Free Rickshaw Boy: A Novel by She Lao Page B

the courtyard and several small rooms behind a tiny courtyard were the men’s sleeping quarters.
    It must have been after eleven when Xiangzi spotted the light above the door at Harmony Shed. The accounting office and eastern room were dark, but a light shone in the western room, which meant that Huniu was still up. He planned to sneak in quietly so she wouldn’t see him. He did not want her to be the first to witness his defeat, since she held him in such high regard. But he’d barely pulled his rickshaw up under her window when she walked out through the rickshaw entrance.
    “Oh, Xiangzi, what—” She stopped when she saw the dejected look on his face and the bedding in the rickshaw.
    It was what he had dreaded; as humiliation filled his heart, he stood there like a fool, speechless, as he gazed stupidly at Huniu. There was something different about her that night. Whether it was the effects of the light or because she’d powdered her face, her skin was paler than usual, largely masking the ferocious expression she normally wore. Her lips were painted, lending her a seductive appearance. Xiangzi did not know what to make of this bewildering change. He’d never actually thought of her as a woman, and the sight of her reddened lips embarrassed him. She was wearing a light green satin jacket over a pair of wide unlined black crepe trousers. The overhead light lent her green jacket a soft and slightly doleful luster, and since it was a bit too short, it revealed a strip of her white waistband, highlighting the quiet elegance of the green. A light breeze rustled her wide black trousers slightly, almost as if sinister essences were trying to escape the bright light and become one with the dark night. Xiangzi lowered his head, not daring to keep staring, though the image of a glimmering green jacket stayed with him. As far as he knew, Huniu never dressed like that. The family was rich enough for her to dress in silks and satins, but daily contact with coarse rickshaw men dictated that she wear ordinary cotton clothing, with an occasional but muted touch of color. Xiangzi was seeing something new and exciting, yet familiar, and that mystified him.
    He had arrived feeling terrible, only to encounter this strange apparition under a bright light, and he did not know what to do. Aware that it was not his place to move, he was hoping that she would either turn and go back inside or tell him what to do. The tension was more than he could take, like nothing he’d ever known. It was unbearable.
    “Hey!” She moved closer. “Don’t just stand there,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Put your rickshaw away and come right back. I want to talk to you about something. I’ll be inside.”
    Accustomed to helping out with things when she asked him to, this time he detected a difference and he needed time to think. But standing there thinking made him look as though he was frozen to the spot; not knowing what else to do, he took his rickshaw inside. The southern rooms were dark, so the men were either in bed or hadn’t quit for the day. After parking his rickshaw, he headed back to her door, where suddenly his heart began to race.
    “Come in,” she said, sticking her head out the door, looking somewhere between lighthearted and impatient. “I want to talk to you about something.”
    He walked in slowly.
    A pair of not quite ripe white pears lay on a table. Next to them were a decanter of liquor and three white porcelain cups. Finally, there was a large platter with half a stewed chicken, pieces of smoked liver, and some tripe.
    “See what we have.” She pointed to a chair and waited for him to sit down before continuing:
    “I’m treating myself tonight for all my hard work, and you can join me.” She poured him a cup from the decanter. The peppery smell of the liquor mixed with that of smoked and stewed meats produced a pungent, heavy aroma. “Drink up,” she said, “and try some of this chicken. I’ve already