Really, it was this damn Dr. C whose third opinion actually fostered Madam X’s wicked bluster. He had sat on the roof for forty- nine or sixty-four days: did this mean that he must have talked with the gods or the heavens? Can it be proven? Only his wife verified what he had done, but she didn’t verify any communication between him and the gods, or that he had reached any high-level sexual joy. Rather, she verified that while he was on the roof, he had farted several times because of indigestion, and these farts had gone into her cooking pot. After Madam X had tugged at every passerby and announced her intention, all the elites suddenly became crazy and cursed Dr. C. fiercely, temporarily forgetting their upbringing and manners. They said it was this politician (that’s what they called C) who had put forward some dirty advocacy of high-level sexual joy and also had come up with some sort of popular song, thus abetting Madam X in her arrogance and caprice. In the past, these two publicly unknown cockroaches (for the moment, that’s how they decided to refer to X and Q) had never had this kind of courage. Because of C’s agitation, all of Five Spice Street’s ordinary people would become immodest and restless, just waiting to see. Immoral things would occur. If things turned out like this, how could we elites face society and how could we continue to hold the fucking meetings? Thinking of these questions with bitter hatred, the elites felt regret for the first time. When C climbed up to the roof like a centipede, no one had predicted this outcome. Everyone had watched with admiration from their small windows, as if entrusting him with all their responsibilities and obligations, and waited to enjoy the harvest he would bring. As he looked up at the firmament (in fact, he was calculating), we gasped unanimously in admiration, hoping that he would redeem our world, and redeem our souls as well. We also foolishly sang the popular song he used to trick us! What kind of ‘‘popular song’’ was it? It’s too shameful to hum even one word of it now. We really wished we could hide in a closet and not come out! Just think, even the elites behaved disgracefully. It was nauseating to remember. And what about the ordinary people? What about X and Q?
The time for firm measures has arrived, dear ones! We mustn’t hesitate any longer. We have to correct our position and take Mr. A’s viewpoint as our motto. Let’s learn it thoroughly. The meetings will continue. Everyone must gouge his selfishness from the deepest part of his soul, put the filthy thing on the table, and dissect it with a scalpel. There is a kernel in Dr. A’s lecture-his point about the masculine spirit. The reform he mentioned is significant; unlike just taking photographs, it contains a truly qualitative change. If we realize this change, we’ll reach a new realm. Our bodies will grow strong muscles, our mustaches will be thick and dark, our voices deep and stentorian. Our gestures will be vigorous and convincing. With such photographs on our walls, the world will change into a man’s world filled with masculine activities.
