James Poy Wong 黃培正

木脚德

计算起来，德死了已经有六个多年头了。 因为亲眼看着他的死，我才立起志当医生。 六年的时光轻轻地溜走了，我的志愿还是十分坚定。 这几天来德的影子不停地在我的心中晃动，六年多前的故事又一再浮现在脑海上。

我所能追忆的童年往事中，德是我最早认识的一个朋友，虽然他是我家的僮仆，但是我从来未向他摆过半点少爷架子。 况且我们的年龄相差不远，又是同乡，所以我们都很友爱。 在他去世之后，有几个月我都茫茫然像失却了什么似的。 人类的天性是没有阶级贫贱的分别吧。

我家乡是在南海县南石头左近，离开广州市不过是十多哩的路程。 爸和六哥一向都在市内做工。 傍晚的时候，我总喜欢跑上村头去等候着他们的归来。 绵绵的黄泥公路上，我猜疑着每个出现的人儿。 这黑点般的人影，出现在夕阳光照着灿烂的光芒。 我边跳边笑地拉着爸或哥的手。这幅富有喜剧性的美丽图画是多么值得恋念呀。 这就是我可爱的故乡了。 每当这些往事涌上心门来的时候，我的眼泪总是夺眶而出，整个空间闪砾起来好像当年夕阳灿烂光芒又出现在我的眼前一样。 夕阳死去了，黑空未必能找出闪耀的繁星。 人生又有何分别呢？ 不久，父亲因过劳而病死了。 六哥和母亲闹翻竟和嫂嫂搬上市内居住。 从此我也不再走到村头上去，虽然有时带着孩童的幻觉走上村头的大榕树下，希望爸或哥会偶然从路上归来。 但是夜的黑幕盖上了大地，归来的人总该归来了。 我所迎接的只是空虚， 凄凉地含着两颗眼泪，怀着颗失望的心回家去了。 渐渐地我害怕起来，害怕着等候那永不会归来的人。

我们的乡村错乱地排列的房屋，一共也有百数十家，姓氏总有十几个不同的，而且还杂着些北方搬下来入籍的人。 我家是三间屋连结成的大屋。 这是当年祖父积下钱来筑的，所以在村上，我们也算是阔绰的人家了。 屋后有一个颇大的果园，里头普遍地种着龙眼树，番石榴树，和黄皮树。 并且有一棵新会甜橙和一棵无花果树，这两颗树的果实从来没有人吃过，虽然年年都有着，但是未熟前就给虫儿吃光了。 家人似乎也不稀罕这些，反正，我们有着大量的番石榴，龙眼，和 黄皮。

德从那个时候到我家来当僮仆。 我不知道他比我高一些，但是瘦得很可怜，尤其是那两条瘦腿，简直是皮包骨，而他又偏要卷起裤脚，所以人人都叫他做木脚德。 我自己也常常这样称呼他，他和什么人说话时都胆怯怯地不知如何是好。 朦起那双已经够细的单眼皮眼睛，倒活像个睡熟了的婴孩。 说起话时，没有一个字听得清楚，而且还口吃得很，所以常常手舞脚蹈地表示他的意思。 德在天亮就来我家工作，一直到入夜颇深时方回家睡觉。 每月的薪金是两块钱。 照例是他的母亲来收的。 德从来没有抱怨过。

日过中了。 德照例是赶着一羣养得肥肥的鸭到莲塘去游泳。 我也跟着德从后园门出去了。 太阳火一般地灼着我的皮肤。 我们走到塘边就把鸭赶下了塘。 德躺在一棵龙眼树下偷睡，我无聊地抛了几块石头。 空气实在闷热得很。

“木脚德，我们去游水吧，” 我忍不住了。

“呀，” 德跳了起来，喜欢得那双眼睛又蒙起来，接着又沉了下去，枯涩地说：

“不能，我，我，要看鸭子。”

“怕什么，它们不会飞去的。 来，我们去。” 我爽快地说完就向河边走去。

“呀。 。 。。呀。 。 。。 不用怕 。 。 。 。 不。 。 。会飞。 飞去。” 德虽然还是那般迟疑，但是他却慢慢地在后面跟着我走了。 ————德是很喜欢游泳的。

村的尽处就是河，这段河倒差不多有半里来阔。 对岸尽种着番石榴树。 一轮 “省港” 轮漂过，掠起些微的波浪，我连忙解去裤头带，跳进水去荡漾一刻。

”去。。去。。。。。 偷。。。。番石。。。。榴。”

“我不去，” 我大声地回答，几乎吃了一口水，“我游不过去。”

“那么。。。。你等。。。我。。。。我去。” 还没有说完，德浮在水面的头渐渐缩小了。

德的 “踏水影” 术很好。 有时我很觉得奇怪，像他这样瘦也能浮在水面上。 德常常自负地说他曾经只用两双脚踏水过对岸。

我在这边，沉下水底抓几只田螺和蚌。 浮上水面来又把虏物抛回江中去。

果不出我所料，不久，德的头又从一点而涨大起来了。 离远我就看见他两手高捧着四五个果，他不停地大声呼叫着，但我听不出他说的是什么。

我们在岸边分吃了几只番石榴果，边吃边叫好。 其实和我家的没有什么分别，不过这是偷来的，所以味道一定会觉得好些。

当我们再爬进水去时，一条五颜六色的水蛇，向我游来，把我吓得面变了青色。 我慌慌张张地向岸上乱爬。

“德，德，” 我乱叫起来。

德从容不迫地一手握紧水蛇的头还用另一只手去拔它的尾巴，接着他把蛇的头在一块石头上擦。 我又怕又好奇地观看着。 德吃吃地笑了起来。 一抛，带伤的蛇向水底沉下了。

德似乎把做工和看鸭子的事忘掉了。 我也懒得去提醒他。

一根木头从上流漂下来。 我和德骑上去当艇扒，渐渐地我扒进了省营纸厂的码头。 这家纸厂是四年前开始建筑的。 那里我家也有块田地，现在已被政府收买了。 不过过了四年的今日，钱还是一个也不曾收到。 从前我们是常来这一带水面玩的，现在早已有木栏围出了个范围来，我们从决口处扒进。

“不要 。 。 。 。 去 。。。去。。。。有兵。” 德不停地阻止我。

”怕什么？”

“有。 。。。有。。。。兵大爷。”

德确实怕得很，不过他还是骑在木头上。

岸上一堆护厂的兵士在睡觉。 突然一个兵站起来，手握着长枪，向前走了几步。

“X那妈， 走开， 打 X 死你。”

接着几个士兵懒洋洋地也站了起来。

德忙催着我走，我却好奇地静止了。

“X那妈，” 那个兵士向天空发了两枪。

我跳下水，德却呆着一动也不动。 我忙去拉他那发抖的身体。 他醒觉后， 也跳进水拼命向村岸游。

我们的耳后起了一片笑声。

爬上岸来， 穿好了裤子，太阳已挂在水平线的三十度角上。 德发现了自己长长的影子，一言不发就跑起来。

“德， 那里去？”

“。。。。鸭，” 德回过头来。

“等。。。。等。我和你去。” 我还没有佩上裤带就跟着走了。”

从莲塘到家的路上，德的面像纸般白。 从外面也看出他的心在跳动。 为了那只失了的鸭，我想尽了方法也不能安慰他。

渐渐转入了颇嘈杂的村市集。 孩子们不停地很得意地呼着 “木脚德”，德有时也 “唔，唔” 地应两声。 集中的那三个小贩故意用着歪音连接地唱着叫买，很调皮的：

“芽菜。” (我choi. 妇女多用以表示斥责）

“番石榴哩。” （返上楼哩）

“茨菰哩。” （除裤哩）

孩子们跟着哄笑起来。

还未走到家门，德的母亲已经开始咆哮起来。 我奇怪她难道已知道了失鸭的事而到我家来，但是那能有这样快呢？

“死鬼，你个死仔，偷走去游水。” 她一手就称起了德的耳朵，像提起小猫似的。

德 “呀” 的叫了一声，眼睛又蒙了起来。 她用力一扭，德又 ”哎唷哎唷” 地叫了起来。 我的心很难过，生怕德的耳朵会脱了出来，那么他的光头不是像个蛋吗？

“大姑，大姑，这个死仔真是不生性，工又不做，竟偷走去游水。” 德的母亲向我的母亲诉苦地说，但是她的手还是不肯放开德的耳朵。

“德娘，孩子是这样的，” 突然母亲的面色也变了。 “德，怎么少了一只鸭？”

德那只扭红了的耳朵几乎也吓得失了血色。 他的口开合了几次，似乎想说什么却说不出来。 德的娘低头去点数着园中刷着羽毛的肥鸭。

“呀唷。” 德的头 “咯” 地响了一声，他连忙双手抱起头来。 我牵牵母亲的衣角，但是她不理会我。

“死仔，死仔，死仔。。。。” 德娘边叫边打，德的头也有拍节，咯。。。咯。。。地响着。

“德娘，” 我实在再也不能容忍了， “是我叫他去的。 错的是我。 我才该受打。”

母亲看我一看，我面部的温度增高了。

德娘勉强对母亲和我装个笑容。

“八爷，八爷，是这个死仔不生性，非痛痛地打一场不可，那有做工去游水的呢？ 鸭也失了。 为什么不失了他的头呢？ 要不凖他吃几日饭。。。。”

德的头又响了一下。 这样我怕他的头已经破裂了。 他双手捧着在细声抽泣。

“德娘，够了，算了吧。” 母亲终于说出这句话来。

园门外围站着几个看热闹的孩子。 好像别人的苦痛就是他们自己的快乐一样。 那首 “木脚德” 的歌又在他们的口中唱出。

“亚德穷， 亚德聋。

亚德屎窟有条虫。

木脚德，

随街被人踢屎窟。”

一日，当我在园中看着两棵刚长出来的黄皮树时，德担着两桶水在我的面前经过，那双在裤管穿出的瘦脚深深地织成侵进我脑海的神经，实在那两桶水比他还要重。他那驼着背子的影使我很不安宁。

“德，不要干了，这样太幸苦，听说会害病死的。 我爸是这样。” 我这样说是不只一次了。

德总是蒙着眼，苦起面来。

我还是低下头去观看在墙角上的两棵五寸来高的婴树。 虽然不是我手植的，而且我也知道不是任何人有意种下的，不过他们确实是嫩绿得可爱。 我想像着有一天它们会长大得和母树一样伟大。 呀！这是多么美丽的幻想呀。

“德，去那里？” 一个粗鲁的声音从墙外传来打断了我的思潮。

“。。。。。回。。。。。家。”

这样细弱的声音，我一听就知道是木脚德。

“做什么？”

“不干了。”

“出乎我意料之外，这声音却是十分清楚和决断。

“死仔，你想死么？”

“拍” 的一声，我知道可怜的德又吃了他父亲的一记耳光了。

我飞也似地跑出围墙外。

德畏缩地贴在墙角上。 他那抽上鸦片烟的父亲在面前拾起一块和拳头大小的石头。德还像触了电流般地一动也不动，我心急了起来。 为什么德还不跑呢？我不顾一切地走上他们之间，把德推了一下。 他顿时会意，一缕烟就向市集中隐去。德的父亲把血丝网了的眼睛盯我一下。 我知道他不敢再掷那块石头，不过看见他那皮包骨的黄白身体倒也害怕起来。 他的手无力地松了那块石头，吐出一口黄的脓痰，耸一耸那双尖起的肩头，一步步踱进那黑魔窟般的 “戒烟室” 去。里面可以见到几盏暗淡的烟灯，吱吱 的声音轻轻地溜出来，一阵阵强烈臭味的 “烟香” 也喷了出来。

当晚，不记得为了什么，我经过德的家，从屋内传出一片叫喊和哭泣交织成的声音。

“不干，我打死你这个死鬼。 放开我的手！”

“够了，还打不够吗？好了。” 这是女人的号叫和恳求声。

“呀哟。” 德像杀猪般号叫。

一个黑影带着哭声从门边闪出，飞也似地向河边去了。 从模糊的黑影中， 我认出德那双瘦的 “木脚”。

“德！德！” 我向黑空呼了两声。

没有回答。

我摇几下头，也只得走回家。 黑夜的平静中，微微还荡着些争斗的声音！

“放我出去，你这个烟鬼。” 。。。。。

“由他去。 由他去跳海。”

“放我出去。”

“我不准你去。 X那妈。”

第二天， 空中刚换了副白幕。 我爬起床来，担心地想走去看看德。 屋内还是漆一般黑。 我开了廊门，发现后园的石椅上卧着一个人。 擦擦眼皮一看，原来就是木脚德。 正想渡过门槛，一阵急的单独脚步声渐渐接近，我站着了。

德的母亲带着忧虑的面容推开园中虚闭的木门。 “呀” 的 一声，门开了。 德也被惊醒起来。 他的母亲看见了他，面容一亮，眼眶闪砾着，德的眼睛也湿了，母子两人对看了一刻。 他的母亲转身走了。

“我看见，我都亲眼看见一切。” 我的心这样说。 几天前失鸭后的一幕又出现在我的记忆上，母子的爱是不能为环境所摧毁的。

一年之中，六哥总有几天回家一行。 这天，六哥一家乘着小艇在市集前的小沟河停泊了。 集上的人都用羡慕的眼看着我家的都市人，嫂正在艇上哺着婴儿。 男人汉子都张大了瞳子在叮看着嫂嫂那只露出来又肥又圆又雪白的大乳，有个十五六岁的小贩还张开了口。

六哥一回来就提起风枪去打雀。 我欢天喜地跟着去拾。 将近晚饭时，我们带了十几只禾雀回来，不过其中有一只是乌鸦。 六哥说乌鸦不好吃，我也听说食了乌鸦会中毒死的。 但是德说不怕，他偏要吃。

德果然很有兴趣地吃了那只油炸的乌鸦。

第二天，德没有来上工。 他的父亲在去 “戒烟室” 的途中告诉我们德病了， 说是什么瘟疫。

再过一天，德的母亲背着德从我家门经过说是去广州市见赠医。 德伏在他母亲的背上，面色比纸还要苍白些。 那双朦胧的眼睛，现在却紧紧地闭着。 面上可以看出苦痛的痕迹。 我叫了他几声，他像听不见似的不曾回答我。 我很相信他的病是中了前晚那只乌鸦的毒。 母亲给了德娘一块钱，带泪的德娘多谢了几声就背着德彳亍去了。

母亲禁止我去见德。

第二天旁晚，村人都说德已经死了。 我带着颗失望的心回到家的后园里， 在墙角上我默默地站着。

不知从那天起，这两棵嫩绿色的黄皮树中有一棵已经枯了。 其他一棵却长高了半寸多。 呀。 谁知树木也有着人类的苦痛和悲哀呢。 人们无意地抛下黄皮核。两棵生命就从此下了种，渐渐地长出两棵小树来，都是一样的青绿可爱。 但是一棵却生在墙角的那边，接受着些微的阳光，或简直是在阳光永远照不到黑暗一角，所以它的命运是注定夭折的呀。 人们虽然是无意的，但是悲哀已经产生了。 为什么要把它抛在这个环境呢，这是谁的主意呢？ 创造万物的主呀，你在那里？我想追问你一句，弱者是应该死的吗？ 那么把我们都放在同一的环境中吧。 我带着一时的愤怒，想把那座遮蔽阳光的围墙粉碎。 但是一转念，这又有什么用呢？ 世间上不知还有着多少这样的围墙呢？我毁了这座墙就可以拯救一切的生物么？不会的，我不愿做这种愚蠢的勾当。 我要把阳光带到全世界每一个黑暗的一角，那么这些围墙不毁也会自灭了。 虽然这个伟大的工作我不会完成，而且我也不会生存着看那一天的降临，但是我知道千千万万的人会和我一样地来参加这种工作。 那一天是会来的，我虽然看不到。 但是不要紧，我要尽我个人的责任，就是像烛光一样要毁灭自己来在黑暗中产生一点光明。 我也愿意。

我伤心地把那棵枯了的婴树用泥土盖上。 在这个小小的坟墓前，我悲哀地用手指在泥土上写了三个字。

“木脚德”。

Wooden Legs Duk

As I count, Duk had died more than six years ago. Having witnessed his death with my own eyes, I have since decided to be a doctor. Six years of time have quietly slipped by, and my determination remains very firm. Duk’s image has been ceaselessly moving in my heart in the last few days. A story from many years ago once again emerges in my mind.

Among the childhood memories that I can still reminisce about, Duk was my first known friend. Although he was a boy servant in our family, I never behaved as a young master to him. Moreover, we were about the same age from the same village, so we were affectionate to each other. After he passed away I was bewildered by a sense of loss for many days. Human nature probably does not have class distinctions of rich and poor.

My homeland is in the Nan Hai County nearby Nan Shi Tou, which is only over ten miles from the city of Canton. Dad and my Sixth Brother have been working in the city, so I always liked to run to the head of the village and wait for their returns in the evening. On the spreading yellow dirt road, I anticipated every person that appeared. Like dark spots, these human shadows appeared under the radiance of the brilliant sunset. I jumped in joy while holding the hand of my daddy or brother. How cherishable is this beautiful portrait full of fun that is worth my remembrance. This is indeed my loving homeland. Whenever these past events emerged in my mind, tears always broke out from my eyes and the atmosphere was lit up as if the radiance of the brilliant sunset in those years reappeared in my eyes. The evening sun is now dead, and one cannot find the twinkling stars in the dark sky. How does this differ from life? Soon after, Father died of sickness caused by overwork. Sixth Brother had a falling out with Mother and unexpectedly took Sister-in-law with him and moved to live in the city. Since then I didn’t go to the head of the village again, although sometimes with a child’s imagination I went under the big banyan tree at the head of the village, hoping that Father and Brother would unexpectedly return on the road. But the black curtain of the night had covered over the earth and those who would return would have returned. What I received was only emptiness. With two tears and a heart of disappointment, I sadly went home. Gradually I became scared. I was afraid of waiting for those who would never return.

In our village there are over a hundred families residing in the disorderly arranged houses. There are more than ten different sur-names in addition to a mix of Northerners moving in to settle down here. Our home is a big house consisting of three connected buildings. It was built with Grandfather’s savings, so we were considered a wealthy family in our village. In the back of the house, there was a pretty big fruit orchard which widespreadly planted with trees of longan, guava, and wampee. There is also a Xin Hui sweet orange tree and a fig tree. Nobody had eaten the fruits of these two trees despite them growing fruits every year, but they were all eaten up by insects before they became ripe. Our family in any case didn’t care because we had plenty of longan, guava, and wampee.

Duk came to our family to be a child servant from that period. I wasn’t sure whether he was a little taller than I, but he was pitifully skinny, especially that pair of legs that were just skin over bone. Yet he deliberately rolled up his pants, so everybody called him Wooden Legs Duk. I myself often called him this way too. No matter who he was talking to, he was always timid as if he didn’t know what to do and squinted up his small, single-eyelid eyes, looking like a sound asleep baby. When he spoke, not a single word was clear. He also stuttered a lot, so he expressed himself with his waving hands and dancing feet. As soon as dawn broke out, Duk came to our house to work until quite dark at night before he returned home to sleep. His wage was two dollars a month, and as usual his mother came to collect it. Duk had never complained.

The sun had passed mid height. Duk usually drove a flock of well nursed, fat ducks to swim in the lotus pond. I too followed Duk and went out from the backdoor of the orchard. Like fire the sun was burning my skin. When we got to the side of the pond, we drove the ducks down into the pond. Duk laid under a longan tree for a snooze. Out of boredom, I threw out a few stones. The air was really hot and stuffy.

“Wooden Legs Duk, let’s go swimming,” I couldn’t endure anymore.

“Ah,” Duk jumped up with so much joy that his eyes squinted up again. Then his expression faded away as he spoke in a dull manner.

“Cannot. I, … I have to watch the ducks.”

“What’s there to be afraid of? They won’t fly away. Hey, let’s go.” I said cheerfully and walked towards the riverside.

“Ah… ah… no need to be afraid … won’t ... able to fly … fly away.” Although Duk was still in hesitation, he slowly followed after me. ——Duk was in fact very fond of swimming.

The river is at the end of the village. This section of the river is almost half a mile wide. Guava trees were planted everywhere across the shore. There was a “Canton-Hong Kong” steamer speeded by, stirring up small waves. I quickly took off the belt of my pants and jumped into the water, undulating for a while.

“Go…Go… steal…gua…va.”

“I won’t go.” I loudly replied while almost swallowing a mouthful of water.” “I can’t swim across.”

“Then…you wait…I…I go.” Before finishing his words, Duk’s floating head had gradually shrunk.

Duk’s treading skill was very good. Sometimes I wondered how such a skinny person was able to float in water. Duk often said with pride that he had tread across the river only with his feet.

On this side of the shore, I sank underwater to grab a few snails and clams and threw the captives back after I floated up to the water surface.

Just as I anticipated, not long after, Duk’s head once again expanded from a dot. From afar I just saw his hands holding up four or five fruits. He continuously called out to me, but I couldn’t make out what he said.

We shared a few guavas at the shore and complimented the taste as we ate. Actually they were no different from those in my orchard, but we felt since these were the stolen ones, they must certainly taste better.

When we went back into the water, a multicolored water snake swam towards me. I was so scared my face turned pale, and I panickingly scrambled to shore.

“Duk, Duk.” I cried out uncontrollably.

Duk with one hand calmly and tightly grabbed on the snake’s head while pulling on the snake’s tail with the other hand. Then he took the snake’s head and rubbed it on a stone. I was scared yet still watched him with curiosity. Duk chuckled up. With a toss he threw it away and the wounded snake sank to the bottom of the river.

Duk seemingly had forgotten about work and his watch over the ducks, and I too didn't bother to remind him.

A log drifted by from upstream. Duk and I climbed on and paddled it like a boat. Gradually we paddled into the wharf of a province-owned paper factory. This paper factory began its construction four years ago. Here, we had a rice field that was bought out by the government. But till this day after four years, we have not received a single penny. We often came to this region of water to play in the old days. Now there was a wooden fence enclosing the area. We entered through the opening.

“Don’t … go … go … There are soldiers.” Duk stopped me unceasingly.

“What’s there to be afraid of?”

“There are ... there are … soldier masters.”

Duk was indeed really scared, but he still rode on the log.

On the shore, a group of guarding soldiers was sleeping. Suddenly a soldier with a rival in his hand stood up and walked a few steps forward.

“Mother fucker, get out of here. I’ll kill you fucker.”

After that, a few soldiers lazily stood up too.

Duk desperately urged me to leave, but I stayed still in curiosity.

“Mother fucker.” That soldier fired two shots into the sky.

I jumped into the water, but Duk froze up and couldn’t make a single move. I hurriedly went to pull his trembling body. When he became alarmed, he also jumped into the water and exerted all his strength and swam towards the village shore.

There was a roaring laughter behind our ears.

When we climbed back on shore and put on our pants, the sun was hanging at a 30-degree angle above the horizon. Duk detected his long shadow and started running without saying a word.

“Duk, where to?”

“… Ducks.” He turned his head around.

“Wait . . . wait. I will go with you.” I followed and walked his way before I could put on my belt.

On the way back home from the lotus pond, Duk’s face was as pale as paper. One could see his heart jumping from his appearance. I tried all sorts of ways, but I couldn’t comfort him about the lost duck.

Gradually we came into the fairly boisterous marketplace in the village. A group of children enjoyed themselves with continuous chanting of “Wooden Legs Duk.” Duk at times would respond with “Um, Um.” The three small vendors in the marketplace purposely used accented tones to hawk their products.

“Ngai Choy.”¹

“Fan Soeng Lau Le.”²

“Tsi Gu le.”³

The children then bursted out with huge laughter.

Before we reached the door of our house, we could hear Duk’s mother had already roared with rage. I wondered whether she had already known about the lost duck and came to our house for it. But how could it be so quick?

“Devil. You good-for-nothing kid, sneaking out to go swimming.” With one hand, she pulled up Duk’s ear like lifting a kitten.

“Ah!” Duk let out a scream, and his eyes squinted up again. She forcefully made a twist and again Duk screamed out “Ah yaw ah yaw.” I felt so sad and feared that his ears would come off. Wouldn’t that make his bald head look like an egg?

“Aunty, Aunty, this good-for-nothing kid truly had misbehaved by neglecting his work and sneaking out to go swimming.” Duk’s mother complained to my mother while her hands still won’t let go of Duk’s ear.

“Duk’s mom. Kids are like that.” Suddenly the color of Mother’s complexion also changed, “Duk, how come there is one duck short?”

The redness of Duk’s twisted ear seemed to be scared off its blood tone. His mouth opened and shut several times, as if he wanted to say something but nothing came out. Duk’s mom dropped her head to count the number of fat ducks that were brushing their feathers in the orchard.

“Ah Yaw,” Duk’s head made a “knock” sound and he quickly held up his head with both hands. I pulled the corner of Mother’s shirt, but she ignored me.

“Good-for-nothing, worthless, useless kid . . . .” Duk’s mom was spanking while yelling, and Duk’s head rhythmically sounded “knock, knock.”

“Duk’s Mom,” I couldn’t endure it any more. “It was I who asked him to go. I am the one who is wrong. I should be getting the spanking.”

Mother took a glance at me, and the temperature of my face rose up.

Duk’s mom perfunctorily gave Mother and me a phony smile.

“Eighth Master, Eighth Master, it was this no-good kid misbehaving and he must get a good beating. How could he go swimming during work time? Now a duck is lost. Why wasn’t his head that was lost? He will not be allowed to eat for several days.”

Duk’s head let out another “knock” sound. I was afraid his head had already cracked. Both of his hands held on his head, sobbing quietly.

“Duk’s mom, it is enough. Let it go.” Mother finally spoke out this sentence.

A few kids surrounded the outer ring of the orchard looking for excitement, as if others’ pain was their happiness. That song “Wooden Legs Duk” was sang through their mouths again:

“Ah Duk’s poor, Ah Duk’s deaf.

Ah Duk got a worm in his butt hole.

Wooden Legs Duk

His butt being kicked everywhere on the street.”

One day in the orchard, while I was looking at two wampee trees that just sprouted out of the ground, Duk carried two buckets of water on his shoulder passing by in front of me. The sight of his skinny legs revealed from his pants had deeply entwined into the nerves in my mind. The two buckets of water were really heavier than him. The shadow of his hunch back made me very uncomfortable.

“Duk, don’t do it anymore. This work is too exhausting. I heard it would cause sickness and death from it. My father was like that.” I had said this more than once.

Duk always squinted up his eyes and showed a painful expression.

Still, I was lowering my head watching the two five-inch tall baby trees at the corner of the enclosing wall. Although these are not planted by me, and I know no one had intentionally planted them, they were truly lovely in their tender green color. I imagined one day they would grow as grand as the mother tree. Ah, how beautiful is such imagination.

“Duk, where to?” A rowdy voice from outside the wall interrupted my train of thought.

“… Go … home.”

Such a weak voice - I knew immediately it was Duk’s.

“For what?”

“… I don’t want to work anymore.”

Out of my expectation this voice was very clear and determined.

“Useless kid. How dare you?”

“Slap!” A sound was heard and I knew the pitiful Duk was boxed on the ear by his father again.

As fast as I could, I flew out of the enclosed wall.

Duk flinched and attached to the corner of the wall. His opium-addicted father picked up in front of him a stone as big as a fist. Duk seemed to be struck by electric current and was unable to move. I became anxious. Why won’t Duk run already? Recklessly I rushed up to stand in between the two. I gave Duk a push. He immediately understood and disappeared into the village market like a wisp of smoke. Duk’s father gazed at me with his bloodshot eyes. I knew he wouldn't dare to throw that stone now, but I couldn’t help feeling scared seeing his yellowish, pale, skin-wrapped, bony body. Letting go of the stone with his feeble hand, he spat out a mouthful of yellowish, thick phlegm and shrugged his pointy shoulders. Step by step, he entered that dark devil cave-like “Den of Opium Abstinence.” From the outside looking in, one could see a few dim smoke lamps and hear soft creaking sounds. Gusts after gusts of stinky odor from the “opium smoke fragrance” also blew out.

I didn’t remember for what reason that night I passed by Duk’s home. From the house came a mixture of yelling and crying sounds.

“You won’t work; I will beat you good-for-nothing kid to death. Let go of my hand!”

“That’s enough. Haven’t you beaten him enough? It’s enough.” This was the sound of a woman’s crying and begging.

“Ah Yaw” Duk cried out like a pig being slaughtered.

With a crying sound a dark shadow dodged out from the side of the door, running as fast as flying towards the river bank. From the blurry shadow I recognized that pair of Duk’s “wooden legs.”

“Duk! Duk!” I called out twice in the dark space.

There was no answer.

I shook my head a few times and had no other way but to go home. In the calm of the dark night, there were still some sounds of quarrels rippling out softly.

“Let me go out, you opium devil.”

“Let him go. Let him go jump into the sea.”

“Let me go out.”

“I won’t allow you to go. Fuck off.”

The next day the sky put on a pale veil. Climbing out of bed, I felt worried and wanted to look for Duk. It was still pitch-dark inside the house. I opened the porch door and discovered a person lying on a stone bench in the orchard. I rubbed my eyes and saw it was indeed Duk. As I was about to cross over the door threshold, the sounds of a series of single footsteps gradually approached me. I stood still.

Duk’s mother pushed open the half closed wooden door with a worried complexion. With a squeak sound, the door was opened and Duk was awakened. When his mother saw him, her face was lightening up and her eyes glittered. Duk’s eyes were also moistened. Mother and son looked at each other for a while, and his mother turned around and left.

“I saw it. I saw it all with my own eyes.” I said so in my heart. That scene after the lost duck a few days ago appeared in my memory again. The love between mother and son cannot be destroyed by the circumstances.

Each year, my Sixth Brother always came home to stay for a few days. Today, Sixth Brother’s family rode on a small boat and parked it at the small waterway in front of the village marketplace. The people in the marketplace looked at the city folks from our family with admiring eyes. My sister-in-law was nursing the baby on the boat. All the men widely opened their eyes staring at that exposed breast of hers that was full, round, white, and big. A vendor of fifteen or sixteen years old even opened his mouth widely.

Upon arriving, Sixth Brother picked up the air gun and went to hunt birds right away. Full of joy, I happily followed him to pick up the falling birds. By dinner time we brought back over ten sparrows, but there was a crow among them. Sixth Brother said crows don’t taste good. I also had heard that eating crows would poison one to death, but Duk said he was not afraid and insisted on eating it.

As expected, Duk really ate that deep fried crow with much enjoyment.

The next day, Duk didn’t come to work. When his father was on his way to the “Den of Opium Abstinence,” he told us Duk was sick. He said it was some kind of pestilence.

The following day Duk’s mother carried Duk on her back and passed by our front door, saying they were going to Canton to see a charitable doctor. Lying on his mother’s back, Duk’s face was paler than white paper. Yet now his hazy eyes were tightly shut. Traces of pain could be seen on his face. I called him a few times, but he didn’t answer as if he didn’t hear me. I truly believed his sickness was caused by the poison of that crow he ate the night before. Mother gave Duk’s mom a dollar. With tears in her eyes, Duk’s mother said many thanks and walked away with Duk on her back.

My mother forbade me from going to see Duk.

The next evening, all the villagers said Duk had already died. I returned to my family orchard with a heart of disappointment. Silently I stood by the corner of the wall.

I didn’t know from which day on one of the tender green wampee trees had wilted, yet the other had grown an inch taller. Oh! Who would have known trees too have humanity’s pain and sorrow? Unintentionally, humans tossed down some wampee pits and two lives were seeded. They gradually grew into two small trees, both green and lovely. But one was grown at the corner of the wall, receiving little sunlight. Perhaps the sun never shone to that dark corner, and thus the fate of this tree was destined to die young. It was not the intention of the humans, but tragic sorrow had already formed. Why was it tossed into this environment? Whose idea was it? Ah, the Creator of all things - where were you? I wanted to ask you a question: Did the weak one deserve to die? In that way, just put us all in the same environment. With momentary anger, I wanted to shatter this enclosing wall that shielded out the sun. But on second thought, what good would it do? Would I be able to rescue all lives by shattering this enclosing wall? How many more of such enclosing walls were there in this world? No, it would not. I didn’t want to do such foolish activity. I wanted to bring sunlight to every dark corner in the world. Then, these enclosing walls would be self-destructed without being destroyed. Although I could not complete this magnificent task and I won’t be living long enough to see the arrival of that day, I knew thousands and millions of people like me would engage in this endeavor. That day would come, even if I won’t be able to see it. That was not important. I wanted to fulfill my personal responsibility. Just like a candle light, it had to destroy and terminate itself to generate a little light in the darkness. I too was willing to do this.

Broken-heartedly I used soil to cover over that wilted, young tree. On the top of this little tomb, in sadness I used my finger and wrote three words on the soil:

“Wooden Legs Duk.”