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I
It was autumn, in the small hours of the morning. The moon had gone down, but the sun had not yet risen, and the sky appeared a sheet of darkling blue. Apart from night-prowlers, all was asleep. Old Chuan suddenly sat up in bed. He struck a match and lit the grease-covered oil lamp, which shed a ghostly light over the two rooms of the tea-house.
"Are you going now, dad?" queried an old woman's voice. And from the small inner room a fit of coughing was heard.
"H'm."
Old Chuan listened as he fastened his clothes, then stretching out his hand said, "Let's have it."
After some fumbling under the pillow his wife produced a packet of silver dollars which she handed over. Old Chuan pocketed it nervously, patted his pocket twice, then lighting a paper lantern and blowing out the lamp went into the inner room. A rustling was heard, and then more coughing. When all was quiet again, Old Chuan called softly: "Son! . . Don't you get up! . . . Your mother will see to the shop."
Receiving no answer, Old Chuan assumed his son must be sound asleep again; so he went out into the street. In the darkness nothing could be seen but the grey roadway. The lantern light fell on his pacing feet. Here and there he came across dogs, but none of them barked. It was much colder than indoors, yet Old Chuan's spirits rose, as if he had grown suddenly younger and possessed some miraculous life-giving power. He lengthened his stride. And the road became increasingly clear, the sky increasingly bright.
Absorbed in his walking, Old Chuan was startled when he saw distinctly the cross-road ahead of him. He walked back a few steps to stand under the eaves of a shop, in front of its closed door. After some time he began to feel chilly.
"Uh, an old chap."
"Seems rather cheerful. . . ."
Old Chuan started again and, opening his eyes, saw several men passing. One of them even turned back to look at him, and although he could not see him clearly, the man's eyes shone with a lustful light, like a famished person's at the sight of food. Looking at his lantern, Old Chuan saw it had gone out. He patted his pocket--the hard packet was still there. Then he looked round and saw many strange people, in twos and threes, wandering about like lost souls. However, when he gazed steadily at them, he could not see anything else strange about them.
Presently he saw some soldiers strolling around. The large white circles on their uniforms, both in front and behind, were clear even at a distance; and as they drew nearer, he saw the dark red border too. The next second, with a trampling of feet, a crowd rushed past.
Thereupon the small groups which had arrived earlier suddenly converged and surged forward. Just before the cross-road, they came to a sudden stop and grouped themselves in a semi-circle.
Old Chuan looked in that direction too, but could only see people's backs. Craning their necks as far as they would go, they looked like so many ducks held and lifted by some invisible hand. For a moment all was still; then a sound was heard, and a stir swept through the on-lookers. There was a rumble as they pushed back, sweeping past Old Chuan and nearly knocking him down.
"Hey! Give me the cash, and I'll give you the goods!" A man clad entirely in black stood before him, his eyes like daggers, making Old Chuan shrink to half his normal size. This man thrust one huge extended hand towards him, while in the other he held a roll of steamed bread, from which crimson drops were dripping to the ground.
Hurriedly Old Chuan fumbled for his dollars, and trembling he was about to hand them over, but he dared not take the object. The other grew impatient and shouted: "What are you afraid of? Why not take it?" When Old Chuan still hesitated, the man in black snatched his lantern and tore off its paper shade to wrap up the roll. This package he thrust into Old Chuan's hand, at the same time seizing the silver and giving it a cursory feel. Then he turned away, muttering, "Old fool. . . ."
"Whose sickness is this for?" Old Chuan seemed to hear someone ask; but he made no reply. His whole mind was on the package, which he carried as carefully as if it were the sole heir to an ancient house. Nothing else mattered now. He was about to transplant this new life to his own home, and reap much happiness. The sun had risen, lighting up the broad highway before him, which led straight home, and the worn tablet behind him at the cross-road with its faded gold inscription: "Ancient Pavilion."
藥
一
秋天的后半夜，月亮下去了，太陽還沒有出，只剩下一片烏藍的天；除了夜游的東西，什么都睡著。華老栓忽然坐起身，擦著火柴，點上遍身油膩的燈盞，茶館的兩間屋子里，便彌滿了青白的光。
“小栓的爹，你就去么？”是一個老女人的聲音。里邊的小屋子里，也發(fā)出一陣咳嗽。
“唔。”老栓一面聽，一面應(yīng)，一面扣上衣服；伸手過去說，“你給我罷。”
華大媽在枕頭底下掏了半天，掏出一包洋錢，交給老栓，老栓接了，抖抖的裝入衣袋，又在外面按了兩下；便點上燈籠，吹熄燈盞，走向里屋子去了。那屋子里面，正在窸窸窣窣的響，接著便是一通咳嗽。老栓候他平靜下去，才低低的叫道，“小栓……你不要起來。……店么？你娘會安排的。”
老栓聽得兒子不再說話，料他安心睡了；便出了門，走到街上。街上黑沉沉的一無所有，只有一條灰白的路，看得分明。燈光照著他的兩腳，一前一后的走。有時也遇到幾只狗，可是一只也沒有叫。天氣比屋子里冷多了；老栓倒覺爽快，仿佛一旦變了少年，得了神通，有給人生命的本領(lǐng)似的，跨步格外高遠。而且路也愈走愈分明，天也愈走愈亮了。
老栓正在專心走路，忽然吃了一驚，遠遠里看見一條丁字街，明明白白橫著。他便退了幾步，尋到一家關(guān)著門的鋪子，蹩進檐下，靠門立住了。好一會，身上覺得有些發(fā)冷。
“哼，老頭子。”
“倒高興……”
老栓又吃一驚，睜眼看時，幾個人從他面前過去了。一個還回頭看他，樣子不甚分明，但很像久餓的人見了食物一般，眼里閃出一種攫取的光。老栓看看燈籠，已經(jīng)熄了。按一按衣袋，硬硬的還在。仰起頭兩面一望，只見許多古怪的人，三三兩兩，鬼似的在那里徘徊；定睛再看，卻也看不出什么別的奇怪。
沒有多久，又見幾個兵，在那邊走動；衣服前后的一個大白圓圈，遠地里也看得清楚，走過面前的，并且看出號衣上暗紅的鑲邊。——一陣腳步聲響，一眨眼，已經(jīng)擁過了一大簇人。那三三兩兩的人，也忽然合作一堆，潮一般向前進；將到丁字街口，便突然立住，簇成一個半圓。
老栓也向那邊看，卻只見一堆人的后背；頸項都伸得很長，仿佛許多鴨，被無形的手捏住了的，向上提著。靜了一會，似乎有點聲音，便又動搖起來，轟的一聲，都向后退；一直散到老栓立著的地方，幾乎將他擠倒了。
“喂！一手交錢，一手交貨！”一個渾身黑色的人，站在老栓面前，眼光正像兩把刀，刺得老栓縮小了一半。那人一只大手，向他攤著；一只手卻撮著一個鮮紅的饅頭，那紅的還是一點一點的往下滴。
老栓慌忙摸出洋錢，抖抖的想交給他，卻又不敢去接他的東西。那人便焦急起來，嚷道，“怕什么？怎的不拿！”老栓還躊躇著；黑的人便搶過燈籠，一把扯下紙罩，裹了饅頭，塞與老栓；一手抓過洋錢，捏一捏，轉(zhuǎn)身去了。嘴里哼著說，“這老東西……”
“這給誰治病的呀？”老栓也似乎聽得有人問他，但他并不答應(yīng)；他的精神，現(xiàn)在只在一個包上，仿佛抱著一個十世單傳的嬰兒，別的事情，都已置之度外了。他現(xiàn)在要將這包里的新的生命，移植到他家里，收獲許多幸福。太陽也出來了；在他面前，顯出一條大道，直到他家中，后面也照見丁字街頭破匾上“古□亭口”這四個黯淡的金字。
