Five Spice Street

X’s husband’s good friend). We had high hopes. Though it was clear that Madam X wouldn’t change, nor would we gain anything from it, we persisted in ‘‘sticking it out.’’ This remarkable process revealed our rare value. Even the gods were moved by it (at one time, a genius had proven this by sitting on the roof of a thatched cottage). Some people not only didn’t plan to gain any advantage but actually endured a kind of self-torture, which turned into a mania. How much willpower our people had! With people of this sort, it didn’t matter whether Madam X’s future direction was obscure or bright. We would ‘‘have nothing to worry about.’’

As to the future, there were both pessimistic and optimistic opinions. The pessimists thought: Madam X’s desires would increase, and after a few years, she would possess certain power, and the community’s control over her would weaken. They reached this conclusion not because of Madam X but because of certain people in our community who were really devil-raising viruses. These viruses would spread over time, and our undertaking would be destroyed by them.

Let’s look back for a moment. After the X and Q incident began, a small number of people couldn’t remain calm. They put aside their work and all day long strolled around Madam X’s small house. They talked while enjoying their leisure: the center of their lives had undergone a historic shift. Now it was better-they no longer had to deal with common things like blackboards. They had been fed up with this work some time ago, and long since had wanted to give it up. They hadn’t been born to do this kind of dull work. Their talents should have enabled them to do better things. This X and Q incident allowed them to display their talents: this was really a good opportunity bestowed by heaven. One by one, they quit their jobs, and if they weren’t allowed to quit, they walked anyway. A glorious future tempted them! Missions that would suit their tastes and interests awaited them! They had to come to a decision. If they didn’t take part in a battle with light packs, how could they accomplish anything? First, they had to cut off all escape routes: quitting their jobs was the first step. After that, they would be as agile as snakes and as keen as dogs.

However, according to the observers’ report, after these persons quit their jobs, they didn’t act as they had planned. They used the X and Q incident as the excuse to leave home, and after circling around X’s small house a few times, they went into their blockhouse — the public toilet. They didn’t discuss strategy. They just squatted for a long time telling ribald jokes and made obscene conversation for the whole day. They labeled this conversation: theoretical discussion. It was precisely this ‘‘theoretical discussion’’ that caused them, with bulging bloodshot eyes, to attack Madam X twice on a secluded street corner. Although they didn’t accomplish their goal, they still disgraced the community. Their fake discussion caused certain people to desecrate our ancient, elegant language. Because of this, one or two of them replaced such traditional phrases as ‘‘spare-time recreation’’ and ‘‘connubial harmony’’ with such low- class slang as ‘‘screw’’ and ‘‘bang.’’ These dirty words hung from their lips the whole day: they said them over and over again to show their virility and defy tradition. In fact it was amusing and showed their low self-esteem. Everyone who ran into them on the street was disgusted, as though he’d eaten maggots by accident.

They not only quit their own jobs but agitated, provoked, and sneered at those who didn’t. They wanted to mess up our rank and file. Every day, others went to work and got off work on time: they sneered that they were ‘‘robots,’’ ‘‘klutzes,’’ and were ‘‘born with crucifixes.’’ Those who worked hard ‘‘were dumb oxen,’’ ‘‘losers,’’ ‘‘had no prospects,’’ blah, blah, blah. They even goaded a certain person into destroying his tools, saying that they wanted ‘‘to smash to smithereens this thousand-year-old ball and chain’’ and wanted to ‘‘struggle for freedom.’’ Their so-called freedom was no more than to live calmly on other people’s hard work while they themselves squatted in the toilet and drew filthy doodles and used unbearably dirty language to besmirch our ancient culture. Even this wasn’t enough: they sang tragic songs about Madam X’s future and said that Q himself was the reason her future was tragic! They resentfully lambasted Q, claiming he was ‘‘a dabbler,’’ ‘‘not thorough,’’ ‘‘a neuter,’’ and so forth. As they cursed him, they walked grandly past X’s window, where they fawned, made eyes at her, tapped on the lattice, and dropped slips of paper inside. Some even climbed in the window and stole mirrors or pasted love letters on the door. One parent hanged himself from a tree outside the door because his child had disgraced him this way.