Chapter Twenty-Three: Grow Quickly, Watermelons

Shaoqiu returned to the desolate village and stayed in his room alone. He pondered the local legends, fearing that the house might truly be haunted, and wondered what he would do if that were the case.

Outside, the night was profound. From time to time, one could hear shrill, mournful cries, like a sudden gust of wind that swept past and then vanished just as quickly.

Shaoqiu was terrified. Trapped in this dilapidated house with the constant possibility of a ghost appearing—if a spirit were to come and speak to him, he would not even be able to refuse. What was he to do? He opened a book; at that moment, reading was the only thing that could keep his fear at bay. Outside, the rain began to fall steadily, and listening to the sound of it, he felt a little less afraid.

"If only there were a woman here who would let me touch her bottom, that would be truly wonderful."

Shaoqiu thought to himself, but in this desolate village, where would he ever find such a woman?

In the depths of the night, Shaoqiu read his book. Outside, someone was cursing vehemently, and amidst the swearing, the sound of the small river flowing eastward seemed all the more desolate. A scent of flowers wafted from somewhere, and in that fragrance, Shaoqiu nearly drifted off to sleep, intoxicated by the pages of his book.

He had not heard from Xiaohua for a long time. He wondered if she was doing well.

At that moment, Xiaohua was in her own room, gazing at the mountains outside. She thought that if she were to marry one day, it must be to someone handsome and intelligent. Then, she thought of Shaoqiu. At the mere thought of him, her face flushed red, blooming like a peach blossom.

But Shaoqiu’s family was so poor they could barely keep the pot boiling. Could she have a good life marrying into such a family? She rested her chin in her hands, staring at a patch of clouds, unable to figure it out no matter how hard she tried.

"Hua’er, stop thinking so much. Come out and eat; the food is getting cold," Old Man Hua called out. After saying this, he let out another string of curses.

"Father, who are you cursing?" Xiaohua asked.

"Who else but that good-for-nothing Shaoqiu? Lazy and gluttonous, he doesn't even bother to weed his fields. Look, the weeds have already crept into our land!" Old Man Hua spoke with great indignation, looking as if he would strike someone if Shaoqiu were standing right in front of him.

"Father, those are just weeds. He didn't do it on purpose. Is there any need to be this angry?" Xiaohua tried to persuade him, even acting a bit spoiled in front of him, but Old Man Hua slapped her across the face.

Xiaohua dared not speak again. She covered her face and retreated into her room, closing the door, as if she never wanted to come out again. She wept continuously in the room, but in this desolate village, who would care about her tears? No one cared, not even she herself, as she began to wonder if she had truly made a mistake.

Old Man Hua, meanwhile, was even more furious, blaming everything on Shaoqiu. He shouldered his hoe and headed toward the mountains.

As for Shaoqiu, he had felt that he had stayed in the house for too long that day. Since the house was supposedly haunted, he couldn't stay there any longer, so he too shouldered his hoe and went to the mountains. His reason for going was to clear the weeds from his field; otherwise, the watermelons would never grow. Everything depended on these watermelons this year. If they failed, let alone marrying Xiaohua, even his own survival would be in question.

He had put so much effort into these watermelons, working day and night. Even when others were asleep, he would still be in the fields pulling weeds, all to ensure the melons would grow larger and more numerous. And the watermelons had lived up to his hard work; many had grown, each one plump and round, a truly delightful sight.

Whenever Shaoqiu went to the fields, he would talk to the watermelons, offering words of encouragement. He would tell them to grow quickly, or make up tall tales about how he would find them a wife once they grew big. He would say anything, really, just to make them grow faster and larger.

If he saw a mouse or some creature urinating in his field or even stealing a glance at his melons, Shaoqiu would harbor deep resentment. He would snatch up a stone to throw, but he would only end up damaging his own melons while failing to hit the wretched vermin. They were truly the worst.

Once, for some reason, an old water buffalo wandered to the edge of his field and brazenly gnawed on one of his watermelons. Shaoqiu happened to catch it and, without a word, slapped the beast across the face. "You damn thing, how dare you eat that!" he cursed viciously. But the bull was not to be trifled with; it fought back with its horns, and Shaoqiu was sent sprawling to the ground, unable to get up for a long time.

Shaoqiu had put so much effort into these watermelons, and seeing them finally ripening filled him with a joy that could hardly be described. He hadn't seen them for a while, and perhaps they had grown even more. To be able to go up the mountain and check on them was, for Shaoqiu, a wonderful thing.

When he arrived at the field, the watermelons had indeed grown larger. He saw Old Man Hua squatting at the edge of his own field, pulling at the weeds. The moment Old Man Hua saw Shaoqiu, he thought of Xiaohua, and his rage boiled over. With a roar, he charged over and slapped Shaoqiu hard across the face.

Afterward, he trampled four large watermelons into mush. They weren't even ripe yet, pale as winter melons, and Shaoqiu was left at a total loss. He could only cover his face and sit to the side, sighing incessantly. *Sigh, for the sake of Xiaohua, I must endure it. What else can I do?*

"You son of a bitch, the weeds have grown into my field and you don't even pull them! Lazy and good-for-nothing, what kind of person are you?" Old Man Hua ranted. Having said this, he tore up several of Shaoqiu’s watermelon vines and stomped on them fiercely, as if he couldn't vent his frustration any other way.

"Uncle, please stop trampling them," Shaoqiu said, weeping. "These are my livelihood. If you ruin them like this, how am I supposed to live?"

But Old Man Hua didn't care. He shouldered his hoe, rolled his eyes at Shaoqiu, and walked away. For a while, Shaoqiu was the only one left on the desolate mountain.

After pulling weeds in the field for a long time, he quietly returned to his house as dusk fell. Sitting in this room, which was said to be haunted, made Shaoqiu feel extremely uneasy. He wasn't so much afraid of the ghost as he was worried about whether Xiaohua would dare to enter this house in the future. If she didn't, he would be in big trouble.

Was there some way to negotiate with the ghost and ask him not to be so frightening? Yes, why hadn't he thought of that sooner? But at this moment, there was no ghost to be seen, so how could he negotiate?

If he called the ghost "Grandpa," would the old fellow stop tormenting him? Or perhaps kneeling down and kowtowing—would that be of any use? He didn't know.

The desolate village was pitch black once again. He couldn't even see the distant mountains, let alone the trees upon them. Only the sound of the small river flowing eastward carried some sense of meaning. An owl swept across the sky, its cry so miserable that it stirred deep unease, especially in Shaoqiu, who was terrified beyond words sitting alone in this ruined place.

The owl also frightened Shaoqiu, but thinking of the ghost, he felt slightly better having one for company. It was a truly miserable night. Somewhere in the desolate village, someone was weeping in great pain; the sound filled the air for a moment, then vanished without a trace.

Only by the edge of the field, a man was seen gently beckoning to a woman. The woman followed him silently, but she did not look at the man in front; instead, she cast her gaze toward Shaoqiu. Then, the two wicked figures descended into the small river and disappeared into the pitch-black darkness.

Shaoqiu closed his door, sat in his room, and began to read.