TO LIVE Chapter I (3)

america

TO LIVE Chapter I (3)
Forty years ago my dad would often stroll back and forth across this land. He would be wearing a black silk outfit and would always have his hands clasped behind his back. Just as he went out, he'd tell my mother, "I'm going out to take a walk around the property."
The moment the workers saw Dad strolling around his land they would hold their hoes with both hands and respectfully call out, "Master."
When my dad went into the city, all the city people would call him "sir." My dad was of very high social status, but every time he squatted down to take a shit he was just like a poor man. He never liked relieving himself in the house on the chamber pot next to the bed. Just like the animals, he liked shitting out in the open. Every day as dusk would near, dad would let out a belch— the sound was almost exactly the same as that croaking sound that frogs make. Then he would step outside and slowly walk toward the manure vat.
When he got there he'd be annoyed that the side of the vat was dirty. He'd raise his leg and climb up, squatting on top.
My dad was old and his shit was getting older with him; it was harder and harder to force out. Our whole family would hear his grunting and groaning coming all the way from the vat.
For decades my dad always shit like this. When he got to be over sixty he was still able to climb up there and squat for a long time. His legs had as much strength as the talons of an eagle. My dad liked to watch the sky gradually change color until the darkness enveloped his farmland. When my daughter, Fengxia, was three or four she would often run out to the edge of the village to watch grandpa taking a shit. Dad was really old by then. When he squatted up on the manure vat his legs would tremble a bit, and Fengxia would ask him, "Grandpa, why are you shaking?"
"It's just the wind blowing," Dad would reply.
At the time our family circumstances had yet to take a turn for the worse. Our family had over one hundred mu 1 of land.
The land from here all the way to the factory's chimney over there was owned by my family. Near and far, my father and I were known as the old and young rich masters. When we walked, the sound our shoes made was like the sound of coins clanking against each other. My wife, Jiazhen, was the daughter of the owner of the rice store in the city. She was also born into a rich family. A wealthy woman marries a wealthy man—it's like piling all the money up. The sound of money pouring down on top of money—it's been forty years since I've heard that sound.
I'm the prodigal son of the Xu family—or, as my dad would say, I'm a bastard. I studied for a few years at an old-style private school. When the schoolteacher, wearing the traditional long gown, called on me to read a paragraph aloud, it was my happiest moment. I stood up, holding my string-bound edition of "The Thousand Word Essay," and announced to my teacher, "Listen good now! Daddy's going to read to you!"
The next time he saw my father, my teacher, who was really getting on in years, told him, "I guarantee you that when that son of yours grows up, he'll be nothing but trouble."
Ever since I was little I've been hopeless, as my father would say. My teacher used to say I was a rotten piece of wood that could not be carved. Now that I think about it, they were both right. But at the time that's not how I saw things. I thought, I've got money, I'm the only flame the Xu family still has burning. If I'm extinguished, the Xu family will be finished.
When I was in private school I never walked anywhere—our family had a hired worker who would carry me on his back.
When school got out he would already be waiting there, respectfully bent over. After I climbed on, I'd hit him on the head and say, "Changgen, let's go!"
Our worker Changgen would start to run. I'd be on top, bobbing about like a sparrow on the branches of a tree. Then I'd say, "Fly!"
Changgen would take longer strides and jump as if he could fly.
　　四十多年前，我爹常在这里走来走去，他穿着一身黑颜色的绸衣，总是把双手背在身后，他出门时常对我娘说：
　　“我到自己的地上去走走。”
　　我爹走在自己的田产上，干活的佃户见了，都要双手握住锄头恭敬地叫一声：
　　“老爷。”
　　我爹走到了城里，城里人见了都叫他先生。我爹是很有身份的人，可他拉屎时就像个穷人了。他不爱在屋里床边的马桶上拉屎，跟牲畜似的喜欢到野地里去拉屎。每天到了傍晚的时候，我爹打着饱嗝，那声响和青蛙叫唤差不多，走出屋去，慢吞吞地朝村口的粪缸走去。
　　走到了粪缸旁，他嫌缸沿脏，就抬脚踩上去蹲在上面。我爹年纪大了，屎也跟着老了，出来不容易，那时候我们全家人都会听到他在村口嗷嗷叫着。
　　几十年来我爹一直这样拉屎，到了六十多岁还能在粪缸上一蹲就是半晌，那两条腿就和鸟爪一样有劲。我爹喜欢看着天色慢慢黑下来，罩住他的田地。我女儿凤霞到了三、四岁，常跑到村口去看她爷爷拉屎，我爹毕竟年纪大了，蹲在粪缸上腿有些哆嗦，凤霞就问他：
　　“爷爷，你为什么动呀？”
　　我爹说：“是风吹的。”
　　那时候我们家境还没有败落，我们徐家有一百多亩地，从这里一直到那边工厂的烟囱，都是我家的。我爹和我，是远近闻名的阔老爷和阔少爷，我们走路时鞋子的声响，都像是铜钱碰来撞去的。我女人家珍，是城里米行老板的女儿，她也是有钱人家出生的。有钱人嫁给有钱人，就是把钱堆起来，钱在钱上面哗哗地流，这样的声音我有四十年没有听到了。
　　我是我们徐家的败家子，用我爹的话说，我是他的孽子。
　　我念过几年私塾，穿长衫的私塾先生叫我念一段书时，是我最高兴的。我站起来，拿着本线装的《千字文》，对私塾先生说：
　　“好好听着，爹给你念一段。”
　　年过花甲的私塾先生对我爹说：
　　“你家少爷长大了准能当个二流子。”
　　我从小就不可救药，这是我爹的话。私塾先生说我是朽木不可雕也。现在想想他们都说对了，当初我可不这么想，我想我有钱呵，我是徐家仅有的一根香火，我要是灭了，徐家就得断子绝孙。
　　上私塾时我从来不走路，都是我家一个雇工背着我去，放学时他已经恭恭敬敬地弯腰蹲在那里了，我骑上去后拍拍雇工的脑袋，说一声：
　　“长根，跑呀。”
　　雇工长根就跑起来，我在上面一颠一颠的，像是一只在树梢上的麻雀。我说一声：
　　“飞呀。”
　　长根就一步一跳，做出一副飞的样子。