Shadow Puppet Show

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang...

The clear ringing of a gong startled Xu Chunliang awake. He rubbed his eyes in confusion and found himself sitting in the middle of a crowd.

A black bench was beneath him, and a small square table stood in front of him, with peanuts, melon seeds, and a teacup on it.

It was pitch-black all around, and the people beside him were chatting noisily.

"Business has been good this year, hasn't it, Boss Liu? Wishing you even greater prosperity!"

"You're too kind, Boss Li. Are you here to see the show too?"

The people around him kept greeting one another, but Xu Chunliang felt a little groggy.

"Who am I?"

"Where am I?"

He looked around in bewilderment, trying to figure out where he was.

His palm felt ice-cold. He looked down and saw that he was holding a hand covered in chilblains. A slightly tarnished silver bracelet circled the rough wrist.

He followed the wrist upward, past the gray-blue cotton-padded sleeve and a slender, slightly reddened neck, to a profile that looked somewhat familiar.

Her face was small and slightly dry, but she was clearly a lovely woman.

"Who... is she? Why am I holding her hand?" Xu Chunliang frowned and murmured to himself.

Perhaps sensing his gaze, the woman beside him turned, a delighted smile on her face. "Dear, I'm so happy today. The millet harvest was good this year, and the children have done us proud too. Their teacher at the village school gave them a 'good' on their evaluations, and now you've brought me to see a shadow puppet show..."

As she spoke, Xu Chunliang finally remembered.

He was Liu Dafu, thirty-six years old, a small landowner in Xiangfu Village. His wife was named Shuixian. They had two children, both of whom had started attending the village school this year.

Although his family owned a hundred mu of good farmland and counted as wealthy in Xiangfu Village, he still hated spending money. He always worked nonstop from dawn to dusk.

His wife, Shuixian, had often spoken to him about it. This year, the weather happened to be favorable, and the millet harvest had been especially good. Rice filled the granary. Both children had also earned praise from their teacher.

In his delight, he had brought his wife to the big market fair, taking advantage of the lull in farm work to see a shadow puppet show together—the sort of entertainment only the town's wealthy households and idlers were willing to spend money on.

He had heard that shadow puppet shows were wonderful, though he didn't know what story they were performing today.

A single seat cost thirty copper coins, enough to buy ten jin of brown rice. Today's outing for him and his wife cost twenty jin of brown rice.

He wondered what kind of show could be worth so much, but Shuixian had worked hard all year, keeping house, caring for his parents, and looking after the children. Since she wanted to see it, he would let her see it this once.

She had married an ignorant farmer like him, and that was unfair to her...

Liu Dafu reached out, scooped up the melon seeds and peanuts in front of him, and stuffed them into his pocket to take home to the children.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang...

Another clear peal of the gong rang out, and a yellow light appeared in the darkness before him.

The yellow light fell on the screen, turning the once-white cloth a uniform, withered yellow, like the old books at home.

Colorful gate towers and lanterns decorated the screen. He had heard they were cut out of paper. They were so pretty, so skillfully made.

A hoarse singing voice rang out. Liu Dafu gave his wife's rough hand a squeeze, feeling utterly happy.

He felt a little dazed, as though his happiness were somehow unreal.

But when the shadow puppet show reached its climax, he craned his neck, watching the story unfold with curiosity, and gradually forgot that dazed feeling.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang...

Liu Dafu held a brass gong, striking it repeatedly with a wooden mallet.

The audience watching the shadow puppet show called out their approval from time to time, and he, the man striking the gong, was happy too.

As the town's laziest old bachelor, the only thing that brought him a sense of accomplishment and an income was the spectators who kept cheering at the shadow puppet show.

He had no money to marry a wife, and none to repair the rundown courtyard home his father, Zhou Dayong, had left him.

Although his name was Zhou Fugui, he was truly down on his luck. He thought of the thirty copper coins he would get as his share after the show.

The thought filled Zhou Fugui with delight. Who cared whether wealth and honor were in his fate? With those thirty copper coins, he could soon spend ten on two sesame flatbreads stuffed with pork cheek, then spend another twenty on a blissful half-night with Widow Lü, who kept her door half-open for customers.

That would be pure bliss.

People always said that Master Zhao, who ran the town's rice shop, had a wonderful life, but he thought his own life was wonderful enough!

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang...

Zhou Fugui reached for the teacup in front of him, carefully blew on it, and took a gentle sip.

Watching the shadow puppet show gradually approach its climax, he cheerfully passed the teacup to his side.

The maid beside him hurriedly took the cup and set it on the table to refill it for him.

He happily bobbed his head along with the singing...

As the wealthiest Master Zhao in town, he had troubles of his own. His first wife chanted Buddhist scriptures and ate vegetarian food every day, as dull as a clay statue.

His second wife had stolen a sum of silver from the household and run off with a painter.

On the very day he sent the cook to find her, his third wife also vanished without a trace.

And his fourth wife, sweet, clever, and charming as she was, was carrying on something improper in secret with his unfilial son.

Master Zhao had suffered a headache all day, so he had taken advantage of the town's big market fair to come listen to the shadow puppet troupe, which only performed when the fair drew a crowd.

He looked at Liu Dafu beside him, holding his wife's hand and craning his neck to watch the puppets, and felt a pang of envy.

Ah... when it came to living, other people really did have the better life...

After the shadow puppet show, Master Zhao had the maid support him as he walked home.

As soon as he entered the courtyard gate, he saw the steward, Lao Mu, looking panicked.

Knowing that his unfilial son was again having a tryst with his fourth wife, Master Zhao's mouth twitched. He turned and headed for his first wife's room.

He looked at his first wife, who was kneeling before a statue of the Bodhisattva and chanting scriptures without pause.

He drew several heavy breaths, but in the end swallowed the words on his lips-"Look at the fine son you gave birth to"-and turned to leave.

He lay on his great old pearwood bed, covered by a soft, fluffy cotton quilt.

Old Master Zhao closed his eyes. He fell asleep.

After sleeping for he knew not how long, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and knew his old ailment had struck again.

There was no one at his bedside. He was afraid he wouldn't survive it this time.

He felt himself growing light, and then he actually saw himself lying on the bed.

On the bed, he was old and frail, his face weary, with a few age spots on his forehead and cheeks.

He couldn't help sighing. "Oh, so I'm already this old."

"Looks like it really is time to die. Better to die; the sooner I die, the sooner I'll be reincarnated..."

He floated high into the air and looked down at the town beneath him as the clang, clang, clang, clang of a gong rang out.

He knew the shadow puppet troupe had started another show.

He began to feel dizzy, as though an invisible passage were drawing him in.

Then he was pulled toward the ground, falling in the direction of the shadow puppet troupe.

He landed on a shadow puppet holding a paper knife.

Oh, so these shadow puppets are all alive~~~