The boy Ah Tzu, an orphan, approached Weng and tugged to assist him. The beggar’s rags tore away by the handful. A train of laden donkeys labored down the street. “Ho. Good man, you must get out of this,” shouted Ah Tzu, pulling. “The donkeys will shred your flesh from the bones. Come.” “Will you buy me for a father?” “Certainly. Now see if you cannot arise.” Ah Tzu pulled manfully, and the contrary old beggar moved his limbs in helping. The two staggered aside just in time to avoid being trampled. “Where shall we go—Father—where is your house?” asked Ah Tzu. “In the Street of The Place Where The Cow Lost Her Horn,” answered Weng Fu. “And don’t walk so fast, my son, else I shall beat you.”
The house of Weng Fu was luxurious in the extreme. A goat could have leapt through any one of a dozen holes in the walls. The roof was made of straw, so thin that the rain demon, Yu Shih, laughed at it, and the stars peered in nightly. There was no kang (bed-stove), no table. Chairs were lacking. For furniture it had a heap of bean straw in a corner, a dozen bricks in another corner, a cupboard on a wall—thus was the house of Weng Fu furnished.
Weng Fu sat upon the earthen floor and bade Ah Tzu do likewise. “My son,” said the beggar, “this is your future home—and excellent it is. This is your home—provided you prove worthy. But I warn you, I am hard to please. A son of mine must be as prompt as Ching Chi, as devoted as Wei Sheng, as brave as Meng Feu. Faithful and honest must my son be. You must ask no questions and do as I say. Otherwise, I shall beat you, and turn you out in the street. . . . Open the cupboard and bring me a bundle of straw.” Ah Tzu obeyed. His new father continued: “Braid this straw into a pair of sandals. Work swiftly and have them finished by the time I return. And give me what money you have so that I may purchase food.” Ah Tzu turned over his tiny bag of money. Then his fingers worked nimbly, braiding the straw.
Weng Fu returned in a very few minutes. His face was purple. His voice pitched high. “What? Ya shu (idle rascal). Are you not finished? Well, you shall get no dinner till you complete the sandals.” With that he put down a silver tray and began to eat. On the tray was roast duck. There was celery and tea-soaked eggs and rice and bean sprouts and brine-aged cabbage and almonds and garlic and many another dish of equal goodness. Weng Fu’s teeth clicked busily. Every few seconds he grunted his satisfaction. Ah Tzu braided straw.
The silver tray was emptied long before Ah Tzu completed his task. Finally, “Here, my father, are the sandals, and I hope they will be to your liking,” Weng Fu gazed. “They are not very well braided. But perhaps in time you will learn. Reach in the cupboard and get a bean cake for your dinner.” Ah Tzu searched in the cupboard and found a small, hard, dry bean cake. “Here, give me half of it,” ordered the queer father. “I am still hungry.” The old fellow took at least three-fourths of the cake—all but a portion that had been nibbled by mice. Then he put on his new sandals, took up the tray and departed. “Do not go out,” he admonished Ah Tzu. “Stay here and guard the house against thieves.” The door closed behind him. Just what a thief could have desired in that house would be hard to decide. Nevertheless, Ah Tzu stayed close at home, that night, and the following day, and the night that came after.
During the second night three men came to the door and tried to gain entrance, saying that they must have gold. Ah Tzu fanned about him so earnestly with a cudgel that all three were piled in a heap on the threshold. They went away limping and howling, one holding his hands to his pate, as if troubled with nao tai teng (as if troubled with head aching badly).
The next day saw Weng Fu’s return. He asked Ah Tzu many questions, and Ah Tzu answered them. But the boy showed no inquisitiveness about the large bandage round Weng Fu’s head, nor did he ask questions about Weng’s bundle. The beggar finally opened his bundle and from it took food. He shared the food with his son—and this time he himself ate little. This time Ah Tzu had sufficient.
When the meal was finished, the beggar again opened his bundle and disclosed garments such as very young babies wear. “Put on these garments, my son. They will make you look many years younger. And I, seeing my son so young, will feel the years drop from my shoulders and be again in the prime of my manhood—at least ten years younger.” Ah Tzu did as he was told. “Cha, Tieh tieh (Certainly, Papa).” On went the small garments. “Now, Ah Tzu, we’ll go for a walk. Here is a calabash for you to rattle.”
They went into the street. Ten steps and a crowd gathered. Such jeering. Such laughter. “Ho. Ho. Ho. Here is old back of the hands turned down (a beggar) and his infant son. What a pretty baby. Tieh tieh, has your baby cut his teeth?” Ah Tzu rattled his calabash and tried hard to keep from blushing. Weng Fu sauntered on in utter unconcern. When they reached Seven Thieves Market, all shopkeepers boarded up their stalls, thinking a mob had come to plunder.