Chapter 434
Wang Jiazhi went to the magazine to discuss something, and when she came back she found that the kitten was not at home.
The little girl said, "Master came back early and took my eldest sister out."
He came back before noon today, dressed the kitten in the dark purple sweater that her mother had just knitted for her, with two bear ears on the hat, and then took the kitten out in his arms.
On the bedside table was the chestnut flour cake he brought back from her favorite shop.
Wang Jiazhi didn't take off her coat, but sat down on the edge of the bed, looking dejected.
It was just that he took the children out, but it was the first time she was the only one at home without them around, and she felt so scared.
"Where on earth did they go!" she thought in panic.
The person just sat there motionless, and no one knew how long he had been there. Even though his body was stiff, he still didn't want to move.
She heard the sound of a car and quickly got up and went downstairs.
I saw him coming back with the kitten in his arms. The kitten looked like a cute big plush toy in his arms. The kitten had a dark purple morning glory on its head and another in its hand.
Seeing her, she smiled and called out, "Mom~"
She hugged them in her arms, and tears were about to flow when she saw them.
"Where did you go?"
On the way, he saw a tree with many deep purple morning glories blooming under it. On the branches from top to bottom stood little cats. He thought the little cat would like the flowers, so he took her out to see them when he came back.
Wang Jiazhi then took off her coat and followed them upstairs.
"What's wrong?" He saw that something seemed wrong with her.
"Nothing." She rested her head on his shoulder.
"What happened?"
She didn't want to say it at first. It was just a small matter and she did it to him, which would make him nervous.
"I was discussing a novel with someone I'd read before, and as I was talking about it, I got emotional and felt really sad."
The matter was covered up.
They only had two meals a day, and since he came back early today, they skipped lunch. As long as the kitchen prepared the kitten's meal, they watched the kitten eat, coaxed her to sleep, put her in her kitten bed, and fell asleep with the purple bunny her mother had just made for her.
Wang Jiazhi handed him the old rabbit that the kitten always cuddled to sleep and said, "Take it over there. You can cuddle it while you live there."
His small, dark room had previously contained only a pot of jasmine, a plant he had loved growing since his youth. Initially, it was simply because the flower was elegant, fragrant, and easy to care for. Like Wang Jiazhi, he felt a lack of plants in his living space, as if they were completely disconnected from nature. Even a blade of grass seemed to retain a touch of nature, perhaps falling within the scope of Jia Baoyu's criticism of the "unnatural." Over time, keeping a pot of jasmine in his room became a habit. But in later years, he had increasingly forgotten the origins of this habit.
One time, he was so tired when he returned to his room that he fell asleep, forgetting to draw all the curtains. He woke up in the middle of the night and saw the moonlight shining on the jasmine pot on the desk. The white flowers on the branches seemed to sparkle in the night light, falling one by one, like falling snow that never stopped falling, but the white flowers on the branches did not seem to decrease at all. He seemed to be dreaming. The moonlight also shone on the pile of books on the windowsill, casting a shadow on the table, like the shadow of a person writing at a desk, and the flowers also fell on the shadow. The shadow was so familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere, but he couldn't remember where. This must be a dream, because things in dreams are all real and unreal. Suddenly, he remembered that it was his younger self. It had been so many years, and he didn't recognize himself anymore.
Tears streamed down his cheeks. The searchlight swung over, its dim light piercing through the flowers and the shadows. He instantly regained consciousness, wiped away his tears, and everything returned to normal.
Wang Jiazhi knew it was eerie and dreadful there, and the thought of always staying there made her feel suffocated. So, the small dark room was no longer plain and simple. The plain white pillowcases were replaced with the lake green ruffled ones she had embroidered, and a white lace cushion with three cats appliquéd onto it was added to the chair. Her watercolor paintings were framed on the desk. There were three in it, and she said if he got tired of looking at one, he could open it and put the two at the back in front. The last time she went back to her hometown, she also replaced the quilt cover with the homespun cloth she had bought there.
He came into the house and saw her and the kitten's things, and he was really comforted.
It was late autumn, and the weather had suddenly turned cold. Wang Jiazhi was especially afraid of this time. This was the time of her death. She couldn't sleep in a warm bed, but back then, in that chilly, cold room with him, she'd warmed up quickly. But once he left, the coldness returned. They hadn't returned her hat. It was so cold that even with her permed, thick hair, her scalp still felt cold, a chill running from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.
But seeing as even their coats had been taken away, they were left wearing only shirts and sweaters in the freezing weather, it seemed like they were even worse off than they were. Rain began to fall outside, the drops rustling against the withered, yellow sycamore leaves. The room grew even colder, perfect for sleeping. They placed a small hot water bottle under the kitten's feet, filled another one with water and placed it under their blankets, drew the curtains, changed their clothes, and snuggled into bed to drink hot coffee. They all loved this kind of steaming, freshly brewed coffee—nothing added to it, just the rich, natural aroma of coffee. Drinking hot coffee like this in this weather was so comforting.
I was drinking coffee, but the bed was warm and I felt so lightheaded that I wanted to sleep.
She ate the cake, drank a cup of coffee, and rested her head on his legs with satisfaction. She was covered with a quilt, with only the cat's head exposed.
"What did you talk about today that makes you look so distraught?" he asked with a smile.
Wang Jiazhi does often cry after reading sad novels.
"Speaking of Maupassant's novels, there's a story about a man who was 15 years old. On a snowy day, his father found an abandoned baby girl in the snow. The baby girl was very beautiful and had a huge fortune on her. They deduced that she was the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy family.
Later, the girl grew up to be a very beautiful, intelligent, and gentle person. She had a large dowry and many people wanted to marry her, but she refused. She stayed at home and became a 41-year-old old maid. The man married his uncle's daughter and had two beautiful daughters.
The girl lived with them in seclusion, diligently helping the mistress manage the household. She was still beautiful, but her dress was very rustic and rigid. Her adoptive mother had revealed her origins when she was very young, assuring her that they would accept her and raise her like their own daughter, but that she knew she didn't truly belong; she would always be an outsider.
She gave up her marriage and the chance to have her own real home, choosing to live a quiet and meaningless life in this place that did not belong to her.
One day, a younger woman came to visit the man and told him about her life story. The man told her story and explained that when she was 12, he and his cousin were engaged and married six years later. That year, she turned 18 and suddenly became depressed and sad.
The younger generation said, "You should have married her, so you have been delaying your cousin for six years, waiting until you were in your thirties to get married." The man burst into tears and couldn't stop crying.
Before leaving, the younger generation whispered to the girl that the man had always loved her. Upon hearing this, the girl slid off the chair and fainted.
The younger generation felt they should do this. Although it's unlikely to lead to any results for moral reasons, it would be a great comfort for them to know that after struggling their whole lives, the person they love also loves them back.
Wang Jiazhi sighed, "Because of their adoptive mother's intimidation, none of them had the courage to resist. The saddest thing is that she sacrificed her entire life in humiliation, only to realize in middle age that the person she loved loved her back. I think this is the author's compassion for the girl. Maupassant's books always have a hint of pity for unfortunate women. If I were writing this, I would make sure they lived their entire lives under the same roof, but until their death, the girl would have no idea that the person she loved had always loved her."
He said, "Why be so decisive? There should always be some hope."
Wang Jiazhi said sadly, "Yes."
"Back then, the guy I lived with read all day long, and when he got to the heartbreaking part, he'd wail and howl in the middle of the night. It's hard to describe. One time, I was reading Maupassant at night, and I even buried my head in my hands and started crying."
Her interest suddenly piqued. "Which one are you talking about?"
"Guess what."
Wang Jiazhi said, "Ball of Fat? She was a prostitute, but she didn't want to be defiled by the enemy, so she ran away. But those high-ranking and noble counts, wealthy businessmen, and nuns all tried every means to coax her into sleeping with that officer."
Even the two holy nuns lied to her, saying that if she didn't agree, they couldn't leave to take care of the wounded. Every day of delay would mean many of her country's wounded heroes losing their lives because they didn't receive their medical treatment. They wanted her to know that her sacrifice was noble. The respectable people who had originally sneered at her, spitted on her and hated her were now so affectionate and caring towards her.
She finally agreed. The night she was raped, the group reveled all night. The next day, when she hurriedly got up from the officer's bed and jumped into the car, everyone looked at her with malicious disgust, some even openly accusing her of shamelessness. She was the only one who cried quietly.
A long time later, it was time for lunch. Everyone else took out their prepared food and ate it with relish, but she, who had hurriedly boarded the train without food, was left starving. But a few days earlier, on this very train, she had shared all her food with these starving beasts, who had unceremoniously devoured several days' worth of food she had carefully prepared. Now, they devoured their own food with relish, put away the rest, and continued to admire their "masterpiece." As her sobs grew louder, they continued to criticize her ridiculousness and shamelessness. Boule de Suif thought of her carefully prepared basket of delicious food, which had long been devoured by them. They had eaten up her food and defiled her body, and now they were reveling in the humiliation and ridicule of her starving self.
Throughout history, in ancient and modern times, in China and abroad, regardless of nationality, it's all the same." Wang Jiazhi sighed, "But they were also trying to escape. If it weren't for this incident, they wouldn't have started this. After all, they condescended to beg her, and perfunctorily treated her. It wasn't just pure desire to ruin her to satisfy their shameless and vicious pleasure."
When I read it as a child, I thought it was incredible. How could there be such bad people in the world, and such a group of them? I thought the author must have been exaggerating. Later I thought, maybe he didn't write them bad enough.
Seeing that he looked thoughtful, she asked, "Is that so?"
He sighed, "People might do some bad things, but some are forced into it, without really meaning to. Some are inherently villains, simply taking the opportunity to unleash the evil they've suppressed. It's like how some people appear modest and serious, good husbands and fathers, but given the chance, who knows how many vile things they'll do. I was filled with indignation when I read that."
"I think he's really good. He has so much sympathy for those poor and humble girls, but it's not the kind of pity a strong person has for the weak, but rather admiration and praise for them. The women he writes about are resilient and brave, with their own beliefs and perseverance."
But they seemed to be drifting off topic again. Wang Jiazhi thought, these high-ranking officials, who in their youth had aspired to take the fate of the nation as their own, naturally didn't have the luxury of sentimental writing. Any sentimentality would surely be about the suffering of the people. But then she thought, this guy's sentimental writing is truly unbearable.
"The one that made me cry the most was 'The Woman Who Repairs Chairs'. I was only in junior high school at the time, and I cried my eyes out. I still can't forget it now."
"That's right, me too. I finished reading it around ten o'clock. I still remember it now. The more I thought about it, the sadder I felt. I cried all night. But I covered my head and didn't say a word. I don't know what kind of cheesy novel my roommate read, the more ghosts and howls. He cried loudly, and I hid under the covers and cried silently. It's been twenty years, and I still remember it."
Wang Jiazhi was very surprised, but after thinking about it, it was not surprising. That little story was too distressing.
A girl lived with her parents in a rickety carriage from birth. They had no house of their own; their carriage was their home. They drove around repairing chairs, making a living. Her parents treated her badly. They barely spoke to her, and when they did, it was to yell at her not to play with the other children. People around them looked down on them, calling them "stinking beggars."
Kind women would occasionally give her a few cents, which she saved up carefully.
When she was eleven, she met a very handsome boy. He was bullied by his classmates, and his pocket money was stolen. He cried heartbrokenly. She went over and gave him all her money, and he obediently took the money. This made her very happy, and she bravely kissed him. He didn't resist, so she hugged him tightly, kissed him for a long time, and then ran away.
From then on, she fell in love with the boy. She worked hard to save money, and after a while, she went to see him. He also liked her coming to see him, watching her put all her property into his pocket. With money, he let her do whatever she wanted, kissing and caressing him passionately.
When she didn't save enough money, she would stand outside the glass door of the drugstore and secretly watch him.
He is the son of a drugstore owner and a respectable upper-class man.
Ever since she met him, he had been the only man in her life. She saved money like crazy, and when she had enough, she went to find him. As long as she had money to give him, he would let her kiss him and love him to her heart's content. Sometimes, because she had too little money to give him, she would cry out of guilt.
Four years passed like this, and he went to the city to study. In order to see her, she tried hard to get her parents to change their route so that they could pass by his school to see him.
He became taller and more handsome, but every time he saw her, he acted as if he didn't know her. He didn't even look at her and walked past her with arrogance and disdain.
Once she saw him passing by her with a very beautiful girl, and as usual he acted as if he didn't know her.
She learned that he was married, and that night she drowned herself in the pond.
But she didn't die. A passerby rescued her and took her to a pharmacy for treatment. He still pretended not to know her at all, but angrily said, "Are you crazy? You are a fool!"
He spoke to her again, which made her very happy. She insisted on giving him money. Although he refused to take it this time, she still insisted on giving it to him. In her childhood, she knew that to get a word from him or a kiss from him, she had to pay him.
She never thought about death again. In the rest of her life, she worked like a child, saving money like crazy and secretly watching him through the glass of the drugstore, but she could never kiss him again. In order to have a chance to talk to him, she would sometimes deliberately go to the drugstore to buy something, and she continued to give him money.
Fifty-five years passed like this, and she saved up a large sum of money. In order to save money, she sometimes even had to go hungry.
Before she died, she explained to someone how her property would be allocated. All her money, all her possessions, would be left to him after her death. She had never expected him to love her, let alone a happy ending with him. She simply saved money like crazy, hoping to leave him a fortune after her death, so that when he saw such a large sum of money, he would still remember her.
Wang Jiazhi found the previous story endearing and amusing. A girl bravely and directly confessed her love to the boy she loved, diligently saving money to kiss him. At such a young age, she knew how to reward her beloved and support the boy. And the boy, driven by the desire for money, allowed her to do whatever she pleased. It was as if the conventional story had been reversed, and this pure and direct love seemed far more interesting than those more subtle loves.
When the boy grew up, he called the girl stupid. She thought he still had feelings for her, even though their social statuses were vastly different, or even though he didn't love her at all, there was always something there. Especially when he learned that the girl had spent her entire life just to love him, to make him remember her...
When the notary told the man the girl's story, he flew into a rage, wondering how a man of his stature could possibly have been involved with a beggar like that. He cursed the girl for being shameless and despicable, saying it would damage his reputation. His wife was also furious, cursing the beggar's shamelessness. He angrily said that if she had known she would damage her reputation like this, she should have thrown her into prison while she was still alive and never let her out.
As she expected, when the notary announced the amount of property she left him and poured out the huge pile of coins from various countries, patterns, and materials in front of them, the man and his wife smiled happily and happily kept the money.
A few days later, the man went back to the notary, expecting him to say something else. He only hesitantly said… He still wanted the carriage she had left behind, and that he needed a shed like this for his vegetable garden. As for the horse and guard dog she had left behind, he had no use for them, so he didn't need to give them to him.
He was only 22 at the time, and he knew the girl wouldn't care. She certainly knew the man wouldn't be kind to her. In this sad, hopeless life, she just wanted to rely on herself, to find someone to love, a place to live. But he always thought, there should be something, not nothing. Is everything just something that can be bought with money?
At that time, he had picked out her old books and notebooks from a used bookstore, among them a collection of Maupassant's novels. One day, Old Wu watched her last child pass away. Her heart-wrenching sobs took him back to twenty years ago, when he and Old Wu lived together. It was late at night, too, and Old Wu was reading a novel, heartbroken, howling like a ghost.
He has always been puzzled. How could such a person who could be deeply moved even by reading cheesy novels be such a vicious and shameless person?
He returned to his small dark room, with Old Wu howling down below. He sat on the bed and flipped through her novel, immediately coming to the chapter with a faded, dried kapok flower tucked inside. She also had a few kapok flowers tucked into her notebook. In the blank space at the end of the novel, written in very light ink:
If only he could have a little bit of affection for her. She could only watch him through the shop window, through the bottles filled with various potions, as if her love was forever out of reach. But she finally spent her whole life, and in the end, she made him remember her. Loving someone is a personal matter, and loving someone is not about whether it is worth it or not.
Late night on September 9, 1933
That was written by her when she was 14 years old.
In a trance, he really went back to twenty years ago, at ten o'clock in the night, Old Wu was howling like a ghost, and he was crying too, and the two of them cried until dawn.
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