Father loves to listen to operas, so naturally he knows many mysterious stories from the plays. Therefore, many times, Father can act as a storyteller. The stories he remembers are extremely attractive to me, who had nothing else for entertainment at that time. Among Father's collection of "storybooks," I particularly love the story of the Two Soul Retrievers. Father said:
"Black represents evil, white represents good. The division between good and evil is the constant of impermanence. The names of the two soul retrievers originated from this." Therefore, I have always believed that everything can be clearly divided into good and evil, each controlled by one of the two retrievers. I am quite proud of this belief because when I say these words, I feel like a philosopher.
However, this concept is ultimately naive and cannot withstand the test of reality.
Since I can remember, I have always lived in Chixian County, so my experiences and knowledge are limited to within the walls of the county. In this sense, I am a narrow-minded and shallow person. However, even so, many of the things I have seen, heard, and felt in this county can be considered extraordinary tales from ancient times.
In order to make a living, it is inevitable for some people to leave their hometowns. Although Chixian County is considered abundant in resources, it is still difficult to avoid this. However, the people in the county have a lot to say about this behavior. Although the majority of people are struggling to make a living, there are also people who look down on the narrow-mindedness of Chixian County and leave to seek pleasure. From this perspective, some criticism is understandable. But when this criticism becomes extremely harsh and cutting, I suddenly feel a sense of fear, as if I have contracted a deadly disease.
Father has a close friend from the theater, who makes a living by operating a boat. I have seen him a few times: he is in his sixties or seventies, not tall, but very lean. People with such appearances are usually private tutors, not hardworking laborers like him, so he left a deep impression on me. However, in this deep impression, more than half of it is negative. He is very feudal and has a sharp tongue, always finding harsh words to ridicule others, even his own son is not spared. Every time he returns home, he cannot escape being scolded as an ungrateful descendant. I despise him on one hand, but on the other hand, I wonder why Father is friends with such a person. But Father seems indifferent, only saying that it is like-mindedness, that he has found a kindred spirit.
One year in January, someone in Huanzhen Town ate something evil and contracted a lung disease. He was used to traveling around, but unexpectedly, he also contracted this deadly disease. The doctor who diagnosed him left a few prescriptions and hurriedly left without specifying the prognosis. His wife was very worried, afraid that something bad would happen to him. But he didn't seem to have any intention of avoiding it because he had something more important than seeking treatment--
The play on the second day of the second lunar month.
However, the disease worsened day by day. The town's deity, Qingtian Dalaoye, inexplicably lost his black hat. Although we common people dare not comment on politics, we all understand that this incident is related to the lung disease. So everyone felt threatened, and those who made a living in the town rushed back to the county for refuge. The people in the county, who already had a lot to say, now seemed to have encountered a rare opportunity and started to insult their fellow refugees. And in this resistance, the boatman, like a vanguard, revealed his cruelty and viciousness, because in his eyes, these people had forgotten their ancestors and deserved criticism. More importantly, they might prevent him from enjoying the play, which was unacceptable.
The boatman's son naturally became a scapegoat again, but this time, there was not just one spear pointed at him. However, in reality, although the boatman's son had earned a lot of wealth in the town, he did not flaunt it extravagantly. Instead, he often helped the people in the village. When the county was building a dike, he donated a lot of stones. Therefore, the people in the county collectively benefited from his kindness, but now they seemed to have forgotten their gratitude and showed disdain. It was truly despicable.
The county's clinic quickly became crowded with people seeking medical treatment, whether they were wealthy gentry or laborers in short coats, each with an anxious expression, waiting for the doctor to prescribe them miraculous medicine. Although the old boatman was stubborn, he was still afraid of death. So he joined the anxious crowd. But he seemed to be the most anxious one. Seeing that the line seemed endless, he ran to the front in three or two steps, forcing the doctor to examine him first. The doctor naturally refused, so he started punching and kicking. Even though he was already old, his punches were still fierce. I felt angry in my heart and looked at Father, who just shook his head and sighed, saying indifferently, "Don't meddle in other people's business." I also looked at the several gentry who usually preached about benevolence, righteousness, and morality. They just stood there with their hands behind their backs, continuing their conversation as if they hadn't seen anything.
In the end, the boatman emerged victorious, holding the prescription and leaving triumphantly. When he passed by me and Father, he suddenly stopped, and I felt his gaze on me. But I could only lower my head and avoid eye contact, not daring to speak.
"As a token of our friendship, I'll let you copy a prescription. So that your son won't die young," he suddenly said. Father didn't refuse, just thanked him. Although I remained silent, my heart was in turmoil. In that moment, I couldn't distinguish whether he was good or evil.
Because Father had the prescription, our whole family stayed at home, brewing medicine to prevent illness and rarely went out. The resistance of the people in the county continued. Every night, there were annoying barks from dogs and heart-wrenching cries. I couldn't sleep all night, tossing and turning, thinking about the stories of the Black and White Impermanence. Father once said:
"White Impermanence governs good, bringing good luck to those who are grateful and respectful to the gods; Black Impermanence governs evil, showing no mercy to those who violate the law."
I pondered over and over again, isn't this world divided into good and evil? Yet, I have witnessed contradictory things. This plunged me into long-lasting sadness. If one day, the Black and White Impermanence came to claim souls, who would control the fate of the boatman, the gentry, and the spectators who kill with words? I believe the two underworld messengers would be as troubled as me by the complexities of the mortal world!
After a month, the play that Father had been looking forward to since the Lunar New Year finally began. As usual, he went to discuss the arrangements with his old friend. However, when he entered the house, he saw the family dressed in mourning clothes. Upon asking, he learned that the boatman had died from his lung disease. Father wasn't very sad, just worried that he wouldn't have a boat to ride. However, the boatman's son said he would return in glory, take care of his mother, and take over his father's job.
Father had another close friend.
Perhaps my simple-minded belief is not wrong, that the world is simply divided into good and evil, but how can people only see things in black and white? If one firmly believes in black and white, then everything they see will be darkness.