Chinese Literature

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After that Mr. Li drank some wine every day. Sometimes he went to a restaurant; sometimes he asked the servant to go out and buy some for him, but still Old Pan remained his sole companion. One day he nearly lost his temper and asked Old Pan in a loud voice:

‘Tsn’t there anyone else in this school, besides that old Mr. Chang, who can drink? Can’t some one be found among the students, or even among the servants?”

Eventually he did get acquainted with that short Mr. Chen. But he was a thoroughly uninteresting fellow. All he cared for was how to keep himself busy. All he talked to Mr. Li about was how to improve that little weekly magazine, or to ask for more articles for it. And as soon as business was finished, he nodded respectfully to Mr. Li and went away, as if he had been in mortal fear that Mr. Li might seize him and force him to drink wine!

“After all, this magazine also represents work,” Mr. Li told himself.

Though he was not quite pleased with this kind of work, he did once draw a cartoon after he had had his wine, showing a soldier walking hand in hand with a civilian. For a heading, he wrote: “The military forces and the people co-operate.” But suddenly he felt rather ashamed of it. So, after some hesitation, he decided to give it to the periodical without signing his name.

‘How rotten of them!’ When he saw his cartoon in the periodical with his name printed under it, he felt as if someone had slapped his

face. “They’ve dared to put my real name under it... those scoundrels! From now on, the name ‘I-mo’ will be a disgrace. How could I-mo draw such a picture! ... Oh, what scoundrels! . . . scoundrels! .. .”

He suspected that Mr. Chen and some others were maliciously trying to undermine his reputation. That student with closely cropped hair was certainly one of the gang, for this Wednesday afternoon he had dared to ask Mr. Li in class for more pictures for the periodical.

“Nol” Mr. Li had answered coldly. “I am in a bad mood and I can’t produce anything!”

As soon as the class was over, he returned to his quarters, greatly annoyed by the injustice done him. He took out a less expensive “Golden Dragon” cigarette from the tin that had once contained the fancier “Three Castles” brand and lighted it. He lay down on the bed. A copy of the day’s newspaper fell to the ground. He did not pick it up. This was the paper he subscribed for with money out of his own pocket. The school took in seven or eight newspapers, but they were all put in the readingroom and there were always groups of people around them. He simply could not get accustomed to reading newspapers in a crowd.

None of the ways in which things were done in the school suited him, as if they were on purpose trying to outrage him. The cooks should have been sentenced to several years’ imprisonment for preparing always the same, tasteless food. Mr. Li disliked eating in the mess hall with

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