A Prophet - Chapter 2 (Part 5)

Chapter 5 - Humiliation at the Teahouse

Grandfather spent the entire night recounting his past to me, and by the time he finished, the sky was already growing bright.

I had never heard such a thrilling, heart-stopping story. I didn't know what to say, nor did I understand why he was telling me so much. I sat there stupidly, the water in my teacup long since turned ice-cold. "Shaliang," Grandfather said, "now do you know why I said I was even worse off than you back then? I was merely a beggar, and now I've become a Grandfather. You're still a waiter at best—tell me, do you think you could become a Grandfather too?" I didn't know how to respond. In my heart, I thought: Who could ever compare to you? Both my hands shake just from killing a chicken, while you executed two men without even blinking an eye. I certainly don't have that kind of courage and grit. Seeing that I remained silent, Grandfather continued, "Shaliang, do you want to follow me?"

A jolt went through my heart. Could it be that calling me here today was to get me to join him? To join up and become a con artist? Sweat broke out all over me. Poor as I might be, I had never done anything against my conscience since I was a child, nor would I ever dare to. Tremulously, I said, "Grandfather, I don't have that kind of skill, nor do I have that kind of nerve. As long as I have enough food to fill my belly, that's plenty—I can't possibly compare to you..."

"Hahahaha." Before I could even finish, Grandfather burst out laughing, a laugh that made my hair stand on end.

Grandfather said, "Do you intend to stay like this for the rest of your life? Work as a waiter forever? Don't you want to make money and take a wife? Of all unfilial acts, having no descendants is the worst."

Grandfather's words struck right at the deepest part of my heart. When a young man comes of age, who doesn't yearn for romance? Every day, customers came and went in a steady stream of dashing young men and lovely maidens, and all I could do was hide behind the door and steal glances. Sometimes, when pretty girls came by, as I poured their tea, I couldn't help catching glimpses of their heaving chests before immediately scurrying away as if nothing was the matter. At night, I would fantasize too, imagining the day when I would enter the bridal chamber with burning candles and carry on the family lineage. But the moment I remembered I was penniless, I could only scratch my backside, pick my nose, and pull the quilt over my head to sleep.

Grandfather suddenly asked again, "Shaliang, how did your mother die?" I replied, "Consumption." Grandfather said, "Did you take her to see a physician?"

Mentioning this always broke my heart. I said, "At first we saw one for a few days, but then we ran out of money and had nowhere to borrow any. The physician sent a few doses of medicine that were quickly finished, and after that, we just dragged it out. Then she started coughing up blood, and after that..."

Grandfather asked, "How was she buried after she died?"

I felt as though Grandfather was tearing open my most painful scars. That was the most agonizingly bitter event of my entire life. After my old mother passed away, we couldn't afford a coffin, so we wrapped her in a woven mat, placed her inside a clothing wardrobe, and the villagers helped carry her out and bury her just like that. My old mother suffered for her entire lifetime, and in the end, she didn't even have a set of burial clothes or a proper coffin. Every time I thought of it, tears would flow involuntarily. Seeing me cry, Grandfather handed me a handkerchief and said, "If you still want to live this kind of life, go back to the teahouse. If you want to follow me, come back and find me."

Stepping out of Grandfather's mansion, I jogged all the way back to the teahouse. Grandfather's words echoed endlessly in my ears, and I didn't know how to choose. I couldn't understand why Grandfather would pick me out. I wasn't smart, my face looked like a pig's head, and my courage was on par with a mouse's—none of which fit the profile of a con artist.

By day, I went about my duties as a waiter. Having stayed awake the entire previous night, my eyes were dry and dull. Coupled with my mind constantly spinning over Grandfather's words, I was completely absent-minded. Around noon, Grandfather arrived. Not daring to look at him, I belted out my usual high-pitched call: "Shaliang, bring a pot of Longjing for Grandfather!" "Coming right up!" I sang out loudly, brewing a pot of top-grade Longjing for him. Carrying his white paper fan as always, he sat sipping his tea and fan-waving all by himself. I glanced at him twice, but he paid me no mind as I busied myself serving other customers. A short while later, two young hooligans swaggering with a slovenly air walked in. I hurried over to greet them, saying, "Masters, please come in and take a seat." "Bring us a pot of good tea, Grandpa!" "Right away, sirs!" I rushed off to brew it for them, and once it was ready, I carefully carried the tea bowls over and placed them before their eyes. "Masters, please enjoy." Just as I turned to leave, a sharp crack echoed out—a tea bowl had crashed to the floor. I had no idea how it happened; perhaps my sleeve had swept against it as I turned around. The manager had explicitly instructed us that whenever such an incident occurred, we were to apologize profusely and check whether any tea had splashed onto the customer's feet. If tea or tea leaves had landed on a customer's shoes, we had to immediately use our own sleeves to wipe them clean.

Bowing incessantly, I offered repeated apologies, saying, "I'm terribly sorry, masters, I'm terribly sorry." Seeing that one of them indeed had tea splashed across his shoes, I quickly bent down, intending to use my sleeve to wipe them clean. Just as my hand brushed against his shoe, the fellow suddenly lashed out and kicked me squarely in the chest. I felt as though the wind had been knocked right out of me, leaving me gasping and in agonizing pain for a long moment. "Damn it! Do you have any idea how much this pair of shoes cost me?! Are those dirty hands of yours even worthy of touching them?" the punk cursed. Clutching my chest, I crouched against the base of the wall, knowing I was in for a beating yet again. I had encountered similar situations before and taken slaps to the face; all I wanted was for the ordeal to pass as quickly as possible. I didn't want to argue, nor did I dare to. Sensing trouble, the manager scurried out from behind the counter with a heap of ingratiating smiles. "Masters, please calm your anger, please calm your anger. My little apprentice here lacks sense and is all thumbs. I am truly sorry, truly sorry. Today's tea is completely on the house—consider it my personal apology to you gentlemen." Then, turning sharply toward me, he barked, "Get out of here and back inside this instant!" I scrambled up and was just about to leave when the punk called out, "Hold on a second." He beckoned to me and said, "Get over here." Expecting a slap across the face, I clutched my cheek, shuffled over step by step, and looked at him in sheer terror.

He flashed a grin at me and said, "Just look at that pathetic mug of yours! Born with the face of a coward! Here's what we'll do: lick the tea leaves clean off my shoes right now, and we'll call it even. Otherwise, I'll smash this entire teahouse—and you along with it—to pieces today!" I knew I had no dignity to speak of, having suffered plenty of ridicule since childhood, but I had never been subjected to licking someone's shoes. It was glaringly obvious that they didn't view me as a human being at all. Helplessly, I looked over at the manager, who wore a conflicted expression and gave me a curt nod, signaling for me to do it immediately. Suddenly, I thought of Grandfather. I whipped my head around to cast a pleading glance toward his table, fully convinced that he would come to my rescue. After all, wasn't he a man of chivalry and righteousness? To my utter dismay, Grandfather didn't even glance in my direction. He simply kept waving his fan and sipping his tea leisurely, as though everything unfolding in the teahouse had not affected him by even the slightest fraction. Despair washed over me. I slowly crouched down, stuck out my tongue, and licked every last tea leaf clean from the surface of the man's cloth-bound round-toed shoes. Watching me lick his feet, the punk burst into raucous laughter, immensely pleased with himself. I felt as though every last shred of my dignity had been completely stripped away. Once I finished, I fled to the back quarters, found a vacant corner, and sobbed uncontrollably.

That night, I quietly crept toward Grandfather's mansion. Halfway there, hesitation seized me, and I turned back. After walking a short distance, I turned around again, repeating the cycle several times before finally arriving at Grandfather's front door.

Standing at the entrance, I wondered whether he was asleep. I reached out and knocked. The door swung open, and the gatekeeper, recognizing me at once, said, "Come on in, Grandfather has been waiting for you." Startled, I followed the gatekeeper inside. Grandfather was sitting in a chair sipping tea, and upon seeing me arrive, he asked, "Have you figured it out?" I kept my head down in silence until, after a moment, I muttered glumly, "Today... you saw everything... I thought..." "You thought I would help you, is that it?" Grandfather cut me off mid-sentence. "Let me tell you something: I could have slaughtered those two bastards in an instant, but that would be me, not you. You have to carve out your own dignity!" With a sudden roar from Grandfather, I fell completely silent. "As long as you understand that, it's enough. In this world, mere compliance won't keep you alive! Starting tomorrow, come to the stronghold," Grandfather commanded. I raised my head. "Grandfather, I..." Grandfather cut in, "Rest assured, I won't ever ask you to commit murder or arson!"

And just like that, I began following Grandfather.