Lesson 11: Lao Wang / Yang Wei
I used to ride on the three wheels of Lao
Wang. He pedaled, I sat and we gossiped. According to Lao Wang himself: After the
liberation of Beijing, all those who pedaled three wheels were organized, and
at that time he "had a slow head", "did not come around",
"was one step late", and "could not enter", and he lamented
that he was "old and useless". Lao Wang often had the fear of being
left alone, because he was a single man. All he survived was a battered
tricycle. There is an older brother, who died, has two nephews, "did not
show up", and in addition there are no relatives. Lao Wang only had one eye, and the other
was just a "field snail eye", blind. Passengers were reluctant to sit
in his car, fearing that he would not be able to see clearly and hit something.
Some people say that this old bachelor was dishonest when he was young, caused
some evil disease, and lost one eye. His good eye was also sick, and he
couldn't see when it was dark. Once, he hit a pole, and half of his face was
swollen, blue and purple. At that time, we were at school, and my daughter said
that he was night blind and gave him a large bottle of cod liver oil, which he
could see at night. He may have been blind from malnutrition since childhood, or
he may have suffered from a vicious disease, but it is the same misfortune
anyway, and the latter should be a deeper misfortune. One evening, my husband and wife were
walking through a deserted alley and saw a dilapidated compound with several
collapsed huts; Lao Wang was pedaling his three-wheeler into the compound.
Later, when I was chatting with Lao Wang in his car, I asked if it was his
home. He said he had lived there for many years. One summer, Lao Wang sent ice to our
downstairs house, willing to bring it to our home, and the fare was halved. We
certainly don't want him to cut the charge in half. Every morning, Lao Wang
carried the ice to the third floor and put it in the refrigerator on our
behalf. The ice he sent was twice as large as that sent by his predecessor, and
the price of ice was equal. Most of us are familiar with the three wheels at
the mouth of the alley, and Lao Wang is the most honest among them. He never
saw through that we were bullies, and he probably didn't expect that at all. When the "Cultural Revolution"
began, one leg somehow could not walk. I took a leave of absence on his behalf,
and bothered Lao Wang to send him to the hospital. I myself did not dare to
take the three-wheeled bus and squeezed the bus to wait in front of the hospital.
Lao Wang helped me get Mo Cun out of the car, but he resolutely refused to take
the money. He said: "I sent Mr. Qian to see a doctor, not money."
"I must give money, he asked me quietly in a hoarse voice: "Do you
still have money?" "I smiled and said that I had money, but he took
the money but was not very relieved. We returned from the dry school, and the
three wheels of passenger transportation were banned. Lao Wang had to change
his three-wheeled car into a flatbed three-wheeled one for transporting goods.
He didn't have the strength to deliver anything. Fortunately, an old gentleman
was willing to downgrade himself to "goods" and let Lao Wang
transport them. Lao Wang gladly installed a half-inch high edge around the
three-wheeled plate, as if with this half-inch edge, passengers would surround
it and would not fall. I asked Lao Wang if he could make ends meet with this
patron, and he said he could make do. But after a while, Lao Wang was sick, I
don't know what kind of disease, I spent money to take unknown medicine, and it
was always not good. In the first few months, he was able to help the sick come
to my house, and then he had to ask Lao Li, who was in the same hospital, to
pass on the message on his behalf. One day, I heard a knock on the door at
home, and when I opened the door, I saw Lao Wang stiffly embedded in the door
frame. Usually he sat on the seat of the tricycle, or came into my house with
his body in his arms, and he didn't seem so tall. Maybe he's usually not so
thin and less straight. His face was like dead ash, and there was a layer of
knots on both eyes, and he couldn't tell which one was blind and which one was
not. To put it mildly, he was like a coffin poured out, like a zombie in my
imagination, with a layer of dry yellow skin on the skeleton, and it would
scatter into a pile of white bones with a stick. I said in amazement, "Ah,
Lao Wang, are you better?" ” He let out a "hmm" and walked
straight in, holding out his hands to me. He was carrying a bottle in one hand
and a bag of things in the other. I was busy picking it up. The bottle is
sesame oil and the package is eggs. I can't remember if it's ten or twenty,
because I can't count them in my memory. I can't remember how he said it,
anyway, the meaning is very clear, it was sent to us by him. I forced a smile and said, "Lao Wang,
such a fresh big egg, give us all the food?" ” He only said, "I don't eat." ” I thanked him for the good sesame oil,
thanked him for the big eggs, and turned and went inside. He quickly stopped me
and said, "I'm not asking for money. ” I hastened to explain, "I know, I know—but since you're
here, you don't have to be carried." ” He probably thought I was right, and stood
waiting for me. I folded the gray and blue checkered rag on
the side of his egg wrapped and returned it to him. Holding the cloth in one
hand and the money in the other, he turned around stupidly. I hurriedly opened
the door for him, stood at the top of the stairs, and watched him go down the
stairs with straight feet, worried that he would fall halfway up the stairs.
When I couldn't hear the footsteps, I went back to the house and felt sorry
that I didn't invite him to sit down and drink tea. But I was so scared and
confused. The stiff body seemed to be unable to sit, and the slightest bending
would scatter into a pile of bones. I can't imagine how he got home. After more than ten days, I met Lao Li from
Lao Wang's hospital. I asked, "What's wrong with Lao Wang?" Better,
no? ” "Buried early." "Oh, when is he..." "When did you die?" It's the day
after I get to you. ” He also told how many feet of brand new
white cloth Lao Wang had wrapped around his body - because Lao Wang was a Hui
and was buried in some ditch. I didn't understand either, so I didn't ask much. I went home and looked at the unused bottle
of sesame oil and unfinished eggs, recalling Lao Wang and my answers, wondering
if he knew I had received his thanks. I think he knows. But for some reason,
every time I think of Lao Wang, I always feel uneasy in my heart. Because ate
his sesame oil and eggs? Because he came to thank him, but I took money to
insult him? Neither. As the years passed, I came to understand that it was the
guilt of a lucky man for an unfortunate person.
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