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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."
药
一
秋天的后半夜，月亮下去了，太阳还没有出，只剩下一片乌蓝的天；除了夜游的东西，什么都睡着。华老栓忽然坐起身，擦着火柴，点上遍身油腻的灯盏，茶馆的两间屋子里，便弥满了青白的光。
“小栓的爹，你就去么？”是一个老女人的声音。里边的小屋子里，也发出一阵咳嗽。
“唔。”老栓一面听，一面应，一面扣上衣服；伸手过去说，“你给我罢。”
华大妈在枕头底下掏了半天，掏出一包洋钱，交给老栓，老栓接了，抖抖的装入衣袋，又在外面按了两下；便点上灯笼，吹熄灯盏，走向里屋子去了。那屋子里面，正在窸窸窣窣的响，接着便是一通咳嗽。老栓候他平静下去，才低低的叫道，“小栓……你不要起来。……店么？你娘会安排的。”
老栓听得儿子不再说话，料他安心睡了；便出了门，走到街上。街上黑沉沉的一无所有，只有一条灰白的路，看得分明。灯光照着他的两脚，一前一后的走。有时也遇到几只狗，可是一只也没有叫。天气比屋子里冷多了；老栓倒觉爽快，仿佛一旦变了少年，得了神通，有给人生命的本领似的，跨步格外高远。而且路也愈走愈分明，天也愈走愈亮了。
老栓正在专心走路，忽然吃了一惊，远远里看见一条丁字街，明明白白横着。他便退了几步，寻到一家关着门的铺子，蹩进檐下，靠门立住了。好一会，身上觉得有些发冷。
“哼，老头子。”
“倒高兴……”
老栓又吃一惊，睁眼看时，几个人从他面前过去了。一个还回头看他，样子不甚分明，但很像久饿的人见了食物一般，眼里闪出一种攫取的光。老栓看看灯笼，已经熄了。按一按衣袋，硬硬的还在。仰起头两面一望，只见许多古怪的人，三三两两，鬼似的在那里徘徊；定睛再看，却也看不出什么别的奇怪。
没有多久，又见几个兵，在那边走动；衣服前后的一个大白圆圈，远地里也看得清楚，走过面前的，并且看出号衣上暗红的镶边。——一阵脚步声响，一眨眼，已经拥过了一大簇人。那三三两两的人，也忽然合作一堆，潮一般向前进；将到丁字街口，便突然立住，簇成一个半圆。
老栓也向那边看，却只见一堆人的后背；颈项都伸得很长，仿佛许多鸭，被无形的手捏住了的，向上提着。静了一会，似乎有点声音，便又动摇起来，轰的一声，都向后退；一直散到老栓立着的地方，几乎将他挤倒了。
“喂！一手交钱，一手交货！”一个浑身黑色的人，站在老栓面前，眼光正像两把刀，刺得老栓缩小了一半。那人一只大手，向他摊着；一只手却撮着一个鲜红的馒头，那红的还是一点一点的往下滴。
老栓慌忙摸出洋钱，抖抖的想交给他，却又不敢去接他的东西。那人便焦急起来，嚷道，“怕什么？怎的不拿！”老栓还踌躇着；黑的人便抢过灯笼，一把扯下纸罩，裹了馒头，塞与老栓；一手抓过洋钱，捏一捏，转身去了。嘴里哼着说，“这老东西……”
“这给谁治病的呀？”老栓也似乎听得有人问他，但他并不答应；他的精神，现在只在一个包上，仿佛抱着一个十世单传的婴儿，别的事情，都已置之度外了。他现在要将这包里的新的生命，移植到他家里，收获许多幸福。太阳也出来了；在他面前，显出一条大道，直到他家中，后面也照见丁字街头破匾上“古□亭口”这四个黯淡的金字。
