Lonely Old Li

"Watch out! Are you out of your mind—can't you smell these buckets?!"

Old Li was carrying two buckets of nightsoil past a narrow alley, almost brushing against a passerby.

"Ah, oh..." Old Li hastily apologized.

"Damn it, what bad luck! Of all days, New Year's Eve, I almost got splashed with shit by a mute bastard! Who am I even supposed to complain to?" Cursing, the young man turned and hurried away as if fleeing a plague.

"Such damn bad luck..."

Even after Old Li had walked a good distance away, the young man continued to vent his disgust.

Old Li merely nodded gently to express his apology. Whether the other person could see it or not, he hoisted his carrying pole and hurried on his way. It wasn't that he didn't want to apologize properly, but he was simply in too much of a rush—he still had four more outhouses to clear, and there was truly no time to waste on formalities.

The winter wind was biting. As he approached the second alley, Old Li quickly used the towel draped over his shoulder to wipe the sweat from his forehead, preventing it from suddenly streaming into his eyes and blurring his vision, which might have led to another unnecessary confrontation.

In truth, Old Li was not mute; he simply spoke very little, especially while working. Yet, during his working hours, who would ever want to speak to him anyway?

Having worked this trade for decades, Old Li had suffered a serious mishap only on his very first day. Ever since then, whenever he lifted his carrying pole, his lips seemed sealed shut, out of a deep-seated fear that exchanging words with others would distract him. A single distraction could easily lead to an irreversible accident with the loads on his shoulders.

Especially in winter, when the ground near the outhouses was prone to freezing, Old Li dared not slacken his vigilance for even a second.

His recent encounter with the young man had nearly become his second mishap.

Had Old Li been careless once again? Of course not.

The reason was that today was New Year's Eve, and his daughter, who lived far away, had said she was bringing her child to visit her grandfather.

Old Li's heart was filled with boundless joy. Ever since graduating from university, his daughter had stayed in the metropolis to work and later started a family. When she got married, she hadn't let Old Li come; when she subsequently got divorced, she hadn't let him come either. Now that his granddaughter was much older, it was finally time for them to return to their roots.

When his daughter married without inviting him, Old Li had accepted it readily. In truth, he hadn't wanted to go anyway, fearing he would bring shame upon her. Accustomed to spending his whole life in a small town, he had no desire to set foot in an unfamiliar place.

Above all, whenever Old Li watched the bustling metropolis on his family's old black-and-white television, a nameless dread would grip his heart. The buildings were so towering, the streets so wide, and there were countless cars moving at what seemed to him like lightning speed, packed densely together.

Because of this inexplicable fear, he had willingly accepted his daughter's decision to exclude him from her wedding.

However, when his daughter divorced, Old Li's resolve wavered. He desperately wanted to be by her side to comfort her. Yet that lingering dread held him back, and he dared not venture into the great city.

Thinking back to when his daughter was little, no matter how busy he was, whenever she felt wronged or sad, Old Li would drop his carrying pole and sit quietly by her side, offering nothing more than his silent presence.

If she shed tears, he would hand her a towel. When she finished crying, he would hand her a cup of warm water. Sometimes, when he was better off financially, Old Li would even pull out a lollipop.

His daughter would wrinkle her nose in disgust at the strange odor clinging to him, and unable to bear it, she would refuse.

Old Li did not blame her. In a line of work like his, it was inevitable that it would affect his family, so he harbored no resentment toward his daughter; instead, he often blamed himself for his incompetence.

It was said that Old Li had inherited this job from his father, who in turn had taken it over from his own father.

Funnily enough, back when the institutional reforms took place and children were no longer permitted to succeed their parents in government-backed positions, Old Li had managed to take over the role seamlessly—as if his job had never belonged to the official system at all.

Yet one should not underestimate Old Li's occupation. Without the official designation from the Urban Management Bureau, no one could simply step in and take it over. Of course, had there been any competition, Old Li would certainly never have inherited it from his father.

Right now, Old Li was torn between anxious haste and cautious care. His daughter had told him her train would arrive at eight o'clock in the evening, but it was already six-thirty, and four public restrooms remained unfinished.

Because it was the year-end, the influx of returning travelers was massive, causing the usage of public restrooms to multiply exponentially. His superiors had strictly instructed him to fulfill his duty without fail—a task comparable to the grueling rush hour of the Spring Festival travel season, leaving no room for negligence.

Having accepted the directive, Old Li was bound to accomplish his mission. Yet, as he looked at the heavy nightsoil cart, a sense of despair crept over him.

What should he do? Should he go and welcome his daughter and the granddaughter he had never met, or should he stay and ensure the daily convenience of all the returning townspeople?

Old Li hesitated. Living alone as he usually did, he invariably placed work above all else. Although many looked down upon his profession, without him, one of life's most urgent necessities would instantly become a major crisis!

Yet here were the beloved family members he had yearned for day and night!

Old Li wiped the corners of his eyes once more—it was unclear whether the moisture came from sweat or tears. Then, with a resolute shrug of his shoulders, he forced the load back into motion and continued his work.

Deep down in his heart, he hoped his daughter would one day be proud of him.