My grandfather was named Hu Guohua. The Hu family ancestors were famous wealthy landowners throughout the region. At their peak, they owned over forty connected rooms across three alleyways in the city. The family had also produced some officials and merchants, having donated for positions as grain commissioners and canal transport assistants during the late Qing dynasty.
There’s a folk saying: ‘Wealth doesn’t last three generations.’ This is absolutely true – even if a family had mountains of gold and silver, it couldn’t withstand the squandering of prodigal descendants.
By the Republic era, when it passed down to my grandfather’s generation, the family fortune began to decline. First came the division of property, and Hu Guohua received quite a substantial share – enough to live comfortably for a lifetime. But he simply refused to behave properly. Of course, this was also related to the social environment of the time. First he became addicted to gambling, then he took up ‘longevity paste’ (opium), squandering away the entire family fortune.
In his youth, Hu Guohua indulged in all five vices – drinking, whoring, gambling, smoking, and more. In the end, he was so poor he didn’t have a single coin to his name. When opium cravings hit, the unbearable itching in one’s heart and liver was impossible to endure. But without money, who would let you smoke? In the old days when he had money, the opium den owners and workers would greet him as ‘Master Hu this’ and ‘Master Hu that,’ serving him with great attentiveness. But once you were penniless, they treated you like a stinking beggar, shooing and chasing you away.
When a man becomes desperately poor, concepts like shame and morality become unimportant. Hu Guohua came up with a plan – to go trick his uncle out of some money. Hu Guohua’s uncle knew he was a prodigal opium addict and normally wouldn’t give him a single cent. But this time, Hu Guohua lied to his uncle, saying he wanted to take a wife and asked his uncle to help gather some money.
His uncle was so moved he wept with joy. This worthless nephew was finally doing something proper! If he married a virtuous wife who could manage him and settle his heart, perhaps he might turn over a new leaf someday.
So he gave him twenty silver dollars, instructing him to marry a wife and live a good life, and to never touch that ‘longevity paste’ again. In a few days when he had time, he would personally visit Hu Guohua’s home to see his nephew’s wife.
Hu Guohua was full of crafty ideas. To deal with his uncle, he went back home and found a craftsman in the village who made paper effigies – the kind burned for the dead. This paper craftsman was highly skilled; whatever you could describe, he could make it lifelike.
Following instructions, he made Hu Guohua a paper woman pasted with white paper, then used watercolors to paint on eyebrows, eyes, nose, clothes, and hair. From a distance – hey – it really looked like a living person.
Hu Guohua carried the paper figure home and placed it on the kang bed in the inner room, covering it with a blanket. He thought his plan was quite clever – when his uncle came in a few days, he would just say his wife was sick and bedridden and couldn’t receive guests, letting him take a quick look from afar. Pleased with himself, he couldn’t help but hum a little tune as he strolled into the city to smoke opium.
A few days later, his uncle came to visit, bringing some floral fabric and pastries to see his nephew’s wife. Hu Guohua made excuses as he had planned, saying his wife was unwell and couldn’t receive guests, letting his uncle lift the door curtain at the entrance for just a glance before dropping it again.
His uncle wasn’t having it. ‘Oh, so this is how you treat your own uncle? No way – today I must meet the new bride. If she’s sick, I’ll pay for a doctor to examine her.’
Hu Guohua desperately blocked him from entering. The more he blocked, the more suspicious it seemed, making his uncle even more doubtful. The two began arguing. Just then, the inner room’s curtain was lifted, and out came a woman – fair and clean-looking, with a big round face, ample hips, and small bound feet. Hu Guohua’s heart skipped a beat – ‘Oh no, isn’t this the paper figure I had made? How did it come alive?’
The woman curtsied to the uncle and said she had been feeling unwell lately and hadn’t come out to greet him earlier, begging forgiveness for her rudeness. But now she suddenly felt much better, and today she would keep uncle for a simple home-cooked meal. Then she turned and went inside to cook.
Hu Guohua’s uncle was overjoyed – what a virtuous nephew’s wife! And with such a prosperous appearance! My late sister would be so happy in the afterlife knowing her son married such a fine wife. In his delight, the uncle gave Hu Guohua another ten silver dollars.
Hu Guohua stood there stunned, his heart in chaos, not knowing whether to feel lucky or afraid. Time passed quickly, and soon it was evening. The white paper woman had prepared a whole table of dishes. The uncle was so happy he couldn’t stop grinning, but Hu Guohua had no appetite. Looking at the woman sitting across from him made him feel as disgusted as if he’d swallowed a fly. Her face was so white, without a trace of color – all the rosy flush was just rouge painted on.
The uncle’s old eyes were dim, and he didn’t notice anything wrong with the woman. After seven or eight cups of old wine, he was completely drunk. Hu Guohua borrowed a donkey cart and sent him home.
On the way back, the more he thought about it, the more frightened he became. He simply decided not to go home and spent the night in the pleasure quarters in the city. Between smoking and visiting prostitutes, he spent all ten silver dollars his uncle had just given him.
Finally, having no money to pay the bill, he was thrown out. With nowhere else to go, he could only steel himself and go home. When he arrived, the house was dark. The white paper figure lay motionless on his bed, covered with a blanket, as if everything before had never happened.
Hu Guohua thought, ‘What if she comes alive again at night? Better to just burn her.’ He carried the paper figure to the courtyard, took out a fire starter, and was about to burn it when the paper figure suddenly spoke: ‘You heartless wretch! I kindly helped you, and you want to burn me!’
Hu Guohua was startled. In the dead of night, he heard the white paper woman continue: ‘I took pity on you. Though you drink, whore, and gamble, your heart isn’t truly bad. I want to marry you – are you willing?’
Hu Guohua shook his head vigorously and asked the paper figure whether she was a demon or a ghost. The paper woman said, ‘I’m a ghost, of course, just temporarily possessing this paper body. But don’t look down on me, you poor stick. In my life I was very wealthy – the gold and silver jewelry buried with me is enough for you to smoke opium for ten lifetimes. Haven’t you heard that a rich ghost is a hundred times better than a poor living man?’
At the mention of money, Hu Guohua was somewhat tempted, as he had been truly destitute lately – even his clothes had all been pawned. But he didn’t want to take money he couldn’t live to spend. He had heard old people tell of female ghosts seducing men, gradually draining their yang energy until those men possessed by ghosts were left as nothing but dried skin over bones. So he said to the paper figure: ‘Even if you truly mean well, I cannot marry you. After all, humans and ghosts walk different paths, separated by yin and yang – this would go against the natural order.’
The white paper woman said, ‘Since you’re so hard-hearted, I won’t force you. But someday you’ll regret it. Remember this – if your life ever becomes so poor you can’t go on, come find me at the desolate graves at Thirteen Mile Village. In the center of that graveyard is a solitary grave without a headstone – the coffin inside contains my body. The coffin is full of gold, silver, and jewels. If you dare come, take as much as you want.’
After saying this, the white paper woman became motionless. Hu Guohua gathered his courage, lit a fire, and burned the paper figure to ashes.
Later, there were several times when he was so desperate he thought about digging up the grave at Thirteen Mile Village, but he always held back, scraping by through borrowing here and there. Two years later, when he was truly at the end of his rope with nowhere to turn, he finally went to that graveyard – but that’s a story for another time.
Many things happened that Spring Festival. The truth about Hu Guohua making a paper figure to trick his uncle out of money was finally exposed. His uncle was so angry and upset that he fell ill and couldn’t recover, passing away within three days.
The Hu family’s relatives and friends all guarded against him like a thief. Forget about lending him money – they wouldn’t even let him have their leftover food. Hu Guohua sold the last pair of sandalwood boxes in his home for two silver dollars. These boxes were his mother’s dowry, which he had always wanted to keep as a memento and couldn’t bear to pawn. But when his opium craving hit, he couldn’t care about such things anymore. He used the two dollars to buy a small piece of ‘longevity paste,’ rushed home, and couldn’t wait to light up the opium and lie on the bed. After a couple of deep inhales, his body felt light as if floating on clouds.
At that moment, he felt as happy as an immortal. All those experiences of being looked down upon, cursed, and bullied didn’t matter anymore. After two more puffs, he suddenly noticed something dark crouching on his broken bed. Looking closely, he saw a big rat crouching at the corner of the bed. This rat must have been quite old – its whiskers had turned white, and it was about the size of a cat. It was beside him, inhaling the smoke rising from Hu Guohua’s opium pipe, as if it too knew the pleasures of ‘longevity paste,’ sniffing and greedily enjoying it.
Hu Guohua found this amusing and said to the big rat: ‘So you have an opium addiction too? Looks like we’re kindred spirits.’ Then he took a puff himself and blew the smoke toward the rat. The rat seemed to sense he meant no harm and wasn’t afraid of him, raising its head to receive the smoke blown its way. After a while, apparently having had its fill, it slowly crawled away.
This went on for several days. The big rat came every day to smoke with Hu Guohua. Hu Guohua was despised everywhere and had not a single friend. He felt a sympathetic kinship with this rat and quite liked it. Sometimes when the rat came late, Hu Guohua would endure his cravings and wait for it.
But good times don’t last. Hu Guohua’s home was left with just a bed and four walls – he had no more money to buy opium. Troubled and at a loss, he sighed to the rat: ‘Oh rat, rat, today my pockets are empty and my provisions exhausted. I can no longer afford ‘longevity paste,’ and I fear I cannot share this pleasure with you anymore.’ He lamented endlessly.
The rat listened to him speak, its eyes gleaming and thoughtful, then turned and left. When night fell, the rat returned with a silver dollar in its mouth, placing it by Hu Guohua’s pillow. Hu Guohua was overjoyed and surprised. That very night he went into the city and bought a piece of ‘longevity paste.’ When he returned, he lit it under the lamp, inhaling deeply, and together with the rat, they smoked to their hearts’ content.
The next day, the rat brought back three silver dollars. Hu Guohua was so happy he didn’t know what to say. Remembering a story from his private school days, he said to the rat: ‘He who understood Guan Zhong was Bao Shuya. You know my poverty yet give generously to me – you are truly my soulmate. If you don’t mind, let us become sworn brothers.’ From then on, he called the rat ‘Rat Brother,’ sharing meals and smoking opium together. He even made a little nest of cotton wadding on the bed for the rat to sleep on.
Man and rat lived in harmony, no less than the closest of friends. Every day the rat went out and brought back silver dollars – sometimes one or two, sometimes three to five. From then on, Hu Guohua wanted for nothing. Many years later, when my grandfather recalled this, he always said this period was the happiest time of his life.
After more than half a year of this, Hu Guohua gradually became prosperous again. But isn’t there a saying? ‘When you get rich, you meet good friends; when luck turns bad, you meet scoundrels.’ It was fated that Hu Guohua would remain poor – he was targeted by a scoundrel.
There was a rogue in the village named Wang Ergangzi. He was different from Hu Guohua – at least Hu Guohua had once been wealthy; he had, after all, been ‘Young Master Hu’ for over twenty years.
Wang Ergangzi wasn’t so fortunate. For eight generations, his family had never worn pants that didn’t show their backsides. When he saw Hu Guohua’s family fortune ruined, he gloated. Whether there was reason or not, he would beat, curse, and humiliate Hu Guohua, bullying the former Young Master Hu to make himself feel better.
Recently, he found it very strange. This poor boy Hu Guohua wasn’t doing any business, had pawned everything pawnable in his home, and most of his relatives were dead. How was he smoking opium every day at home? Where was he getting the money for opium? Maybe the boy had become a thief. ‘I should secretly watch him, and when I catch him stealing, I’ll turn him over to the authorities and get a few silver dollars as reward.’
But after watching for a while, he found that except for occasional trips to the city to buy food and opium, Hu Guohua basically never left home and never interacted with anyone. The less he understood where the money came from, the more Wang Ergangzi itched to know.
One day when Hu Guohua went out to buy food, Wang Ergangzi climbed over the wall into his home and searched through everything, trying to find out Hu Guohua’s secret. Suddenly he discovered a big rat sleeping on the bed. Wang Ergangzi casually grabbed the rat and threw it into the pot of water boiling on the stove, then pressed down the lid, thinking, ‘When Hu Guohua comes home and drinks the water, I’ll watch and have a good laugh.’
Before Wang Ergangzi could leave, Hu Guohua returned and caught him red-handed inside the room. When Hu Guohua saw the big rat in the pot, already scalded to death, his eyes turned red with rage. He grabbed a kitchen knife and started slashing. Wang Ergangzi was cut over a dozen times, but fortunately Hu Guohua was an opium addict with no strength in his arms. Though Wang Ergangzi received many cuts, none were fatal. Covered in blood, he escaped to the security force for help. The security captain was a relative of a local warlord and was hosting the warlord for drinks at that moment. Seeing this, the captain thought, ‘How outrageous! Attacking someone with a knife in broad daylight – is there no law?’ He immediately ordered his men to tie up Hu Guohua and bring him in.
Hu Guohua was brought before the hall, and the security captain sternly demanded to know why he had attacked Wang Ergangzi with a knife.
Hu Guohua’s face was streaming with tears. Sobbing, he recounted the whole story, finally lamenting: ‘When I was suffering and near death, without this rat I wouldn’t have lived until today. I never expected that through my carelessness, Rat Brother would lose his life. Though I didn’t kill him, he died because of me. How can I face my dear friend in the underworld? I did this deed and will accept whatever punishment comes. I only ask that the officer allow me to go home and bury my Rat Brother, then I can die with my eyes closed.’
Before the security captain could speak, the warlord beside him sighed with emotion and said to Hu Guohua: ‘Damn it all! Not forgetting kindness is benevolence, not betraying trust is righteousness. If you treat a rat this way, how much more so would you treat people? I admire your righteousness, and seeing you have no one to rely on, why don’t you join my army as an adjutant from now on.’
Guns were power. In chaotic times, the words of those who commanded soldiers were law. The warlord chief ordered his men to whip Wang Ergangzi to vent Hu Guohua’s anger, then released Hu Guohua to go home and bury the rat. Hu Guohua placed the rat’s body in a wooden box, dug a pit and buried it, cried for half a day, then went to join the warlord chief.
As the old saying goes: ‘When hungry, chaff tastes sweet as honey; when full, even honey isn’t sweet.’ When a person is in desperate poverty, even if someone gives them a bowl of porridge or a piece of bread, they’ll be eternally grateful. How much more so when the rat gave Hu Guohua so much money – though of course, the rat’s money was all stolen. The sage said one would rather die of thirst than drink from a stolen spring – but that’s the moral standard of the most virtuous and wise. Even the ancients found it hard to achieve, let alone an ordinary person like Hu Guohua. I’ve heard that if you smoke opium indoors long enough, even the flies and rats in the room become addicted. This is no lie.
