神马文学网風波中英文
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Lu Xun
Storm in a Teacup
Written: October 1920
Source: Selected Stories of Lu Hsun, Published by Foreign Languages Press, Peking, 1960, 1972
Transcribed: Original transcription fromcoldbacon.com
HTML Markup: Mike B. for MIA, 2005
Public Domain: Marxists Internet Archive (2005). You may freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit “Marxists Internet Archive” as your source.
The sun‘s bright yellow rays had gradually faded on the mud flat by the river. The leaves of the tallow trees beside the river were at last able to draw a parched breath, while a few striped mosquitoes danced, humming, beneath them. Less smoke was coming from the kitchen chimneys of the peasants‘ houses along the river, as women and children sprinkled water on the ground before their doors and brought out little tables and stools. You could tell it was time for the evening meal.
The old folk and the men sat on the low stools, fanning themselves with plantain-leaf fans as they chatted. The children raced about or squatted under the tallow trees playing games with pebbles. The women brought out steaming hot, black, dried vegetables and yellow rice. Some scholars, who were passing in a pleasure boat, waxed quite lyrical at the sight. "So free from care!" they exclaimed. "Here‘s real idyllic happiness."
The scholars were rather wide of the mark, however. That was because they had not heard what Old Mrs. Ninepounder was saying. Old Mrs. Ninepounder, who was in a towering temper, whacked the legs of her stool with a tattered plantain fan.
"I‘ve lived to seventy-nine, that‘s long enough," she declared. "I don‘t like watching everything going to the dogs—I‘d rather die. We‘re going to have supper right away, yet they‘re still eating roast beans, eating us out of house and home!"
Her great-granddaughter, Sixpounder, had just come running towards her holding a handful of beans; but when she sized up the situation she flew straight to the river bank and hid herself behind a tallow tree. Then, sticking out her small head with its twin tufts, she called loudly: "Old Never-dying!"
Though Old Mrs. Ninepounder had lived to a great age, she was by no means deaf; she did nor, however, hear what the child said, and went on muttering to herself, "Yes, indeed! Each generation is worse than the last!"
It was the somewhat unusual custom in this village for mothers to weigh their children when they were born, and then use as a name the number of pounds they weighed. Since Old Mrs. Ninepounder‘s celebration of her fiftieth birthday, she had gradually become a fault-finder, who was always saying that in her young days the summer had not been so hot nor the beans so tough as now. In brief, there was something radically wrong with the present-day world. Otherwise, why should Sixpounder have weighed three pounds less than her great-grandfather and one pound less than her father, Sevenpounder? This was really irrefutable evidence. So she repeated emphatically: "Yes, indeed! Each generation is worse than the last."
Her granddaughter-in-law, Mrs. Sevenpounder, had just come up to the table with a basket of rice. Planking it down on the table, she said angrily: "There you go again! Sixpounder weighed six pounds five ounces when she was born, didn‘t she? Your family uses private scales which weigh light, eighteen ounces to the pound. With proper sixteenounce scales, Sixpounder ought to have been over seven pounds. I don‘t believe grandfather and father really weighed a full nine or eight pounds either. Perhaps they used fourteenounce scales in those days. . . ."
"Each generation is worse than the last!"
Before Mrs. Sevenpounder could answer, she saw her husband coming out from the top of the lane, and shifted her attack to shout at him: "Why are you so late back, you slacker! Where have you been all this time? You don‘t care how long you keep us waiting to start supper!"
Although Sevenpounder lived in the village, he had always wanted to better himself. From his grandfather to himself, not a man in his family for three generations had handled a hoe. Like his father before him he worked on a boat which went every morning from Luchen to town, and came back in the evening. As a result, he knew pretty well all that was going on. He knew, for instance, where the thunder god had struck dead a centipede spirit, or where a virgin had given birth to a demon. Though he had made a name for himself in the village, his family abided by country customs and did not light a lamp for supper in the summer; hence, if he came home late, he would be in for a scolding.
In one hand Sevenpounder held a speckled bamboo pipe, over six feet long, which had an ivory mouth-piece and a pewter bowl. He walked over slowly, hanging his head, and sat on one of the low stools. Sixpounder seized this chance to slip out and sit down beside him. She spoke to him, but he made no answer.
"Each generation is worse than the last!" grumbled Old Mrs. Ninepounder.
Sevenpounder raised his head slowly, and said with a sigh: "The emperor has ascended the throne again."
For a moment, Mrs. Sevenpounder was struck dumb. Then, suddenly taking in the news, she exclaimed: "Good! That means the emperor will declare another amnesty, doesn‘t it?"
"I‘ve no queue," Sevenpounder sighed again.
"Does the emperor insist on queues?"
"He does."
Mrs. Sevenpounder was rather upset. "How do you know?" she demanded hastily.
"Everybody in Prosperity Tavern says so."
At that Mrs. Sevenpounder realized instinctively that things were in a bad way, because Prosperity Tavern was where you could pick up all the news. She looked angrily at Sevenpounder‘s shaved head, with a feeling of hatred and resentment; then fatalistically filled a bowl with rice and slapped it down before him, saying: "Hurry up and eat! Crying won‘t grow a queue for you, will it?"
The sun had withdrawn irs last rays, and the darkling water was gradually cooling off. There was a clatter of bowls and chopsticks on the mud flat, and sweat stood our on the backs of the people there. Mrs. Sevenpounder had finished three bowls of rice when, happening to look up, she saw something that set her heart pounding. Through the tallow leaves, Mr. Chao‘s short plump figure could be seen approaching from the one-plank bridge. And he was wearing his long sapphire-blue cotton gown. Mr. Chao was the owner of Abundance Tavern in a neighbouring village, and the only notable within a radius of ten miles who was also something of a scholar. His learning gave him a little of the musty air of a departed age. He had a dozen volumes of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms annotated by Chin Sheng-tan,1 which he would sit reading and re-reading, character by character. He could tell you not only the names of the five tiger generals,2 but even that Huang Chung was also known as Han-sheng, and Ma Chao as Meng-chi. After the Revolution he had coiled his queue on the top of his head like a Taoist priest, and often remarked with a sigh that if Chao Yun were still alive the empire would not be in such a bad way. Mrs. Sevenpounder‘s eyesight was good, and she had noticed at once that Mr. Chao was not wearing his hair like a Taoist priest today. The front of his head was shaved, and he had let his queue down. She knew that an emperor must have ascended the throne, that queues must be essential again, and that Sevenpounder must be in great danger too. For Mr. Chao did not wear this long cotton gown for nothing—in fact, during the last three years he had only worn it twice. Once when his enemy Pockmarked Ah-szu fell ill, once when Mr. Lu who had smashed up his wine shop died. This was the third time, and it must mean that something had happened to rejoice his heart and bode ill for his enemies.
Two years ago, Mrs. Sevenpounder remembered, her husband when drunk had cursed Mr. Chao as a "bastard." Immediately she realized instinctively the danger her husband was in, and her heart started thumping furiously.
The folk sitting at supper stood up when Mr. Chao passed by, and pointed their chopsticks at their rice bowls as they said: "Please join us, Mr. Chao."
Mr. Chao nodded greetings to all whom he passed, saying, "Go on with your meal, please!" He made straight for Sevenpounder‘s table. Everybody rose hastily to greet him, and Mr. Chao said with a smile, "Go on with your meal, please!" At the same time he took a good look at the food on the table.
"Those dried vegetables smell good—have you heard the news?" Mr. Chao was standing behind Sevenpounder, opposite Mrs. Sevenpounder.
"The emperor‘s ascended the throne," said Sevenpounder.
Watching Mr. Chao‘s expression, Mrs. Sevenpounder forced herself to smile. "Now that the emperor‘s ascended the throne, when will there be a general amnesty?" she asked.
"A general amnesty?—There‘ll be an amnesty all in good time." Then Mr. Chao‘s voice grew sterner. "But what about Sevenpounder‘s queue, eh? That‘s the important thing. You know how it was in the time of the Long Hairs:3 keep your hair and lose your head; keep your head and lose your hair. . ."
Sevenpounder and his wife had never read any books, so this classical lore was lost on them; but they supposed that since the learned Mr. Chao said this, the situation must be extremely serious, irrevocable in fact. They felt as if they had received their death sentence. There was a buzzing in their ears, and they were unable to utter another word.
"Each generation is worse than the last." Old Mrs. Ninepounder, quite put out again, seized this chance to speak to Mr. Chao. "The rebels nowadays just cut people‘s queues off, so that they look neither Buddhist nor Taoist. Were the rebels before like that too? I‘ve lived seventy-nine years, and that‘s enough. The rebels in the old days wrapped their heads in lengths of red satin that hung all the way down to their heels. The prince wore yellow satin that hung down . . . yellow satin; red satin and yellow satin—I‘ve lived long enough at seventy-nine."
"What‘s to be done?" muttered Mrs. Sevenpounder, standing up. "We‘ve such a big family, young and old, and all depend on him."
"There‘s nothing you can do," said Mr. Chao. "The punishment for being without a queue is written down quite distinctly, sentence by sentence in a book. Makes no difference how big your family is."
When Mrs. Sevenpounder heard that it was written down in a book, she really gave up all hope. Beside herself with anxiety, she suddenly hated Sevenpounder. Pointing her chopsticks at the tip of his nose, she cried: "You‘ve made your bed, and now you can lie on it! I said during the revolt, better not go out on the boat, better not go to town! But he would go. He rolled off to town, and they cut his queue off. He used to have a glossy black queue, but now he doesn‘t look like Buddhist or Taoist. He‘s made his own bed, he‘ll have to lie on it. What right has he to drag us into it? Living corpse of a gaol-bird. . . ."
Since Mr. Chao had arrived, the villagers finished their meal quickly and gathered round Sevenpounder‘s table. Sevenpounder knew how unseemly it was for a prominent citizen to be cursed by his wife in public. So he raised his head to say slowly:
"You‘ve plenty to say today, but at the time. . . ."
"Living corpse of a gaol-bird!"
Widow Pa Yi had the kindest heart of all the onlookers there. Carrying her two-year-old baby, born after her husband‘s death, she was standing next to Mrs. Sevenpounder watching the fun. Now she felt things had gone too far, and hurriedly tried to make peace, saying: "Never mind, Mrs. Sevenpounder. People aren‘t spirits, how can they foretell the future? Didn‘t Mrs. Sevenpounder say at the time there was nothing to be ashamed of in having no queue? Besides, the great official in the government office hasn‘t issued any order yet. . . ."
Before she had finished, Mrs. Sevenpounder‘s ears were scarlet, and she swept her chopsticks round to point at the widow‘s nose. "Well, I never!" she protested. "What a thing to say, Mrs. Pa Yi! I‘m still a human being, aren‘t I—how could I have said anything so ridiculous? I cried for three whole days when it happened, everybody saw me. Even that imp Sixpounder cried. . . ." Sixpounder had just finished a big bowl of rice, and was holding out her bowl clamouring to have it refilled. Mrs. Sevenpounder was in a temper, and brought her chopsticks down between the twin tufts on the child‘s head. "Stop that noise! Little slut!"
There was a crack as the empty bowl in Sixpounder‘s hand fell to the ground. It struck the corner of a brick and a big piece was knocked off. Sevenpounder jumped up to pick up the bowl and examine it as he fitted the pieces together. "Damn you!" he shouted, and gave Sixpounder a slap on the face that knocked her over. Sixpounder lay there crying until Old Mrs. Ninepounder took her by the hand and walked off with her, muttering, "Each generation is worse than the last."
It was Widow Pa Yi‘s turn to be angry. "Hitting a child, Mrs. Sevenpounder!" she shouted.
Mr. Chao had been looking on with a smile, but when Widow Pa Yi said that the great official in the government office had not issued any order yet, he began to grow angry. Now coming right up to the table, he said: "What does it matter hitting a child? The imperial army will be here any time now. You know, the protector of the empire is General Chang, who‘s descended from Chang Fei of the period of the Three Kingdoms. He has a huge lance eighteen feet long, and dares take on ten thousand men. Nobody can stand against him." Raising his empty hands, as if grasping a huge invisible lance, he took a few paces towards Widow Pa Yi, saying, "Are you a match for him?"
Widow Pa Yi was trembling with rage as she held her child. But the sudden sight of Mr. Chao bearing down on her with perspiring face and staring eyes gave her the fright of her life. Without finishing what she had to say, she turned and fled. Mr. Chao left too. As they made way, the villagers blamed Widow Pa Yi for interfering, and a few men who had cut their queues and started growing them again hid hastily behind the crowd for fear Mr. Chao should see them. However, Mr. Chao passed through the group without making a careful inspection. Suddenly he dived behind the tallow trees, and with a parting "Think you‘re a match for him!" strode on to the one-plank bridge and was off.
The villagers stood there blankly, turning things over in their minds. They realized they really were no match for Chang Fei; hence Sevenpounder‘s life was as good as lost. And since Sevenpounder had broken the imperial law, they felt he should never have adopted that lordly air as he smoked that long pipe of his and told them the news in town. So the fact that he was in trouble gave them a certain pleasure. They would have liked to discuss the matter, but did not know what to say. Buzzing mosquitoes brushed past their bare arms, then zoomed back to swarm beneath the tallow trees. The villagers scattered to their homes, shut their doors and went to sleep. Grumbling to herself, Mrs. Sevenpounder cleared away the dishes, table and stools and went inside too, to close the door and go to sleep.
Sevenpounder took the broken bowl inside, and sat on the doorsill smoking; but he was still so worried he forgot to pull on the pipe, and the light in the pewter bowl of his sixfoot speckled bamboo pipe with the ivory mouthpiece gradually turned black. Matters seemed to have reached a very dangerous state, and he tried to think of a way out or some plan of action. But his thoughts were in a whirl, and he could not straighten them out. "Queues, eh, queues? A huge eighteen-foot lance. Each generation is worse than the last! The emperor‘s ascended his throne. The broken bowl will have to be taken to town to be riveted. Who‘s a match for him? It‘s written in a book. Damn! . . ."
The next morning Sevenpounder went to town with the boat as usual. Towards evening he came back to Luchen, with his six-foot speckled bamboo pipe and the rice bowl. At supper he told Old Mrs. Ninepounder he had had the bowl riveted in town. Because it was such a large break, sixteen copper clamps had been needed, and they cost three cash each—making a total of forty-eight cash altogether.
"Each generation is worse than the last," said Old Mrs. Ninepounder crossly. "I‘ve lived long enough. Three cash for a clamp. These aren‘t like the clamps we used to have. In the old days . . . ah. . . I‘ve lived seventy-nine years. . . ."
Though Sevenpounder went into town every day as before, his house seemed to be under a cloud. Most of the villagers kept out of his way, no longer coming to ask him what the news was in town. Mrs. Sevenpounder was always in a bad temper too, and constantly addressed him as "Gaol-bird."
About a fortnight later, when Sevenpounder came back from town, he found his wife in a rare good humour. "Heard anything in town?" she asked him.
"No, nothing."
"Has the emperor ascended his throne?"
"They didn‘t say."
"Did no one in Prosperity Tavern say anything?"
"No, nothing."
"I don‘t think the emperor will ascend the throne. I passed Mr. Chao‘s wine shop today, and he was sitting there reading again, with his queue coiled on the top of his head. He wasn‘t wearing his long gown either."
". . . . . . . . . . . ."
"Do you think maybe he won‘t ascend the throne?"
"I think probably not."
Today Sevenpounder is again respected and well treated by his wife and the villagers. In the summer his family still sit down to eat on the mud flat outside their door, and passers-by greet them with smiles. Old Mrs. Ninepounder celebrated her eightieth birthday some time ago, and is as hale and hearty as ever, and as full of complaints. Sixpounder‘s twin tufts of hair have changed into a thick braid. Although they started to bind her feet recently, she can still help Mrs. Sevenpounder with odd jobs, and limps about the mud flat carrying the rice bowl with its sixteen copper rivets.
Notes
1. A commentator of literature (1609-1661).
2. During the Three Kingdoms period there were five famous generals in the Kingdom of Shu (221-263): Kuan Yu, Chang Fei, Chao Yun, Huang Chung and Ma Chao.
3. The Taiping army of the peasant revolt (1851-1864). After the establishment of the Ching dynasty, Chinese men were forced to shave the hair above their foreheads and wear queues. Since the Taipings kept all their hair, they were called Long Hairs.
风波
临河的土场上，太阳渐渐的收了他通黄的光线了。场边靠河的乌桕树叶，干巴巴的才喘过气来，几个花脚蚊子在下面哼着飞舞。面河的农家的烟突里，逐渐减少了炊烟，女人孩子们都在自己门口的土场上波些水，放下小桌子和矮凳；人知道，这已经是晚饭的时候了。
老人男人坐在矮凳上，摇着大芭蕉扇闲谈，孩子飞也似的跑，或者蹲在乌桕树下赌玩石子。女人端出乌黑的蒸干菜和松花黄的米饭，热蓬蓬冒烟。河里驶过文人的酒船，文豪见了，大发诗兴，说，“无思无虑，这真是田家乐呵！”
但文豪的话有些不合事实，就因为他们没有听到九斤老太的话。这时候，九斤老太正在大怒，拿破芭蕉扇敲着凳脚说：
“我活到七十九岁了，活够了，不愿意眼见这些败家相，——还是死的好。立刻就要吃饭了，还吃炒豆子，吃穷了一家子！”
伊的曾孙女儿六斤捏着一把豆，正从对面跑来，见这情形，便直奔河边，藏在乌桕树后，伸出双丫角的小头，大声说，“这老不死的！”
九斤老太虽然高寿，耳朵却还不很聋，但也没有听到孩子的话，仍旧自己说，“这真是一代不如一代！”
这村庄的习惯有点特别，女人生下孩子，多喜欢用秤称了轻重，便用斤数当作小名。九斤老太自从庆祝了五十大寿以后，便渐渐的变了不平家，常说伊年青的时候，天气没有现在这般热，豆子也没有现在这般硬；总之现在的时世是不对了。何况六斤比伊的曾祖，少了三斤，比伊父亲七斤，又少了一斤，这真是一条颠扑不破的实例。所以伊又用劲说，“这真是一代不如一代！”
伊的儿媳⑵七斤嫂子正捧着饭篮走到桌边，便将饭篮在桌上一摔，愤愤的说，“你老人家又这么说了。六斤生下来的时候，不是六斤五两么？你家的秤又是私秤，加重称，十八两秤；用了准十六，我们的六斤该有七斤多哩。我想便是太公和公公，也不见得正是九斤八斤十足，用的秤也许是十四两……”
“一代不如一代！”
七斤嫂还没有答话，忽然看见七斤从小巷口转出，便移了方向，对他嚷道，“你这死尸怎么这时候才回来，死到那里去了！不管人家等着你开饭！”
七斤虽然住在农村，却早有些飞黄腾达的意思。从他的祖父到他，三代不捏锄头柄了；他也照例的帮人撑着航船，每日一回，早晨从鲁镇进城，傍晚又回到鲁镇，因此很知道些时事：例如什么地方，雷公劈死了蜈蚣精；什么地方，闺女生了一个夜叉之类。他在村人里面，的确已经是一名出场人物了。但夏天吃饭不点灯，却还守着农家习惯，所以回家太迟，是该骂的。
七斤一手捏着象牙嘴白铜斗六尺多长的湘妃竹烟管，低着头，慢慢地走来，坐在矮凳上。六斤也趁势溜出，坐在他身边，叫他爹爹。七斤没有应。
“一代不如一代！”九斤老太说。
七斤慢慢地抬起头来，叹一口气说，“皇帝坐了龙庭了。”
七斤嫂呆了一刻，忽而恍然大悟的道，“这可好了，这不是又要皇恩大赦了么！”
七斤又叹一口气，说，“我没有辫子。”
“皇帝要辫子么？”
“皇帝要辫子。”
“你怎么知道呢？”七斤嫂有些着急，赶忙的问。
“咸亨酒店里的人，都说要的。”
七斤嫂这时从直觉上觉得事情似乎有些不妙了，因为咸亨酒店是消息灵通的所在。伊一转眼瞥见七斤的光头，便忍不住动怒，怪他恨他怨他；忽然又绝望起来，装好一碗饭，搡在七斤的面前道，“还是赶快吃你的饭罢！哭丧着脸，就会长出辫子来么？”
太阳收尽了他最末的光线了，水面暗暗地回复过凉气来；土场上一片碗筷声响，人人的脊梁上又都吐出汗粒。七斤嫂吃完三碗饭，偶然抬起头，心坎里便禁不住突突地发跳。伊透过乌桕叶，看见又矮又胖的赵七爷正从独木桥上走来，而且穿着宝蓝色竹布的长衫。
赵七爷是邻村茂源酒店的主人，又是这三十里方圆以内的唯一的出色人物兼学问家；因为有学问，所以又有些遗老的臭味。他有十多本金圣叹批评的《三国志》⑶，时常坐着一个字一个字的读；他不但能说出五虎将姓名，甚而至于还知道黄忠表字汉升和马超表字孟起。革命以后，他便将辫子盘在顶上，像道士一般；常常叹息说，倘若赵子龙在世，天下便不会乱到这地步了。七斤嫂眼睛好，早望*裉斓*赵七爷已经不是道士，却变成光滑头皮，乌黑发顶；伊便知道这一定是皇帝坐了龙庭，而且一定须有辫子，而且七斤一定是非常危险。因为赵七爷的这件竹布长衫，轻易是不常穿的，三年以来，只穿过两次：一次是和他呕气的麻子阿四病了的时候，一次是曾经砸烂他酒店的鲁大爷死了的时候；现在是第三次了，这一定又是于他有庆，于他的仇家有殃了。
七斤嫂记得，两年前七斤喝醉了酒，曾经骂过赵七爷是“贱胎”，所以这时便立刻直觉到七斤的危险，心坎里突突地发起跳来。
赵七爷一路走来，坐着吃饭的人都站起身，拿筷子点着自己的饭碗说，“七爷，请在我们这里用饭！”七爷也一路点头，说道“请请”，却一径走到七斤家的桌旁。七斤们连忙招呼，七爷也微笑着说“请请”，一面细细的研究他们的饭菜。
“好香的菜干，——听到了风声了么？”赵七爷站在七斤的后面七斤嫂的对面说。
“皇帝坐了龙庭了。”七斤说。
七斤嫂看着七爷的脸，竭力陪笑道，“皇帝已经坐了龙庭，几时皇恩大赦呢？”
“皇恩大赦？——大赦是慢慢的总要大赦罢。”七爷说到这里，声色忽然严厉起来，“但是你家七斤的辫子呢，辫子？这倒是要紧的事。你们知道：长毛时候，留发不留头，留头不留发，……”
七斤和他的女人没有读过书，不很懂得这古典的奥妙，但觉得有学问的七爷这么说，事情自然非常重大，无可挽回，便仿佛受了死刑宣告似的，耳朵里嗡的一声，再也说不出一句话。
“一代不如一代，——”九斤老太正在不平，趁这机会，便对赵七爷说，“现在的长毛，只是剪人家的辫子，僧不僧，道不道的。从前的长毛，这样的么？我活到七十九岁了，活够了。从前的长毛是——整匹的红缎子裹头，拖下去，拖下去，一直拖到脚跟；王爷是黄缎子，拖下去，黄缎子；红缎子，黄缎子，——我活够了，七十九岁了。”
七斤嫂站起身，自言自语的说，“这怎么好呢？这样的一班老小，都靠他养活的人，……”
赵七爷摇头道，“那也没法。没有辫子，该当何罪，书上都一条一条明明白白写着的。不管他家里有些什么人。”
七斤嫂听到书上写着，可真是完全绝望了；自己急得没法，便忽然又恨到七斤。伊用筷子指着他的鼻尖说，“这死尸自作自受！造反的时候，我本来说，不要撑船了，不要上城了。他偏要死进城去，滚进城去，进城便被人剪去了辫子。从前是绢光乌黑的辫子，现在弄得僧不僧道不道的。这囚徒自作自受，带累了我们又怎么说呢？这活死尸的囚徒……”
村人看见赵七爷到村，都赶紧吃完饭，聚在七斤家饭桌的周围。七斤自己知道是出场人物，被女人当大众这样辱骂，很不雅观，便只得抬起头，慢慢地说道：
“你今天说现成话，那时你……”
“你这活死尸的囚徒……”
看客中间，八一嫂是心肠最好的人，抱着伊的两周岁的遗腹子，正在七斤嫂身边看热闹；这时过意不去，连忙解劝说，“七斤嫂，算了罢。人不是神仙，谁知道未来事呢？便是七斤嫂，那时不也说，没有辫子倒也没有什么丑么？况且衙门里的大老爷也还没有告示，……”
七斤嫂没有听完，两个耳朵早通红了；便将筷子转过向来，指着八一嫂的鼻子，说，“阿呀，这是什么话呵！八一嫂，我自己看来倒还是一个人，会说出这样昏诞胡涂话么？那时我是，整整哭了三天，谁都看见；连六斤这小鬼也都哭，……”六斤刚吃完一大碗饭，拿了空碗，伸手去嚷着要添。七斤嫂正没好气，便用筷子在伊的双丫角中间，直扎下去，大喝道，“谁要你来多嘴！你这偷汉的小寡妇！”
扑的一声，六斤手里的空碗落在地上了，恰巧又碰着一块砖角，立刻破成一个很大的缺口。七斤直跳起来，捡起破碗，合上检查一回，也喝道，“入娘的！”一巴掌打倒了六斤。六斤躺着哭，九斤老太拉了伊的手，连说着“一代不如一代”，一同走了。
八一嫂也发怒，大声说，“七斤嫂，你‘恨棒打人’……”
赵七爷本来是笑着旁观的；但自从八一嫂说了“衙门里的大老爷没有告示”这话以后，却有些生气了。这时他已经绕出桌旁，接着说，“‘恨棒打人’，算什么呢。大兵是就要到的。你可知道，这回保驾的是张大帅⑷，张大帅就是燕人张翼德的后代，他一支丈八蛇矛，就有万夫不当之勇，谁能抵挡他，”他两手同时捏起空拳，仿佛握着无形的蛇矛模样，向八一嫂抢进几步道，“你能抵挡他么！”
八一嫂正气得抱着孩子发抖，忽然见赵七爷满脸油汗，瞪着眼，准对伊冲过来，便十分害怕，不敢说完话，回身走了。赵七爷也跟着走去，众人一面怪八一嫂多事，一面让开路，几个剪过辫子重新留起的便赶快躲在人丛后面，怕他看见。赵七爷也不细心察访，通过人丛，忽然转入乌桕树后，说道“你能抵挡他么！”跨上独木桥，扬长去了。
村人们呆呆站着，心里计算，都觉得自己确乎抵不住张翼德，因此也决定七斤便要没有性命。七斤既然犯了皇法，想起他往常对人谈论城中的新闻的时候，就不该含着长烟管显出那般骄傲模样，所以对七斤的犯法，也觉得有些畅快。他们也仿佛想发些议论，却又觉得没有什么议论可发。嗡嗡的一阵乱嚷，蚊子都撞过赤膊身子，闯到乌桕树下去做市；他们也就慢慢地走散回家，关上门去睡觉。七斤嫂咕哝着，也收了家伙和桌子矮凳回家，关上门睡觉了。
七斤将破碗拿回家里，坐在门槛上吸烟；但非常忧愁，忘却了吸烟，象牙嘴六尺多长湘妃竹烟管的白铜斗里的火光，渐渐发黑了。他心里但觉得事情似乎十分危急，也想想些方法，想些计画，但总是非常模糊，贯穿不得：“辫子呢辫子？丈八蛇矛。一代不如一代！皇帝坐龙庭。破的碗须得上城去钉好。谁能抵挡他？书上一条一条写着。入娘的！……”
第二日清晨，七斤依旧从鲁镇撑航船进城，傍晚回到鲁镇，又拿着六尺多长的湘妃竹烟管和一个饭碗回村。他在晚饭席上，对九斤老太说，这碗是在城内钉合的，因为缺口大，所以要十六个铜钉，三文一个，一总用了四十八文小钱。
九斤老太很不高兴的说，“一代不如一代，我是活够了。三文钱一个钉；从前的钉，这样的么？从前的钉是……我活了七十九岁了，——”
此后七斤虽然是照例日日进城，但家景总有些黯淡，村人大抵回避着，不再来听他从城内得来的新闻。七斤嫂也没有好声气，还时常叫他“囚徒”。
过了十多日，七斤从城内回家，看见他的女人非常高兴，问他说，“你在城里可听到些什么？”
“没有听到些什么。”
“皇帝坐了龙庭没有呢？”
“他们没有说。”
“咸亨酒店里也没有人说么？”
“也没人说。”
“我想皇帝一定是不坐龙庭了。我今天走过赵七爷的店前，看见他又坐着念书了，辫子又盘在顶上了，也没有穿长衫。”
“…………”
“你想，不坐龙庭了罢？”
“我想，不坐了罢。”
现在的七斤，是七斤嫂和村人又都早给他相当的尊敬，相当的待遇了。到夏天，他们仍旧在自家门口的土场上吃饭；大家见了，都笑嘻嘻的招呼。九斤老太早已做过八十大寿，仍然不平而且健康。六斤的双丫角，已经变成一支大辫子了；伊虽然新近裹脚，却还能帮同七斤嫂做事，捧着十八个铜钉⑸的饭碗，在土场上一瘸一拐的往来。
一九二○年十月。⑹
□注释
⑴本篇最初发表于一九二○年九月《新青年》第八卷第一号。
⑵伊的儿媳：从上下文看，这里的“儿媳”应是“孙媳”。
⑶金圣叹批评的《三国志》：指小说《三国演义》。金圣叹（１６０９—１６６１），明末清初文人，曾批注《水浒》、《西厢记》等书，他把所加的序文、读法和评语等称为“圣叹外书”。《三国演义》是元末明初罗贯中所著，后经清代毛宗岗改编，附加评语，卷首有假托为金圣叹所作的序，首回前亦有“圣叹外书”字样，通常就都把这评语认为金圣叹所作。
⑷张大帅：指张勋（１８５４—１９２３），江西奉新人，北洋军阀之一。原为清朝军官，辛亥革命后，他和所部官兵仍留着辫子，表示忠于清王朝，被称为辫子军。一九一七年七月一日他在北京扶持清废帝溥仪复辟，七月十二日即告失败。
⑸十八个铜钉：据上文应是“十六个”。作者在一九二六年十一月二十三日致李霁野的信中曾说：“六斤家只有这一个钉过的碗，钉是十六或十八，我也记不清了。总之两数之一是错的，请改成一律。”
⑹据《鲁迅日记》，本篇当作于一九二○年八月五日。
Storm in a Teacup
Written: October 1920
Source: Selected Stories of Lu Hsun, Published by Foreign Languages Press, Peking, 1960, 1972
Transcribed: Original transcription fromcoldbacon.com
HTML Markup: Mike B. for MIA, 2005
Public Domain: Marxists Internet Archive (2005). You may freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit “Marxists Internet Archive” as your source.
The sun‘s bright yellow rays had gradually faded on the mud flat by the river. The leaves of the tallow trees beside the river were at last able to draw a parched breath, while a few striped mosquitoes danced, humming, beneath them. Less smoke was coming from the kitchen chimneys of the peasants‘ houses along the river, as women and children sprinkled water on the ground before their doors and brought out little tables and stools. You could tell it was time for the evening meal.
The old folk and the men sat on the low stools, fanning themselves with plantain-leaf fans as they chatted. The children raced about or squatted under the tallow trees playing games with pebbles. The women brought out steaming hot, black, dried vegetables and yellow rice. Some scholars, who were passing in a pleasure boat, waxed quite lyrical at the sight. "So free from care!" they exclaimed. "Here‘s real idyllic happiness."
The scholars were rather wide of the mark, however. That was because they had not heard what Old Mrs. Ninepounder was saying. Old Mrs. Ninepounder, who was in a towering temper, whacked the legs of her stool with a tattered plantain fan.
"I‘ve lived to seventy-nine, that‘s long enough," she declared. "I don‘t like watching everything going to the dogs—I‘d rather die. We‘re going to have supper right away, yet they‘re still eating roast beans, eating us out of house and home!"
Her great-granddaughter, Sixpounder, had just come running towards her holding a handful of beans; but when she sized up the situation she flew straight to the river bank and hid herself behind a tallow tree. Then, sticking out her small head with its twin tufts, she called loudly: "Old Never-dying!"
Though Old Mrs. Ninepounder had lived to a great age, she was by no means deaf; she did nor, however, hear what the child said, and went on muttering to herself, "Yes, indeed! Each generation is worse than the last!"
It was the somewhat unusual custom in this village for mothers to weigh their children when they were born, and then use as a name the number of pounds they weighed. Since Old Mrs. Ninepounder‘s celebration of her fiftieth birthday, she had gradually become a fault-finder, who was always saying that in her young days the summer had not been so hot nor the beans so tough as now. In brief, there was something radically wrong with the present-day world. Otherwise, why should Sixpounder have weighed three pounds less than her great-grandfather and one pound less than her father, Sevenpounder? This was really irrefutable evidence. So she repeated emphatically: "Yes, indeed! Each generation is worse than the last."
Her granddaughter-in-law, Mrs. Sevenpounder, had just come up to the table with a basket of rice. Planking it down on the table, she said angrily: "There you go again! Sixpounder weighed six pounds five ounces when she was born, didn‘t she? Your family uses private scales which weigh light, eighteen ounces to the pound. With proper sixteenounce scales, Sixpounder ought to have been over seven pounds. I don‘t believe grandfather and father really weighed a full nine or eight pounds either. Perhaps they used fourteenounce scales in those days. . . ."
"Each generation is worse than the last!"
Before Mrs. Sevenpounder could answer, she saw her husband coming out from the top of the lane, and shifted her attack to shout at him: "Why are you so late back, you slacker! Where have you been all this time? You don‘t care how long you keep us waiting to start supper!"
Although Sevenpounder lived in the village, he had always wanted to better himself. From his grandfather to himself, not a man in his family for three generations had handled a hoe. Like his father before him he worked on a boat which went every morning from Luchen to town, and came back in the evening. As a result, he knew pretty well all that was going on. He knew, for instance, where the thunder god had struck dead a centipede spirit, or where a virgin had given birth to a demon. Though he had made a name for himself in the village, his family abided by country customs and did not light a lamp for supper in the summer; hence, if he came home late, he would be in for a scolding.
In one hand Sevenpounder held a speckled bamboo pipe, over six feet long, which had an ivory mouth-piece and a pewter bowl. He walked over slowly, hanging his head, and sat on one of the low stools. Sixpounder seized this chance to slip out and sit down beside him. She spoke to him, but he made no answer.
"Each generation is worse than the last!" grumbled Old Mrs. Ninepounder.
Sevenpounder raised his head slowly, and said with a sigh: "The emperor has ascended the throne again."
For a moment, Mrs. Sevenpounder was struck dumb. Then, suddenly taking in the news, she exclaimed: "Good! That means the emperor will declare another amnesty, doesn‘t it?"
"I‘ve no queue," Sevenpounder sighed again.
"Does the emperor insist on queues?"
"He does."
Mrs. Sevenpounder was rather upset. "How do you know?" she demanded hastily.
"Everybody in Prosperity Tavern says so."
At that Mrs. Sevenpounder realized instinctively that things were in a bad way, because Prosperity Tavern was where you could pick up all the news. She looked angrily at Sevenpounder‘s shaved head, with a feeling of hatred and resentment; then fatalistically filled a bowl with rice and slapped it down before him, saying: "Hurry up and eat! Crying won‘t grow a queue for you, will it?"
The sun had withdrawn irs last rays, and the darkling water was gradually cooling off. There was a clatter of bowls and chopsticks on the mud flat, and sweat stood our on the backs of the people there. Mrs. Sevenpounder had finished three bowls of rice when, happening to look up, she saw something that set her heart pounding. Through the tallow leaves, Mr. Chao‘s short plump figure could be seen approaching from the one-plank bridge. And he was wearing his long sapphire-blue cotton gown. Mr. Chao was the owner of Abundance Tavern in a neighbouring village, and the only notable within a radius of ten miles who was also something of a scholar. His learning gave him a little of the musty air of a departed age. He had a dozen volumes of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms annotated by Chin Sheng-tan,1 which he would sit reading and re-reading, character by character. He could tell you not only the names of the five tiger generals,2 but even that Huang Chung was also known as Han-sheng, and Ma Chao as Meng-chi. After the Revolution he had coiled his queue on the top of his head like a Taoist priest, and often remarked with a sigh that if Chao Yun were still alive the empire would not be in such a bad way. Mrs. Sevenpounder‘s eyesight was good, and she had noticed at once that Mr. Chao was not wearing his hair like a Taoist priest today. The front of his head was shaved, and he had let his queue down. She knew that an emperor must have ascended the throne, that queues must be essential again, and that Sevenpounder must be in great danger too. For Mr. Chao did not wear this long cotton gown for nothing—in fact, during the last three years he had only worn it twice. Once when his enemy Pockmarked Ah-szu fell ill, once when Mr. Lu who had smashed up his wine shop died. This was the third time, and it must mean that something had happened to rejoice his heart and bode ill for his enemies.
Two years ago, Mrs. Sevenpounder remembered, her husband when drunk had cursed Mr. Chao as a "bastard." Immediately she realized instinctively the danger her husband was in, and her heart started thumping furiously.
The folk sitting at supper stood up when Mr. Chao passed by, and pointed their chopsticks at their rice bowls as they said: "Please join us, Mr. Chao."
Mr. Chao nodded greetings to all whom he passed, saying, "Go on with your meal, please!" He made straight for Sevenpounder‘s table. Everybody rose hastily to greet him, and Mr. Chao said with a smile, "Go on with your meal, please!" At the same time he took a good look at the food on the table.
"Those dried vegetables smell good—have you heard the news?" Mr. Chao was standing behind Sevenpounder, opposite Mrs. Sevenpounder.
"The emperor‘s ascended the throne," said Sevenpounder.
Watching Mr. Chao‘s expression, Mrs. Sevenpounder forced herself to smile. "Now that the emperor‘s ascended the throne, when will there be a general amnesty?" she asked.
"A general amnesty?—There‘ll be an amnesty all in good time." Then Mr. Chao‘s voice grew sterner. "But what about Sevenpounder‘s queue, eh? That‘s the important thing. You know how it was in the time of the Long Hairs:3 keep your hair and lose your head; keep your head and lose your hair. . ."
Sevenpounder and his wife had never read any books, so this classical lore was lost on them; but they supposed that since the learned Mr. Chao said this, the situation must be extremely serious, irrevocable in fact. They felt as if they had received their death sentence. There was a buzzing in their ears, and they were unable to utter another word.
"Each generation is worse than the last." Old Mrs. Ninepounder, quite put out again, seized this chance to speak to Mr. Chao. "The rebels nowadays just cut people‘s queues off, so that they look neither Buddhist nor Taoist. Were the rebels before like that too? I‘ve lived seventy-nine years, and that‘s enough. The rebels in the old days wrapped their heads in lengths of red satin that hung all the way down to their heels. The prince wore yellow satin that hung down . . . yellow satin; red satin and yellow satin—I‘ve lived long enough at seventy-nine."
"What‘s to be done?" muttered Mrs. Sevenpounder, standing up. "We‘ve such a big family, young and old, and all depend on him."
"There‘s nothing you can do," said Mr. Chao. "The punishment for being without a queue is written down quite distinctly, sentence by sentence in a book. Makes no difference how big your family is."
When Mrs. Sevenpounder heard that it was written down in a book, she really gave up all hope. Beside herself with anxiety, she suddenly hated Sevenpounder. Pointing her chopsticks at the tip of his nose, she cried: "You‘ve made your bed, and now you can lie on it! I said during the revolt, better not go out on the boat, better not go to town! But he would go. He rolled off to town, and they cut his queue off. He used to have a glossy black queue, but now he doesn‘t look like Buddhist or Taoist. He‘s made his own bed, he‘ll have to lie on it. What right has he to drag us into it? Living corpse of a gaol-bird. . . ."
Since Mr. Chao had arrived, the villagers finished their meal quickly and gathered round Sevenpounder‘s table. Sevenpounder knew how unseemly it was for a prominent citizen to be cursed by his wife in public. So he raised his head to say slowly:
"You‘ve plenty to say today, but at the time. . . ."
"Living corpse of a gaol-bird!"
Widow Pa Yi had the kindest heart of all the onlookers there. Carrying her two-year-old baby, born after her husband‘s death, she was standing next to Mrs. Sevenpounder watching the fun. Now she felt things had gone too far, and hurriedly tried to make peace, saying: "Never mind, Mrs. Sevenpounder. People aren‘t spirits, how can they foretell the future? Didn‘t Mrs. Sevenpounder say at the time there was nothing to be ashamed of in having no queue? Besides, the great official in the government office hasn‘t issued any order yet. . . ."
Before she had finished, Mrs. Sevenpounder‘s ears were scarlet, and she swept her chopsticks round to point at the widow‘s nose. "Well, I never!" she protested. "What a thing to say, Mrs. Pa Yi! I‘m still a human being, aren‘t I—how could I have said anything so ridiculous? I cried for three whole days when it happened, everybody saw me. Even that imp Sixpounder cried. . . ." Sixpounder had just finished a big bowl of rice, and was holding out her bowl clamouring to have it refilled. Mrs. Sevenpounder was in a temper, and brought her chopsticks down between the twin tufts on the child‘s head. "Stop that noise! Little slut!"
There was a crack as the empty bowl in Sixpounder‘s hand fell to the ground. It struck the corner of a brick and a big piece was knocked off. Sevenpounder jumped up to pick up the bowl and examine it as he fitted the pieces together. "Damn you!" he shouted, and gave Sixpounder a slap on the face that knocked her over. Sixpounder lay there crying until Old Mrs. Ninepounder took her by the hand and walked off with her, muttering, "Each generation is worse than the last."
It was Widow Pa Yi‘s turn to be angry. "Hitting a child, Mrs. Sevenpounder!" she shouted.
Mr. Chao had been looking on with a smile, but when Widow Pa Yi said that the great official in the government office had not issued any order yet, he began to grow angry. Now coming right up to the table, he said: "What does it matter hitting a child? The imperial army will be here any time now. You know, the protector of the empire is General Chang, who‘s descended from Chang Fei of the period of the Three Kingdoms. He has a huge lance eighteen feet long, and dares take on ten thousand men. Nobody can stand against him." Raising his empty hands, as if grasping a huge invisible lance, he took a few paces towards Widow Pa Yi, saying, "Are you a match for him?"
Widow Pa Yi was trembling with rage as she held her child. But the sudden sight of Mr. Chao bearing down on her with perspiring face and staring eyes gave her the fright of her life. Without finishing what she had to say, she turned and fled. Mr. Chao left too. As they made way, the villagers blamed Widow Pa Yi for interfering, and a few men who had cut their queues and started growing them again hid hastily behind the crowd for fear Mr. Chao should see them. However, Mr. Chao passed through the group without making a careful inspection. Suddenly he dived behind the tallow trees, and with a parting "Think you‘re a match for him!" strode on to the one-plank bridge and was off.
The villagers stood there blankly, turning things over in their minds. They realized they really were no match for Chang Fei; hence Sevenpounder‘s life was as good as lost. And since Sevenpounder had broken the imperial law, they felt he should never have adopted that lordly air as he smoked that long pipe of his and told them the news in town. So the fact that he was in trouble gave them a certain pleasure. They would have liked to discuss the matter, but did not know what to say. Buzzing mosquitoes brushed past their bare arms, then zoomed back to swarm beneath the tallow trees. The villagers scattered to their homes, shut their doors and went to sleep. Grumbling to herself, Mrs. Sevenpounder cleared away the dishes, table and stools and went inside too, to close the door and go to sleep.
Sevenpounder took the broken bowl inside, and sat on the doorsill smoking; but he was still so worried he forgot to pull on the pipe, and the light in the pewter bowl of his sixfoot speckled bamboo pipe with the ivory mouthpiece gradually turned black. Matters seemed to have reached a very dangerous state, and he tried to think of a way out or some plan of action. But his thoughts were in a whirl, and he could not straighten them out. "Queues, eh, queues? A huge eighteen-foot lance. Each generation is worse than the last! The emperor‘s ascended his throne. The broken bowl will have to be taken to town to be riveted. Who‘s a match for him? It‘s written in a book. Damn! . . ."
The next morning Sevenpounder went to town with the boat as usual. Towards evening he came back to Luchen, with his six-foot speckled bamboo pipe and the rice bowl. At supper he told Old Mrs. Ninepounder he had had the bowl riveted in town. Because it was such a large break, sixteen copper clamps had been needed, and they cost three cash each—making a total of forty-eight cash altogether.
"Each generation is worse than the last," said Old Mrs. Ninepounder crossly. "I‘ve lived long enough. Three cash for a clamp. These aren‘t like the clamps we used to have. In the old days . . . ah. . . I‘ve lived seventy-nine years. . . ."
Though Sevenpounder went into town every day as before, his house seemed to be under a cloud. Most of the villagers kept out of his way, no longer coming to ask him what the news was in town. Mrs. Sevenpounder was always in a bad temper too, and constantly addressed him as "Gaol-bird."
About a fortnight later, when Sevenpounder came back from town, he found his wife in a rare good humour. "Heard anything in town?" she asked him.
"No, nothing."
"Has the emperor ascended his throne?"
"They didn‘t say."
"Did no one in Prosperity Tavern say anything?"
"No, nothing."
"I don‘t think the emperor will ascend the throne. I passed Mr. Chao‘s wine shop today, and he was sitting there reading again, with his queue coiled on the top of his head. He wasn‘t wearing his long gown either."
". . . . . . . . . . . ."
"Do you think maybe he won‘t ascend the throne?"
"I think probably not."
Today Sevenpounder is again respected and well treated by his wife and the villagers. In the summer his family still sit down to eat on the mud flat outside their door, and passers-by greet them with smiles. Old Mrs. Ninepounder celebrated her eightieth birthday some time ago, and is as hale and hearty as ever, and as full of complaints. Sixpounder‘s twin tufts of hair have changed into a thick braid. Although they started to bind her feet recently, she can still help Mrs. Sevenpounder with odd jobs, and limps about the mud flat carrying the rice bowl with its sixteen copper rivets.
Notes
1. A commentator of literature (1609-1661).
2. During the Three Kingdoms period there were five famous generals in the Kingdom of Shu (221-263): Kuan Yu, Chang Fei, Chao Yun, Huang Chung and Ma Chao.
3. The Taiping army of the peasant revolt (1851-1864). After the establishment of the Ching dynasty, Chinese men were forced to shave the hair above their foreheads and wear queues. Since the Taipings kept all their hair, they were called Long Hairs.
风波
临河的土场上，太阳渐渐的收了他通黄的光线了。场边靠河的乌桕树叶，干巴巴的才喘过气来，几个花脚蚊子在下面哼着飞舞。面河的农家的烟突里，逐渐减少了炊烟，女人孩子们都在自己门口的土场上波些水，放下小桌子和矮凳；人知道，这已经是晚饭的时候了。
老人男人坐在矮凳上，摇着大芭蕉扇闲谈，孩子飞也似的跑，或者蹲在乌桕树下赌玩石子。女人端出乌黑的蒸干菜和松花黄的米饭，热蓬蓬冒烟。河里驶过文人的酒船，文豪见了，大发诗兴，说，“无思无虑，这真是田家乐呵！”
但文豪的话有些不合事实，就因为他们没有听到九斤老太的话。这时候，九斤老太正在大怒，拿破芭蕉扇敲着凳脚说：
“我活到七十九岁了，活够了，不愿意眼见这些败家相，——还是死的好。立刻就要吃饭了，还吃炒豆子，吃穷了一家子！”
伊的曾孙女儿六斤捏着一把豆，正从对面跑来，见这情形，便直奔河边，藏在乌桕树后，伸出双丫角的小头，大声说，“这老不死的！”
九斤老太虽然高寿，耳朵却还不很聋，但也没有听到孩子的话，仍旧自己说，“这真是一代不如一代！”
这村庄的习惯有点特别，女人生下孩子，多喜欢用秤称了轻重，便用斤数当作小名。九斤老太自从庆祝了五十大寿以后，便渐渐的变了不平家，常说伊年青的时候，天气没有现在这般热，豆子也没有现在这般硬；总之现在的时世是不对了。何况六斤比伊的曾祖，少了三斤，比伊父亲七斤，又少了一斤，这真是一条颠扑不破的实例。所以伊又用劲说，“这真是一代不如一代！”
伊的儿媳⑵七斤嫂子正捧着饭篮走到桌边，便将饭篮在桌上一摔，愤愤的说，“你老人家又这么说了。六斤生下来的时候，不是六斤五两么？你家的秤又是私秤，加重称，十八两秤；用了准十六，我们的六斤该有七斤多哩。我想便是太公和公公，也不见得正是九斤八斤十足，用的秤也许是十四两……”
“一代不如一代！”
七斤嫂还没有答话，忽然看见七斤从小巷口转出，便移了方向，对他嚷道，“你这死尸怎么这时候才回来，死到那里去了！不管人家等着你开饭！”
七斤虽然住在农村，却早有些飞黄腾达的意思。从他的祖父到他，三代不捏锄头柄了；他也照例的帮人撑着航船，每日一回，早晨从鲁镇进城，傍晚又回到鲁镇，因此很知道些时事：例如什么地方，雷公劈死了蜈蚣精；什么地方，闺女生了一个夜叉之类。他在村人里面，的确已经是一名出场人物了。但夏天吃饭不点灯，却还守着农家习惯，所以回家太迟，是该骂的。
七斤一手捏着象牙嘴白铜斗六尺多长的湘妃竹烟管，低着头，慢慢地走来，坐在矮凳上。六斤也趁势溜出，坐在他身边，叫他爹爹。七斤没有应。
“一代不如一代！”九斤老太说。
七斤慢慢地抬起头来，叹一口气说，“皇帝坐了龙庭了。”
七斤嫂呆了一刻，忽而恍然大悟的道，“这可好了，这不是又要皇恩大赦了么！”
七斤又叹一口气，说，“我没有辫子。”
“皇帝要辫子么？”
“皇帝要辫子。”
“你怎么知道呢？”七斤嫂有些着急，赶忙的问。
“咸亨酒店里的人，都说要的。”
七斤嫂这时从直觉上觉得事情似乎有些不妙了，因为咸亨酒店是消息灵通的所在。伊一转眼瞥见七斤的光头，便忍不住动怒，怪他恨他怨他；忽然又绝望起来，装好一碗饭，搡在七斤的面前道，“还是赶快吃你的饭罢！哭丧着脸，就会长出辫子来么？”
太阳收尽了他最末的光线了，水面暗暗地回复过凉气来；土场上一片碗筷声响，人人的脊梁上又都吐出汗粒。七斤嫂吃完三碗饭，偶然抬起头，心坎里便禁不住突突地发跳。伊透过乌桕叶，看见又矮又胖的赵七爷正从独木桥上走来，而且穿着宝蓝色竹布的长衫。
赵七爷是邻村茂源酒店的主人，又是这三十里方圆以内的唯一的出色人物兼学问家；因为有学问，所以又有些遗老的臭味。他有十多本金圣叹批评的《三国志》⑶，时常坐着一个字一个字的读；他不但能说出五虎将姓名，甚而至于还知道黄忠表字汉升和马超表字孟起。革命以后，他便将辫子盘在顶上，像道士一般；常常叹息说，倘若赵子龙在世，天下便不会乱到这地步了。七斤嫂眼睛好，早望*裉斓*赵七爷已经不是道士，却变成光滑头皮，乌黑发顶；伊便知道这一定是皇帝坐了龙庭，而且一定须有辫子，而且七斤一定是非常危险。因为赵七爷的这件竹布长衫，轻易是不常穿的，三年以来，只穿过两次：一次是和他呕气的麻子阿四病了的时候，一次是曾经砸烂他酒店的鲁大爷死了的时候；现在是第三次了，这一定又是于他有庆，于他的仇家有殃了。
七斤嫂记得，两年前七斤喝醉了酒，曾经骂过赵七爷是“贱胎”，所以这时便立刻直觉到七斤的危险，心坎里突突地发起跳来。
赵七爷一路走来，坐着吃饭的人都站起身，拿筷子点着自己的饭碗说，“七爷，请在我们这里用饭！”七爷也一路点头，说道“请请”，却一径走到七斤家的桌旁。七斤们连忙招呼，七爷也微笑着说“请请”，一面细细的研究他们的饭菜。
“好香的菜干，——听到了风声了么？”赵七爷站在七斤的后面七斤嫂的对面说。
“皇帝坐了龙庭了。”七斤说。
七斤嫂看着七爷的脸，竭力陪笑道，“皇帝已经坐了龙庭，几时皇恩大赦呢？”
“皇恩大赦？——大赦是慢慢的总要大赦罢。”七爷说到这里，声色忽然严厉起来，“但是你家七斤的辫子呢，辫子？这倒是要紧的事。你们知道：长毛时候，留发不留头，留头不留发，……”
七斤和他的女人没有读过书，不很懂得这古典的奥妙，但觉得有学问的七爷这么说，事情自然非常重大，无可挽回，便仿佛受了死刑宣告似的，耳朵里嗡的一声，再也说不出一句话。
“一代不如一代，——”九斤老太正在不平，趁这机会，便对赵七爷说，“现在的长毛，只是剪人家的辫子，僧不僧，道不道的。从前的长毛，这样的么？我活到七十九岁了，活够了。从前的长毛是——整匹的红缎子裹头，拖下去，拖下去，一直拖到脚跟；王爷是黄缎子，拖下去，黄缎子；红缎子，黄缎子，——我活够了，七十九岁了。”
七斤嫂站起身，自言自语的说，“这怎么好呢？这样的一班老小，都靠他养活的人，……”
赵七爷摇头道，“那也没法。没有辫子，该当何罪，书上都一条一条明明白白写着的。不管他家里有些什么人。”
七斤嫂听到书上写着，可真是完全绝望了；自己急得没法，便忽然又恨到七斤。伊用筷子指着他的鼻尖说，“这死尸自作自受！造反的时候，我本来说，不要撑船了，不要上城了。他偏要死进城去，滚进城去，进城便被人剪去了辫子。从前是绢光乌黑的辫子，现在弄得僧不僧道不道的。这囚徒自作自受，带累了我们又怎么说呢？这活死尸的囚徒……”
村人看见赵七爷到村，都赶紧吃完饭，聚在七斤家饭桌的周围。七斤自己知道是出场人物，被女人当大众这样辱骂，很不雅观，便只得抬起头，慢慢地说道：
“你今天说现成话，那时你……”
“你这活死尸的囚徒……”
看客中间，八一嫂是心肠最好的人，抱着伊的两周岁的遗腹子，正在七斤嫂身边看热闹；这时过意不去，连忙解劝说，“七斤嫂，算了罢。人不是神仙，谁知道未来事呢？便是七斤嫂，那时不也说，没有辫子倒也没有什么丑么？况且衙门里的大老爷也还没有告示，……”
七斤嫂没有听完，两个耳朵早通红了；便将筷子转过向来，指着八一嫂的鼻子，说，“阿呀，这是什么话呵！八一嫂，我自己看来倒还是一个人，会说出这样昏诞胡涂话么？那时我是，整整哭了三天，谁都看见；连六斤这小鬼也都哭，……”六斤刚吃完一大碗饭，拿了空碗，伸手去嚷着要添。七斤嫂正没好气，便用筷子在伊的双丫角中间，直扎下去，大喝道，“谁要你来多嘴！你这偷汉的小寡妇！”
扑的一声，六斤手里的空碗落在地上了，恰巧又碰着一块砖角，立刻破成一个很大的缺口。七斤直跳起来，捡起破碗，合上检查一回，也喝道，“入娘的！”一巴掌打倒了六斤。六斤躺着哭，九斤老太拉了伊的手，连说着“一代不如一代”，一同走了。
八一嫂也发怒，大声说，“七斤嫂，你‘恨棒打人’……”
赵七爷本来是笑着旁观的；但自从八一嫂说了“衙门里的大老爷没有告示”这话以后，却有些生气了。这时他已经绕出桌旁，接着说，“‘恨棒打人’，算什么呢。大兵是就要到的。你可知道，这回保驾的是张大帅⑷，张大帅就是燕人张翼德的后代，他一支丈八蛇矛，就有万夫不当之勇，谁能抵挡他，”他两手同时捏起空拳，仿佛握着无形的蛇矛模样，向八一嫂抢进几步道，“你能抵挡他么！”
八一嫂正气得抱着孩子发抖，忽然见赵七爷满脸油汗，瞪着眼，准对伊冲过来，便十分害怕，不敢说完话，回身走了。赵七爷也跟着走去，众人一面怪八一嫂多事，一面让开路，几个剪过辫子重新留起的便赶快躲在人丛后面，怕他看见。赵七爷也不细心察访，通过人丛，忽然转入乌桕树后，说道“你能抵挡他么！”跨上独木桥，扬长去了。
村人们呆呆站着，心里计算，都觉得自己确乎抵不住张翼德，因此也决定七斤便要没有性命。七斤既然犯了皇法，想起他往常对人谈论城中的新闻的时候，就不该含着长烟管显出那般骄傲模样，所以对七斤的犯法，也觉得有些畅快。他们也仿佛想发些议论，却又觉得没有什么议论可发。嗡嗡的一阵乱嚷，蚊子都撞过赤膊身子，闯到乌桕树下去做市；他们也就慢慢地走散回家，关上门去睡觉。七斤嫂咕哝着，也收了家伙和桌子矮凳回家，关上门睡觉了。
七斤将破碗拿回家里，坐在门槛上吸烟；但非常忧愁，忘却了吸烟，象牙嘴六尺多长湘妃竹烟管的白铜斗里的火光，渐渐发黑了。他心里但觉得事情似乎十分危急，也想想些方法，想些计画，但总是非常模糊，贯穿不得：“辫子呢辫子？丈八蛇矛。一代不如一代！皇帝坐龙庭。破的碗须得上城去钉好。谁能抵挡他？书上一条一条写着。入娘的！……”
第二日清晨，七斤依旧从鲁镇撑航船进城，傍晚回到鲁镇，又拿着六尺多长的湘妃竹烟管和一个饭碗回村。他在晚饭席上，对九斤老太说，这碗是在城内钉合的，因为缺口大，所以要十六个铜钉，三文一个，一总用了四十八文小钱。
九斤老太很不高兴的说，“一代不如一代，我是活够了。三文钱一个钉；从前的钉，这样的么？从前的钉是……我活了七十九岁了，——”
此后七斤虽然是照例日日进城，但家景总有些黯淡，村人大抵回避着，不再来听他从城内得来的新闻。七斤嫂也没有好声气，还时常叫他“囚徒”。
过了十多日，七斤从城内回家，看见他的女人非常高兴，问他说，“你在城里可听到些什么？”
“没有听到些什么。”
“皇帝坐了龙庭没有呢？”
“他们没有说。”
“咸亨酒店里也没有人说么？”
“也没人说。”
“我想皇帝一定是不坐龙庭了。我今天走过赵七爷的店前，看见他又坐着念书了，辫子又盘在顶上了，也没有穿长衫。”
“…………”
“你想，不坐龙庭了罢？”
“我想，不坐了罢。”
现在的七斤，是七斤嫂和村人又都早给他相当的尊敬，相当的待遇了。到夏天，他们仍旧在自家门口的土场上吃饭；大家见了，都笑嘻嘻的招呼。九斤老太早已做过八十大寿，仍然不平而且健康。六斤的双丫角，已经变成一支大辫子了；伊虽然新近裹脚，却还能帮同七斤嫂做事，捧着十八个铜钉⑸的饭碗，在土场上一瘸一拐的往来。
一九二○年十月。⑹
□注释
⑴本篇最初发表于一九二○年九月《新青年》第八卷第一号。
⑵伊的儿媳：从上下文看，这里的“儿媳”应是“孙媳”。
⑶金圣叹批评的《三国志》：指小说《三国演义》。金圣叹（１６０９—１６６１），明末清初文人，曾批注《水浒》、《西厢记》等书，他把所加的序文、读法和评语等称为“圣叹外书”。《三国演义》是元末明初罗贯中所著，后经清代毛宗岗改编，附加评语，卷首有假托为金圣叹所作的序，首回前亦有“圣叹外书”字样，通常就都把这评语认为金圣叹所作。
⑷张大帅：指张勋（１８５４—１９２３），江西奉新人，北洋军阀之一。原为清朝军官，辛亥革命后，他和所部官兵仍留着辫子，表示忠于清王朝，被称为辫子军。一九一七年七月一日他在北京扶持清废帝溥仪复辟，七月十二日即告失败。
⑸十八个铜钉：据上文应是“十六个”。作者在一九二六年十一月二十三日致李霁野的信中曾说：“六斤家只有这一个钉过的碗，钉是十六或十八，我也记不清了。总之两数之一是错的，请改成一律。”
⑹据《鲁迅日记》，本篇当作于一九二○年八月五日。