Shifu, You'll Do Anything For a Laugh

shrieks, he was overcome with guilt feelings. No matter what, he couldn't keep sitting there.
    As he was getting to his feet, three well-dressed men rushed out of the government office building, two refined-looking young men in front, a fair-skinned, fleshy, middle-aged man bringing up the rear. They seemed almost buoyant, as if carried along by the wind. When they reached the gate, the two young men stepped aside to let their middle-aged companion walk ahead. Their movements were practiced and orderly; they were well trained. With a wave of the man's hand and a crisp order, the police backed off; the scene was reminiscent of a father breaking up a fight between his son and a neighbor boy by pulling a long face and telling his son to get the hell out of there. That done, he assumed a gentler tone in asking the crowd to disperse. Lü Xiaohu elbowed his way up front and spoke to the middle-aged man, who bent toward old Ding and said:
    “Good uncle, Vice Mayor Ma is at a meeting in the provincial capital. My name is Wu, I'm Assistant Director of the General Office. Tell me what it is you want.”
    Ding choked up as he gazed into the kindly face of Assistant Director Wu.
    “Good uncle,” Assistant Director Wu said, “come into my office. We can talk there.”
    With a sign from Assistant Director Wu, the two young men walked up and took old Ding by the arms to walk him into the building, followed by Assistant Director Wu, who was carrying his cane.
    As he sat in the air-conditioned office sipping hot water that Assistant Director Wu had personally poured for him, the blockage in his throat went away, and he talked about his suffering and his troubles. Once he'd stated his case, he took out the bundle of expenditure receipts. Assistant Director Wu responded with an explanation of how things stood, then took a hundred-yuan bill out of his pocket and said:
    “Ding Shifu, you hold on to those receipts. When Vice Mayor Ma returns, I'll give him a complete report on your situation. But for now, I'd like you to have this hundred yuan.”
    Old Ding stood up with the help of his cane and said:
    “You're a good man, Assistant Director Wu, and I thank you.” He bowed to the man. “But I can't accept your money.”
    4
    In the days that followed, he ignored his apprentice's advice to return to the government building to put on his act again, even though no one showed up from Vice Mayor Ma's office. His wife complained that his pride was making their lives a living hell, and scolded him by saying you can't help a dead cat climb a tree. He reacted by smashing a teacup and glaring venomously into his wife's gaunt, ashen face. The courage to stand up to him lasted only a moment. Then, lowering her head and reaching into her apron pocket to take out her badly worn black Naugahyde wallet, she put the responsibility squarely on his shoulders: “We have exactly ninety-nine yuan. When that's gone, there's no more.”
    She turned on her heel and went into the kitchen, from where chopping sounds soon emerged. Preparing soup bones. A moment later, she returned. Nestled in her hand, which was covered with bone splinters, was a one-yuan coin. “My apologies,” she said gravely. “Here's another yuan. I was using it to prop up the table leg. I nearly forgot about it.”
    A strange smile appeared on her face as she laid the coin down beside her wallet. He glowered at her, wanting her to look at him. All he needed was for their eyes to meet for him to have the chance to silently unload half a lifetime of discontent toward her. Because she was infertile, in his eyes she was simply inferior. But she shrewdly turned around, taking the brunt of his rage on her back. She was wearing a black synthetic blouse with yellow flowers, something she'd picked up somewhere or other and which was utterly inappropriate for a woman her age. A sunflower the size of a basin cast an aging ray onto her slightly hunched back. Raising his fist, with the idea of pounding the hell out of the wallet on the table, he stopped in midair, sighed despondently, and sat down, defeated. Any man who can't make a living and take care of his family has no right to lash out at his wife. That's the way it's always been, in China and in other places.
    One sunny morning, he put away his cane and walked out the door. With the sun's blinding rays stinging his eyes, he felt a bit like a mole that's come out into the light after years in a dark hole. A rainbow array of automobiles