World Micro-fiction Classics: China Volume

Author: Wu Jinbian / Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-01-01
Features: Jiang Zilong, the caregiver of the proud and aloof Professor Zhuang, finally couldn't stand the loneliness and grew resentful. He was a renowned professor at a prestigious university, yet he had never been treated with such neglect even when he fell ill abroad! High-level intellectuals were nominally entitled to the treatment of senior cadres, but how could this "high intellectual" compare to the "high-ranking official" in the next bed? There were always cadres like division heads and section chiefs waiting by his bedside, and occasionally a couple of young, attractive women would come to comfort him. His bedside table and windowsill were piled with high-end food, and six young men took turns in three shifts, guarding him 24 hours a day. Doctors and nurses also visited the ward first to check on the wealthy so-called General Manager Wang, then on him, the chemistry professor who was far from. If the checkup for the manager took half an hour, his checkup would take an extra ten minutes. His bedside was always deserted. His son was working on missiles thousands of kilometers away, and his daughter was studying abroad. Only his wife took the bus every day to bring him some food and pour a bottle of hot water. The department could hardly be relied upon either; it was considered a great favor if someone came to visit him once every half a month. When one is in such a predicament, knowledge, reputation, and arrogance are useless. Professor Zhuang, however, couldn't let go of his status. He lay facing the wall every day, indifferent to everything around the manager's bedside. Who knew what kind of manager this was? Now, "companies" were everywhere. Thousands of large units could call themselves "companies," and even a couple of people could set up a "company" sign. One day, the manager's condition suddenly worsened, and the doctor notified them to prepare for the worst. More people gathered around his bedside, including the imposing Vice Manager Liu, who refused to offer insincere empty words to comfort a dying man. After a moment of silence, he said a few practical words, asking if the manager had any requests or worries. The vice manager promised to fulfill all the dying man's requests. Having said what needed to be said, he stood up to leave and begin arranging the manager's affairs. The caregivers of the manager suddenly all stood up, abandoning the patient and hurriedly rushing to support Vice Manager Liu. Some rushed forward to open the door, while others followed, smiling beside him, forming a procession with great fanfare. Vice Manager Liu was furious: "I'm not dying, why are you supporting me?" Professor Zhuang, for once, turned his head and saw the isolated manager on the brink of death. Two tears rolled down his pillow. He was relieved that he was a "high intellectual" and not a "high-ranking official." Knowledge and a pen would never betray him until the very end. Jiang Zilong's search for the "hat" left Jin Liu dumbfounded. He stood beside the flower bed in the middle of the Education Bureau compound, dazed and bewildered, like an old narcissus withered by frost. He was naturally a person without arrogance or strong opinions, and at this moment, he truly wanted to smash his head against the rocks in the flower bed. The rightist in his village had all been stripped of their hats and had their policies implemented, returning to the city. Only he was left unattended and unasked about. Today, he came to his former workplace—the Education Bureau—to inquire, but the comrades in the organization department checked the archives and found that all the rightists in the bureau had been corrected and had their policies implemented, and Jin Liu's name was not on the list of former rightists. He had never been labeled a rightist in the first place, so he had no choice but to go back. "Heavens, I was clearly labeled a rightist back then! Otherwise, why was I sent to the countryside?" "We don't know that either. The person who persecuted you is no longer at the Education Bureau." Over the past two decades, Jin Liu had both disliked and feared the "rightist hat." But now, the hat had become a lucky bird and a god of wealth to him, incredibly precious and important. Yet, at this moment, the hat had flown away. Without it, his reputation could not be restored, and his policies could not be implemented. Where could he find this hat that he had lost and regained? The old man at the reception desk saw how pitiful Jin Liu was and walked over, patting his shoulder sincerely. "You should go find old Sui and ask him to vouch for you." Yes, Sui was the secretary of the Education Bureau when Jin Liu was persecuted, and he would vouch that he was a rightist. Jin Liu asked fifty people and visited fifty places before finally finding old Sui in a small conference room at a luxury hotel. After only a few words, Sui remembered the foolish young man who had been reported as a rightist but was not approved. Later, he was sent to the countryside like the other rightists. Now, how could he recognize that debt? Old Sui said firmly, "Comrade Jin Liu, when I was the secretary of the Education Bureau, I absolutely did not label you as a rightist. This is all documented in the archives." Jin Liu was furious and wanted to argue, but old Sui waved his hand. "I have an important meeting now. I've made things clear to you. You have no policy implementation issues. You should go back and work properly." With that, he strode into the inner room. Jin Liu had no choice but to leave the hotel, still muttering under his breath, "The hat, my hat." Ma Fengchao's heart-sinking broken promise In this place, there was a custom that during the Spring Festival, every household would buy a pig's head to make "frozen" as a cold dish for drinking. Before the New Year, pig's heads were in short supply, and all kinds of "relationship households" came to the food company to "knock on the back door." To solve this problem, the supply department gave each employee of the company ten pig's heads and asked them to take care of their respective "relationship households." Naturally, the newly arrived fifth deputy manager Zhu Zhongxin also received ten pig's heads, which posed a big challenge for him! He was a "person who held a pig's head but couldn't find a temple door," with an unchanging "local guerrilla" style: doing things properly and squarely, treating people sincerely, and never relying on "relationships." How to handle these ten pig's heads? Return them and stop this practice of "those closest to the water tower get the first pick"? But Section Chief Sun said, "This was approved by the first, second, third, and fourth in command. If we don't distribute them, we will lose face." He was new to the company and the fifth in command. How could he make things difficult right from the start? Give them away? He had no "relationship households," and even if he had some relatives and friends, he didn't want to. What kind of style is that? Putting oneself first and leaving the masses behind! Right! Just sell the pig's heads outside the store. Outside the food store, people buying pig's heads were so crowded that they formed knots, and the line stretched out for a long way. Zhu Zhongxin, amidst the crowded, chose the "hardship households" in his eyes. "Elderly lady, you're so old, you can't endure the suffering of queuing. Come out, I'll give you a pig's head!" "Elder gentleman, don't squeeze in. Can you squeeze past those young people? I'll sell you a pig's head!" "Oh, oh! This lady, you're holding a child, queuing is so inconvenient. Isn't this just for a pig's head?" In this way, Zhu Zhongxin picked out ten people who had difficulty queuing in the crowded crowd. Pointing to a pile of plump pig's heads, he said, "The food company hasn't done a good job in supply! It takes half an hour to queue just to buy a pig's head. I'm transferring this pile of pig's heads to you, no competition, one per person." Unexpectedly, these ten hardship households didn't move for half a day. Zhu Zhongxin's sincerity aroused their suspicion, and they raised a series of questions: "Are these pig's heads okay?" "Are they offal pig's heads?"