The Sick Plum

The Golden River

Lu Min

Yilin Press

March 2022

78.00 （CNY）

This novel narrates the ups and downs of Mu Youheng， Ho Jixiang， and their children across a period of forty years. The transformations from physical to non-physical inter-generational inheritance， from unconscious to conscious pursuit for good， and from haggling over every ounce to devoting a huge amount of money， have mixed with the changes in folk wisdom and commercial spirit through the ages.

Lu Min

Lu Min， a native of Jiangsu， began to write novels in 1998. Her works include A Dinner of Six， Run Away to the Moon， Harvester of Dreams， The Fictional Family， Hormone Night Talk， and The Father on the Wall. She won the Lu Xun Literary Prize， Zhuang Chongwen Literary Prize， Feng Mu Literary Prize， the People’s Literature Award， Baihua Literature Award， the October Literary Award， etc. Her works have been translated into many languages.

Whenever he visited Zhufeng Yaju – fortunately， he didn’t often come – Wang Sang seated himself facing the balcony. In this way， he didn’t have to face the amethyst partition and the An’an statue， nor did he have to look Mu in the eye. He didn’t mean to reject the three， but it was much better to look at other things.

Outside the window， it was cold and cloudy， and the branches were dry. After a long time， the window seemed like a plain curtain， with the clang of warriors and swords in the shadows. These aroused his memory of The Purple Hairpin that depicted the heroic spirit of warriors as one of “the Four Dreams of Linchuan.” But he hadn’t got a chance to enjoy the scene of it. “Next time， I will ask Lao Muliang whether it’s possible for their Kun Opera Troupe to replay this drama.”

All that afternoon， the talk with Mu – if such a unilateral repetitive outburst of words could be regarded as a talk – had lasted for forty minutes while the red light on the mobile phone had been flashing.

At last， Mu began to drink the tea with a straw when Wang Sang seized the chance to deal with the WeChat messages. All the messages were about Concave Nine Space， nothing more than adding an exhibition wall， extending the exhibition period from 3.5 days to 4.5 days， and that the QR codes of artists were omitted from the album. These were dispensable， but the clients were extremely serious and haunted all the time. He didn’t want Mu to hear about these dealings， in case Mu seized the opportunity to laugh at him heartily and bitterly satirizing them as “cultural undertakings as big as a seed of sesame.”

Though this father was honored by others as President Yow， Wang Sang just called him Mu secretly. He didn’t care what Mu would talk about today. All he needed to do was pretend to be thinking， though he ignored what Mu said and complained in his mind. This had been his consistent strategy. It could be said that the father-son relation was as indifferent as cold water.

On the surface， the contradiction between them started five years ago， when Mr. Wang Sang suddenly left the government office and deviated from his promising official career. Instead， he started those useless art exhibitions in Concave Nine Space with great pains. Mu had been extremely angry with this “earth-shattering change” he could never expect. From time to time， he would cut in and scold his son in his rude tone. “So what？ Is it your turn to be indifferent to fame and fortune？ Is it enough？ How lofty you are！” At the end of each year， when “the latest appointment and dismissal of personnel” was officially released one after another， he would ask Mr. Xie to meet his son at home， where Mr. Xie pointed out the so-called inside stories.

Then， he would sigh deeply with worries and regrets and keep begging his son in a gentle voice.

Sometimes， he would talk about the courses given by the master of Chinese studies. He said， “It has been a general principle that gifted scholars enter politics throughout history. Look at Wang Wei， Bai Juyi， the Three Sus， Sima Guang， Fan Zhongyan， Ouyang Xiu， and Wang Anshi. My good son， who was less talented and lofty than you are？ Who didn’t become high officials in a dignified manner？ Didn’t you say you admired Wang Yangming？ He was contributive to both politics and the military， and he was titled just by fighting on the battlefield！”

Hearing these words， Wang Sang also wondered how they made their facial expressions pleasant. His classmates who worked for state-owned enterprises always looked diligent and energetic， with a little competitive alertness on their faces. Two classmates in Internet companies had a sense of crisis in their brows， but they were also advanced， like being far ahead of mankind and the times. In Concave Nine Space， the artistic men and women had their complicated style of competing to behave against the times. Not to mention the former colleagues in the government building， who looked confident and reasonable.

Wang Sang was the only one unsteady and unable to have a foothold. Why couldn’t he have pleasant facial expressions？ It had been caused by Mu. But he was tired of reasoning with his father.

“You mustn’t leave today unless you tell me your real intention.” Mu sucked up the tea with the straw， but he sucked so hard that a lot of tea overflowed. He tried to hold it with his lower lip but failed. As a result， his vicious words sounded much weaker. Mu’s embarrassment astonished Wang Sang a little. At the thought of the hurricanes torturing his ears before， Wang Sang turned around to face Mu. He saw the tea slide along Mu’s neck， and half a tea leaf was resting on his old， yellow canine tooth. The faint sympathy disappeared all of a sudden. Wang Sang gave up the idea of handing a tissue.

Canine teeth looked ugly. He used to have two pairs of canine teeth. After working， he saved the first three months’ salaries. As soon as he could afford it， he went to the dentist to remove the teeth. For this， he wore braces for a year and a half. At that time， there were few grown men having their teeth fixed. After more than two years of being laughed at， he was finally differentiated from Mu in facial appearance. Once Mu proudly mentioned persimmons and dried persimmons when he scolded his son. From then on， Wang Sang forced himself to quit this preference. It was a pity that he could do nothing with the two swirls in his hair inherited from his father. Besides， as long as his beard grew out， the shape resembled Mu’s unshaven beard. That was why Wang Sang had taken beards as foreign matters and never allowed them to grow out on his face. Once， he caught a bad cold and lay in bed for three consecutive days. As soon as he got up， he happened to see the one identical to Mu in the mirror. It was so disgusting that he nearly threw up the medicine he had just swallowed.

Now look at the old guy. He always kept his style. Everything was business to him， and he would never fail to make a deal. Who said people had no belief？ He had： business. He believed in and practiced it all his life， and his son was also included.