of his fury and because he craved for vengeance, the words slipped out unconsciously.
The "bald pate" held a walking stick of yellow lacquer — what Ah Q termed the stick of wails — and advanced with great strides. Ah Q realized on the moment that he was in for a thrashing and stood with his whole body taut against the coming attack. He hunched up his shoulders and waited — and, in truth, there was a whacking sound, which seemed to be without a doubt dealt at his head.
"I meant him!" explained Ah Q, pointing to a small boy who was near at hand.
Biff, whack, whack!
In Ah Q's opinion, this should have been considered the second humiliation in his life; yet, fortunately after the beating, it seemed as if the matter had become a closed chapter for all time, and contrary to all expectation, he felt somewhat relaxed throughout his whole body. Added to this, the precious ability to forget, inherited from his ancestors, had come into effect. He therefore sauntered along slowly; by the time he had arrived at the door of the wine shop, he had early experienced a feeling of exhilaration.
But from the opposite direction came a small nun from the Temple of Quiet Self-Improvement. Even in ordinary times, Ah Q was sure to let out a mouthful of profanity whenever he set eyes on
