President Shi then went and procured a muscle-rippling
qi gong
master to instill vital energy, the
qi
, in me. First, the master placed his left foot lightly on the floor and slightly bent his right knee. Then he stretched his left hand toward me and withdrew his right hand as he proceeded to rally his vital energy, the qi. It is common knowledge that this kind of
qi gong
performance can split rocks; even iron swords have been made to bend under the influence. How, then, can a tooth withstand its spell? It occurred to me that its potency would crush my jaw or even my head into smithereens. The thought made me shake in fear, and surprisingly my toothache disappeared. President Shi pointed to me shaking in bed and said to my dear wife, "See how
qi gong
works. See how the evil negative
qi
inside him is quivering under the potency of the positive
qi
!"
The words were barely out of his mouth when the
qi gong
master rolled his eyes fiercely and, calling up the
qi
from his own
dan tian
acu-point under the belly button, cried in a loud voice, "Open!"
I was soaked in sweat, but my toothache was gone. I ate a bowl of egg custard and slept peacefully.
From then on, my toothache stopped bothering me. I was very touched by the experience and went about singing the praises of folk medicine. Looking sideways, it was better than Western medicine. Looking backward, it was better than traditional Chinese medicine. Reporters for an evening paper interviewed me and wrote up my story, "Magic Cure in the Hands of the People," which was later included in the pages of the popular
After Eight Hours
magazine and
Reader's Digest
. Ironically, my toothache has boosted my reputation. An elderly expatriate Chinese living in Los Angeles read my story and wrote to me, saying that he was suffering from a toothache and thanks to my story has decided to return to the motherland in hopes that I will put him in touch with the magic folk cure. My experience with toothache has actually contributed to attracting China 's sons back to the bosom of the motherland! The Ministry for the United Front was interested and also came to make a note of the case.
Pretty soon President Shi moved away from our apartment building. It was said that he had moved into quarters commensurate with his elevated position and his contribution to the Tooth-ology Society. Two months later, news got out that Shi Xueya was arrested and his society dissolved. It was said that he was a fraud and that many people had been his dupes. This news had me completely rattled. I couldn't help reflecting back upon my relationship with ex-president Shi. Had I been currying favor with the president for the sake of my tooth? Had I fabricated the records in his favor? Was my gift offering of ginseng and deer-antler kidney-enhancement mixture a form of bribery? Had I, consciously or otherwise, contributed to inflating his false reputation? Now he was arrested, and that of course was proof that he was guilty. If he was a con man, then what am I, given our close association? What had been my motive in associating myself with him? Apart from the urgency of my toothache, was there something else lurking beneath my consciousness? What about the exhilaration at seeing my name in the evening paper? Look inward! Was it not vanity and self-seeking? The more I thought about it, the more my tooth hurt. Oh, the pain was killing me!
This last attack was not limited to teeth; my whole body was affected. My head was spinning, I had nausea, I ran a high fever, and I trembled from head to toe. All my colleagues came to commiserate. They deplored my dilatoriness resulting from a fear of tooth extraction and advised me not to trust to luck anymore and to seek out an oral surgeon without delay. The chairman of my department was full of admonishments. The first rule in life, he said, is to be honest. If your tooth aches, let it ache in an honest, down-to-earth way. Take it to a hospital honestly and get it pulled out honestly. All that dillydally-shilly-shallying was due to your fear of pain. Fear drives out honesty, and without honesty you'll get nowhere. Now without some pressure, he said, how can you expect to cure your toothache? The matter was insignificant but the philosophy behind it profound.
I was completely bowled over. I made haste to concur that the honest attitude is the scientific attitude and that without science there could be no oral hygiene. I conceded that this was the principle of two negatives negating each other but that however you negate, you can't do without science! The problem with me, I confided to my chairman, was not that I rejected science but that science had persisted in eluding me-in a word, I couldn't get registered in the clinic. With only one dental clinic in a city of over a million, those of us without back doors must begin lining up the night before to get a registration slip. But now that my wife and I were advanced in years, I said, we did not have the inspired energy to start lining up the night before, as I had done on my previous visit many years ago. Without that kind of inspired energy, one could not pull off a great performance; without the required kind of great performance, the registration slip could not be had; and without the registration slip, any kind of scientific treatment was beyond our grasp. On the other hand, I continued, those with back doors could sit at home comfortably without having to line up at all. All they needed to do was greet their elder maternal uncle or second paternal uncle or third paternal aunt at the hospital gate, and they could sail in and get the best treatment at the least expense… But why am I saying this?
Actually, I was not familiar with the registration policies of the dental clinic and had no more grudge against the clinic than anybody else. But being blamed for rejecting science, I got worked up in spite of myself and recited a litany of grievances, ending with a tragic flourish. It always boosts your self-esteem to blame others.
The chairman of my department then said that a new mayor had just been installed, a certain Mr. Zhu, who made much of intellectuals and had helped many scholars with particular grievances. He advised me to write a letter to this man. His word of support, my chairman argued, would materialize in action, and then getting into the hospital would be child's play. An example of "spirit converting itself into material results," he added.
I hesitated. But my colleagues were keen. They offered to write the letter for me, seeing that I was incapacitated by illness. The words flowed easily from their pen, and in no time at all the letter was read out to me. It described the pain of my toothache with passion and eloquence and exposed the pernicious backdoor practices with indignation. As I could not raise any objections to the contents I was asked to sign. Just as I was deliberating as to whether sending such a letter was advisable, my wife took out my seal and stamped it on the letter. So there it was, my own red seal staring back at me from the sheet of paper. My colleagues snatched up the letter and promised to put it into the yellow-capped fast-service mailbox with stamp and everything. Such comradeship! I felt funny around the tear glands.
The letter was sent, but I was still uneasy. Should I have disturbed the mayor over such a petty affair as my toothache? It seemed an inglorious, unconscionable thing to do. Just think, the city's population numbers one million, and every one of them has thirty-six teeth, making altogether thirty-six million teeth. Supposing all thirty-six million teeth were to go and bother the mayor- how could the man do his work? Perhaps this was a vestige of the Cultural Revolution, a resurgence of the rebel spirit. I felt ashamed.
The day after my letter was mailed, I received a missive from ex-president Shi Xueya. He told me he was safe and sound and that what had transpired was all a misunderstanding. I was welcome to look him up if I had trouble with my teeth. He also informed me that he was about to chair the governing board of the Society for the Treatment of Scabies and that they had received academic support in the form of fifteen thousand deutsche marks. He asked me whether I had trouble with hair loss or scalp itch and said that help would be available. I was so alarmed I kept putting up my hands to check my scalp several times a day.
The very next day, in confirmation of ex-president Shi's words, news of the founding of the Society for the Treatment of Scabies appeared on TV, showing a lot of local celebrities in attendance. Mr. Shi Xueya was the most active on the scene, beaming with recovered glory. It was said he was a real pioneering spirit.
The following day, I received an official letter from the dental clinic. The gist of it ran thus:
Your letter to Mayor Zhu has been relayed to us. Your criticism of backdoor practices in registration is correct in principle and basically grounded in facts. Considering that you fall within the category of intellectuals over fifty years of age who have made contributions to society and, having been approved by the mayor's office, it is now determined that you are eligible for Special Services and assigned to the care of Dr. Zi Wu-tong, physician-in-charge. Please be at the Hospital before eight o'clock on the 28th and proceed straight to Special Services, room 54. You need not register on arrival. You will be charged after the consultation. Hoping for our further co-operation, you are welcome to offer more criticism of our work. Our clinic is the Best Choice for toothache sufferers.
I was exhilarated. Such a good mayor, loving the people as his own children, as the saying goes. And such a good clinic! Such modesty! Such efficiency! Immediate results! Better than Tokyo! And such a good doctor assigned to me, even his name sounded reassuring: Zi-"high qualifications"-and Wutong-"no pain"! Such heaven-sent good tidings. I had neither killed nor had I coveted my neighbor's wife, and now all the virtues I'd stored up in a life well spent were being rewarded.
But I was also frightened. Now that I was really going to the dental clinic to deal with my tooth, I began to have doubts. Could I avoid having it pulled? Inspecting it in the mirror, I saw that it had nearly all rotted away. Things having come to this point, how could I still cling to the forlorn hope that the remains might still be preserved? Or even think of putting off the pulling? Or hope for pulling without pain? Dental clinic or heavenly haven, Dr. No Pain or Dr. Screaming Pain, how could you avoid injections of Novocain? How could you avoid pliers and pincers? Or blood? Or a big black hole? I had spent the energy of nine bulls and two tigers, as the saying goes, and for what if not to avoid the pain of tooth pulling? And then I had spent another round of energy of the same dimensions, and for what but to undergo the pain of the ultimate pulling? Now the case was closed. There could be no more procrastination. The best choice was already made. How could a tooth have led me to such absurdities?
I reckoned the time hour by hour until finally it was the night of the twenty-seventh. Then I reckoned the time minute by minute and didn't sleep a wink all night. My thoughts roamed over the sufferings that teeth bring into the life of man. Born without teeth, sprouting front teeth at eight months, a full mouth of baby teeth at two years of age, and then another set of teeth in early childhood- all his life, man's sufferings are linked to teeth. Keeping them is a trial, but losing them is worse. Sprouting them is a pain, but eliminating them is torture. Even after death, when one's remains are stuffed into the ash container, the poor injured and insulted teeth are often disturbed in their last rest. Why do humans have such sharp and durable teeth?
Time dragged on until morning arrived at long last. My wife fed me fried eggs. We looked at each other dejectedly. The wife said, "Fear not! Be firm and firmer still!"
The repetition of
firmness
nearly drew tears to my eyes. I said to my wife in the tragic tones of a last parting, "I am on my way. Take care of yourself!"
How sublime! I had finally overcome the psychological obstacles, conquered the fear of pulling, the fear of pain. With head held high and swinging steps, I marched into the dental clinic; I swept past the gatekeeper with the dignity of a man about to meet his maker, stepped into Special Services, room 54, and stood before the nurse-I was a new man.
"Have you come for your teeth?" The smiling nurse flashed her teeth at me. I tried to smile back, with my hand on my aching, swollen jaw.
I explained my business and showed her the official letter. The nurse spread out her hands: "How unlucky. Dr. Zi Wutong had a stroke last night and is now in the emergency ward. The other doctors are not informed about your case. You know, of course, that our consultations are all planned beforehand. Please go home. You jnay leave the letter here; I'll make some inquiries, and let you know later…"
Was this possible? Treating me like dirt! But…
I made my way out of the hospital; I fought my way onto the bus, and after riding three stops, it suddenly occurred to me that my tooth was spared that particular day, that I need not go through that excruciating pain. It was not my fault; I had done all I could, but it was just not in the stars that I should have my tooth pulled on that day. What could I do? The tooth was willing, but the pulling was put off. What can it be but the will of heaven?
I was so overjoyed my bad tooth had even stopped hurting. Marvelous it was that although my tooth was not pulled out, I was just as gratified as if it were-actually, even more so. From the Taoist viewpoint of Laozi and Zhuangzi, pulling was not pulling, not pulling was pulling. From the Buddhist viewpoint, the tooth was the sorrow, the great sorrow was suffering, suffering was boundless; but turn back your steps, and salvation was at hand. From the Freudian viewpoint, pulling out the tooth was release. From the Keynesian viewpoint, pulling out the tooth was a process of value accumulation. From the Sartrean viewpoint, the aching tooth was the externalization of the essence. From the viewpoint of systems, pulling the tooth was system engineering. From the Nietz-schean viewpoint, a toothache was the proof of degradation and misfortune, was the pain of you not feeling my pain, the proof of the isolation of misunderstood greatness, proof that the culture of teeth was more unbearable than the aching tooth…