Ch. 6: Chapter 6: The Young Landlady

Zuo Shaoyang’s eyes had not yet adjusted to the dim interior, and he could make out little else before Huixiang called out.

“Father! Mother! We’re back.”

The thin old man merely grunted. From somewhere in the darkness came an elderly woman’s voice.

“Huixiang, go and make supper.”

Zuo Shaoyang understood at once. The old man with the goatee was the father of the dead man whose body he now occupied—and therefore his own father from now on: Zuo Gui, the elderly physician so fond of prescribing cinnamon twig. The woman speaking from the darkness was presumably his mother, Madam Liang.

Another woman’s shrill voice cut in.

“Oh, so there’s food to eat, is there? If you can afford supper, why can’t you pay my rent? Now, Madam Zuo, don’t make a fool of me. I’ve been waiting here for ages. Unless you pay me today, you can forget about sitting down to eat!”

The elderly woman sighed.

“Madam Zhao, it’s not that we won’t pay. You’ve seen for yourself—only two patients have come in all afternoon. We took just ten-odd wen for their medicine, and we’ve given you every coin. There’s nothing left. With all this fighting, people can barely keep themselves alive. Who has money to see a physician? There’s no profit in a medicine shop these days. We can hardly earn enough to feed ourselves. Please bear with us…”

“Whether you make a profit is your affair! Listen, the New Year’s almost here. As the old saying goes, people may cross into the new year, but debts may not. This year’s debts must be collected this year! If you owed me only a few hundred wen, I wouldn’t press you. But there’s this year’s rent, the arrears from previous years, and all the money you borrowed for herbs, your daughter’s wedding, and goodness knows what else. Altogether, it comes to nine thousand and seventy wen! Very well, I’ll make another concession. I’ll swallow the loss and forget the seventy. But you must pay the nine thousand.”

On the way home, Zuo Shaoyang had already learned from Huixiang that, in the early Tang, one liang of gold was worth ten liang of silver, or one string of copper cash—one thousand wen. That was equivalent to five thousand yuan in modern money. In other words, one wen was worth about five yuan.

Guizhi Hall’s debt of nine thousand wen therefore amounted to forty-five thousand yuan. For this shabby little medicine shop, it was probably an astronomical sum.

The elderly woman spoke again.

“Madam Zhao, we truly have no money. Never mind nine thousand wen—we couldn’t find nine wen just now. As for supper, there’s nothing in the pot but hard buns made from dark flour mixed with wild greens. The flour came from Huixiang’s household—half a jin to see us through the New Year. She and her brother gathered the greens while they were up the mountain collecting herbs. This New Year… Oh, how are we to get through it?”

She began to sob.

“Enough, enough! Don’t cry poverty at me. Who doesn’t have troubles? If you’re going to cry, I ought to cry too! My husband left me this one house, then stretched out his legs and died. My children and I depend on the rent to eat. If I can’t collect it, what am I supposed to live on—thin air? Madam Zuo, I’m begging you. Do me a kindness and pay the rent first!”

As the two women spoke in the gloomy room, Zuo Shaoyang’s eyes gradually adjusted.

He could finally make out a young woman seated farther inside on a tall, round stool, one leg crossed over the other. She held a paper cone in one hand and kept taking things from it with the other, tossing them into her mouth. Her pointed chin worked ceaselessly as she chewed, and she swallowed noisily. It was too dark to see what she was eating.

His mother, Madam Liang, stood a little in front of her, wearing a short jacket and skirt. Her hands were tucked into her sleeves and her back was bent. He could not see her face.

The old man behind the long table had remained silent throughout. With his hands inside his sleeves, he sat looking at the floor. Zuo Shaoyang could not tell whether he was lost in thought or too ashamed to look up while someone demanded payment.

It was almost dark outside now. Huixiang took the herb basket from Zuo Shaoyang’s shoulder, hurried into the side room to put it down, then crossed the hall into the room on the other side.

Soon a faint oil lamp glowed there. Its light moved slowly into the hall as Huixiang carried it to the long table and set it down.

“Father, my brother slipped while climbing a cliff to gather herbs today. He fell and cut his head. Please have a look.”

Before Zuo Gui could answer, Madam Liang cried out and hurried over. Taking Zuo Shaoyang by the shoulders, she looked up at him, searching him anxiously from head to foot.

“Zhong, my boy, you fell? Are you badly hurt? Let Mother see.”

In the faint lamplight, Zuo Shaoyang could see her face clearly at last. Wrinkles furrowed it like the gullies of the loess uplands. She strained to open her cloudy eyes wider as she looked at him, full of alarm.

He wanted to call her Mother, but the word would not come. She was a stranger to him.

“I’m all right,” he mumbled. “Just a little cut.”

Zuo Gui finally raised his head and looked at him.

“Sit down. Let me see where you’re hurt.”

Zuo Shaoyang sat on the round stool beside the table and bent his head.

“At the back. There’s a cut. It bled a little, but I’m fine.”

Zuo Gui cradled his head in his bony hands and peered at the wound beside the dim oil lamp.

“Mm. There is a cut, quite a long one. But it’s closed already, and it’s stopped bleeding. How do you feel? Any headache or nausea?”

“No nausea, and my head doesn’t hurt. I’m all right.”

“Give me your hand. I’ll take your pulse.”

Zuo Gui took his wrist. Stroking his little greying goatee with his free hand, he concentrated on the pulse. After a while, he nodded slowly.

“Mm. Your pulse is steady. Nothing seems amiss.”

“Nothing amiss?” Huixiang broke in. “Father, he must have hurt himself badly. He can’t even… He doesn’t remember… Oh, I’ll tell you later!”

The landlady rose and came over.

“Pay my rent first, then you can talk as long as you like. I need to get home too.”

Madam Liang looked miserable.

“Madam Zhao, we truly haven’t got it.”

This young woman owned the house Guizhi Hall rented. Her surname was Zhao, and she ranked third in her family, hence the customary address “Third Madam Zhao.”

She gave a cold laugh.

“Very well. Being reasonable clearly gets me nowhere. In that case, don’t blame me for what happens next. I expected this anyway. You’re moving out tonight. Right now!”

“Moving out? Where can we go in the dead of winter? We’ve rented your house for the shop for years. We have regular patients who come to us. If we move, we won’t find a suitable place, and we’ll lose our patients too!”

“That’s none of my concern! You need to eat, and so do I. You can’t expect me to starve along with you. You owe me nine thousand wen. Since you haven’t got the money, I’ll take your herbs instead!”

Madam Liang and Zuo Gui both started. They exchanged a glance before Madam Liang pleaded again.

“Madam Zhao, we borrowed money to buy those medicines. If you take them, what are we to do?”

“That’s not my concern either! A debt to someone else is a debt, and so is a debt to me. I don’t care where you borrowed the money to buy your herbs!

“And I doubt all those herbs put together would cover the nine thousand wen. I was going to take your household things as well, to make up the rent, but I know what you own. None of it’s worth much. With the New Year coming, I won’t go too far. You can take your things with you.

“Ah, that’s what comes of having a soft heart! I’ll just count the loss as money thrown into the river.

“You have two hours to pack. Then I’m coming back with people to take possession of the house. If you haven’t moved out by then, I’ll have them help you.

“Oh, and remember the saying: a man may die, but his debts live on. Moving out doesn’t wipe out what you owe me. I’ll send someone to collect it! That’s all I have to say. I’m going home for supper.”

With that, Madam Zhao started towards the door.

Madam Liang and Huixiang hurried after her, begging her to reconsider. But her mind seemed made up. All she would say was that she would return in two hours with people to reclaim the house.

Zuo Shaoyang rushed forward.

“Auntie Zhao—no, Aunt Zhao—no, Third Aunt Zhao! Please wait. There’s something I’d like to say.”