Shifu, You'll Do Anything For a Laugh

okay, Ding Shifu?” old Qin asked with genuine concern.
    Once again he thanked old Qin and headed home slowly, walking his bike this time. Warm April breezes brushing against his face infused feelings of emptiness, sort of saccharine sweet. He felt dizzy, borderline drunk. Clusters of snowy poplar blossoms on the road by the curbs waved back and forth. A flock of homing pigeons circled in the sky above him, their trainers’ whistles falling on his ears. He was a long way from crushing torment, yet he couldn't stop the river of tears running down his cheeks. As he passed a neighborhood park near his house, a little boy chasing a ball ran smack into him, sending shooting pains up his leg that forced him to sit down beside the road. The little boy looked up at him.
    “Gramps,” he said, “how come you're crying?”
    He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and said, “You're a nice little boy. I'm not crying. Got some sand in my eyes. …”
    3
    His leg ached terribly when he got home, so he asked his wife to go out and buy a couple of medicinal patches. But these actually made the pain worse, and now he had no choice but to go see a doctor. Since they were childless, his wife asked Lü Xiaohu to take him to the hospital on his three-wheel cart. An X ray showed he had a fracture.
    Two months later, he hobbled out of the hospital with the help of a cane. The two-month hospital stay and all the medication had nearly wiped out the old couple's savings. Armed with his cane and a pipe dream, he went to the factory with a fistful of receipts and a head full of illusions. But the gate was closed and locked and the compound was still as death. For the first time, he felt truly wronged. Banging his cane on the metal gate, he shouted at the top of his lungs. The gate emitted a hollow sound, like the late-night barks of a dog. Finally, old Qin stuck his head out of the gatehouse and asked through the gate, “Is that you, Ding Shifu?”
    “Where's the factory manager? I need to see him.”
    Old Qin shook his head and smiled wryly, not saying a word.
    Lü Xiaohu, who had come along with him, had an idea: “Here's what I think, Shifu. Go over and sit in front of the government offices. Either that or set yourself on fire.”
    “What did you say?”
    “I'm not saying you should set yourself on fire,” Lü Xiaohu said with a smile. “Just give them a scare. They care about face more than anything.”
    “What kind of idea is that?” Ding said. “Are you asking me to go put on an act?”
    “What else can you do? Shifu, a man your age can't keep up with the rest of us. We've got our youth and our strength, so we can still make a living. But the government's all you've got left.”
    Ding neither sat in nor burned himself up, but he did hobble up to the government office gate, where he was stopped by a gateman in a blue tunic.
    “I'm here to see Vice Mayor Ma,” he said, “Vice Mayor Ma…”
    The gateman gave him a cold, hard look, without saying a word. But the minute he tried to walk through the gate, the gateman grabbed him and jerked him back. “I said I'm here to see Vice Mayor Ma,” he shouted as he struggled to break free. “He told me to come see him.”
    His patience quickly exhausted, the gateman shoved him backward; Ding stumbled a few steps before plopping down on the ground. He could have gotten back up, but he just sat there, feeling miserable and wanting to cry. So he did. At first it was just some silent sobs, but before long, he was really bawling. Rubberneckers began drifting over to see what was wrong. No one said a word. Embarrassed by the gathering crowd, he knew he should get up and leave, but just walking away would be even more embarrassing. So he shut his eyes and really cut loose. Then he heard Lü Xiaohu's shrill voice rise from the crowd. After relating Ding's glorious past to the crowd, Lü started to complain about his treatment, trying to stir up the crowd. Ding felt something hard hit him on the leg. When he opened his eyes, he saw a one-yuan coin flopping around in the mud next to his leg. Then more coins and bills fell all around him.
    A squad of policemen came running up out of nowhere, their rhythmic footsteps sounding like the jackhammers made by the Farm Equipment Manufacturing and Repair Factory. Waving their batons, the police tried to disperse the crowd, but the people wouldn't budge. That led to pushing and shoving, and as Ding watched legs fly around him and heard the shouts and