By Zheng Yanying

The Warmth of Five Cents

By Zheng Yanying

I t was in 1966 when I was still in thefinalyearsofprimary school.During my summer vacation,on a market day in Mazhuang,a village on the northern plateau of Xianyang City,my mother gave me twenty cents,and asked me to take my three younger brothers to the market and buy a pound of salt.

Upon arriving at the market,my youngest brother excitedly pointed to the food stalls,whooping in awe:“Pastries! Sesame chips!Wontons!Brother,mom gave you some money,right?”

I halted him,saying,“That’s for salt. A pound of salt costs twenty cents and lasts half a year flavoring our dishes.If we spent them on a bowl of wonton,it would be gone in a few minutes.”

He didn't dare to say anything more,and the other two brothers kept quiet after seeing my glare.

The grocery store where we could buy salt was located at the east end of the market.To get there,we had to pass by street stalls selling all kinds of food.I walked at a fast pace along the streets, fearingmylittlebrotherswouldbe drawn in by the food on the way.At a stall selling fried bean jelly,however, my youngest brother suddenly let go of myhandandsat down on the bench, fixating on the treat.

Myothertwo brothers both looked at me.Truth be told, my mouth was also watering—luredin by the enticing smell of the fried delicacy.

The stall owner truly knew how to market.He avoided looking at me directly,but intentionally, and seemingly telepathically,cried loudly,"Your mouth will feel satisfied for a whole year,after just one bite of my fried jelly.A whole plate is only five cents!"With these words,he continued to stir fry.The oil frizzled in the griddle, leaving me a ravenous appetite.

I kept silent,calculating the costs—the price of a plate of jelly equated to that of 125 grams of salt.

I watched closely how the stall owner worked,every action in detail.After frying,while scraping the golden jelly crust off the griddle,the stall owner deliberately shoveled the small pieces slowly, luring pedestrians along the entire street.

He shoveled the jelly onto the plate and heavily laid down a pair of chopsticks on the table.After that,he slid the plate in front of my youngest brother.I did not dare to turn andlookatmy brothers.Iknew right then that they were surely looking straight at me and waitingformy words.

My eldest brother tugged on my shirt andwhispered:“Brother.”My middle brother came to me,looking into my eyes sheepishly.I bowed my head and took a deep breath.

At this moment,my youngest brother uttered a few words that touched me for decades:“Brother,this smell is killing me.How about I take only one bite and you three eat the rest?”

I turned around.My youngest brother was looking at me anxiously.I gently replied“Ok.”He immediately smiled.He picked up the chopsticks but took only a small piece of the jelly.He put it into his mouth,but did not chew;he seemed to be waiting for the jelly to melt in his mouth.Despite the small bite,he swallowed loudly;I knew it was because of the saliva he swallowed with the jelly.

He stood up,handed me the chopsticks,and said earnestly,“Brother,it’s just too delicious to be true.And there’s even bean paste in the jelly!”

“I don't like jelly.It’s for you three.”I handed the chopsticks to my eldest brother.

My other brothers modestly declined. After each took a small bite,they again urged me to eat the jelly.I declined again.My youngest brother picked up a handful of fried jelly with chopsticks and put it in front of my mouth.The reddish brown soy and the airy white steam suddenly broke down my defenses.

I ate it.I swallowed quickly without opening my mouth,to keep the taste from escaping.Then I handed the chopsticks to the youngest brother.

He declined again.I separated the jelly into three piles,asked each of them to take one,put the chopsticks down on the table,and said,“You three eat.I’ll go pay the bill.”

Unexpectedly,they only ate two piles, and left the third for me.I asked who didn’t eat their share.My eldest brother told me it was the youngest brother who had left it for me.

I said no more.There were only three pieces of fried jelly in that small pile.I ate one piece,and put the other two directly in my youngest brother's mouth.

When we were back home,mom saw our faces glowing with pleasure,and called us to dinner.I put the bag of salt beside the salt pot.My mother picked up the bag and weighed it by hand,smiled, and said,“Let’s eat.”

For several months after that day,I felt my mother’s dishes taste lighter than usual—perhaps with less salt.I secretly asked my brothers.They also tasted the difference but did not dare to ask.

Many years later,I asked my mother if she found out the salt was lighter than expected that day.She winked:“I surely knew it.”

I asked,“Did you know where we spent the money?”Mom replied with a beam,“It doesn’t matter.It only cost me five cents to buy my four boys joy and happiness.How could you find anything worthier than that?”

(FromTonight News Paper.Translation: Jessie White.Illustration:Tong Ling.)