The Chilli Bean Paste Clan, Chapter 1 – An Extract

The Chilli Bean Paste Clan, Chapter 1 – An Extract

08 August 2018

Nicky Harman’s translation of Yan Ge’s ‘The Chilli Bean Paste Clan’《 我们家 》was published this year by Balestier Press. The two will be in conversation at China Exchange on Thursday 13 September as part of the Asia House Bagri Foundation Literature Festival.

Register for free entry here.

 

In Dad’s cell phone, Gran was listed as ‘Mother.’ From time to time, ‘Mother’ popped up on screen at peculiarly inappropriate moments.

Sometimes it would be during a meeting at the factory when Dad was trying to call the laughing, chattering salesgirls to order. Or he was out drinking with his bros, knocking back the maotai, the air thick with smoke. Or, worse still, Dad would be in bed, either with Mum or else some young woman of his acquaintance and, just when things were getting lively, A Pretty Sprig of Jasmine would ring out. Dad would feel himself going soft and, when his cell phone proved incontrovertibly that it was Gran, all the fight would go out of him. Floating gently to earth like a hen’s feather, he’d pick up the phone, walk out into the corridor, clear his throat and respond: ‘Yes, Mother’.

At the other end of the line, Gran would start to tug on Dad’s heartstrings. ‘Hello, Shengqiang!’ ‘Yes, Mother, what’s up?’ He’d stand, propping himself against the wall, just four or five streets from Gran. ‘Mother, I know about that. Don’t you worry. I’ll deal with it.’

Then he’d hang up and go back into the room. But those few minutes had wrong-footed him. If he was with the salesgirls, they’d be gossiping away amongst themselves, if it was a get-together with his bros, they’d be texting or lighting up another cigarette. Or if he was with a woman, she’d be bent over scraping a callus off her heel. Still, Dad would give a cough, shut the door behind him and they’d get back down to where they’d left off.

The only exception to this rule was if the woman in the bed happened to be Mum. In that case, he had to answer a few questions about Gran first. ‘What’s up with that mother of yours now?’ Mum would ask. Dad would come across the room, take off his slippers, and dive under the bedcovers. ‘Oh, just forget it!’ And they’d get back down to where they’d left off.

Dad put on a maroon striped shirt over his trousers and went out into the passageway. He called Zhu Cheng. ‘Where are you? … Right, come and get me then.’

He started down the stairs. He had only got halfway down to the next floor when he paused, then gave voice to a stream of poetic obscenities. ‘You’re vermin, the lot of you! Son-of-a-bitch, I’m gonna murder you all one of these days!’ When he reached the ground floor, he lit up a cigarette and smoked it until, far in the distance, he saw the shiny black Audi approaching. Then he hurled his cigarette down, ground out the sparks under his foot, pulled open the car door and jumped in. ‘Cornucopia Court,’ he ordered.

Zhu Cheng turned the steering wheel and the car bowled along West Street towards the outskirts of town. As they crossed the intersection, Dad looked out of the window. The two streets were hideously thronged with people. No one paid attention to traffic regulations any more, not since the Tianmei Department Store had opened up here. One young couple, their arms draped around each other’s waists, made a reckless dash across the road in front of the car. A young mother had her hands so full of shopping bags she wasn’t holding her kid’s hand and he charged out and nearly pasted himself onto the car’s side-mirror. Zhu Cheng slammed on the brakes, just avoiding hitting them, then stuck his head out of the car window and shouted lengthy picturesque references to their ancestors.

‘Calm down, Zhu Cheng,’ said Dad from the back seat.

‘These people need a telling-off, boss. They think I won’t dare hit them!’ Zhu Cheng steered the car through the crowds.

‘Nothing’s the same any more,’ Dad said. ‘People with shoes are scared of people without, and car-drivers are scared of pedestrians.’

‘Absolutely! Chinese people are a bunch of idiots!’ Zhu Cheng agreed.

They crossed Celestials Bridge on West Street. Just three years ago, a new park had been built there and the original smelly ditch filled in and covered over. Dad could see a bunch of old people gathered in the park, some chatting, some just sitting. Gran wouldn’t be there though. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the time.

At the entrance to Cornucopia Court, Dad said: ‘Don’t bother to drive in, Zhu Cheng, just leave me here and you can be off. I won’t need the car this evening, I’ll walk home.’

‘I’ll wait for you, you can’t go home on foot,’ said Zhu Cheng solicitously.

‘It’s no distance. I can walk. And don’t take the car back to the factory, come straight to the house and pick me up at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,’ Dad instructed him. Then he got out.

Granddad had died two years previously and last spring their housekeeper announced her son wanted her back in the village to look after the grandchild, whereupon she upped sticks and left. Gran said she’d never find anyone else to suit and wasn’t going to try, so now she lived alone in the family’s old apartment, with its three bedrooms and two reception rooms, without even an hourly-paid helper. She just wanted the peace and quiet, she said.

Gran had lost weight since last year, and was getting shorter inch by inch, Dad reflected, as he walked up three floors, took out his key and opened the door. As usual, he couldn’t see Gran at first. The apartment was piled high with books, magazines and newspapers, and it looked as if no one had lived there for months. ‘Mother!’ he shouted. Then again, ‘Mother!’ Had Gran lost her voice?

‘Coming, coming!’ Gran called back, emerging from somewhere at the back. ‘Shengqiang … it’s you!’

‘Yes, it’s me,’ said Dad, going out to the balcony to retrieve the ashtray which Gran had put beside the potted orchid. He took it back into the sitting-room and put it down on the coffee table, lit a cigarette and sat down on the sofa.

‘Smoking again!’ Gran exclaimed from her rattan chair, shaking her head.

‘Ai-ya! Don’t go on at me!’

‘Well if I don’t, who’s going to?’

‘All right, all right,’ Dad said, with a puff on his cigarette.

‘There’s something I want to talk to you about,’ said Gran.

Dad scrutinized his mother as she talked. Her hair had been completely white for a while now but she still had it neatly permed so that the waves undulated over her head. She wore a pale-green silk padded jacket over a knee-length grey silk skirt with white flowers on it. Her calves were bare below the skirt and, above her flesh-coloured socks, the skin was pallid and drooped as if half-a-dozen weights were pulling it down.

Dad let his thoughts drift back to the exact moment when he realized that Gran was old.

It was 1996, or maybe 1995, in March or April, and Gran suddenly got it into her head that she wanted Dad to take her to Chongning County see the pear blossom in Pear Blossom Gully. When they got there, the gully and all around it was crammed full of people. Gran sat in the car frowning at them.

Zhu Cheng, who had just started as their driver and hadn’t quite got the hang of things, sat woodenly in the driver’s seat and Dad had to help Gran out of the car. He took her left hand, and put his other hand on her shoulder to guide her out.

That was the moment it struck him Gran was old. Through her clothes, Dad could feel the skin on her shoulders hanging in slack folds which actually quivered as she moved. He froze, appalled. Then Gran said: ‘Get out of my way, Shengqiang. If you stand in my way, how can I walk?’

Dad took a step back and watched as she made her way to Pear Blossom Gully. ‘Mother,’ he called.

Gran stopped and looked back. She looked just as normal, no different from a few minutes before, but Dad had to steel himself to look her in the face.

‘Come on!’ She said.

On their way back to Pingle Town, Gran had said: ‘Don’t you go divorcing Anqin, there’s too much at stake. She did wrong, but now she’s got down on her knees and grovelled to you, just let it go. The pair of you should stop bickering and just muddle along together.’

Dad gave a non-committal grunt. His right hand still tingled.

‘Are you listening to me, Shengqiang?’ demanded Gran now, after waiting in vain for his response.

‘Yes, right,’ Dad said again, putting out his cigarette, lifting his eyes from her calves and nodding.

‘Off you go then. I’m going to read for a bit and then go to bed.’

‘Yes, you get an early night, Mother,’ said Dad stolidly.

Outside Gran’s apartment, Dad paused for a moment, then went up to the fifth floor. Here, the staircase ended and two lonely doors faced each other. Dad took out his cell phone and made a call. It rang just once, then someone answered.

‘Open up,’ said Dad.

In a second, the door had opened. Pretty Jasmine Zhong stood there, her hair hanging in a gleaming black curtain around her dainty face.

Dad’s face finally cracked a smile. He went in, shutting the door behind him.

 

在爸爸的手机里，奶奶的名字是妈妈。一年之中，总有几次，这个号码要在不合时宜的时候响起来。

有时候是厂里开会，爸爸正训着门市部那几个嘻哈打笑的女售货员，有时候是和外头的朋友们喝酒，五个人喝到第三瓶茅台，包房里烟熏火燎，有时候更加糟糕了，爸爸正在和女人们做爱，或许是妈妈，或许是别的倒生不熟的婆娘。总而言之，事情正到酣畅处，电话铃就响起来了，“好一朵美丽的茉莉花”，一听到这曲子，爸爸先自软了三分，等看到上面的名字确凿是“妈妈”，他便连送起腰杆的力气都没了，爸爸像鸡毛一样飘下来，捡起电话，对着话筒，暗暗清了清嗓子，走到走廊里去，叫了声“妈”。

奶奶就在电话的另一边，她扯着电话线，扯着爸爸的心颠颠，爸爸听见奶奶说“胜强啊”，爸爸就说“哎，哎，妈，你说”，他靠在墙壁上，离对面那面墙不过一米半远，离奶奶不过隔了三五条街，爸爸说：“妈，我知道了，你别管了，这事我知道了。”

爸爸挂了电话，重新走进房间去。几分钟罢了，世上的事情却都变了，女售货员咬着耳朵交换着女儿家的私情，朋友们发短信的发短信，点烟的点烟，床上的婆娘居然弓着背在扯脚后跟的一块茧皮，爸爸咳嗽了一声，反手关上门，还是要把没干完的事干完。

只有一种情况例外，如果床上的婆娘恰好是妈妈，就免不了要谈两句奶奶的事情。

妈妈说：“你妈打电话来又什么事？”

爸爸走过去，脱了拖鞋翻上床，掀开铺盖往里钻，说：“哎呀，你不管嘛。”

他们就继续把没干完的事干完了。

过了一会儿或者稍久一些，爸爸走到走廊上，穿着暗红色的条纹衬衣，打电话给朱成，他说：“在哪儿？……嗯，来接我一下。”

他挂了电话走下楼去，走了半层楼又忽然停下来，爸爸实在想不过，站在楼梯里，屁眼鸡巴猪牛马，肠子下水君亲师，把这种脏话搅着骂出来了，“砍脑壳的！”爸爸说，“老子总有一天弄死你们！”“弄死你们龟儿子的！”——他从五楼骂下了一楼，从三楼骂下了一楼，站在平地上，抽了一根烟，远远地看见朱成开着黑漆漆的奥迪车过来了，他就把烟甩在地上踩得稀烂，打开后座一屁股钻进去，说：“去庆丰园。”

朱成便打转了方向盘，滴溜溜往西街外开，中途他们自然路过了十字路口，爸爸从车窗往外看，两条路上歪瓜劣枣地杵着人，从去年天美百货在这开业以后马路上的交通秩序就每况愈下，比如有两个谈恋爱的小年轻，互相搂着腰不管不顾地从车前面穿过去，比如一个手上提满了东西的少妇，也没牵住自己的孩子，几乎就贴着车的后视镜冲过来了，朱成一个急刹车，差点撞到他们，便伸出去头问候他们的祖宗十八代。

“朱成，脾气不要这么燥嘛。”爸爸坐在后座上，说。

“薛厂，这些人就是欠骂，硬是觉得老子不敢撞他们啊！”朱成调着方向盘从人堆里钻了出去。

“现在年代不一样了嘛，穿鞋的就怕光脚的，开车的就怕走路的。”爸爸说。

“就是！”朱成应着，“中国人太没素质了！”

他们继续说了几句，就过了西街神仙桥口，大前年，这里新修了个公园，把原来残下的烂水沟填了个严严实实，爸爸从车窗里能看见公园里聚了好些老人，说话的说话，不说话的就干坐着，这些人里自然不会有奶奶，爸爸摸出手机看了看钟。

到了庆丰园门口，爸爸说：“朱成，不开进去了，你今天回去了嘛，晚上不用车了，等会我自己走回去。”

“我等你嘛，难得走。”朱成规规矩矩地说。

“两步路，我自己走一下。你就不把车开到厂头了，明天早上八点直接来接我。”爸爸交代完，开门下了车。

 

爷爷死了有两年了，去年春天，保姆唐三姐说儿子媳妇喊她回去带孙儿，一转身就回了乡下，奶奶说从此再也找不到称心的人，罢了罢了，就一个人住着家里那套老房子，三室两厅，钟点工也不要，只想图个清静。

今年，奶奶比去年轻了，矮了一寸又一寸，这些爸爸都知道，他走上三楼，拿钥匙开了门，十次有八次都看不到奶奶，房间里堆着各种书，杂志和报纸，看起来像几个月都没住人了。“妈！”爸爸叫奶奶，“妈！”他又叫了一声，像是生怕奶奶就要这样没了声气。

“来了来了！”奶奶还是应了声，从里面随便哪间屋就出来了，“胜强，你来了啊。”奶奶说。

“来了啊。”爸爸一边跟奶奶说话，一边走到阳台上，他在一盆兰草边找到了奶奶放在那的烟灰缸，把它握在手上拿进客厅，放在茶几上，点了一根烟，坐到了沙发上。

“又抽烟！又抽烟！”奶奶坐到藤椅上，看着爸爸直摇头。

“哎呀，你不管我嘛！”爸爸说。

“我不管你还有哪个管得到你。”奶奶轻巧地说。

“对对对。”爸爸抽口烟，应着奶奶。

“跟你商量个事。”奶奶说。

爸爸一边听奶奶的话，一边细心地观察着她的样子。奶奶老早就白了一头头发，但总是烫得一丝不苟，弯弯折折地贴在头顶上，穿着一件淡绿色的丝绵上衣，灰底白花的丝绵裙子差不多到膝盖，而在膝盖下面，肉色的短袜上面，奶奶把小腿露在外面，皮肤是灰白色的，至少有五六个秤砣坠在上头，把肉往下拉。

爸爸走了神，回想着第一次发现奶奶老了的具体时间。

那可能是在九六年，不然就是九五年，三四月份的时候，奶奶忽然来了兴致，让爸爸带她去崇宁县的梨花沟看梨花。到了梨花沟，里里外外七八层人，奶奶坐在车里皱着眉毛看他们，那时候朱成刚刚来开车，车都还是个桑塔纳，他做事也还不太灵性，木鸡般粘在位子上，爸爸只有自己去扶奶奶下车，他牵着奶奶的左手让她下地来，顺手搭了把她的肩膀。

就是在那个时候奶奶老了，隔着衣服，爸爸能感觉到奶奶的皮都挂了在肩膀上，松垮垮地，简直要随着她的步子荡起来。他吓了一跳，差点没扶住奶奶，奶奶说：“胜强你让开啊，你挡到我我怎么走？”

爸爸退了一步，放开了奶奶，看着她往梨花沟走，爸爸说：“妈。”

奶奶停下来，回了个头，她脸上并没有什么异常，就和几分钟前一样，但爸爸居然不忍心看这张脸了。

“走嘛！”奶奶说。

他们去看了梨花，不是九六年，就是九五年，回平乐镇的时候，坐在车里，奶奶说：“你还是不要跟陈安琴离婚了，影响不好，人家都给你跪到了，你就算了嘛，退后一步自然宽，不然你这婚一离，其他人要怎么看我们一家人，我又怎么跟亲家公亲家母交代啊。”

“嗯。”爸爸心不在焉地应了一声，只觉得右手还是麻酥酥的。

“你听到没，胜强？”奶奶说完了话，过了半晌，还没见爸爸应她，就问他。

“嗯。我知道了。”爸爸重新说了一句，灭了烟，把眼睛从奶奶的小腿上移起来，看着她的脸对她点了点头。

“那你回去了嘛，我看会书就睡了。”奶奶交代道。

“好。你早点睡啊，妈。”爸爸四平八稳地答应了。

等到出了奶奶家，爸爸在楼道里站了一会，却反身上了五楼。五楼往上再没有楼梯了，两扇门孤零零地对着，爸爸拿出手机来打电话，只响了一声电话就接起来了。

“开门。”爸爸说。

也就是一眨眼的功夫门便开了。门里俏生生立了一个钟馨郁，她应该是新做了头发，那么一头，黑漆漆直溜溜地挂在尖脸边上，真是好看。

爸爸总算笑了一笑，走进去，把门关上了。