Free Boy in the Twilight by Yu Hua

table on top of the chairs, and then put the chairs on top of the table; three or four hours passed as we moved the furniture around this way and that. When we heard our father groaning in his room,we went over and put our ears to the door. After a moment we realized he was calling our names, so we pushed the door open and went in. We found him curled up like a shrimp, looking at us with clenched teeth. “My appendix …,” he said. “Ahhh! … it’s killing me … acute appendicitis. Hurry up and go to the hospital. Ask for Dr. Chen … or Dr. Wang would do … quickly, go …”
    My brother grabbed me by the hand and we went downstairs, out the door, and along the alley. Now I realized what was happening. Father’s appendix was inflamed, and we were going to the hospital to fetch Dr. Chen or Dr. Wang. Once we’d found them, what would they do?
    When I thought of Father’s appendix all inflamed, my heart pounded. I thought to myself: So, at last, Father’s appendix is inflamed. Now he can operate on himself, and my brother and I can hold up the big mirror.
    My brother stopped when we reached the end of the alley. “We can’t go and fetch Dr. Chen, nor Dr. Wang either.”
    “Why not?” I said.
    “Well, look, if we find them, they’ll do an operation.”
    I nodded. “Don’t you want to see Dad operate on himself?” my brother asked.
    “Yes, that
is
what I want,” I said.
    “So we can’t look for Dr. Chen or Dr. Wang. We’ll go to the operating theater and nab a surgical kit. As for the big mirror, we have one of those at home …”
    I was so happy I shouted. “Yes! This way we can let Dad do the operation himself.”
    When we got to the hospital, practically all the staff was having lunch in the cafeteria and there was just one nurse inthe operating theater. My brother told me to chat her up, so I went over and called her Auntie and asked her how she could possibly be so pretty. As she smiled and simpered, my brother stole a surgical kit.
    Then we went back home. Father heard us come in. “Dr. Chen, Dr. Chen! Is that you, Dr. Wang?” he called in a low voice.
    We went into his room. Father’s forehead was bathed in sweat. The pain was getting to him. He could see there was no Dr. Chen, and no Dr. Wang either, just his two sons, my brother and me. “What about Dr. Chen? Why isn’t Dr. Chen here?” he asked hoarsely.
    My brother told me to open the surgical kit, while he brought over the big mirror our mother used to check her outfit each morning. Father didn’t know what we were up to. “And Dr. Wang?” he asked. “Dr. Wang wasn’t there either?”
    We laid out the surgical kit on Father’s right. I clambered on top of the bed and together we lifted up the mirror. My brother made a point of leaning forward and taking a peek in the mirror, to check that Father could see himself clearly. “Dad, get on with it!” we said excitedly.
    By now he was in such pain, his features were contorted. Gasping, he stared at us, still peppering us with questions about Dr. Chen and Dr. Wang. We were getting desperate. “Dad, hurry up,” we cried. “Otherwise it will get perforated!”
    “Hurry up … with what?” he asked, weakly.
    “Dad, hurry up and operate!” we said.
    Now, finally, he understood. He glared at us. “You bastards!” he cursed.
    I was shocked, not knowing what we’d done wrong, andlooked inquiringly at my brother, who was equally taken aback. Father was in such agony he couldn’t speak, and he stared at us in silence. Returning his gaze, my brother realized at last why Father had cursed us. “We haven’t taken Dad’s pants off yet,” he said.
    My brother had me hold the mirror while he tried to pull down Dad’s pants, but our father slapped him across the face and, straining with effort, cursed us again. “Bastards!”
    This frightened my brother so much that he scurried off the bed, and I followed suit, quickly crawling over Dad’s legs and onto the floor. We