The Wall
In Beijing's hutongs, there's never a shortage of stories.
Take this wall, for example. Bluish-grey bricks and tiles, pitted and uneven, it looks unremarkable. But its age is older than all the families living in this hutong combined. Since the Qing Dynasty, this wall has stood here, enclosing a Siheyuan, where a Manchu family surnamed Zhao once lived.
Old Mr. Zhao was a man of the world. In his youth, he even went abroad with the army. But now, times have changed, and Old Mr. Zhao is old too. He can only sit at the foot of the wall, basking in the sun, chatting with passing neighbors, reminiscing about the glory of the past.
But the stories within this wall have never stopped.
First, let's talk about the Wang family in the east wing. The couple are both workers, honest and simple, never having a cross word with anyone their whole lives. But they had a son, Wang Xiaoqiang, who was mischievous from a young age and got into a lot of trouble. Just the other day, he got into a fight and broke someone's nose, costing them a lot of money in compensation. The Wang couple were so worried, their hair turned white overnight.
Then there's the Li family in the west wing. The couple are both intellectuals, wearing glasses, refined and courteous. But in these times, intellectuals aren't valued; their salaries are meager, and they live a frugal life. The Li couple are quite open-minded, though. When they have time, they close their door and read and write, finding their own joy. But their daughter, Li Xiaoli, is fashionable and trendy. She thinks her family is poor and dreams of going out and making it big, constantly arguing with her parents.
The south wing is empty. It's said that the owner went to America and never came back.
The north wing is occupied by Old Mr. Zhao's son, Zhao Guoqiang, who works in a government office as a minor section chief. Zhao Guoqiang is a shrewd man, a weathervane, and smooth operator, but he just doesn't get along with his father. The old man can't stand his son's slick demeanor, and the son thinks his father is an old fossil, getting in the way. Father and son quarrel whenever they meet, louder than anyone else.
This wall, it just stands there quietly, watching the comings and goings, the joys and sorrows of the people in this Siheyuan. It hears the sighs of the Wang couple, the arguments of the Li couple, the roars of the Zhao father and son, and the occasional sighs that drift from the empty south wing.
This wall has also witnessed the changes of the times.
The Siheyuan of the past was lively and full of human warmth. But now, people have built a wall in their hearts, guarding against each other, suspicious of each other. Between neighbors, the former intimacy is gone, replaced by a sense of indifference.
Old Mr. Zhao often stares at this wall, lost in thought. He can't understand how the world has become like this.
One day, some foreigners came to the hutong, holding cameras, taking pictures of the wall. Old Mr. Zhao curiously asked them, what's so interesting about this wall?
The foreigners smiled and said, this wall has history, stories, and the flavor of China.
Old Mr. Zhao listened, his heart filled with mixed feelings. He looked at the wall, as if he saw the past, saw those once vivid faces, heard those once familiar accents.
But this wall, after all, is old.
One day, a group of workers came, holding hammers, clanging and banging. Old Mr. Zhao was anxious, asking them what they were doing.
The workers said, this hutong is going to be demolished, to build high-rise buildings.
Old Mr. Zhao collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down his face. He knew that this wall, this hutong, this Siheyuan, and all those past stories, would disappear forever.
This wall, in the end, did fall.
But the memories it carried remain forever in the hearts of those who once lived in the hutong, and also in the hearts of those who occasionally pass by and can still remember something, like those absurd yet real scenes in Kafka's novels, leaving people sighing with regret.