Lucky He Wore No Shoes

In an old wooden cabinet in the corner of a house, there was a pair of shoes.

The shoes were wrapped in a clean piece of cloth and set neatly on the highest shelf. It was the driest spot, where the cat could not jump up and dust seldom got in. The leather was still brand new, without a single scratch. The soles were still stiff, not worn down by even a hair. Anyone would think their owner had bought them yesterday.

But no. They had lain in that cabinet for many years.

They belonged to an old man who lived at the edge of the village. The neighbors called him the old miser. Nobody disliked him, though. He was gentle and greeted everyone cheerfully. He had just one small habit that made the whole neighborhood shake their heads and smile. He was strangely reluctant to use up anything he owned.

In the morning, the old man sat down to a plain meal. There was a bowl of rice, a plate of boiled greens and a little dish of fermented soybean sauce. He ate slowly, chewing well, picking up each stalk of greens as if he were counting them. In the cupboard there was still a pot of fragrant braised fish, saved for later. He only glanced at it, then put the cover back over the food. "Save it for tomorrow," he muttered. "Eat it all today and there will be nothing left for tomorrow." Then he nodded, pleased with his own reasoning.

On the wall beside the door hung a conical leaf hat. The hat was new and pretty too, with a chin strap made of real silk. But he hardly ever wore it. When the sun was hot, he put on his old hat, its brim frayed all the way around. The new hat hung there, flat and clean, waiting for a truly special occasion. That occasion never seemed to come. To him, a fine thing kept safe at home held all its worth. Once it was put to use, it began to wear away.

It was the same with the shoes in the cabinet. He treasured them. He treasured them so much that he never dared to wear them.

Then one day, the old man had business in the next village. It was a long way to go on foot. He opened the wooden door of the cabinet and gazed at the wrapped shoes for a long while. His hand reached out to touch them, then drew back.

If I wear shoes on the road, he thought, the stones and gravel will grind the soles. The dew and wind will beat against the leather, and before long they will be ruined. Better to go barefoot and be safe. Heaven gave me feet already. If they get a little scratch, I will not have to pay for new ones.

With that, he folded the cloth neatly, put the shoes back in their place and closed the cabinet with care. Then he rolled up his trousers and walked out of the gate barefoot. His heart felt light, because he had kept the shoes safe for one more day.

The road to the next village ran along the edges of the rice fields. The early sun spread gold across the water, and the breeze carried a faint smell of young rice. The old man walked at an easy pace. His bare feet pressed into the cool earth. Now and then he smiled to himself, thinking of the shoes resting quietly in the cabinet.

But a country road is not smooth everywhere. Before long, in the middle of the path, a stone stuck up out of the ground. It was gray and sharp, half buried in the dirt. The old man was busy gazing at the fields, his mind elsewhere. His foot came down wrong.

Thud.

His big toe struck the stone head on.

The old man stopped short, his face screwed up tight, and drew in a deep breath. The pain ran from the tip of his toe all the way up his spine. He bent down and held his foot. His big toe had already swollen up, throbbing sharply with every beat of his pulse. He dropped down onto the grass by the roadside and hissed with pain for a long while.

Just then, a farmer walked by with a hoe on his shoulder, on his way to the fields. Seeing the old man sitting there holding his foot, he stopped and asked with concern, "Oh, sir, that looks painful. A toe that swollen must hurt a lot. What a shame. If only you had worn your shoes, it would not have come to this."

The old man was still holding his foot. At the word shoes, he suddenly jerked his head up. His face, twisted with pain a moment before, relaxed completely. Then, quite unexpectedly, the old man smiled. It was a contented, relieved smile, as if he had just escaped a great disaster.

"Ah, but no," the old man replied. His voice still shook a little from the pain, but his eyes were shining. "I was lucky, very lucky. Lucky I did not wear my shoes today. If I had, this stone would not have hit my foot. It would have hit the toe of my shoe and torn it wide open, and that would break my heart. A sore foot heals in a few days. But if those shoes were torn, who knows when I could ever buy another pair."

The farmer stood there dumbfounded. The shoes were still sitting in the cabinet. The old man had not even brought them along. And yet they were the first thing he felt glad about, right after he had stubbed his toe on a stone so hard that it swelled.

The farmer burst out laughing. It was a kindly laugh, without a trace of scorn in it. He simply found the old man so funny, and a little sad too. When the old man saw the farmer laughing, he laughed too, still rubbing his swollen toe.

Then the old man pushed himself up with his hands and limped on to the next village. Every so often he winced with pain, but deep down he still felt he had just had a stroke of great luck. When he got home, the first thing he did was open the cabinet and unfold the cloth. He admired the shoes, still brand new, without a single scratch. He stroked the leather gently and nodded to himself. Then he wrapped them up carefully and put them back on the highest shelf, in the driest spot, exactly as before.

From then on, the villagers told and retold the story of the old man who stubbed his toe and was glad he wore no shoes. Every time it was told, everyone laughed again. It was a forgiving laugh, and nobody could ever bring themselves to be cross with the old man.

As for the shoes, they stayed right there in the old wooden cabinet in the corner of the house. They lay wrapped in their clean cloth, brand new, and not once had they touched the road.