Page 164 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

“No, don’t go!” Zhu Mei raised her hand and said decisively, “Since you’ve
come out, I want to enjoy this evening with you. Look, the twilight is so
beautiful!”
“Yes. Yes,” Zhou Yizhen murmured.
“We’ll go to the plant where you worked before. Now it’s been converted
into shops selling a wide array of goods.”
Zhou Yizhen wanted to decline, because for twenty years she’d been afraid of
running into her former workmates. But Zhu Mei pulled her along in that
direction; Zhou Yizhen thought that Zhu Mei was warmly enthusiastic. Why was
she so exuberant? Zhu Mei told Zhou Yizhen: before the plant went out of
business, she had been a temporary worker there for two years. After that, all she
could do was return to her old trade as a design assistant. She had earned some
money in design the past few years, but she still cherished her time in the plant.

As she talked, Zhou Yizhen recalled the lotus seeds and felt intensely emotional.
Without thinking, she said, “Those days working in the plant were splendid!”
“See!” Zhu Mei shouted. “I read your mind, didn’t I? Even if a person goes
only once to that sort of place, she never forgets it!”
When they reached the spot where the plant used to be, Zhou Yizhen saw that
it had completely changed.
The workshops in the former plant were now small shops. There were
colorful lamps everywhere, and people coming and going. Some of the
shopkeepers looked familiar; they had worked at the plant. Some were
unfamiliar. They welcomed Zhu Mei with open arms, but no one recognized
Zhou Yizhen. The shops sold a variety of goods—kitchenware, appliances for
lavatories, writing implements, metal fittings, children’s shoes.
Zhou Yizhen was in a good mood when she saw her former workmates, even

though they didn’t recognize her. She was grateful to Zhu Mei for not
introducing her to them; this was just as she wished. She walked behind Zhu
Mei, feeling very relaxed. A joyful premonition arose within her.
Zhu Mei pulled Zhou Yizhen into a two-room shop selling chinaware. The
shopkeeper was a middle-aged woman whom Zhou Yizhen didn’t recognize.
When she asked them to sit down, Zhou Yizhen thought she seemed familiar.
Zhou Yizhen had no sooner taken a seat than the woman dragged Zhu Mei off to
the other room and left Zhou Yizhen to watch over the chinaware.
After a while, several customers showed up all at once. Flustered, Zhou
Yizhen wished that Zhu Mei and the woman would come out soon, but they
remained in the warehouse in back.
An old man picked up a teapot and asked the price. Zhou Yizhen replied that
she wasn’t the shopkeeper.
“If you aren’t the shopkeeper, why are you standing here?” he reproached