then
Meng simply won’t report for work in the zone.’
Only when she had put it so boldly did Papa Qi finally
agree to take the cigarettes and the alcohol; but when it
came to the razor he exhibited his unconventional side,
saying, ‘I’ll accept the razor too, but I won’t take it home
with me. If I take it home, I’ll just end up giving it away to
someone else, so it’ll be best if you take care of it for me. I
come here all the time anyway. This way it’ll be mine just
the same, right?’
From then on, the buzzing sound of an electric razor
was often to be heard in the Meng’s home, generally
on Saturday afternoons but sometimes also early on a
Friday or Sunday evening. And that was how Papa Qi’s
visits became part of Meng family life. He made them
when the working week was done, so naturally those
were the days when Ningzhu was particularly busy with
her housekeeping. While she was cooking or washing
up, she could always hear Papa Qi shaving in the sitting
room. Their flat was far too small, and even from the
kitchen she could clearly hear the three revolving blades
rasping against the bristle of his beard. Not only that:
since Papa Qi’s beard was very tough, even two rooms
away Ningzhu could make out the sound of the stubble
rattling around inside the razor. One day, she grew very
agitated at the noise and cried out loud, ‘That racket is
driving me crazy!’
The two men hadn’t heard Ningzhu’s complaint, but
when Papa Qi took his leave that day she didn’t see
him to the door as usual, but instead vanished into the
bathroom. She came out only once he had left, and her
expression showed she was annoyed. She said to Meng,
‘You two talked together the whole evening. What did
you talk about? You talk to him almost every other day.
What on earth do you find to talk about? How can there
be that much to say?’
Meng, aware of his wife’s mood, said, ‘I don’t really
know what we talk about. He wants to sit there and talk,
so I just talk back. When there’s something to say, we
talk, and when there isn’t, we sip tea. And while we’re
sipping, we come up with another topic.’
Ningzhu frowned and said, ‘It’s very odd. He’s always
saying he’s so busy, but if he is, why is he always sitting
around our home all evening or afternoon?’
‘Are you annoyed with him?’ replied Meng. ‘He’s not
just some run-of-the-mill acquaintance, you know, he
did us a huge favour.’
‘You’re right, I shouldn’t be irritated. I don’t know
what’s happening to me, but as soon as I hear that razor it
just gets to me. It’s like a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing in
my ears. If I’d known it would be like this, I’d have made
him take it home when we first gave it to him.’
They were greatly in Qi’s debt. Except for their parents,
their brothers and sisters, was there anyone as interested
in their affairs? When the toilet flush broke, it was Papa
Qi who fixed it. They felt the deepest gratitude towards
him, realizing you could scour the earth and never
find another friend like him. On the other hand, they
developed an ever-deepening dread of Saturdays. On
Friday evenings, when Meng went to bed, he would laugh
hollowly and say, ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday. Papa Qi will be
coming again.’
They had once supposed that Papa Qi had an ulterior
motive, but the two of them quickly came to realize that
to think that way was to do him an injustice. Meng was an
automation programmer, Ningzhu an accountant; what
use could they possibly be to him? They realized that
Papa Qi was someone whose word was his deed; a person
utterly devoid of ulterior motives, who paid them visits
purely out of friendship. Neither Meng nor Ningzhu was
odd or eccentric, and in their opinion making friends
was a nice, harmless thing to do, but they didn’t understand
why Papa Qi had to come every Saturday, and why,
when he did, he had to stay quite so long.
Ningzhu hatched a variety of schemes to curtail the
length of Papa Qi’s
Meng simply won’t report for work in the zone.’
Only when she had put it so boldly did Papa Qi finally
agree to take the cigarettes and the alcohol; but when it
came to the razor he exhibited his unconventional side,
saying, ‘I’ll accept the razor too, but I won’t take it home
with me. If I take it home, I’ll just end up giving it away to
someone else, so it’ll be best if you take care of it for me. I
come here all the time anyway. This way it’ll be mine just
the same, right?’
From then on, the buzzing sound of an electric razor
was often to be heard in the Meng’s home, generally
on Saturday afternoons but sometimes also early on a
Friday or Sunday evening. And that was how Papa Qi’s
visits became part of Meng family life. He made them
when the working week was done, so naturally those
were the days when Ningzhu was particularly busy with
her housekeeping. While she was cooking or washing
up, she could always hear Papa Qi shaving in the sitting
room. Their flat was far too small, and even from the
kitchen she could clearly hear the three revolving blades
rasping against the bristle of his beard. Not only that:
since Papa Qi’s beard was very tough, even two rooms
away Ningzhu could make out the sound of the stubble
rattling around inside the razor. One day, she grew very
agitated at the noise and cried out loud, ‘That racket is
driving me crazy!’
The two men hadn’t heard Ningzhu’s complaint, but
when Papa Qi took his leave that day she didn’t see
him to the door as usual, but instead vanished into the
bathroom. She came out only once he had left, and her
expression showed she was annoyed. She said to Meng,
‘You two talked together the whole evening. What did
you talk about? You talk to him almost every other day.
What on earth do you find to talk about? How can there
be that much to say?’
Meng, aware of his wife’s mood, said, ‘I don’t really
know what we talk about. He wants to sit there and talk,
so I just talk back. When there’s something to say, we
talk, and when there isn’t, we sip tea. And while we’re
sipping, we come up with another topic.’
Ningzhu frowned and said, ‘It’s very odd. He’s always
saying he’s so busy, but if he is, why is he always sitting
around our home all evening or afternoon?’
‘Are you annoyed with him?’ replied Meng. ‘He’s not
just some run-of-the-mill acquaintance, you know, he
did us a huge favour.’
‘You’re right, I shouldn’t be irritated. I don’t know
what’s happening to me, but as soon as I hear that razor it
just gets to me. It’s like a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing in
my ears. If I’d known it would be like this, I’d have made
him take it home when we first gave it to him.’
They were greatly in Qi’s debt. Except for their parents,
their brothers and sisters, was there anyone as interested
in their affairs? When the toilet flush broke, it was Papa
Qi who fixed it. They felt the deepest gratitude towards
him, realizing you could scour the earth and never
find another friend like him. On the other hand, they
developed an ever-deepening dread of Saturdays. On
Friday evenings, when Meng went to bed, he would laugh
hollowly and say, ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday. Papa Qi will be
coming again.’
They had once supposed that Papa Qi had an ulterior
motive, but the two of them quickly came to realize that
to think that way was to do him an injustice. Meng was an
automation programmer, Ningzhu an accountant; what
use could they possibly be to him? They realized that
Papa Qi was someone whose word was his deed; a person
utterly devoid of ulterior motives, who paid them visits
purely out of friendship. Neither Meng nor Ningzhu was
odd or eccentric, and in their opinion making friends
was a nice, harmless thing to do, but they didn’t understand
why Papa Qi had to come every Saturday, and why,
when he did, he had to stay quite so long.
Ningzhu hatched a variety of schemes to curtail the
length of Papa Qi’s
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