them seemed to have two hands more than a monkey. After depositing the children in their schools, Xiangzi had to take Mr. Yang to his government office, and then return home to pick up the concubine to take her to Dongan Market or to visit friends. After that, it was time to pick up the children and bring them home for lunch. Then back to school. That done, it was time for Xiangzi to eat, but the man’s wife called out in her Tianjin accent for him to fetch water. The family’s drinking water was delivered from outside; water for washing clothes was part of the rickshaw man’s duties. Though this chore was not spelled out in the contract, Xiangzi let it pass to stay on good terms with his employer. Without complaint, he filled up the water vat. That done, he picked up his rice bowl, only to be sent by the concubine to buy something. The two women did not get along, but where family business was concerned, they shared a philosophy: point one, servants must never stand around idle; point two, servants are to eat their meals out of sight. Not knowing this, Xiangzi thought only that his first day was an unusually busy one for the family, so he kept quiet. He even went out and bought some baked flatbread on his own. Despite his obsession with money, keeping the job was worth the outlay.
As soon as he returned from the shopping trip, the wife told him to sweep the compound. Mr. Yang, his wife, and his concubine always dressed nicely when they went out, but their house, inside and out, was like a garbage dump. Just looking at the ground outside nearly made Xiangzi sick to his stomach, so he threw himself into the task with such enthusiasm that he forgot that a rickshaw man ought not to be given such jobs. Once the compound was neat and clean, the concubine told him to sweep out their rooms while he was at it. Still no complaints from Xiangzi. What got to him, on the other hand, was how two women who took such care of their appearance could live in rooms too filthy to step foot in. But he went ahead and swept them clean, just in time to have a grubby little one-year-old thrust into his arms by the concubine. He was helpless. He was not one to mind the hard work, but this was the first child he’d ever held, and he clutched the young master with both hands. If he relaxed his hold, he might drop him, but if he held him too tight, he could crush him. He broke out in a cold sweat and was determined to hand the little treasure over to Nanny Zhang—a woman from northern Jiangsu with unbound feet. He found her, only to be greeted with a barrage of curses. Servants seldom stayed on in the Yang home more than four or five days. To Mr. Yang and his wives, they were little more than personal slaves, and if they hadn’t worked them half to death, they felt they hadn’t gotten enough value out of the pittance they paid. Nanny Zhang, on the other hand, had been with them five or six years; she owed her longevity to her abusive mouth. Whether it was the master or one of his wives, no annoyance went unnoted. No one had been able to withstand Mr. Yang’s withering Shanghai curses, his wife’s imperious Tianjin scolding, or his concubine’s Suzhou rebukes, until, that is, the arrival of Nanny Zhang, who quickly earned their grudging respect. Appreciating her worth, like a martial hero encountering a stalwart adversary, they kept her on as the family enforcer.
Xiangzi had grown up in a northern village and could not tolerate cursing in public. But, believing that no decent man raises a hand against a woman, he dared not strike Nanny Zhang, nor was he about to argue with her. He was reduced to glowering, and that silenced Nanny Zhang, who had likely spotted danger in his look. The silence was broken by the wife, who ordered Xiangzi to pick up the children from school. He thrust the grubby child into the hands of the concubine, who took it as an insult and gave him hell. The wife hadn’t liked the idea of Xiangzi’s holding the concubine’s
As soon as he returned from the shopping trip, the wife told him to sweep the compound. Mr. Yang, his wife, and his concubine always dressed nicely when they went out, but their house, inside and out, was like a garbage dump. Just looking at the ground outside nearly made Xiangzi sick to his stomach, so he threw himself into the task with such enthusiasm that he forgot that a rickshaw man ought not to be given such jobs. Once the compound was neat and clean, the concubine told him to sweep out their rooms while he was at it. Still no complaints from Xiangzi. What got to him, on the other hand, was how two women who took such care of their appearance could live in rooms too filthy to step foot in. But he went ahead and swept them clean, just in time to have a grubby little one-year-old thrust into his arms by the concubine. He was helpless. He was not one to mind the hard work, but this was the first child he’d ever held, and he clutched the young master with both hands. If he relaxed his hold, he might drop him, but if he held him too tight, he could crush him. He broke out in a cold sweat and was determined to hand the little treasure over to Nanny Zhang—a woman from northern Jiangsu with unbound feet. He found her, only to be greeted with a barrage of curses. Servants seldom stayed on in the Yang home more than four or five days. To Mr. Yang and his wives, they were little more than personal slaves, and if they hadn’t worked them half to death, they felt they hadn’t gotten enough value out of the pittance they paid. Nanny Zhang, on the other hand, had been with them five or six years; she owed her longevity to her abusive mouth. Whether it was the master or one of his wives, no annoyance went unnoted. No one had been able to withstand Mr. Yang’s withering Shanghai curses, his wife’s imperious Tianjin scolding, or his concubine’s Suzhou rebukes, until, that is, the arrival of Nanny Zhang, who quickly earned their grudging respect. Appreciating her worth, like a martial hero encountering a stalwart adversary, they kept her on as the family enforcer.
Xiangzi had grown up in a northern village and could not tolerate cursing in public. But, believing that no decent man raises a hand against a woman, he dared not strike Nanny Zhang, nor was he about to argue with her. He was reduced to glowering, and that silenced Nanny Zhang, who had likely spotted danger in his look. The silence was broken by the wife, who ordered Xiangzi to pick up the children from school. He thrust the grubby child into the hands of the concubine, who took it as an insult and gave him hell. The wife hadn’t liked the idea of Xiangzi’s holding the concubine’s
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