Page 130 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

Woman Wang had taught Little Ping to keep watch in front of the candy shop
counter. If a customer dropped some small change, she had to step on it right
away and pick it up after the customer left. Little Ping never tired of this game;
she’d been playing it for several months.
“Here’s a red pepper.”
“Thank you, Grandma Wang.”
Little Ping took the red pepper, but didn’t eat it right away. Nor did she intend
to leave. Grown-ups had said there was a ghost in Woman Wang’s home. She
wanted to see that ghost; the more she feared it, the more she wanted to see it.
Woman Wang shoved the pickle crock underneath the bed, stood up, and
turned into the kitchen in the back. She washed her hands, intending to rest in
bed for a while. All of a sudden, she noticed Little Ping standing behind the

mosquito net hanging on her bed. Her mouth kept moving—nibbling the hot
pepper a little at a time. Woman Wang couldn’t help but laugh: this little girl
was good at enjoying herself.
Woman Wang lay down on the bed. Eyes half-closed, she asked Little Ping,
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Little Ping didn’t answer. Woman Wang felt the wooden bed swaying in the
shadows. No, that wasn’t right: it was the floor swaying. She sat up in a hurry
and got out of bed, put on her shoes, and ran outside. She stopped at the door,
turned around, and shouted, “Little Ping! Little Ping!!”
But Little Ping wasn’t in her home. Woman Wang thought and thought, and
then went back to bed.
Woman Wang looked at the window. On the top left side, it had turned a rose
color. This was Woman Wang’s secret: each time she looked at the window, the
same pane of glass turned rose. Woman Wang thought that Catfish Pit had a
peculiar climate. This didn’t necessarily affect other people, but she was
constantly aware of it, mostly because of her kimchi crock. At midnight, she

clearly heard the glub-glub sound of the water coming out of the rim of the
crock’s cover. She smelled the faint aroma of the kimchi. She imagined the
delicious little gherkins walking and walking on Mother Earth, walking until
they came to the sun setting over the horizon and then finally stopping, fading
gradually into a very long dark shadow. At times like this, she would murmur to
herself, “Ah, Catfish Pit—my home.”
But Catfish Pit would soon vanish. Woman Wang thought, If Catfish Pit
disappeared, Woman Wang of Catfish Pit would no longer exist; she would
become Woman Wang in those tall apartment buildings. This was a big deal.
Was it because of this that Little Ping had hidden just now behind the mosquito
net? This little girl knew almost everything. She understood everything.
Another child showed up. First he knocked politely on the door, and then