion, people gradually became thin, and then even thinner, until they turned into shapes like flagpoles. Although there were no flags, a little something did seem to be fluttering at the top—neither quite like people’s hair nor quite like hats. Later, even these flagpoles retreated shamefacedly indoors. But if an outsider ventured to walk into a house (most houses weren’t locked), after rubbing his eyes to adjust to the dark he would find no one at all in the darkened room.

  Where had the people gone? We hadn’t gone underground, nor were we hiding inside the hollow walls. We were simply in the room. If you carefully investigated the foot of the bed, the back of the bookcase, the corners of the room, the backs of the doors, and other similar places, you would discover pale shadows flexing and twisting. That’s us, the cowards. Worms hide in the earth. We hide indoors. It seems an odd way to live.

  I had been traipsing around for a very long time before I reached Fire City. I still remember the longing I felt on the way. I thought I was going to the Crystal Palace—the most beautiful place found in legends. It was night when I arrived. I remember that someone dragged me into an old room smelling of broth, and then I heard someone say, “He can never leave.”

  I lay on a huge wooden bed. It wasn’t just I; several other people were lying there, too. Thick drapes blocked the rays of light. It remained dark inside, even though dawn had come a long time ago. I wanted to sit up. I wanted to get out of bed and go outside. The old codger next to me held me down with his powerful hand and said, “You’d be looking for trouble if you went outside naked, wouldn’t you? One time, someone here did go out rashly, and then he died of shame.”

  Why had he asserted that I wasn’t wearing clothes? How unreasonable! How arbitrary! I wanted to argue with him, but I couldn’t say a word. My brain was empty. It was really absurd. I had wanted to go to the Crystal Palace, but I had fallen into this dark place, into a city run by power politics. But the broth wasn’t bad. There was a cook in this room, though I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see anyone. I just heard their voices. Then, all of a sudden, I started drinking some broth. After finishing it, I threw the bowl up in the air. I wanted to see if someone would come to retrieve it. No one did. The bowl didn’t fall to the floor, either; I don’t know where it flew.

  Now, with no one blocking me, I got out of bed and groped my way to the door. I opened it a crack. All of a sudden, light streaming past knocked me onto the floor. And the door closed automatically. The blow just now was so powerful that I felt I’d been struck by lightning. There was a little light in the room now, and I could distinguish about five shadows on the bed. I held my hand out toward them, but touched only air. This was so scary! I fell to the floor and sat there feeling anguished. I heard the old codger: “Lei Xiaonan (my name), if you’re thinking about going out, you’d better not tell anyone.”

  He actually knew my name. What did he mean by what he said? I couldn’t touch this old codger, and yet he could push me down and restrict my movements.

  This house was large. At one end of it, someone was cooking soup. I sat on the floor, unable to think of any countermeasures. I had arrived at night. Now it was probably morning.

  “Someone who was treated to a good meal was not a bit grateful.”

  The voice came from the other side of the room; perhaps it was the cook talking. Everyone on the big bed laughed out loud. “So you’ve been after appreciation all along,” they said in unison.

  Just then, I smelled meat burning. The whole room was permeated with this nauseating smell.

  I burrowed under the high bed and lay there. It was even darker here and should be safer. However, someone whispered in my ear, “I’m going to go on strike today.” It was the cook. This was where he always slept.

  “Are you a local?” I asked after a pause.

  “Of course. In the past, during wartime, we fought in the streets until we were covered with blood.”

  “And later?”

  “Later, the sun became more and more toxic, and we had to move to these shady places.”

  “When the sun sets, can you go out?”

  “The setting sun is a thing of the past. Now the sun no longer sets.”

  “That’s not true. I know it was night when I arrived here.”

  “I’ll tell you what happens. The sun does set briefly every day, but only for a few seconds—or at the most, two minutes. It was at that moment that you arrived.”

  I wanted to ask him some more, but he started snoring. I couldn’t touch him, either. Perhaps I was the only one in this room with a physical body. My left hand was here, and my right hand was here. I could touch my face.

  The sound of snoring filled the entire room. How odd. Why didn’t I feel even a little drowsy? I was too excited. My thoughts began roaming around in the midst of the snoring sounds. Over there in the stove, which was as big as one in a farmhouse, the bright coal fire was belching blue flames. Two shadows crouched at the sides of the stove. They kept talking in whispers. A sss-woooo, sss-woooooo came from them as they grew longer and shorter. Their conversation, however, didn’t stop for even a moment. People enjoyed many advantages when they were transformed into these wispy things.

  At my feet, behind the large cupboard, there were also a few shadows. Sometimes they snored and sometimes they didn’t. They were worried. Whenever they stopped snoring, they muttered some short phrases: “Inhaling!” “Attention!” “Hold up.” “Fling it out.” “Throw it in.” It seemed they had trouble sleeping. Maybe, whether asleep or awake, they always lived like this.

  All of a sudden, a wind chime rang near the window, ting-ling, ting-ling, startling me. All the sounds in the room ceased. Everyone was listening intently. I couldn’t stop myself from clambering out from under the bed. This drew curses from all directions, probably because the noise I made interfered with their listening. What significance was this bizarre wind chime transmitting? Arching my back, I glided over to the side of the window. It was still sounding, but no wind was blowing. I lifted the curtains gently, my eyes narrowing in the glaring white light. I saw it suspended on the window. It was shaking by itself, as though it were alive. I couldn’t look at it very long, so I had to let go of the curtains. A deathly stillness filled the room. It took about two minutes for the wind chime to stop shaking. At first, the several persons on the bed sighed, “Finally.” “Man’s extremity is God’s opportunity.” “All’s well that ends well.” The cook also came out. He was on the bed when he said to me, “Your wandering back and forth in this room is making me light-headed. I really shouldn’t have fed you soup. Just look at how much space you’re occupying in this room.”

  “I certainly didn’t intend to occupy your space,” I said, chagrined.

  “But you did, anyhow.”

  “Then what shou
ld I do?”

  “You should leave, instead of taking our space. Whoever dragged you in here in the first place was an idiot.”

  His words made me disgusted with myself. I dashed over to the door. At the worst, I might die, but—regardless—I was going out. I took a deep breath, opened the door hurriedly, and pounced on the air outside. Behind me, I heard several wind chimes.

  My memories are confused. Things that happened when I first arrived here seem to have occurred yesterday. After I left the large house, I was almost blinded by the dazzling white blaze. In particular, the glass windows of the large mansions were launching one flame after another into the air. This city was going to be scorched. I hurriedly sought shelter in a small box at the side of the road. It was an abandoned newspaper kiosk, its windows blocked with cardboard. By all appearances, someone before me had used it for a shelter. No, wait a minute, someone was inside right now.

  “You’ve been evicted,” he said. “Were you evicted because of your frivolous behavior?”

  A deep sense of shame that I’d never felt before took hold of me. I really wanted to burrow under the ground and never come out. I couldn’t remember exactly how old I was, but anyhow I was no longer young. How come I was still behaving like a frisky colt? I had never realized this when I was still at home, but when I arrived here my true nature was revealed.

  The person talking with me—a talking shadow—was glued to the tin wall. This person seemed overcome with worries. I asked if I was invading his space. He thought about this for a long time before answering: “Space isn’t an issue in a place like this. I’m here only temporarily to take a rest. This is a public newspaper kiosk. Who would be able to stay here long?”

  I was relieved, yet my sense of shame didn’t vanish. My hands, my feet, my chin, my messy beard, my vulgar voice: all these made me really ashamed. Not to mention having been evicted from the large house: I couldn’t even think about that, for if I did I’d go out of my mind. I closed my eyes: I no longer wanted to see anything. On the wall, he sneered a couple of times. I didn’t know if he was laughing at me or not.