5

granddad arrived in saltwater gap the following morning. he had set out before dawn on oneof our two black mules, and arrived just as the sun was climbing above the mountains. dejectionaccompanied him on his trip, because of an argument he’d had with grandma as he was leaving.

he ignored the kaleidoscope of gorgeous light on the black gaomi soil as the sun rose above themountains, and the crows as they soared into the sky on green wings. the mule, whippedmercilessly by the twisted end of the hempen reins, turned to glare at the man on its back,convinced that it was already moving about as fast as it could go. puddles of water from theautumn rains stood in the deep ruts left by passing wagons. granddad, his face livid, passivelyabsorbed the bumps and jolts of the mule beneath him. field voles hunting for breakfast scurriedto safety.

granddad was toasting the ageing uncle arhat in the distillery reception hall when he heard rifleand artillery fire from the northwest, and his heart nearly stopped. he rushed outside and lookedup and down the street, but when he saw that things seemed normal he went back inside tocontinue drinking with uncle arhat, who was still the distillery foreman. in 1929, the yeargranddad was reported murdered and grandma ran off, the hired hands rolled up their beddingand set out to find work; but uncle arhat stayed behind, like a loyal watchdog, to guard thefamily property, convinced that the dark night was nearly over and that a new dawn would soonbe breaking. he maintained his vigil until granddad cheated death, escaped from prison, and wasreconciled with grandma. with father in her arms, she followed him from saltwater gap backhome, where they knocked at the cheerless front gate and roused uncle arhat, who, like a livingghost, rushed out of the shed where he’d set up housekeeping. the moment he spotted his masterand mistress, he threw himself to the ground, hot tears streaking his leathery old face. he wassuch a decent, devoted man that granddad and grandma treated him like their own father, givinghim a free hand in all distillery-related matters, including expenses, no matter how high they ran;they never once questioned him.

the sun was high in the southeast sky when more bursts of rifle fire erupted, and granddadknew it was coming from somewhere near saltwater gap, perhaps from the village itself.

anxious and impatient, he went to get the mule to set out right away, but uncle arhat urged himto wait. uncle arhat made sense, but granddad was too restless to stay put, walking in and out ofthe building as he waited for news from the hired hand uncle arhat had sent to investigate. justbefore noon, the breathless man returned, sweaty-faced and mud-spattered, to report that thejapanese had surrounded saltwater gap at daybreak and that it was impossible to know what wasgoing on there. he’d hidden in a clump of reeds some three li away, where he’d heard demoniccries and wolfish howls and seen thick columns of smoke rising from the village. after the manleft, granddad poured some wine, tipped back his head, and drained the cup, then ran to get hispistol, which he had hidden in a hole in the double-layer wall.

as he rushed outside, he bumped into seven or eight ragged, pale- faced refugees fromsaltwater gap, leading a popeyed, shedding old mule with two baskets slung over its back. atorn jacket with loose padding covered the one on the left; in the one on the right squatted a boyof about four. granddad examined the boy’s skinny neck, his enlarged head, his fleshy, fanlikeears, as he sat peacefully in the basket, not a care in the world, whittling a white willow switchwith a nicked knife so rusty it had turned red. wooden curlicues flew from the basket. granddadasked his parents about the situation in the village, never taking his eyes off the child, particularlyhis large ears, which symbolised good luck, longevity, and great fortune.

the adults vied with one another to describe the actions of the japanese soldiers in theirvillage. they had managed to escape because their son, who had started bawling the previousafternoon, demanded to be taken to visit his maternal grandma. no threats or promises could gethim to change his mind, and they finally gave in and, early the next morning, readied their mule.

when the first shots were fired, they were one step ahead of the japanese, who put the villageunder siege. granddad asked about second grandma and my little auntie xiangguan, but theyshook their heads and fidgeted, anxious looks on their faces.

the boy in the basket lowered his busy hands to his belly, raised his head, and said weakly, hiseyes closed, ‘why aren’t we moving? waiting to be killed?’ his parents froze for a moment,perhaps pondering the prophetic possibilities of what he’d said, then awoke to the reality of theirsituation. the mother looked numbly at granddad as the father slapped the mule’s rump, and thesquad of refugees skittered off down the road. granddad watched their retreating backs,especially the boy with the big droopy ears. his premonition would prove accurate, for twentyyears later the little bastard would become a demonic zealot in this sinful spot known asnortheast gaomi township.

granddad ran to the western wing, where he opened the hole in the double-layer wall to get hispistol. it was gone, but he could see the outline of the spot where it had lain. something funnywas going on here. he turned, and there stood grandma, a contemptuous grin on her face. thineyebrows curved downward on her dark, gloomy face. granddad glared at her and demanded,‘where’s my pistol?’

her upper lip switched as two blasts of cold air snorted from her nostrils. with a finaldisdainful look she turned, picked up a feather duster, and began dusting the kang.

‘where’s my pistol?’ granddad thundered.

‘how the hell should i know?’ she retorted, mercilessly beating the poor bedding.

‘give me my pistol,’ granddad said, trying to keep his anxieties under control. ‘the japanesehave surrounded saltwater gap,’ he said in a low voice. ‘i have to see how they are.’

grandma spun around angrily and said, ‘then go! it’s none of my damned business!’

‘give me my pistol.’

‘how should i know where it is? don’t ask me.’

granddad pressed up close. ‘you stole my pistol and gave it to black eye, didn’t you?’

‘that’s right, i gave it to him! and that’s not all. i slept with him, and i loved it! it waswonderful! one hell of a time!’

granddad’s mouth split into a grin and he uttered a single ‘ah!’ as he clenched his fist and hither squarely in her nose, from which dark blood spurted. she shrieked and crumpled to the floorlike a toppled column. as she struggled to her feet, he drove his fist into her neck. the secondpunch, a real powerhouse, sent her flying into a chest against the wall.

‘slut! filthy bitch!’ granddad lashed out through clenched teeth. bad blood stored up over theyears coursed through his veins like a poison. he was thinking back to the untold shame of beingknocked down by black eye, and to how often he’d imagined grandma lying beneath the wolfishman, moaning and panting and crying out shamelessly; with his guts writhing like snakes, and hisbody as hot as the midsummer sun, he grabbed the date-wood bolt from the door and took aim atgrandma’s blood-smeared head as she tried to get to her feet, vital and tenacious as ever.

‘dad!’ father ran in screaming, grabbed the door bolt, and held on for dear life. his shoutsaved grandma’s life for sure. so instead of dying at the hands of granddad, she would one daydie from a japanese bullet, and her death would be as glorious and as brilliant as ripened redsorghum.

grandma crawled over to granddad, wrapping her arms around his knees and rubbing hismuscular legs. she raised her gloomy face, soaked with tears and blood, and said, ‘zhan’ao –zhan’ao – elder brother – dearest eldest brother, kill me, go ahead and kill me! you can’timagine how it hurts to see you go, you’ll never know how badly i want you to stay. with all thejapanese out there, i fear you’ll never come back. no matter how great you may be, it’s just youand your gun, and even a tiger is no match for a pack of wolves. it’s that little bitch’s doing, it’sall her fault. you were never out of my mind when i was with black eye, and i won’t let you goto your death! i can’t live without you. besides, my ten days aren’t up yet, not till tomorrow.

she’s robbed me of half of you.?.?.?. all right, go if you have to.?.?.?. she can have one of mydays.?.?.?. i hid your beloved pistol and thirty-one bullets in the rice vat.?.?.?.’

with her face buried in his legs, he was filled with remorse, especially since father waslurking fearfully behind the door. despising himself for being so brutal, he bent down, lifted upgrandma, who was nearly unconscious, and carried her over to the kang. he decided not to go tosaltwater gap until first thing the next morning. let heaven watch over mother and daughter andkeep them from harm!

granddad rode his mule from the village to saltwater gap, a distance of only fifteen li,although it seemed like miles. even though the black mule ran like the wind, it wasn’t fastenough for granddad, who whipped it mercilessly with the hempen reins. clods of earth flew inall directions behind the mule’s hooves, a thin layer of dust hung in the air above the fields, andthe sky was filled with rivers of meandering black clouds; a peculiar odour drifted over on thewind from saltwater gap.

oblivious to the sprawling bodies, human and animal, granddad went straight to secondgrandma’s and rushed into the yard, his heart sinking as he saw the broken gate and smelled thestench of blood. he despaired when he saw the bedroom door, barely hanging on its hinges.

second grandma lay on the kang in the same position she’d assumed when offering up her bodyto protect little auntie.?.?.?. xiangguan was sprawled on the dirt floor in front of the kang, herface puddled in her own blood, her mouth open in a silent scream.

granddad let out a roar, drew his pistol, and stumbled to the still-panting black mule, which hesmacked on the rump with his pistol, wanting to fly to the county town to avenge the murders onthe japanese. he didn’t realise he’d taken the wrong road until he became aware of a patch ofwithered yellow reeds standing silently and solemnly in the morning sunlight. as he swung themule around and headed off to town, he heard shouts behind him, but he kept beating the mulewildly without a backward glance. with each blow, the mule bucked, but the more it protestedthe angrier granddad became. he was taking his fury out on the poor animal, which bucked andtwisted so violently it finally threw its rider into last year’s sorghum.

granddad climbed to his feet like a wounded beast and aimed his pistol at the narrow head ofthe lathered mule, which stood rigidly, its head lowered and its rump covered by goose-egg-sizedlumps and streaks of dark blood. granddad levelled the gun with his shaky hand. just then ourother mule came flying down the road out of the red sunrise, uncle arhat on its back. its hideshone as though covered with a coat of gold dust.

uncle arhat, exhausted, jumped down off the mule and took a couple of tottering steps beforenearly collapsing. placing himself between granddad and the black mule, he reached out andforced down the hand holding the pistol. ‘zhan’ao,’ he said, ‘come to your senses!’

as he looked into the face of uncle arhat, granddad’s seething anger turned into simmeringsorrow, and tears slid down his face. ‘uncle,’ granddad said hoarsely, ‘both of them, mother anddaughter?.?.?. it’s horrible.?.?.?.’

overcome by grief, he squatted on the ground. uncle arhat helped him up and said, ‘manageryu, a noble man can wait a decade to seek revenge. you should be back there taking care ofarrangements so the dead can rest in peace.’

second grandma wasn’t dead. she gazed into the staring eyes of granddad and uncle arhat asthey stood beside her kang. seeing her thick, heavy lashes, her dimming eyes, bloody nose,gnawed cheeks, and swollen lips made granddad’s heart feel as though it had been cleaved by aknife, the searing pain mixed with an agitation he couldn’t drive away. droplets of water beganto ooze from the corners of her eyes, and her lips trembled slightly as she uttered a weak cry:

‘elder brother?.?.?.’

‘passion?.?.?.’ granddad groaned.

uncle arhat backed silently out of the room.

granddad leaned over the kang and dressed second grandma, who cried out when his handbrushed against her skin; she began to rant, just as she had years earlier when possessed by theweasel. he pinned her arms down to keep her from struggling, then slid her pants up over herdead, soiled legs.

uncle arhat walked in. ‘manager yu, i’ll borrow a wagon from next door?.?.?. take mother anddaughter back to get better.?.?.?.’

he searched granddad’s face for a reaction. granddad nodded.

uncle arhat picked up two comforters and ran outside, where he spread them out on the bed ofthe big-wheeled wagon. granddad cradled second grandma, one arm under the nape of her neck,the other under the crook of her legs, as if she were a priceless treasure. he walked past thesmashed gate out into the street, where uncle arhat waited with the wagon. he had hitched oneof the mules to the wagon shafts; the poor mule whose rump granddad had beaten bloody wastied to the rear crossbar. granddad laid the now-screaming second grandma onto the bed of thewagon. he knew how badly she wanted to be strong, but he also knew she didn’t have the will.

now that he’d taken care of second grandma, he turned to see uncle arhat, his weatheredface streaked with an old man’s tears, walking up with the corpse of little auntie xiangguan.

granddad’s throat felt as if it were in the grip of a pair of metal tongs. he coughed violently,racked by dry heaves. gripping the axle to support himself, he looked skyward and saw in thesoutheast the enormous emerald fireball of the sun bearing down on him like a wildly spinningwagon wheel.

taking the body of little auntie in his arms, he looked down into a face twisted by torment;two stinging tears fell to the ground.

after laying little auntie’s corpse next to second grandma, he lifted a corner of the comforterand covered the girl’s terror-streaked face.

‘get up on the wagon, manager yu,’ uncle arhat said.

granddad sat impassively on the railing, his legs dangling over the side.

uncle arhat flicked the reins and started out slowly, the axles of the wagon turning withdifficulty. long-drawn-out groans emerged from the dry, oil-starved sandalwood, followed byloud creaks that sounded like death rattles as the wagon bumped and rolled out of the village andonto the road heading towards our village, from which the scent of sorghum wine rose into theair. although second grandma looked as if she had been rocked to sleep by the bumpy ride, hermisty grey eyes remained open. granddad put his finger under her nose to see if she wasbreathing. weak, but he could feel it; that put him at ease.

a vast open field all around, a wagon of suffering passing through, the sky above as boundlessas a dark ocean, black soil flat as far as the eye could see, sparse villages like islands adrift. as hesat on the wagon, granddad felt that everything in the world was a shade of green.

the shafts of the wagon were much too narrow for our big mule, the spoked wheels much toolight. its belly was squeezed so uncomfortably between the shafts that it wanted to start running;but uncle arhat controlled the metal bit in its mouth, so it could only nurse a silent grievance andraise its forelegs as high as possible, as though it were prancing. mumbled, sobbing cursestumbled from uncle arhat’s mouth: ‘fucking swine?.?.?. fucking inhuman swine?.?.?. slaughteredthe whole family next door, ripped open the daughter-in-law’s belly?.?.?. depraved?.?.?. unbornbaby looked like a skinned rat.?.?.?. potful of soupy yellow shit?.?.?. fucking swine?.?.?.’

the black mule tied to the back of the wagon plodded along behind, its head bowed, althoughit was impossible to tell whether the look on its long face was one of indignation, anger, shame,or capitulation.