The Mirror: A Tale of Sent-Down Youth

By Jia Pingwa

Translated by Hu Zongfeng and Robin Gilbank

In Shangdi Township there stood a compact two-up, three-down bamboo tower, its stories connected by a narrow staircase. Clambering out from this residence and striding fifty paces one would reach the main T-junction. A little way to the left an ancient Chinese scholar tree cloaked the middle of the thoroughfare in olive shade. Somebody had thought to bore a well in between its roots. Now all day long the silhouette of a crow’s nest from up above was tattooed on to the bottom of the shaft.

Previously, the window of the tower was always open, and neighbors would often spy two young women sticking their heads out and gazing at something fondly. Occasionally a laundered handkerchief or blouse dangled from a bamboo pole on the eave like a small flag. At present, though, the window always remained tightly shut, its green frames becoming faded, with the paint flaking away because of the effects of wind and rain. One of the girls was said to have been taken poorly, but nobody ever dropped by to inquire about the disease and her progress.

At dusk, the other lady returned from the paddy fields, her body swaying sinuously as she climbed the tower, before pushing open the door and entering. On the bamboo bed in the corner there lay her roommate, a needle of light from the setting sun leaking in through a hole in the attic and shining directly onto her face. The girl’s complexion was fiercely sallow, her eyes deeply sunken. On hearing the sound, she wriggled her body and the bed frame started to creak.

“Weiwei, don’t move,” said the one who just came in. “Feeling any better? Want some water?”

Weiwei shook her head.

“Have some rice porridge. You shouldn’t go all day eating nothing. See, I’ve brought some bamboo shoots.”

The girl lifted out a tender, yellow joint of bamboo. Trying to smile, she got up and went into the adjacent kitchen.

“Sister Xiu,” Weiwei called, her voice strained and low. It seemed she didn’t hear her, and then the sound of the wooden bellows being cranked by the manual piston started in the kitchen. A heady, dark smoke crept through the crevice in the wall. She could not help spluttering.

The last shaft of setting sun crawled onto Weiwei’s chest while she looked on with a sense of futility. She remembered how she had studied laser technology in school. A laser beam behaved exactly like this, the only difference being that the sun did not scorch through the quilt. She wanted to grasp it with her hand but that was impossible. She wanted to drive it away, though could not do that either. To her surprise, the corridor of light made visible innumerable particles of suspended dust. These were sashaying up and down. All of a sudden, she opened her mouth wide in the desperate hope of sucking in these motes. She wanted to be poisoned and die instantaneously. The wretched girl sobbed alone.

Sister Xiu came in carrying a piping bowl of porridge, her eyes positively smarting from the fumes.

“Eat up while it’s still hot.”

Weiwei shook her head, continuing to blubber.

“Don’t cry. Just tuck in.”

“Sister Xiu, I won’t eat. I’m going to die. I shan’t eat.”

“Nonsense, try some and you’ll feel better for it. Uncle Wang said you can get over this type of illness as long as you keep yourself fed.”

Weiwei wept no more; just stared frantically at the light beam. The smoke continued to leak through the wall, permeating the air. By now it had attracted several stripy-legged mosquitoes.

“You see,” mused Sister Xiu. “That smoke could be the clouds and the mosquitoes in it are transforming into immortal cranes. That’s a sure sign you’ll get better.”

“Sister Xiu, don’t try and coax me. Tell me, what on earth’s wrong with me?”

“You’re just having trouble getting used to this environment. Wait a few days and it’ll all be over.”

“You’re fobbing me off.” Weiwei suddenly started to cry. She fumbled under the bedding beneath her and brought out a book. Sister Xiu realized it was a copy of Abnormal Pathology. She broke into a cold shudder and said: “You have a read of it. Can you understand it? What I’ve got is a rare disease. You see my wrists and ankles - so thin. I might waste away until at last I can’t get out bed, just wither up and die ....”

Sister Xiu covered her mouth and scolded: “You’re talking nonsense.”

Weiwei was too frightened and closed her mouth.

“Suit yourself,” the soothing voice of Sister Xiu continued. “I can fix you some egg soup in the evening. You’re definitely thinner than before. You can’t go on like this. Let’s look at the view out of the back window.”

Sister Xiu helped Weiwei up and together they inched slowly towards the window. She could not help but burst into tears when she went to fetch the chair.

Outside the window, there was a bamboo grove, pitifully lacking in lushness. Beyond this were several patches of paddy fields with green seedlings. The wind was swirling into a vortex there. Even farther still, streams speckled with wild ducks hugged the boundless horizon. Only the dream-like mountain ridges zigzagged up and down to create a vertical aspect.

“You see, how white the river water is?” noted Sister Xiu. “I always used to think rivers were green.”

“Is that one the Dan River?”

“Yeah. When you’re up to it, we’ll go and fish there. They reckon it’s bursting with fish - grass carp, silver carp and even pomfret.”

“I’m afraid I won’t ever be able to ....”

“Quieten down. Do you remember when we walked here from the river?”

After raising that question, Sister Xiu did not know what else to say and her heart tingled with grief.

A year ago, Sister Xiu and Weiwei had lived in the city like two people fused into one. Both of them were in the pink of youth, as carefree as a flag fluttering on the breeze or the fish jumping in the waves. In the evenings they would sit on the banks of the city moat or on the lawns of the park on Sundays. The pair leaned against each other, surveying how the stars would jig about the surface of the water and how the minute flowers winked among the foliage. Their imaginations surged away, like two birds winging across the sky and shoals darting through the ocean. However overnight, their wings were clipped and they smashed down hard onto the icy cold rocks below. The parents both of young women were labeled “capitalists” and incarcerated in a tiny detention center known colloquially as “the cattle shed”. The two helpless daughters, meanwhile, were sent down to this desolate town to be reeducated through labor.

“Sister Xiu, do you miss your family?” Weiwei asked in a sorrowful tone. She was standing by the window, listening to the cold and shivering sound of the bamboo grove.

Sister Xiu lowered her eyelashes and said nothing.

“My ma and pa must know that I’m going to die ....”

Sister Xiu raised her head and gazed at Weiwei with frozen pupils. Weiwei gazed at her in return. Neither of them spoke a word. They just sat in that position, waiting for the setting sun to descend as a sobbing and plaintive sound rose from the bamboo ....

All of a sudden, the crows on the ancient Chinese scholar tree at the T-junction became restless and cawed out loudly. Sister Xiu and Weiwei craned their bodies to take a look. A beam of dazzling white light shone on the tree and shimmered back and forth. The sky in which the sun was about to vanish became dotted with black birds.

“What’s that?” Weiwei was a bit scared.

“Just that old fart fooling about with his mirror.”

As expected, before the front door of the squat bungalow alongside the bamboo grove, stood an elderly man. He was reflecting the beams of the setting sun onto the tree. Grinning with his crooked yellow teeth, he appeared quite delighted to see the crows becoming disturbed and restless.

The old man’s surname was Huang. They had never heard anybody address him by that name and they harbored no curiosity about why that was. All they knew was that he had been branded a “reactionary academic” and was already living here when they came. On their arrival, the heads of the commune explained about the “enemy situation” in their midst. It was said that the old man was originally an engineer at a glass foundry in the city. When he was condemned by the Party, even his wife and children cut off ties with him. In order that his skills be put to use, he was assigned to work as technician in the mirror workshop run by the commune.

“You should keep your guard up around him,” people from the collective told them.

From then on, they noticed how he lived alone. He locked the door whenever he went out and built a fire when he returned. They felt a shred of sympathy for him, especially when they saw how he mended his own clothes with big stitches while sitting beneath the light of the sun. Before long they grew to despise him for he was a man who lacked guts. Despite all the adversity, he remained cheerful. In the middle of the night they often heard him humming Shaanxi Opera in a voice that was hoarse and ugly. During the day when not on duty, he would moon about with shards of glass. Off-cuts from the factory and fractured segments of mirror festooned the walls and doors of his room. These reflected his own self when he went out and in. He even claimed that when he lay down on his bed, he could simultaneously scrutinize the bamboo grove, monitor the ancient scholar tree, and keep an eye on pedestrians in the town.

Sister Xiu contorted her face into a smile and scoffed: “He’s playing the fool. No change there. At it again with his kiddie’s toys.”

“Gutless,” Weiwei cursed.

They closed the window and the tower immediately fell dark.

“I really can’t understand, what has he to be so happy about!” Sister Xiu said.

“He might be better off dead.” With these words, Weiwei’s heart and body became languid and she slipped down onto the table. Sister Xiu hurriedly supported her back to the bed, keen that she take a little water.

“Sister Xiu, you’re so kind. Just like my mum,” gasped Weiwei with tears running down her face.

Xiu smiled at her and asked whether she wanted egg soup or noodles.

“Sister Xiu, I’m afraid I can’t make it.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. You’re so young, so pretty. Even that old fart is still alive so why shouldn’t we be?”

“Don’t mention him,” insisted Weiwei. “Should we even count him as a human being? Maybe I’ll die tomorrow. Sister Xiu, you’re so good and nice to me. I’ll leave all the clothes in my suitcase to you. Uncle Wang in the front lane is decent fellow. You can give him my blanket. The scarf can go to Second Aunt Liu ... keep these things to remember me by. Don’t forget me. Give nothing to that old man, he ...”

“No more of that, no more,” Sister Xiu hissed.

She threw herself down on her own bed and began to wail loudly.

The next morning, Sister Xiu went to work after making sure that everything had been arranged for Weiwei. Passing by the bamboo grove, she unconsciously shot a glance at the squat bungalow. The old man was in there fiddling about with a comb. He still slicked back his hair, even though it had thinned out and become gray. Facing the mirror, he arranged each strand after another into place. She felt queasy and spat.

“Little Xiu,” the old man called out abruptly without turning around.

“How did you know it was me?” asked an astonished Sister Xiu.

“I saw you in the mirror. How can you be such a slovenly girl? How can you go to work with your hair uncombed and messy like grass?”

“I’m not as meticulous as you are!”

“Girls shouldn’t talk like this. You must really love to stay in the sack. When it’s time for work I guess you just crawl out of bed and leave. Weiwei hasn’t recovered yet?”

Sister Xiu stood there with tears trickling down from her eyes.

“What’s wrong with her?” He turned around, appearing touched with panic. “What about her diet?”

“She doesn’t eat and drink. She’s as thin as a skeleton. She keeps on murmuring that she is going to die. There’s no talking her around.”

“Let me have a try,” he said at last.

“No.” Sister Xiu was adamant. “You can’t go. She doesn’t like you ... it would be better if you didn’t ....”

The old man said nothing more. After observing Xiu saunter away past the bamboo grove, he paced over to his own window and studied the frail, tiny potted asparagus fern. It wore a film of morning dew, making it appear so delicate and fragile that it might buckle under its own weight. He picked up an bamboo stick and gently inserted it into the pot as a prop.

After doing this, he squatted down and smoked his grass tobacco. He peered at the shadow of the smoke on the ground and for the first time found that it was neither white nor black, but dark red .... Eventually he got to his feet and climbed the bamboo tower.

Slipping in through the door, he found Weiwei sleeping lightly. Her Abnormal Pathology had slid down from the bed. Without realizing it, the old man’s eyes moistened. He picked up the book gently, closed it and tucked it under the mat which lined the bed. He then sat there in a state of grief.

Weiwei awoke and called out: “Sister Xiu!”

“Want some water, dearie?”

Weiwei opened her eyes and on perceiving the old man, shrieked: “You! How come you’re here?”

“I just came over to see you, child. Where does it feel uncomfortable?”

“I don’t need anyone to come and see me. I’m going to die, so let me die in peace.”

The old man hesitated for a while and then went over and opened the window.

“Child, you should be more open-minded. You can’t just lie down. You should get up and walk around. Let me help you take a look at the view. The scenery is so beautiful outside! The rice is green and by evening the bamboo shoots have knitted themselves into joints.”

“You get out! Get out!” Weiwei became furious.

The old man stood there and smiled bitterly, before ambling slowly towards the door. He then turned around and took a mirror out from his breast pocket and laid it by Weiwei’s bedside, so that she could examine her appearance even while horizontal.

“If you feel bored, you can play with this mirror. It will show you whatever you want to see.”

Weiwei did indeed study herself in the mirror. For so many days, she had not combed her hair and was reluctant at first to know how she appeared. She was thin almost to the point of deformity. Letting out an “Ah,” she covered her face and yelled: “You’ve come to kill me, kill me with this mirror! You get out of here! You’re gutless.” She stretched out her hemp-thin hand and hurled the pillow case towards the old man.

He left with heavy steps, followed by the ragged sound of crying.

Weiwei too burst into tears on her bed.

Weiwei lost track of how long she had cried. That side of her quilt and pillow were completely sodden. On her return, Sister Xiu was so unnerved that her hands and feet became cold. She tried to comfort Weiwei who shouted: “Throw that mirror away quickly. That old men came to try and kill me with the mirror.”

Only now did Sister Xiu spot the trinket by her bedside. It was square in shape and not very big. She then understood everything. As she picked up the looking glass in a hurry and was about to throw it down from the tower, Weiwei suddenly insisted that she should like to retain it.

“Let me keep it, so that I can see how I get thinner and thinner each day, and see myself as death draws nearer.”

Sister Xiu was at a loss. She had to return the mirror to its place and descended from the tower in tears. Thundering into the squat bungalow she roared: “Why did you give her that mirror! Why give her a mirror?”

The bungalow appeared unmoved by her tempest. After several rounds of cursing from Sister Xiu, all seemed to fall silent and she did not come out. About an hour later, the young woman reappeared without a trace of tears on her face. She only held her hand to her chest. As the old man escorted her out, she nodded to him and then climbed up the bamboo tower.

Once more he resumed playing with his oddments of glass. He laid out the smaller pieces on the step and allowed the sunlight to reflect into his room. Viewed from the bamboo tower, his threshold scintillated vibrantly.

From then on, the old man never darkened their door, but Sister Xiu called on him daily.

The next morning, as soon as her roommate rose, Weiwei asked: “Have I got thinner?”

“Weiwei, are you obsessed with that mirror again?”

“I am thinner. As thin as a ghost.”

“You’ll put on weight tomorrow.”

“No.” Weiwei closed her eyes, her breath lingering on. “Tomorrow I’ll reach my thinnest yet.”

Sister Xiu laid the fire, boiled some water and simmered egg soup. She also brewed the herbs she bought last night and carried the resultant broth to Weiwei. She managed a sip or two and then pushed the bowl aside. Looking in the mirror, she lamented: “I won’t drink it. What’s the use? Tomorrow I’m going to die as spindly as a rake. Sister Xiu, don’t bother about me anymore. Did you meet the old man again?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t curse him from now on. His mirror is handy. I can watch myself as I grow closer to death. After I die, you can lay it on my body.”

Sister Xiu then tried to comfort her again. Weiwei still refused to drink the herbal decoction and so she prepared another bowl of egg soup and forced Weiwei to finish it. She then sat beside the window and started to comb her hair. Her tresses were sumptuous and dark like cloud. After a little attention, they became fluffy and shiny.

“Sister Xiu, you combed your hair so smooth,” remarked Weiwei.

“Is it beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“If you combed your hair it might turn out prettier than mine. Let me do it for you.”

“I won’t. I’m going to die.”

“Weiwei, I can tolerate everything, except when you keep on at this topic. I am close to losing my patience now.”

Weiwei’s face became damp.

“But you see, I am getting thinner and thinner by the day. What else could it be?”

“What if you were able to put on weight?”

“If I could put on weight, I’d let you comb my hair. Can I still put on weight, though? I’m going to ....”

She started to sob again.

The day passed like this with Sister Xiu trying to make conversation and Weiwei simply crying. When evening came, Weiwei could not go to sleep. Sister Xiu sidled over and read a novel for her. It was not until the rooster crowed for the second time that Weiwei could close her eyes and drift off. Holding up a lamp, Sister Xiu stared at her companion while listening to the croaking of the frogs in the paddy fields outside the tower. She was so distraught, she bit the towel and wept alone.

When the day broke, Weiwei stirred, but she did not open her eyes. Last night she had expected her weight loss to worsen and that she would die soon. Now when she did open her eyes, she was afraid to see that she had become even thinner. She shouted loudly: “Sister Xiu, you see I’ve got scrawnier again?”

Sister Xiu who had risen earlier, was boiling herbs. “No. Weiwei,” she replied. “You’ve put on some weight. You can see in the mirror, you really have put on some weight.”

Weiwei opened her eyes and her face appeared at once in the mirror. Oh, what was going on? She had not shed weight. On the contrary, she was a touch fuller in the cheeks than she had been yesterday.

“I really have put on some weight.”

“Yes, you have, Weiwei.”

“Oh, how come I’ve started to fill out?”

“Well, you have, Weiwei. This is a good omen. It suggests you might getting better.”

“Better?” Weiwei shook her head. “This is what we call the last rally. Sister Xiu, from tomorrow I am bound to become thinner.”

But when she woke up the following morning, Weiwei looked in the mirror to find that the reverse was true. She was somewhat plumper still.

“What’s happening, Sister Xiu?”

“Weiwei, you’ll be better soon.”

“I’m not going to die?”

“How can you die? You’ll live on and be healthy.”

Sister Xiu presented her with a bowl of herbal broth and asked Weiwei to drink it. Still, she refused.

“Why not have some now that you know you are getting better?” Xiu became critical.

Eventually Weiwei complied and then her friend forced her to eat something. The patient first drank half a bowl of egg soup and then some porridge. She could nearly finish off two bowls of the latter.

Now stoked with a little energy, Weiwei urged Sister Xiu to head to work lest she incur criticism. Before leaving home, she made sure that the book on Abnormal Pathology was locked securely in a box.

“Weiwei, don’t read that thing. It is full of nonsense. Can you really believe what it says?”

“It makes me come over all odd.”

At last able to sit up in bed unaided, Weiwei repeatedly inspected herself in the mirror. She found that her face was not only less pinched but had a touch of color.

“I’m not really going to die!”

Several days passed without her weight fluctuating for better or worse. With the further onset of anxiety, Sister Xiu smiled and reassured her: “How can you regain your figure in an instant! Finish you meal and maybe you’ll notice a difference in the morning.”

Weiwei did as she was told and Sister Xiu proceeded to comb her hair. As her friend nestled quietly in her arms, that mane became so sheer and slick it resembled a black waterfall. These tresses were then braided into two smooth and shining pigtails. After all of this, Sister Xiu ran down from the tower and brought back a potted asparagus fern that she stood on window frame.

“Where did you get it?”

“The old man.”

“Why accept something from him? He is ancient, a gutless shit.”

“If he can raise this immortal plant, we should be able to as well.”

Early another morning, Sister Xiu still slumbered. Wewei pushed at her without warning and shook her awake.

“Sister Xiu, Sister Xiu, I really am plumper again.”

Sister Xiu crawled over and confirmed it. She then let out a scream: “Since when could you stand up?”

Realizing what she had done, Weiwei was aghast and, in what was by now a rare spectacle, erupted into laughter.

“Hah, I can get up! Sister Xiu.”

Sister Xiu excitedly bounced off the bed and hugged Weiwei.

All the windows of the bamboo tower were at last open. Those who walked the streets of Shangdi Town could once again spy the faces of the two girls. The balmy sunlight shone in through the windows as the roommates combed their hair in front of the mirror.

They walked together to the balcony. A white butterfly flew over from among the crimson blossoms and green grass of the fields in a captivating balletic fashion. It soared to the eave at the corner of the tower. Weiwei raised her handkerchief to try and catch it, but it was gone in an instant.

“You like butterflies?” asked Sister Xiu.

“That one was really beautiful.”

While they talking, a white spot of light flashed again on the eave of the tower, Weiwei shouted: “Is that a butterfly? Check again.”

Weiwei then saw clearly that the spot was moving and that it was a beam of light. Lowering her head, she could see how the old man was standing in front of his bungalow, reflecting the light in their direction with a mirror.

“Disgusting old guy,” Weiwei cursed.

“Why do you always curse him?”

“He is gutless. You see, is this the type of thing he should be doing? He is an old man, somebody who had suffered a lot.”

“How can he not have guts?”

“Coffin dodger.”

“Silly. Why die? If he’d died then we would have done long ago too.”

Weiwei looked at Sister Xiu in confusion. In the end she turned to the far away horizon and said: “Sister Xiu, it is too peculiar. I’ve been given a new lease of life. How can that be?”

“He was the one who saved you.”

“He saved me?” Weiwei screamed. “Sister Xiu, you’re having me on!”

“You thought that you were going to die. You refused to eat or take any medicine, and grew thinner and thinner everyday. The thinner you became, the more you wanted to die. So the old man sent you the mirror.”

“The mirror nearly killed me.”

“Yeah, he let you see yourself in the mirror. But you didn’t know that you weren’t really growing plumper. After a day or two he told me to replace the mirror secretly. The new one was deliberately made the same size as the original. However, the glass was curved to give the impression you’d gained weight. In all he gave me a sequence of five mirrors to keep up the illusion. That’s how you gradually got better.”

With a “Hah” Weiwei was dumbfounded.

“So my recovery was phoney?”

“No, you are genuinely back in shape now, Weiwei.”

All of a sudden Weiwei took hold of her friend.

“Sister Xiu, so I’ve been cursing the man who was my savior. We must go over there and visit him, hurry.”

Sister Xiu, however, turned her head to one side and let out a pained cry.

Weiwei wanted to know what was the matter.

“This afternoon, the factory will hold a meeting to criticize him. They said that he hasn’t reformed his character in an honest manner. He’s accused of stealing five custom-made mirrors from the workshop.”

In desperation, Weiwei dragged Sister Xiu and they sped down the stairs and right through the bamboo grove. Once they reached the door to the bungalow, she burst into loud tears.

“Uncle!”

The old man was combing his hair before a mirror. Strand by strand, he arranged it into a neat and tidy configuration. He turned around and saw them both. He was stunned at first and then chuckled.

“Ha. Weiwei really has recovered.”

Weiwei flung herself into his arms and was lachrymose. She was apologetic about having caused him to suffer so much.

“Child, since you now know what happened, don’t breathe a word of this. I admitted to having taken the mirrors, but kept quiet about the true purpose. I just said I wanted to fool around with them. You should never tell anybody else what actually happened or you might get dragged into it. For me it is nothing. At my time of life, I’m afraid of nothing.You see, I’ve combed my hair. Does it look neat?”

“Very neat,” Weiwei replied.

The old man held the mirror in his hand and examined himself a few times before reflecting with glee: “Hah, these mirrors really are wonderful things. I can see that my hair has been combed so smooth. It can reflect what I am. Weiwei, you can also often look at it, it can make you discover yourself, and show you what kind of a person you are.”

Sister Xiu and Weiwei nodded in silence.

The old man grinned, slightly smugly, like a child.

“They can show you who you are, and offer you sunlight too.”

With these words, he held the mirror up against the solar glare. The surface of the glass exploded into life, becoming its own miniature sun.

With the sun balancing in his palms, he strolled to the factory wearing a smile.

About the author:

Jia Pingwa is a formidable cultural figure in China, where he is widely regarded as one of the most important writers of his generation. Born in 1953, his early stories dealt with the countryside around his home city Shangluo in the Shaanxi region. In the 1990s, however, his novels, short stories, poetry and non-fiction became more overtly political, outspoken and challenging to the prevalent climate of censorship, leading to his 1993 novel The Abandoned Capital being banned for 17 years by the State Publishing Administration, ostensibly for explicit sexual content. As his writing became more confrontational, his audience grew exponentially. He also gained critical acclaim from the literary establishment, including winning the Mao Dun Literary Prize, one of the most prestigious writing awards in China, for Shaanxi Opera in 2008. Aside from writing, he is a talented professional calligrapher and artist.

About the Translators:

Hu Zongfeng was born in Shaanxi Province, P.R.China. He serves as president of the Shaanxi Translators Association and director of the Edgar and Helen Snow Studies Center. He is academic dean of the School of Foreign Languages and director of the Shaanxi Research Institute of Culture and Translation at Xijing University. He is the most prolific literary translator of his home province, having published English renderings of Jia Pingwa, Chen Zhongshi, Yang Zhengguang, Hong Ke, Ye Guangqin, Wu Kejing, Mu Tao and many more authors besides. He was awarded the “Senior Excellent Translator” by China Translation Association in 2024.

Robin Gilbank is originally from the North Yorkshire coast. He is now a professor of the School of Foreign Languages, Xijing University. Together with Hu Zongfeng, he launched the “Shaanxi Stories” series to promote the work of local authors in English translation. His other publications include An Englishman in the Land of Qin (2018) and Exploring China (2018), both translated into Chinese by Hu Zongfeng, with the latter being longlisted for the Lu Xun Prize. His essays on China have received the Feng Zikai Prize and the Wang Zengqi Prize.