II

When Old Chuan reached home, the shop had been cleaned, and the rows of tea-tables shone brightly; but no customers had arrived. Only his son sat eating at a table by the wall. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, his lined jacket clung to his spine, and his shoulder blades stuck out so sharply, an inverted V seemed stamped there. At this sight, Old Chuan's brow, which had been clear, contracted again. His wife hurried in from the kitchen, with expectant eyes and a tremor to her lips:

"Get it?"

"Yes."
　　
They went together into the kitchen, and conferred for a time. Then the old woman went out, to return shortly with a dried lotus leaf which she spread on the table. Old Chuan unwrapped the crimson-stained roll from the lantern paper and transferred it to the lotus leaf. Little Chuan had finished his meal, but his mother exclaimed hastily:
　　
"Sit still, Little Chuan! Don't come over here."
　　
Mending the fire in the stove, Old Chuan put the green package and the red and white lantern paper into the stove together. A red-black flame flared up, and a strange odour permeated the shop.
　　
"Smells good! What are you eating?" The hunchback had arrived. He was one of those who spend all their time in tea-shops, the first to come in the morning and the last to leave. Now he had just stumbled to a corner table facing the street, and sat down. But no one answered his question.
　　
"Puffed rice gruel?"
　　
Still no reply. Old Chuan hurried out to brew tea for him.
　　
"Come here, Little Chuan!" His mother called him into the inner room, set a stool in the middle, and sat the child down. Then, bringing him a round black object on a plate, she said gently:
　　
"Eat it up . . . then you'll be better."

Little Chuan picked up the black object and looked at it. He had the oddest feeling, as if he were holding his own life in his hands. Presently he split it carefully open. From within the charred crust a jet of white vapour escaped, then scattered, leaving only two halves of a steamed white flour roll. Soon it was all eaten, the flavour completely forgotten, only the empty plate being left. His father and mother were standing one on each side of him, their eyes apparently pouring something into him and at the same time extracting something. His small heart began to beat faster, and, putting his hands to his chest, he began to cough again.
　　
"Have a sleep; then you'll be all right," said his mother.
　　
Obediently, Little Chuan coughed himself to sleep. The woman waited till his breathing was regular, then covered him lightly with a much patched quilt.

二

老栓走到家，店面早经收拾干净，一排一排的茶桌，滑溜溜的发光。但是没有客人；只有小栓坐在里排的桌前吃饭，大粒的汗，从额上滚下，夹袄也帖住了脊心，两块肩胛骨高高凸出，印成一个阳文的“八”字。老栓见这样子，不免皱一皱展开的眉心。他的女人，从灶下急急走出，睁着眼睛，嘴唇有些发抖。
　　
“得了么？”
　　
“得了。”
　　
两个人一齐走进灶下，商量了一会；华大妈便出去了，不多时，拿着一片老荷叶回来，摊在桌上。老栓也打开灯笼罩，用荷叶重新包了那红的馒头。小栓也吃完饭，他的母亲慌忙说：“小栓——你坐着，不要到这里来。”一面整顿了灶火，老栓便把一个碧绿的包，一个红红白白的破灯笼，一同塞在灶里；一阵红黑的火焰过去时，店屋里散满了一种奇怪的香味。
　　
“好香！你们吃什么点心呀？”这是驼背五少爷到了。这人每天总在茶馆里过日，来得最早，去得最迟，此时恰恰蹩到临街的壁角的桌边，便坐下问话，然而没有人答应他。“炒米粥么？”仍然没有人应。老栓匆匆走出，给他泡上茶。
　　
“小栓进来罢！”华大妈叫小栓进了里面的屋子，中间放好一条凳，小栓坐了。他的母亲端过一碟乌黑的圆东西，轻轻说：
　　
“吃下去罢，——病便好了。”
　　
小栓撮起这黑东西，看了一会，似乎拿着自己的性命一般，心里说不出的奇怪。十分小心的拗开了，焦皮里面窜出一道白气，白气散了，是两半个白面的馒头。——不多工夫，已经全在肚里了，却全忘了什么味；面前只剩下一张空盘。他的旁边，一面立着他的父亲，一面立着他的母亲，两人的眼光，都仿佛要在他身上注进什么又要取出什么似的；便禁不住心跳起来，按着胸膛，又是一阵咳嗽。
　　
“睡一会罢，——便好了。”
　　
小栓依他母亲的话，咳着睡了。华大妈候他喘气平静，才轻轻的给他盖上了满幅补钉的夹被。