Page 91 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

wall with no door was just the same, but someone was standing there. It was
Uncle Sang.
Uncle Sang walked over to him. Patting him on the shoulder, he said,
“Ayuan, I can’t help but worry about you! You’re a nice kid, but you’re wasting

your time. You haven’t done your job right.”
“Uncle Sang, can you tell me how to do it?”
“Me? No, no, no. This can’t be taught. I came to see you because I was
worried about you. Now that you’ve heard my warning, you should be okay.”
Like the garbageman, he unhappily flung Ayuan aside and walked off.
Ayuan walked over to the small clearing and sat on a tree stump. He thought
he should wait here until something occurred. Hadn’t Uncle Sang said he’d
missed his opportunity?
He waited and waited, but nothing happened. The building was quiet, and no
one passed by. He was surrounded by a deathly stillness. Just then, it suddenly
turned overcast and then quickly grew dark. It was morning: how could the sky
be dark? Ayuan was hungry, so he decided to go to a small restaurant for a meal.
The restaurant was deserted. He ordered a large bowl of pork soup and

downed it quickly.
Something bit his ankle, and he yelled, “Ouch!” Looking down, he saw the
familiar piglets! Ayuan wondered if they had come because he had just now
eaten their relatives for supper. After the piglets had made a circuit of the room,
they ran out.
When Ayuan stood up to pay the tab, the waiter asked, “Do you want to stay
here? It’s fifty yuan for a bed.”
“What kinds of guests usually stay here?” Ayuan asked, frowning.
“What do you think? They’re poor people who’ve come here to try their luck.
This is the only part of the city that still has some opportunity. The other places
are closed up.”
“What opportunities are available here?”
“You ask too many questions. Do you want to stay or not?”
“Yes.”
Ayuan followed him to a room behind the lobby. Two of the three beds in the
room were occupied. The room had no electric lights, but a kerosene lamp was

lit. The clerk pointed to the empty bed. Ayuan had no sooner sat down than the
clerk blew out the kerosene lamp and left.
Groping in the dark, Ayuan found the pillow and quilt. He unfolded the quilt
and lay down.
“You’d better not sleep too soundly,” a person said from the bed across from
him.
“Do opportunities come at night?”