The Vagrants

“At the beginning, the husband was impressed. ‘You've become a wonderful cook,’ he said to his wife, but after dinner he still went out to sleep with other women. After days of eating the vegetable dishes, the husband asked, ‘Where are the pork chops and beef stew you cook so well? Why are you not cooking them for me now?’ The wife smiled and said, ‘But, my master, they don't look pretty at all.’ The husband laughed and said, ‘Now I understand you.’ And from then on he never went out with another woman again.”

Bashi stared at Kwen when he stopped talking.

“The story is over,” Kwen said.

“What happened?”

“I just told you a story, and the story is over.”

“What happened to the man? Why did he stop going to the other women?”

“Because his wife taught him a lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“Use your head. Think about it.”

“I'm bad at riddles. You have to tell me the whole story,” Bashi said.

“Why do I have to?” Kwen said with a smile.

“Oh please,” Bashi said. “Do you want another pack of cigarettes? A bottle of rice liquor?”

“If you promise me one thing, I will tell you.”

“I promise.”

“Don't you want to know what the promise is?”

“As long as you don't want me to kill a person.”

“Why would I want you to kill a person?” Kwen asked. “If I want to, I can handle it much better than you.”

Bashi shivered, as Kwen looked at him and laughed. “Don't worry,” Kwen said. “Why would I want to kill someone? So this is what's going on: Her parents gave me the money for a coffin and for the burial. But what I think is a coffin won't make a difference to anyone, her or her parents or you or me, so I'm going to spare the trouble.”

“It's understandable.”

“But you have to promise me not to tell anyone. I don't want people to know this.”

“Of course not.”

Kwen looked at Bashi. “If I hear anything, I'll wring your neck, do you understand?”

“Hey, don't frighten me. I don't do well with bad jokes.”

Kwen picked up a branch thick as a man's arm and broke it in half with his hands. “I'm not joking with you,” he said, looking at Bashi severely.

“I swear—if I tell Kwen's secret to anyone, I will not have a good death,” Bashi said. “Now can you tell me the lesson?”

Kwen looked at Bashi for a long moment and said, “The lesson is this: A pretty face is nothing; for a real man, what matters is the meat part, and in that part all women are the same.”

“Which part is that?”

Kwen shook his head. “I thought you were a smart boy.”

“Then tell me,” Bashi said, slightly agitated.

“I've told you enough. The rest you have to figure out for yourself,” Kwen said, and went back to work on the sacks. When he had secured them together, he grabbed one end of the body and tested the weight.

“If you don't explain, I won't help you with the body anymore,” Bashi said.

“That suits me fine.”

“I'll die if you don't tell me.”

“Nobody dies from curiosity,” Kwen said with a smile.

“I'll stop being your friend then.”

“I had no idea we were friends,” Kwen said. “Now, why don't you go your way? I'll go mine.”

Bashi sighed, not ready to leave Kwen. “I was only kidding,” Bashi said, and when Kwen grabbed one end of the body, Bashi took the other end, and together they heaved the body onto their shoulders. It was heavier than Bashi thought, and a few steps later, he was panting and had to put the body down. Kwen let go of his end and the body hit the ground with a heavy thump. “What a straw boy,” Kwen said. “What would you do with a woman even if you had one?”

Bashi breathed hard and bent down to hurl the body onto his shoulder. Before Kwen caught up with him, he started to walk fast, and then stumbled across a tree stump and fell down with the body pressing on top of him.

Kwen roared with laughter. Bashi pushed the body hard to get free. “I thought she looked very tiny,” he said, and he massaged his chest, hit hard by the corpse. “But she must have weighed tons.”

“Don't you know that once dead, the body weighs a hundred times more?”

“How come?” Bashi asked.

Kwen shrugged. “Death's trick, I suppose.”