Page 99 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

key Father had left. It had to be somewhere; it couldn’t have been cremated with
him and placed in his urn. First, I opened a large bundle of his things. I turned
them all over, from the large ones to the small ones, and looked through them
carefully to see if the key might be with them. I spent three days doing this
secretly in the bedroom—after work and out of my cousin’s and husband’s sight.
But I didn’t find anything. Never mind the key to the box, there was no key at all
among his effects. I finally recalled that when Father went out, he had never
taken the house key with him, thus often inconveniencing himself. My thoughts
turned to Father’s friends and relatives. Would any of them know? I knew he’d
been close to his younger sister. There was nothing they didn’t discuss. I decided
to call on this elderly aunt.

Although winter had already passed, my aunt was still all wrapped up in a
heavy scarf and shivering constantly. Sucking in air, she kept muttering, “Killer
weather. So cold. Why would you venture out in this cold weather?”
I explained why I had come. My aunt stopped shivering, shot a glance at me,
and said, “No. He never mentioned that key. Your father was the fox in the
family. He never told the truth. Whenever he came over here, he wanted to
borrow money. So many years have passed. Why are you still concerned about
it? It’s tough to figure out what your father was up to.”
“But the box is still here. He left it to me. Can I smash it open and look
inside?”
“This isn’t my business. You can see I’m old. After a while, it will be
difficult for me to talk. Why would I bother about his things? I sit here and often

dream of skiing with your father in the courtyard. Back then I was six and he
was eight. Even at that age, he was already a trickster. If you don’t want to let
this matter drop, you can go and see his old friend Qin Yi.” Her toothless mouth
was shriveled; she seemed to want to say more. Suddenly, she dropped her head,
closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
I figured it would be impossible to get any useful clues from my aunt. I might
as well go home first. I decided to visit Qin Yi the next day. I hadn’t seen him
since Father died almost seven years ago.
Qin Yi lived on a small winding lane. It had just rained, and there were
puddles everywhere. After I walked along this lane, my pants and feet were all
spattered. Ahead of me was a little old man being chased by an old woman with
a large wooden stick. She kept stumbling and falling, and she was crazy with
rage. For his part, the old man was as nimble as a goat as he leapt over one
puddle after another. Later, the old woman tired and sat beside the road cursing
him. The old man went into the house and hid. He was Qin Yi, who had been
Father’s young friend and student.

When I went inside he was jittery. He didn’t ask me to take a seat, either. He