The Little Orange Lamp

              by Bing Xin

  All this happened more than a decade ago

  On the afternoon before Chinese New Year's Day I went to visit a friend in
the suburbs of Chongqing  She lived on the top floor of the village office
building  A flight of dark narrow stairs led to a room where a table and
several bamboo stools stood and a telephone hung on the wall  Beyond this room
separated by a mere cloth curtain was the room where my friend lived  She had
gone out leaving a note on the desk by the window saying that she had been
called away unexpectedly and wanted me to wait for her to come back

  I sat down at her desk picked up a newspaper and started reading Suddenly I
heard the wooden door of the outside room open with a squeak Shortly after I
heard someone moving a bamboo stool I lifted the curtain and looked only to
find a small girl of about eight or nine She had a pale thin face and her lips
were frozen purple because of the cold Her hair was cut short and she was
dressed in wornout clothes She wore no socks only a pair of straw sandals She
was climbing onto the bamboo stool trying to get hold of the receiver but she
quickly withdrew her hand as if startled at the sight of me I asked her Do you
want to make a phone call Yes she nodded as she climbed off the stool I want
to call the hospital I want Dr Hu Mum has just spat up a lot of blood Do you
know the phone number I asked She shook her head and said I was just going to
ask the Telephone Service for it I immediately looked in the directory beside
the telephone and soon found the number Then I asked her again If I get the
doctor where should I tell him to go Just tell her Wang Chunlin's wife is ill
and she will come she replied

  I made the phone call and got through to the doctor The girl gratefully
thanked me and turned to leave straight away I stopped her and asked Is your
home far from here Just down in the valley under the big yellow fruit tree
she told me pointing outside the window It takes only a couple of minutes to
get there With these words she clattered downstairs

  Returning to my friend's room I read the newspaper from cover to cover then
picked up the Three Hundred Tang Poems and went through half of it It was
getting more and more overcast outside yet there was no sign of my friend
Bored I stood up looked out the window and watched the hazy mountain scenery
in the thick fog I spotted the small hut under the yellow fruit tree and
suddenly got the idea that I should visit the little girl and her sick mother
I went downstaires bought a few big oranges from the hawker at the door put
them into my handbag and walked along the uneven slabstone path down to the
hut

  I knocked softly on the wooden door The young girl I had met just now
answered Seeing me she was a little taken aback at first but soon she began to
smile and beckoned me in On the plank bed against the wall her mother was
lying on her back her eyes closed She must have gone to sleep There were blood
stains spattered on the bedclothes round her neck Her face was turned to the
wall and I could only see tangled wisps of hair across her faceand the coil at
the back of her head There was a small charcoal stove by the door and on it a
small simmering casserole The girl bade me sit down on the footstool in front
of the stove she herself squatting beside me sizing me up Has the doctor been
Yes she gave Mum an injection She's quite OK now Then she added as if to
console me Don't worry The doctor will come again in the morning Has your mum
eaten anything What's in here I asked pointing to the casserole She smiled and
replied It's yam porridge our New Year's Eve dinner I suddenly remembered the
oranges I had brought with me I took them out and put them on the bedside
table The girl said nothing just quietly reached her hand out for the biggest
one She cut the peel off the top with a knife and deftly peeled the rest of
the orange with her fingers

  Who else lives here with you I asked her in a low voice No one else right
now My dad went somewhere she did not finish She slowly took out the orange
segments and laid them beside her mother's pillow

  The tiny fire in the stove gradually died down and it was getting dark
outside I stood up to go The little girl held me back quickly and deftly took
out a big needle with a linen thread and worked at the bowlshaped orange peel
She linked the opposite corners in such a way as to make a small basket which
she hung on a thin bamboo stick She then took the stub of a candle from the
windowsill placed it in the orange peel basket and lit it. When she had done
all this she handed the lamp to me saying It's dark now and the road is
slippery Let this little orange lamp light the way for you up the mountain

  I accepted the lamp with admiration and thanked her She came out to see me
off I did not know what to say Again as if to console me she spoke Dad will
soon come back Then Mum will be well She drew a circle in the air with her
small hand and then pressed it on mine and said Then we will all be well
Obviously her all included me

  Holding this ingeniously made little lamp I walked slowly up the dark wet
mountain path In truth the dim orange light could not reach very far However
the little girl's calmness and courage and her optimism made me feel as though
the way in front of me was boundlessly illuminated

  My friend had come back Seeing me with the little orange lamp she asked me
where I had been I told her I've been to Wang Chunlin's She was astonished
Wang Chunlin the carpenter How did you come to know him Some students from the
medical college down at the foot of the mountain were arrested last year Later
Wang Chunlin disappeared it was said that he had often  carried messages for
those students

  I left the mountain village that night and have not heard of the little girl
and her mother since

  But I recall the little orange lamp every Chinese New Year Twelve years have
passed Her father must have come back long ago and her mother got well For we
are all well now