Deng Xiaohua (1953), known by the pen name Can Xue, is a Chinese avant-garde prose writer and literary critic.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PARTITION WALL
By Can Xue
When I was a child, we lived in a place where all the neighbors shared a single kitchen. It was large, with more than ten coal stoves. There was also a tap; everyone waited in line to get water to wash vegetables. Cooking was easy in those days, as each family generally had two meals a day – leafy greens and tofu, or vegetables and pickled meat strips. The kitchen was most lively when people were preparing to eat. We all talked loudly, mixed with the ding-dong noise of metal spoons clanging against the pots.
If we all stopped making noise at the same time, we could hear a strange, constant humming sound coming from the other side of the kitchen wall. People said that a workshop on the other side of the wall made tin garden pots. But it had been closed for months, probably because there wasn't much work. Usually, when we passed through that narrow passage to get to the street, we would see a large padlock hanging on the workshop door. What was causing that humming sound? The adults didn't worry about such things; they acted as if they didn't hear any noise.
We liked to play hide and seek in the kitchen at night. By then most of the stoves had cooled down and the lights were out. Only two or three stoves kept the fire burning like monsters, each with a glowing red eye.
Xiaoyi and I would jump from one stove to the other over the dividing wall and stand in a dark spot under the ceiling.
“There was a support ladder there,” Xiaoyi whispered.
I went down the ladder with her to the other side of the partition wall. How dark! But you could hear the noise in the kitchen: probably some unfortunate boys are trapped there. Xiaoyi asked me not to move. I took her hand and moved forward with her. I was stunned.
"Are you there?" someone asked in a pretty tired voice.
“Yes, Yes!” Xiaoyi said enthusiastically, as if trying to please that person.
It was very hot all around and I could smell a pungent smell. Was someone frying soybeans? Xiaoyi wanted me to sit down, so I sat down on a bumpy stone bench. It wasn’t comfortable at all. I noticed a lot of people around us and the atmosphere was tense. They seemed to be watching my posture about something, but I had no idea what it was.
“Take a position,” Xiaoyi said and pushed me.
"Regarding what?" I asked.
"Whatever. Who are you hurting? Hurry up!"
Someone walked close and stepped on the back of my foot with their heavy sole. It felt like they were crushing my legs. I cried out in pain.
“Okay,” Xiaoyi said. “That’s also a statement.” He relaxed.
But the girl next to us wasn't happy. Girls are girls, not like us boys. They're always unhappy with others, always crying. No matter what you do, they're never happy.
I stood up with tears in my eyes. I was groaning. There was no point in sitting on that stone bench any longer.
The girl put something in my palm. She told me they were soybeans – as a token of gratitude to me. But hadn't she been unhappy with me a minute ago? Why was she expressing gratitude to me now?
Soybeans were slowly roasting in an iron skillet, but I couldn't see the skillet, nor could I see the stove. This was really strange. Could it be a smoldering fire burning without a flame? It was very hot. I put the two soybeans in my mouth and chewed them. They tasted pretty good. The back of my leg still hurt badly. I put it on the stone bench and stood there hunched over it. The boy on my left said something to me, but I couldn't hear him clearly. He was furious and shouted, "Why aren't you leaving?"
But I had no intention of going. Maybe I was waiting to eat soybeans, or maybe I was just curious about the place.
"I'll wait a bit," I said in a tired voice.
But that boy heard me perfectly well. He shouted to someone around us, “This guy wants to cut a piece of meat! He wants to look at us! But we won’t let him do what he wants.”
Everyone in the room gasped. What they all said was, "He's very ambitious!"
Then they burst out laughing. I was so scared. I thought they were going to attack me. But they didn't. I heard the swish of the soybeans as they were frying and I could smell the aroma. That girl rewarded me with a few more beans. That was exciting! But Xiaoyi came, grabbed my arms, and ordered me to leave with her.
We climbed the stairs, crossed the dividing wall, and returned to the large kitchen. There was no sign of a human being. It was already midnight. Only a few stoves still burning were visible.
***
I took the soybeans out of my pocket and looked at them from time to time. They were ordinary fried soybeans. When I put them to my nose, I could smell their scent. What kind of people were involved in secret activities in the middle of the night on the other side of the partition wall? I could hear their voices, but I couldn’t see them. During the day, without letting Xiaoyin know, I slipped through the door of the workshop. I put my ear to the closed door: it was quiet inside. I listened for a long time, until I got tired.
"I miss the tin workshop. Can you take me there again at night?" I asked Xiaoyin.
“No way.” His answer was direct. “The last time we went there it was by accident. If we plan ahead, some leopard will be guarding the entrance and you will never be able to get in.”
“But how do they – even that girl – manage to get in?” I asked.
“They live there. There were some buildings in the city that you might think were empty, but were actually inhabited. I heard my grandfather talk about it. But I’ve only been to one of them – the tinsmith shop.”
Realizing that I might ask her more questions, Xiaoyi hurriedly ran away.
I was bored. I had no interest in the big, bustling kitchen; only the mysterious air of the tin workshop could revive me. Dad was shouting at me in a hoarse voice, asking me to hurry up and get cooking.
I was washing the turnips with great difficulty, cutting them up and putting them in a large pot of water. Then I stood there, dazed. I noticed that a brick in the wall had come loose and I stared at it hopefully, but time passed and nothing was happening. When I turned the turnips over with my shoulder, I heard a sigh from there: “It’s very lonely here!”
It was a girl's voice, but not the girl who had given me the soybeans.
My sister came in, a big smile on her face. She took my shoulder and deftly placed the turnips and shoulder in a bowl.
"Hey – this guy is daydreaming!" he declared to everyone.
Everyone in the kitchen gasped. I hated it.
When I looked back at the dividing wall, I didn't see anything happening.
A handful of people standing around a large frying pan were frying soybeans in the dark: I was very fond of such things, because you never knew what might happen next. I felt a high regard for Xiaoyin.
Xiaoyi was hiding from me. The more she did this, the more my hopes grew. I thought, My friends are on the other side of the dividing wall. Things that I care about are happening there. I forgot the pain I had felt that night. What I remembered were the faint smell of soybeans and the vague excitement in the darkness. I made up my mind to deal with this alone.
***
To be safe, I waited until late to sneak out of my house – probably midnight.
I walked through the kitchen and saw those three monstrous red eyes. I jumped up from one of the cold stoves – I jumped over the partition wall. It was pretty quiet on the other side of the partition wall. I crouched on top of the wall and explored down with one foot. But that was useless: they had removed the support ladder. Damn Xiaoyi. I was tired, bored and burning with bitterness.
But I didn't want to go back to the kitchen either. Then I heard a voice rise up in mid-air: "You can just come downstairs. It's okay."
This seductive voice belonged to the girl who had given me the soybeans. I couldn't resist: my center of gravity shifted. Oh my God! With one step I touched solid ground. I found my balance.
The room was still warm, still filled with the aroma of soybeans, still dark. I couldn't see anyone alive. For some reason, tears filled my eyes. Luckily, no one saw this. I knew there were people around, but they weren't whispering. No sound came from the soybeans, or the iron frying pan. Then there was a sound. It came from the kitchen. It seemed that my neighbors were frying vegetables in the kitchen. They were talking loudly and their voices had become pleasant. Was it already day there?
A hand pushed me down and once again I sat down on the bumpy stone bench. The back of my leg hurt badly.
“If we were to wait,” said a voice near me, “in order to find out how things are over there.”
"Are you interested in what's going on over there in the kitchen?" I asked. I was surprised.
"You're thinking, aren't you?" the person asked in response.
Then no one said anything more. Since no one spoke, I couldn't tell how many people were in the room. Maybe four or five, maybe twenty or thirty. What was certain was that they were listening intently to the sound—the incessant commotion coming from the kitchen on the other side of the wall. Someone there was laughing loudly: it seemed to be my sister. Then the others laughed loudly too. I could have been in the kitchen, but I was sitting here in the dark, because it made me feel vaguely excited. These people who didn't show their faces were just like conspirators, and I kept feeling that something big was going to happen. Just think about it, I've come out of my stupor. This kind of thing has actually happened before! I've had enough of this kind of gathering. But why were these mysterious people interested in the vulgar things that happened in the kitchen, which I knew so well?
Later, when I met Xiaoyin, I expressed my thoughts to her. She listened to me without opening her mouth. Then she sighed and said that this kind of question was pretty elusive and he was not the right person to ask it to.
His expression as a little adult made me laugh, and my interest in the dividing wall grew even more. The next night, I would jump over it again. Without using the stairs, I could still get down to the ground. That was my secret.
/Taken from Can Xue 'I Live in th Slums', Yale University Press, 2020
/translation: Gazeta Express
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