Learning from Comrade Afeng on the Anniversary of the Reflection on the Past

   
I once worked as a lawyer and was involved in an inves­ti­ga­tion on behalf of some­one in a small town in north­ern Guang­dong with a left deed. Although the amount involved was small, the mat­ter was com­plex and I had to act pru­dent­ly.
 
   
My com­pan­ion, a trade union offi­cial from the provin­cial cap­i­tal, had called on an old acquain­tance in the local gov­ern­ment under the pre­text of inves­ti­gat­ing the plight of the work­ers, but in real­i­ty, he was sim­ply mak­ing indi­rect inquiries. When asked about the com­pa­ny’s sit­u­a­tion, he told me the truth, say­ing it had been oper­at­ing poor­ly for a long time, but that the work­ers were doing well and did­n’t need to both­er ask­ing about it. He also said the com­pa­ny was well-off and had a promis­ing future, as the own­er, a busi­ness­man and gov­ern­ment offi­cial, was known for his chival­ry and right­eous­ness. His atten­dants echoed him, say­ing, “He’s a kind man.” They also described him as a man of char­ac­ter, renowned for his Chi­nese med­i­cine and cal­lig­ra­phy, and unri­valed in the area. His atten­dants also agreed, say­ing, “He’s a remark­able man.” Curi­ous, he invit­ed me to meet him.
 
   
An old acquain­tance host­ed a ban­quet at a restau­rant. Upon hear­ing that the provin­cial lead­ers were com­ing, every­one came to offer their con­do­lences. A steady stream of peo­ple arrived, big and small, all involved in busi­ness and labor affairs. Every­one was seat­ed when the fac­to­ry own­er arrived late, laugh­ing and say­ing he was pun­ish­ing the host. They replied, “It’s his fault.” He seemed accus­tomed to it. The host, over fifty years old, had a rosy com­plex­ion and a vibrant look.
 
   
With the ban­quet set up, it seemed inap­pro­pri­ate to dis­cuss seri­ous mat­ters. How­ev­er, since I had been entrust­ed with a task, I had no choice but to offer some indi­rect advice. The host read­i­ly answered, but when it came to the cru­cial points, he was either vague or com­plete­ly air­tight, mak­ing it impos­si­ble to delve into the details. His words were so respect­ful and cour­te­ous that, even with the left-hand deed in hand, how could I dare to crit­i­cize him? So, the con­ver­sa­tion end­ed.
 
   
When asked about his tal­ents, the host said that Chi­nese med­i­cine was a fam­i­ly tra­di­tion, and cal­lig­ra­phy was just some­thing he did for fun when he was bored. It was a minor skill, not worth men­tion­ing. Every­one laughed and said, “You’re too mod­est!” The host thanked him again, and his words and deeds sound­ed quite like a schol­ar.
 
   
The wine was half drunk, and every­one was in high spir­its. One per­son jok­ing­ly asked the host, “How are your fam­i­ly affairs late­ly?” The host gave a wry smile and said, “Don’t talk about it, don’t talk about it.” He act­ed as if he was bring­ing up some­thing irrel­e­vant. Every­one chuck­led. The host, half-seri­ous, sighed and said, “All I’ve learned in my whole life isn’t even one or two of what you two broth­ers have learned.” Every­one asked curi­ous­ly why. The host replied, “Your broth­er spe­cial­izes in the art of har­mo­ny. There are many fam­i­lies, some large, some small, some small, and yet I can man­age them all. While we can’t say they’re as respect­ful as guests, we do live in peace.” Every­one gave a thumbs-up: “Good.”
 
   
Every­one was clear-eyed, but I was alone in my con­fu­sion. I sus­pect­ed that every­one’s talk of “big, sec­ond, third, and fourth” was child­ish, but judg­ing by their inti­ma­cy, it did­n’t seem that way. I asked the per­son beside me. He laughed and said, “They’re the first, sec­ond, third, and fourth wives!” The whole room burst into laugh­ter, some even spit­ting out their food.
 
   
I was stunned for a long time. I have known for a long time that the offi­cial­dom is cor­rupt and peo­ple’s hearts have changed, but to see it so deca­dent is aston­ish­ing.
 
   
Look­ing back, fif­teen years have passed in the blink of an eye.
 
Aji­a­ji on March 5, 2010