Novels: Start reading “The Family” 《家》by Ba Jin

The wind blew fiercely, and snowflakes danced in the air like torn cotton wadding, drifting aimlessly in all directions. Along both sides of the street, white paths formed at the base of the walls, as if bordering the cement flagstone road in the middle with two wide bands.

On the street there were pedestrians and sedan chairs carried by two men. They could not withstand the wind and snow, and showed signs of shrinking back. The snowflakes fell more and more heavily, spreading a white blur across the sky, falling everywhere – on umbrellas, on the tops of sedan chairs, on the bamboo hats of the chair bearers, on the faces of pedestrians.

The wind played with the umbrellas, blowing them to tilt in all directions, and once or twice even snatching them from the hands of pedestrians. The wind howled furiously in the air, its sound mournful and shrill, mixing with the footsteps on the snowy ground to create a strange kind of music. This music stung the ears of the pedestrians, as if warning them: the wind and snow would rule the world forever, and the bright spring would never return.

Evening had already arrived, but the lamps along the road had not yet been lit. Everything on the street gradually disappeared into the gray dusk. The road was covered with water and mud. The air was cold. One hope encouraged the pedestrians struggling along the quiet street – that was a warm, bright home.

‘Third Brother, walk faster,’ said an eighteen-year-old youth, holding an umbrella in one hand and lifting the hem of his cotton robe with the other, turning his head to look behind him. His round face was flushed red from the cold, and he wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his nose.

The younger brother walking behind was a youth of similar build, dressed in similar clothing. He was slightly younger, and his face was thinner, but his eyes were remarkably bright.

‘Don’t worry, we’re almost there… Second Brother, you had the best performance in today’s rehearsal. Your English was natural and fluent. You played Dr. Lee very well,’ he said in an enthusiastic tone, immediately quickening his pace as mud splashed onto his trouser legs.

‘It’s nothing special, I’m just a bit bolder,’ the older brother Gao Juemin said with a smile, stopping to let his younger brother Gao Juehui catch up to walk beside him. ‘You’re too timid. Your portrayal of “Black Dog” wasn’t convincing at all. Didn’t you memorize those lines perfectly yesterday? How come you couldn’t remember them once you got on stage? If Mr. Zhu hadn’t prompted you, I’m afraid you wouldn’t have gotten through it!’ the older brother said gently, without a hint of reproach in his tone.

Juehui’s face turned red. He said anxiously, ‘I don’t know why, but the moment I got on the platform, my heart started racing. It felt like so many eyes were watching me. I desperately wanted to recite every single word without missing any…’ A gust of wind spun the umbrella in his hand, and he quickly closed his mouth, gripping the handle tightly. The gust passed quickly. In the middle of the road, unmelted snow had accumulated, looking white and pristine, with overlapping footprints both old and new – often one step treading upon another, the new covering the old.

‘I desperately wanted to recite the entire passage without missing a single word,’ Juehui continued where he had left off. ‘But the moment I opened my mouth, I forgot everything, even the lines I knew best. I couldn’t remember them at all. I had to wait for Mr. Zhu to prompt me with a word or two before I could continue. I wonder if it will be the same during the actual performance. If I still can’t speak then like now, how embarrassing that would be!’ A serious expression appeared on his childlike, innocent face. Their footsteps fell softly on the snow, making light crunching sounds.

‘Third Brother, don’t be afraid,’ Juemin said reassuringly. ‘After two or three more rehearsals, you’ll know it perfectly. Just be bold and go for it… To be honest, Mr. Zhu’s adaptation of “Treasure Island” into a play wasn’t done well. The performance probably won’t turn out great anyway.’

Juehui fell silent. He felt grateful for his brother’s kindness. He was thinking about how to perform that scene well, to win praise from the guests and classmates, and to please his brother. As he thought this way, after quite some time, he felt himself gradually entering a strange realm. Suddenly everything before his eyes changed completely. Ahead was the inn called ‘Admiral Benbow,’ where his old friend Bill lived. He, ‘Black Dog’ with the temperament of a wanderer, after losing two fingers and experiencing many hardships, had finally found Bill’s whereabouts. His heart was filled with a mixture of vengeful joy and inexplicable terror. He calculated how to meet Bill, what to say to him, and how to reproach him for breaking his word, betraying their pact, and hiding the treasure – losing all honor among their kind. Thinking this way, the English lines from the script that he had memorized came naturally flooding into his mind. He exclaimed as if awakening: ‘Second Brother, I understand now!’

Juemin looked at him in surprise and asked, ‘What is it? Why are you so happy!’

‘Second Brother, I finally understand the secret of acting,’ Juehui said with a naive, triumphant smile. ‘I imagined that I myself was “Black Dog,” and then the words flowed out naturally, without any effort to think.’

‘That’s right, that’s exactly how acting should be,’ Juemin said with a smile. ‘Now that you understand this, you’re sure to succeed… The snow has lightened now, let’s close the umbrellas. It’s exhausting to hold them open in this wind.’ He shook the snow off his umbrella and closed it. Juehui also closed his umbrella. The two walked side by side, umbrellas resting on their shoulders, their bodies close together.

The snow had stopped, and the wind had gradually lost its force. Thick snow had accumulated on the tops of walls and rooftops, gleaming faintly in the gray dusk. A few brightly lit shops interspersed among the mansions with their black-lacquered gates adorned this lonely street, spreading a little warmth and light on this cold winter evening.

‘Third Brother, do you feel cold?’ Juemin suddenly asked with concern.

‘No, I feel quite warm. Talking on the road, I don’t feel cold at all.’

‘Then why are you trembling?’

‘Because I’m excited. I always tremble when I’m excited, and my heart beats hard. When I think about the play, I get nervous. To be honest, I really want to succeed. Second Brother, don’t you think I’m being childish?’ Juehui said, turning his head to glance at Juemin.

‘Third Brother,’ Juemin said sympathetically to Juehui. ‘No, not at all. I’m the same way. I also want very much to succeed. We’re all alike. That’s why even a simple word of praise from a teacher in class makes anyone who hears it happy.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ the younger brother said, moving closer to his older brother, and the two walked forward together, forgetting the cold, forgetting the wind and snow, forgetting the night.

‘Second Brother, you’re so kind,’ Juehui said, looking at Juemin’s face with an innocent smile. Juemin also turned to look at Juehui’s shining eyes, smiled briefly, then said slowly, ‘So are you.’ After that, he looked around, realized they were almost home, and said, ‘Third Brother, hurry up. Just around the corner and we’ll be home.’

Juehui nodded, and the two quickened their pace. In the blink of an eye, they had turned into an even quieter street.

The street lamps had been lit. Inside the square glass lanterns, the vegetable oil lamps seemed even lonelier in the cold wind. The shadows of the lamp posts lay faintly on the snow. The few pedestrians on the street hurried along, leaving some footprints in the snow before silently disappearing. The deep footprints lay there wearily, not wanting to move at all, until new feet pressed down upon them. Only then did they let out a faint sigh, crushed into strange shapes. And so, on this endless white street, there were no longer any clear footprints – only large and small dark holes.

Mansions with black-lacquered gates stood silently side by side in the cold wind. Two eternally silent stone lions crouched at each entrance. The gates stood open like the gaping mouths of monsters. Inside was a dark void, and no one could see what lay within. Each mansion had stood for a considerable number of years, or had changed hands through several families. Each mansion had its own secrets. The black lacquer on the gates had peeled off and been repainted, but despite these changes, their secrets were still not revealed to outsiders.

Reaching the middle of this street, the two brothers stopped in front of an even larger mansion. They scraped their leather shoes on the stone steps a few times, shook the melted snow off their bodies, and carrying their umbrellas, walked inside with big strides. The sound of their footsteps quickly disappeared into the dark void. The entrance returned to its former silence. This mansion was like the others – it too had a pair of stone lions at the gate and a pair of large red paper lanterns hanging under the eaves. The only difference was that there was an additional pair of large rectangular stone basins at the foot of the steps, and a wooden couplet hung on the gate wall, with eight characters in clerical script appearing against a red-lacquered background: ‘Grace from the nation, celebration in the family; Long life to the people, abundant harvest for the year.’ The two large doors opened inward, and on each door stood a towering, colorful door god holding a large sword.