Free Rickshaw Boy: A Novel by She Lao

baby in the first place, and when she heard Xiangzi being bombarded by curses, she joined the fray in her oily voice. Attacking whom? Xiangzi, of course. Everyone’s target of choice. Quickly picking up the shafts of his rickshaw, he made his escape, even his anger apparently forgotten. He had never before witnessed anything like this, and it made his head swim.
    One after the other, he brought the children back to a compound that was noisier than a marketplace, with three women cursing and a bunch of kids bawling. It was as bad as the unruly scene outside a Dashala cinema when the show let out. Fortunately for Xiangzi, he still had to pick up Mr. Yang at the office, so off he went. The clamor of the street was easier to take than the pandemonium back at the house.
    Xiangzi’s chance for a breather did not come until midnight. He was worn out. Everyone in the family was in bed, but his ears rang with the sounds of bickering, as if three separate gramophones were playing in his head at the same time, keeping him on edge. He forced himself to think about nothing but sleep. But the minute he entered his room, his heart sank and all thoughts of sleep vanished. It was a tiny gatehouse room with doors on two sides, divided down the center by a wooden barrier; one side of the room was Nanny Zhang’s, the other his. There was no lamp, but a small two-foot window on the roadside wall under a street lamp provided a bit of light. The room, dank and musty, had a thick layer of dust on the floor and was furnished on his side with a cot against the wall and nothing more. Feeling the wooden slats with his hand, he knew that with his head at one end, his feet would be pressed up against the wall, but if he stretched out his legs, he would be in a half-seated position. He could not sleep curled up, so after looking at the situation from all angles, he moved the bed out at a slant, which would let him get through the night lying flat, with his feet hanging over the edge.
    After retrieving his bedding from the doorway, he spread it out on the cot and lay down. But how was he supposed to sleep with his legs dangling in midair? He closed his eyes anyway and said to himself, Get some sleep. You have to be up early in the morning. After all you’ve put up with, you can’t let this stop you. The food is terrible and the work exhausting, but maybe they have mahjong parties or invite guests for dinner or go out at night. What are you here for, anyway, Xiangzi? For the wages. Do whatever it takes to put aside the money you need. Comforted by that thought, he breathed in the air of the room and found it didn’t smell as bad as he’d thought. As he was nodding off, he was dimly aware that bedbugs were biting him, but he was too sleepy to worry about that.
    Two days into the new job Xiangzi was totally disheartened. Then, on the fourth day, some women showed up, and Nanny Zhang set up the mahjong table. Xiangzi’s heart felt like a frozen lake over which a spring breeze blew. When the ladies of the house played mahjong, they turned their children over to the servants, and since Nanny Zhang was kept busy supplying the women with cigarettes and tea and hot towels, the little monkeys were Xiangzi’s responsibility. He hated the little brats, but when he stole inside, he saw that Mrs. Yang was the banker and that she seemed to take the duty seriously. Maybe, he thought, even though she’s a shrew, she might understand that this is a chance to give the servants a little extra. He showed unusual patience with the children, expecting a tip when the game was over. Treating them like little lords and ladies was the way to go.
    When the game was over, Mrs. Yang told Xiangzi to take her guests home, and since two of them were in a hurry to leave, she had him call for a second rickshaw. When it arrived, she made a big show of looking for money to pay her guest’s fare. The woman politely declined, drawing a disapproving shout from Mrs. Yang:
    “You can’t