The weather is bad

Author: Wang Yuewen
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-11-01
Features: A story without a beginning or end—what started as a casual incident unexpectedly led to all sorts of conflicts. Huang Zhichu had never shopped at ready-to-wear markets; he always thought it was a woman's thing. That day, for some inexplicable reason, he ended up visiting one, and coincidentally, he ran into the mayor's wife. The mayor's wife was short on eight yuan for her purchase and was looking for someone to borrow the money from. Naturally, she turned to Huang Zhichu. Huang Zhichu didn’t have any money on him and was in a fix, but he spotted another neighbor who was setting up a ready-to-wear stall and borrowed eight yuan from her for the mayor's wife. This was indeed a small matter—one that could happen to anyone. But the trouble started here. Perhaps it’s true that the wealthy tend to forget, for on subsequent occasions when the mayor's wife encountered him, she merely gave a slight nod as usual, showing no intention of returning the money. A mayor’s wife would never lose face over a mere eight yuan—she must have forgotten. Huang Zhichu, of course, wouldn’t dare to ask the mayor's wife for the money. In reality, he could just pay back the eight yuan to the female neighbor and consider it bad luck or a theft. But Huang Zhichu’s wife was an accountant and purchasing manager, and he only had a few dozen yuan in his pocket from his salary—nothing else. He often used this to lecture his colleagues, saying that household chores like cooking and shopping were women’s responsibilities, and he preferred to stay out of it. But today, he felt he should at least have some financial autonomy. Unable to repay the money, he had to make small talk and smile apologetically whenever he encountered the female neighbor. Though they had been neighbors for three years, he had never learned the surname or name of the family next door. Huang Zhichu had never been particularly interested in associating with these nouveau riche neighbors, especially this woman, who wore makeup and red lipstick, often walking a yellow dog. She reminded him of a fallen aristocrat or a female hippie. When she blew bubblegum, he couldn’t help but think of condoms, which made him feel disgusted. Her husband was dark and imposing, with a waist circumference of at least three and a half feet, and often had a fierce expression, clearly a troublemaker. The woman sometimes seemed to want to greet Huang Zhichu and his wife, but they were a bit too proud, and others didn’t dare to be too warm. Now that Huang Zhichu took the initiative to speak, the woman naturally smiled brightly. But the black man remained stern, which made Huang Zhichu feel a bit guilty. Since they were greeting each other, they needed a proper address—otherwise, just calling out "Hey" would be inappropriate. Huang Zhichu asked his wife Xiao Lin about the name of the woman next door. Xiao Lin immediately flew into a rage: "I’ve noticed something’s been off about you these past few days. You’ve been sitting at home like a sick chicken, staring at that slut and smiling foolishly. Why do you want to know her name? Are you planning to write her love letters?" It was dinnertime, and the neighbors were all busy trying to fill their stomachs. They lived in old wooden houses, with each family connected to the next, separated only by a thin wall. Even the clatter of wok handles could be heard clearly, so it was likely that their conversation would be heard word for word on the other side. Huang Zhichu had to whisper to his wife, "Quiet, quiet." Dinner was eaten in silence, tasteless and quiet. Their son Liu, who was a bit older, seemed to understand the situation and kept his eyes darting between his parents, quieter than usual. Before ten o’clock, the family went to bed. The son had been sleeping under his own blanket, but Xiao Lin, angry, climbed into his bed. On their wedding night, after finishing the act, Huang Zhichu had bitten Xiao Lin’s ear and said, "From now on, I"