On that particular evening, Weichuang was holding festivities in honor of its gods and, as was the custom, a dramatic performance was being offered. Near the stage were the customary and numerous gambling tables. The racket of the gongs of the play seemed to be ten Chinese miles away from Ah Q's ears; the one thing he heard was the the singing voice of the lid-lifting stake holder. Ah Q kept winning; coppers turned into silver coin, coin into dollars, and dollars into high stacks. Ravished with delight, he cried out:
"Two dollars on tien-men!"
He did not know how it came about or who had started the fray. Sounds of profanity, sounds of blows, sounds of shuffling feet; there was one grand mass of confusion, from which he crawled away, not seeing the gambling tables, not seeing the people. On several parts of his body, it seemed very much as if there were somewhat of a smarting sensation, as if he had received a few knocks and kicks. A few onlookers stared at him in astonishment. He felt as if something were missing; on arriving at T'uku Temple, he steadied himself and then discovered that his pile of dollars was nowhere to be seen! Since most of the people attending the festival were not Weichuangites, where was he to seek the culprits?
Ah, glittering pile of dollars! And it had been his . . . now nowhere to be seen! To console
