‘‘On our street! Are you possessed? Why don’t you recognize it? Come, let’s sit on the curb and chat. Listen, everyone’s asleep. No one will disturb us. I guarantee I’ll give you first-hand information. You mustn’t believe other people; don’t believe anyone. They’re all making things up, that’s for sure. They want to toy with you. For example, the dark woman just now: do you think she’s still young? She’s sixty years old-ten years older than I am! She must have told you she’s only forty; that’s what she always tells people. She wears bright clothing to make herself look younger, figuring that she can fool the men. What a joke! How can anyone lack self-understanding and want to play an inappropriate role! Isn’t this crazy? There’s nothing more frightening, more tragic in life, than a person going crazy. When a good person goes crazy, she’s no longer worth anything. Yet, she isn’t aware of this; she gives attention only to playing the role of a clown. It’s macabre! When that crazy woman locked you up in her room, I smelled something wrong and watched out for you here. (I’ve always had a warm spot in my heart for you.) I did this just in case she tried to murder you in desperation when she couldn’t get what she wanted. You know, she could have done this, since there weren’t any eyewitnesses. I know this sort of person. I had to wait in the dark and protect your life. You know: a mixed-up woman can be much more dangerous than an ordinary gangster. She is capable of all kinds of brutal things. Just now, when I saw you leave there safely, a big load was taken off my shoulders. In the end, she didn’t do it to you! Just now I mentioned supplemental information. I tell you, what is the very most important thing to a stenographer? Sources. This is a vital issue, for it determines success or failure. A lot of people slip up here. If I want to find good material, the first thing I have to do is find a person who can supply such material. For instance, just now you almost made an irreparable mistake. In your confusion, you actually made inquiries of a mentally unbalanced sixty-year-old floozy. You fell into the trap she set for you and stayed in her room for one hour and twenty-five minutes. I wanted to rush over to warn you, but I couldn’t because when it happened, I was arguing with someone about whether we should insist on printing enlarged color photos in our blackboard newspaper. What material could that lunatic give you? If I hadn’t been secretly watching over you, any kind of tragedy might have occurred. People who give material to artists must be tough, wise, and experienced. Perhaps they’ve experienced the vicissitudes of life but haven’t been struck down by brutal realities: they have an innate ability to turn all the suffering into nourishment for life…’’
Old Woman Jin looked up at the vast night sky and seemed so intoxicated by her emotions that she forgot to go on talking. She was absorbed in humming a march. As she hummed, she beat out the rhythm by tapping her heels on the road.
After about ten minutes, the writer tugged at her sleeve and gently reminded her: ‘‘The material?’’
‘‘Right. This is of the first importance. You have to be strong- minded and sharp-sighted and be able to distinguish the true from the false with just one look, and then your work will evolve. Some people who used to have talent were unfortunately taken in by a certain pose and went astray. They worked hard for a lifetime but didn’t get anywhere. Lessons like this are widespread. We can’t keep these schemers from living in this world, nor can we annihilate them; we can only heighten our ability to discriminate, and prevent tragedy. Too bad there are so few people with sufficient life experience and wisdom. Otherwise, how many brilliant talents would they train?’’ Her attention wandered and she began humming the march again. She tapped
‘‘But you haven’t given me your material!’’
‘‘Bah! Men are always like this. Listen to him, never satisfied, bothering you all the time, as if you owed him something. A charming woman is doomed in this world. Once you weaken and do what they want, they’ll soon want more! Within five minutes, they start in on you again, just like the hungry ghosts. They make all kinds of requests and say that’s what you promised them. What did I promise? What can a woman do? She certainly can’t get anything from men; all she can do is give all she has to them, but it still isn’t enough. They want still more, still more.’’
‘‘I didn’t ask you for anything. I just mentioned the material…’’ ‘‘Just! As if this isn’t much trouble! In my lifetime, how many men have said ‘just once more’ to me? And after once more, they want another once more. It never ends. Don’t they have even a little self-control and spirit of sacrifice? No! They just seek their own satisfaction!’’
‘‘Then shall I go home?’
