Mr. Peng Xixi

Author: Peng Xixi
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-09-01
Features: Mr. Peng Xixi loves chicken skin very much. Not only chicken skin, but all kinds of animal skins served on the dining table, such as pork skin, fish skin, dog skin, and snake skin, he loves them all. In comparison, Mr. Peng Xixi has much less interest in chicken. Mr. Peng Xixi enjoys superficial things. He likes the surface, expressions, appearances, performances, and cousins, and all these superficial things. From this, we can infer that Mr. Peng Xixi seems to be naturally simple and straightforward. He doesn’t want to delve deep into anything. Maybe he has his own reasons. Last summer, on a charming evening, Mr. Peng Xixi, with a full belly after drinking, came out of Quanjude Roast Duck (Skin) Restaurant with his friend Liu Xinhua. The two stylish and charming gentlemen strolled leisurely along the prosperous Xidan Street. As they walked, Mr. Peng Xixi suddenly grabbed Liu Xin and said, “You idiot.” So far, at least 200 people have cursed him, and it seems he doesn’t have many more admirers calling him a genius. Some seriously claim that he is the best postmodernist writer in China, while others flatly declare that he has no talent and should give up and find another job. Haha, it’s not too late yet. There are too many opinions about him; his evaluations are simply too diverse—Sentence King, fool, true grassroots, quote master, little brat, outstanding dung lover, literary punk, contemporary Dong Fangshuo, half-madman, and tipsy, cold-eyed Peng Xixi. Mr. Peng Xixi has countless amusing anecdotes in his life; here, I’ll tell you about one that’s the most uninteresting. Three years ago, Mr. Peng Xixi met the painter Ya through an introduction. Perhaps out of disdain for crowds, Ya lived alone in the remote wilderness, far away from any artistic circles that shared his interests or. Maybe he couldn’t stand loneliness anymore and couldn’t maintain his arrogance, so Ya called Mr. Peng Xixi every few days, initially with warm invitations, but eventually, his tone grew increasingly desperate, almost pleading him to come visit. But Ya’s place was so remote that even public buses didn’t reach there. Mr. Peng Xixi was quite torn and felt extremely guilty. “I have adult videos,” Ya had no choice but to come up with such a shameless idea. Unbeknownst to him, Mr. Peng Xixi lacked an understanding of human animalistic instincts. Seeing no other option, Mr. Peng Xixi decided this was a necessary life lesson he had to learn. He rushed out of the door, jumped onto his bicycle, and sped off. The wind whispered in his ears. When he arrived at the classroom, he saw Ya holding a short knife and hacking at a watermelon. Mr. Peng Xixi had come all the way and was already thirsty, with a dry throat and no words to say. He kept gnawing on eight pieces of watermelon without stopping. “Tell me, how do you like my paintings?” It seemed Ya was determined to break free from his self-perceived underappreciation and insisted on getting feedback from the guest. “Good, good, good—amazing!” As he said this, Mr. Peng Xixi threw away the ninth piece of watermelon peel. Then they started watching the videos. Then they couldn’t wait to take off their clothes. Then the man inserted into the woman. Mr. Peng Xixi watched, stunned and delighted. Suddenly—such a shameless “suddenly”—a knock on the door interrupted them. Ya leaped off the sofa, turned off the TV, and went out. A little while later, three people came back, none of whom Mr. Peng Xixi recognized. He saw the man trying to hide his excitement while lowering himself to whisper into Mr. Peng Xixi’s left ear: “Two girls from Peking University. You can go back now.” So Mr. Peng Xixi left. On the way back, Mr. Peng Xixi couldn’t hold it anymore and couldn’t find a restroom. He had to solve the problem on the spot. Not a single drop more or less, he relieved himself nine times.