smile and say, “Little Lei, you’re lucky, Uncle have money and can buy you wine.”
“Yeah,” the boy would reply.
Sunday came. Jia had not yet decided whether to go to his mistress. During the day he was busy shooting and developing pictures at the photo shop, and in the evening he spent a lot of time playing with Lei, so he had forgotten to think of what gift he should take to the woman. Now he felt at a loss wondering if he had to see her so soon.
After breakfast he made up his mind not to go. Instead, he took the boy to the country fair. Swaying rhythmically with Lei on his back, Jia turned into Main Street and walked to the marketplace. Near the entrance of the army’s clinic he met MengLong, the head of the town’s slaughterhouse, who was sitting on a rock and basking in the sun. Meng rose to his feet and asked, “Who’s this, Old Jia? A nephew or a relative?”
“A little friend,” Jia said, smiling awkwardly. “His father is on Great Gourd Island, so he stays with us.”
“Little fella, how old are you?”
“Dwo.”
“He’s big for two,” Meng said, and patted Lei on the back.
“Yes, he’s a good boy. We’ve got to go to the fair, Old Meng.” Jia turned to Lei and said, “Say goodbye to Uncle Meng.”
“Bye.” The boy’s white fist wheeled back and forth like a fat mushroom.
On such a fine summer day the fair was always crowded. The peasants from nearby villages were eager to sell their produce to get cash for groceries, which they could buy at the same place. Many kinds of craftsmen gathered here too: cobblers, blacksmiths, tailors, locksmiths, tinkers, knife grinders. Jia didn’t want to buy anything, and he merely walked about and asked prices, comparing them with those of the year before.
“How much for an egg?”
“Seven fen. Buy some, Uncle.”
“No, no.” He continued to walk.
“What’s the price for the crabs?” he asked, passing a fish stand.
“Ten for a yuan. Buy a dozen or two, Uncle Jia. They’re fresh, caught this morning,” the young vendor said.
“No, they’re dead already.”
Many people in the country knew Jia, for he was the most experienced photographer in the commune. Whenever they wanted to have a family picture taken, they went to his photo shop.
Jia noticed that quite a few young women he had never seen before carried baskets filled with vegetables, fruits, eggs, meat. They must have been the wives of some officers transferred to the Garrison Division recently. Most of the women were pretty and dressed well, and they didn’t take the trouble to haggle. A slim young woman passed by with tomatoes in her basket, leaving behind a whiff of perfume that smelled of fresh apricot. Jia was wondering whether he should ask one or two of the young wives to sit for a large sample picture.
“Egg, egg,” Lei sang in a small voice.
Jia turned around but saw no eggs. Then, following Lei’s finger, he found a pile of potatoes on the ground. He couldn’t help laughing.
The young vendor raised a potato and asked, “Little brother, you say this is an egg?”
“Egg, egg,” Lei chanted as if to himself.
All the grown-ups around laughed. Jia explained, “He has never seen that.”
“How about this?” a middle-aged man asked and showed Lei a large tomato.
“Egg, red egg.”
People laughed again and the crowd was getting larger.
“My goodness, everything round is an egg,” a young woman said loudly, and took a small pumpkin out of a gunnysack. “How do you call this, boy?”
“Egg, big egg.”
The burst of laughter bewildered Lei, who looked at Jia in silence. “Stop teasing him,” Jia shouted at the grown-ups. “He’s not a monkey. What’s so funny? Did you call everything right when you were just out of your mother’s belly?”
Hurriedly he carried Lei away to a wall at the roadside and put him to the ground. “Those are not eggs, Lei,” he said. “They’re potatoes and tomatoes. The biggest one is called a pumpkin.”
The
“Yeah,” the boy would reply.
Sunday came. Jia had not yet decided whether to go to his mistress. During the day he was busy shooting and developing pictures at the photo shop, and in the evening he spent a lot of time playing with Lei, so he had forgotten to think of what gift he should take to the woman. Now he felt at a loss wondering if he had to see her so soon.
After breakfast he made up his mind not to go. Instead, he took the boy to the country fair. Swaying rhythmically with Lei on his back, Jia turned into Main Street and walked to the marketplace. Near the entrance of the army’s clinic he met MengLong, the head of the town’s slaughterhouse, who was sitting on a rock and basking in the sun. Meng rose to his feet and asked, “Who’s this, Old Jia? A nephew or a relative?”
“A little friend,” Jia said, smiling awkwardly. “His father is on Great Gourd Island, so he stays with us.”
“Little fella, how old are you?”
“Dwo.”
“He’s big for two,” Meng said, and patted Lei on the back.
“Yes, he’s a good boy. We’ve got to go to the fair, Old Meng.” Jia turned to Lei and said, “Say goodbye to Uncle Meng.”
“Bye.” The boy’s white fist wheeled back and forth like a fat mushroom.
On such a fine summer day the fair was always crowded. The peasants from nearby villages were eager to sell their produce to get cash for groceries, which they could buy at the same place. Many kinds of craftsmen gathered here too: cobblers, blacksmiths, tailors, locksmiths, tinkers, knife grinders. Jia didn’t want to buy anything, and he merely walked about and asked prices, comparing them with those of the year before.
“How much for an egg?”
“Seven fen. Buy some, Uncle.”
“No, no.” He continued to walk.
“What’s the price for the crabs?” he asked, passing a fish stand.
“Ten for a yuan. Buy a dozen or two, Uncle Jia. They’re fresh, caught this morning,” the young vendor said.
“No, they’re dead already.”
Many people in the country knew Jia, for he was the most experienced photographer in the commune. Whenever they wanted to have a family picture taken, they went to his photo shop.
Jia noticed that quite a few young women he had never seen before carried baskets filled with vegetables, fruits, eggs, meat. They must have been the wives of some officers transferred to the Garrison Division recently. Most of the women were pretty and dressed well, and they didn’t take the trouble to haggle. A slim young woman passed by with tomatoes in her basket, leaving behind a whiff of perfume that smelled of fresh apricot. Jia was wondering whether he should ask one or two of the young wives to sit for a large sample picture.
“Egg, egg,” Lei sang in a small voice.
Jia turned around but saw no eggs. Then, following Lei’s finger, he found a pile of potatoes on the ground. He couldn’t help laughing.
The young vendor raised a potato and asked, “Little brother, you say this is an egg?”
“Egg, egg,” Lei chanted as if to himself.
All the grown-ups around laughed. Jia explained, “He has never seen that.”
“How about this?” a middle-aged man asked and showed Lei a large tomato.
“Egg, red egg.”
People laughed again and the crowd was getting larger.
“My goodness, everything round is an egg,” a young woman said loudly, and took a small pumpkin out of a gunnysack. “How do you call this, boy?”
“Egg, big egg.”
The burst of laughter bewildered Lei, who looked at Jia in silence. “Stop teasing him,” Jia shouted at the grown-ups. “He’s not a monkey. What’s so funny? Did you call everything right when you were just out of your mother’s belly?”
Hurriedly he carried Lei away to a wall at the roadside and put him to the ground. “Those are not eggs, Lei,” he said. “They’re potatoes and tomatoes. The biggest one is called a pumpkin.”
The
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