Big Breasts & Wide Hips

mind taking our picture?” Infected by her vitality, Jintong forgot for the moment his current situation, shrugged his shoulders, and made a face the way he’d seen foreigners do in the movies. He was quite convincing. Taking the camera from her and watching as she showed him which button to push, he said Okay, followed by a few comments in Russian. That produced the desired effect; the girl stared at him with obvious interest, before turning and running over to the monuments, where she leaned on her friends’ shoulders. He looked into the viewer like an executioner, cutting all the girl’s friends out of the shot and zeroing in on her. Click. He pressed the button. “Okay,” he said. A moment later he was standing alone in front of the monuments, watching the youngsters as they walked off. An aura of youth lingered in the air, and he breathed in it greedily. He had a bitter taste in his mouth, as if he’d just eaten an overripe persimmon, a stiff tongue, and a bellyful of disapproval.

Resting his hand on the monument, he was hopelessly mired in fanciful thoughts, and if his nephew’s wife, Geng Lianlian, hadn’t come to his rescue, he might have withered right there on the marble monument like a dead bird. She rode up from town on a green sidecar motorcycle. Jintong had no idea why she stopped by the monuments, but he gazed appreciatively at her lovely figure. “Are you my uncle, Shangguan Jintong?” she asked.

He blushed in acknowledgment.

“I’m Geng Lianlian, the wife of Parrot Han,” she said. “I know he’s had nothing but terrible things to say about me, as if I were some kind of female tiger.”

Jintong nodded ambiguously.

“I hear Old Jin showed you the door,” she said. “That’s no big deal, since I’ve come to hire you for our Eastern Bird Sanctuary. I’m sure you’ll be satisfied with your duties, salary, and benefits, so you needn’t even ask.”

“I’m worthless, I can’t do anything.”

She smiled. “We’ll give you something you can do,” she said, taking him by the hand before he could respond with more self-deprecating comments. “Come with me,” she said. “I’ve spent a good part of the day running all over town looking for you.”

She seated Jintong in the sidecar along with a giant macaw tethered by a chain. It gave him a mean look and screeched. Lianlian reached over and tapped the bird before undoing the chain. “Old Yellow,” she said, “fly back and notify the manager that Uncle’s on his way.”

The bird hopped awkwardly onto the edge of the sidecar and from there down to the sandy ground. Like a child learning to walk, it stumbled forward a few paces, spread its stiff wings, and rose into the air. After climbing thirty or forty feet, it wheeled and buzzed the motorcycle. “Old Yellow,” Lianlian said, looking up at the circling bird, “go on now. No more funny stuff. I’ll give you some pistachios when I get home.” With a cry of delight, the parrot skimmed the treetops and flew off to the south.

Lianlian stepped down on the starter, then climbed onto the motorcycle, twisted the handlebar, and careened off down the street, the wind billowing her hair – his too. They sped down a newly paved road, quickly reaching a marshy area, where the Eastern Bird Sanctuary occupied a fenced-in area of at least two hundred acres. The garish entrance gate, which looked like a memorial arch, was guarded by two watchmen with Sam Browne belts across their chests and toy pistols on their hips. They saluted Lianlian as she drove past.

Just inside the gate was a man-made mountain of stones from Taihu, fronted by a pond with a fountain that was surrounded by cranes that looked real, but weren’t. The macaw that had flown back ahead of them was resting alongside the pond. When it saw Lianlian, it fell in behind her, hopping awkwardly.

Parrot Han, made up like a circus clown and wearing white gloves, ran out from a little building with beaded curtains over the door. “Well, Uncle, we finally got you to come. I always said that as soon as things picked up around here I’d start paying back my debts.” He waved a glittering silver baton as he spoke. “Heaven and earth may be vast, but not as vast as Grandma’s kindness. And so, the first debt I owe is to her. Sending her a sack filled with meat wouldn’t please her, nor would the gift of a gold cane. Finding work for her son, on the other hand, would please her no end.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Lianlian said, like a supervisor speaking to a subordinate. “Have you got the mynah bird trained? You swore you could do it.”

“Don’t you worry, my dear wife!” Parrot acted the part of a clown, bowing deeply. “It’ll be able to sing ten songs, you’ve got my word on that.”

“Uncle,” Lianlian said turning back to Jintong, “we can talk about your new job, but first let me show you around.”

As the new director of public relations for the Eastern Bird Sanctuary, Jintong was sent by Lianlian to a spa for ten days, where he was tended to by a Thai masseuse. Then he went to a beauty salon for ten facials. He emerged totally rejuvenated, a new man. Lianlian spared no expense, dressing him in the latest fashions, drenching him in Chanel cologne, and assigning a young woman to attend to his daily needs. All these extravagances made Jintong uneasy. Rather than give him any concrete job, Lianlian concentrated on filling his head with bird knowledge and taking him through blueprints for the sanctuary expansion plans. By the time they finished, he was convinced that the future of the Eastern Bird Sanctuary was in fact the future of the city of Dalan.

One night, when all was quiet, sleep eluded Jintong as he tossed and turned on his springy Simmons mattress. As he took stock of his life up that point, he realized that the life he was enjoying at the bird sanctuary was nothing short of a miracle. Exactly what does this small-headed woman have in mind for me? Rubbing his chest and underarms, now nicely fleshed out, he finally fell asleep, and almost immediately dreamed that peacock feathers had grown on his body. Fanning his tail feathers, like a gorgeous wall, he saw thousands of little dancing spots. All of a sudden, Geng Lianlian and several mean-looking women came up and began pulling out the tail feathers to give as gifts to rich and powerful friends. He complained to them in peacock-talk. Uncle, Lianlian said, if you won’t let me pluck your feathers, what good are you to me? She grabbed a handful of his colorful tail feathers and pulled – Jintong shrieked, and woke himself up. His face was covered with a cold sweat, and he immediately noticed a dull pain in his rear. There was no more sleep for him that night. As he listened to birds fighting off in the marshland, he reflected upon his dream, trying to analyze just what it meant, a trick he’d learned back in the labor reform camp.

The next morning, Lianlian invited him to breakfast in her office. Sharing this honor was her husband, the master bird trainer, Parrot Han. The moment Jintong stepped through the door he was greeted by a “Good morning” from a black mynah on a golden perch. The bird ruffled its feather as it “spoke,” and he wondered if his ears had deceived him. He walked around to see if he could find the source of the sound. “Shangguan Jintong,” the mynah bird said. “Shangguan Jintong.” The bird’s greeting shocked and elated him. He nodded in its direction. “Good morning,” he said. “What’s your name?” The bird ruffled its feathers and said, “Bastard! Bastard!” “Did you hear that, Parrot?” Lianlian said. “This is what you’ve been teaching your little pet!” Parrot slapped the mynah. “Bastard!” he cursed. “Bastard!” the dizzy mynah echoed him. “Bastard!” Obviously embarrassed, Parrot turned to Lianlian. “Damn,” he said, “have you ever seen the likes of this bird? It’s like a little child. You can try to teach him proper language till you’re blue in the face, but it’s no use. Then say a bad word, and he picks it up at once.”

Lianlian treated Jintong to some fresh milk and a partially cooked ostrich egg. She had the appetite of a bird, while Jintong had the appetite of a pig. She drank a cup of wonderfully fragrant Nestle’s coffee. “Uncle,” she said, “an army trains for a thousand days to fight for one. The time has come for you to display your skills.”

Jintong gulped in surprise, which led to a series of hiccups. “Urn,” he stammered, “what can, what can I do…”

Noticeably disgusted by the hiccups, she fixed her callous gray eyes on his mouth. Because of the callousness, her normally tender eyes were suddenly unbelievably intimidating, reminding him of her mother and of those marshland snakes that could swallow a wild goose. That thought cured his hiccups.

“You can do lots of things!” Rays of tenderness shot from her gray eyes, returning them to their enchanted beauty. “Uncle,” she said, “do you know the one thing needed for us to turn our plans into reality? Of course you do, it’s money. The sauna resort cost money. The big-breasted Thai masseuse cost money. Do you know how much that ostrich egg you just ate cost?” She held out five fingers. “Fifty? Five hundred? Five thousand! Everything we do costs money, and for the Eastern Bird Sanctuary to prosper, we need a lot of it. Not eighty or a hundred thousand, and not two or three hundred thousand, but millions, tens of millions! And for that we need the support of the government. We need bank loans, and the government owns the banks. The bank managers do the mayor’s bidding, and who does the mayor listen to?”

She smiled, looked at Jintong, and answered her own question.

“You, that’s who!” More hiccups.