Big Breasts & Wide Hips

find something to cover her nakedness, the pool of blood she lay in made that impossible. The intermittent rumble of explosions from the edge of the village came on the air, punctuated by a mysterious yet somehow familiar clamor, like the magnified noise made by a horde of tiny crawling critters, or the gnashing of countless teeth… I’ve heard that sound before, but what is it? She thought and she thought. Then a flash of recognition quickly transformed itself into a bright light that brought into focus the plague of locusts she’d witnessed a decade or more earlier. The red swarms had blocked out the sun; it was a raging flood of insects that stripped every tree bare, even the bark of willows. The sickening gnawing sound ate its way into the marrow of her bones. The locusts have returned! she thought to her horror, as she sank into the mire of despair. “Heavenly Master, just let me die, I can’t take it anymore… God in Heaven, Blessed Virgin! Send down your grace and bounty to save my soul…” she prayed hopefully even in the throes of despair, sending prayers both to China’s supreme deity and to the paramount god of the West. When she had finished, her mental anguish and physical agonies had lessened a bit, and she thought back to that late spring day when she and the redheaded, blue-eyed Pastor Malory had lain in the grass, and he had told her that China’s Heavenly Master and the West’s God were one and the same, like the two sides of your hand, or just as the lianhua and hehua are both lotus flowers. Or, she thought bashfully, like a cock and a dick are the same thing. He stood amid the locust trees, as spring was giving way to summer, that thing of his standing up proudly… the surrounding trees in full bloom with white flowers, and red flowers, and yellow flowers, a rainbow of colors dancing in the air, their rich fragrance thoroughly intoxicating her. She felt herself rise in the air, like a cloud, like a feather. With gratitude filling her breast, she gazed at the somber and sacred, friendly and kindly smile on Pastor Malory’s face, and her eyes filled with tears.

When she closed her eyes, the tears spilled into the creases all the way to her ears. The door was pushed open, and her mother-in-law said meekly, “Laidi’s mother, what’s wrong? You must hold out, child. Our donkey’s had a lively little mule. Now, if you have this baby, the Shangguan family can be content at last. You might be able to hide the truth from your parents, but not from a doctor. Since it doesn’t matter whether a midwife is male or female, I’ve asked Third Master Fan to come over…”

The rare note of tenderness moved her. Opening her eyes, she looked up into the golden aura of the older woman’s face and nodded weakly. Her mother-in-law turned and summoned Fan Three. “You can come in now.”

He entered with a long face, trying hard to look dignified. But he averted his eyes, as if he’d seen something so terrifying it drained the blood from his cheeks. “Elder sister-in-law,” he said softly as he backed to the door, his gaze resting fearfully on the body of Shangguan Lu, “raise your merciful hand and spare me. Threaten to kill me if you want, but I cannot do what you ask.” He turned and ran out the door, only to bump into Shangguan Shouxi, who was craning his neck to see what was going on inside. With disgust, Shangguan Lu noted her husband’s gaunt, pointy face, looking more like a rat than ever, as her mother-in-law ran out on the heels of Fan Three.

“Fan Three, you fucking dog!”

When her husband stuck his head in the door a second time, she mustered the strength to raise an arm to signal him and say icily – she couldn’t be sure if the words actually emerged from her mouth: “Come over here, you son of a bitch!” By this time, she’d forgotten her hatred and enmity toward her husband. Why take it out on him? He may be a son of a bitch, but it’s my mother-in-law who’s the bitch, an old bitch…

“Are you talking to me?” Shangguan Shouxi asked from where he stood beside the kang, looking out the window in embarrassment. “What do you want?” She gazed up sympathetically at this man with whom she’d lived for twenty-one years, and felt pangs of remorse. A sea of locust blossoms rippled in the wind… in a voice as thin as a single hair, she said:

“This child… it’s not yours…”

In tears, Shangguan Shouxi said, “Mother of my children… don’t die on me… I’ll go get Aunty Sun…”

“No…” She looked into her husband’s eyes and implored him, “Go beg Pastor Malory to come…”

Out in the yard, Shangguan Lu, sensing a pain worse than having her skin flayed, took an oilpaper bundle from her pocket and peeled it back to reveal a shiny silver dollar; she clutched it tightly as the corners of her mouth curled in a grimace and her eyes glowed red. The sun shone down on her gray head; black smoke drifted over in the hot air. She heard a loud disturbance to the north, near the Flood Dragon River; bullets whistled through the air. “Fan Three,” she sobbed, “can you just stand by and watch someone die? ‘There is nothing more poisonous than a hornet’s sting and nothing more ruthless than a physician’s heart.’ They say ‘money can make the devil turn a millstone.’ Well, this silver dollar has rested against my skin for twenty years, but it’s yours in return for my daughter-in-law’s life.”

She laid the silver dollar in Fan Three’s hand, but he flung it to the ground, as if it were a piece of hot metal. A film of sweat covered his oily face, and his cheeks twitched so violently they distorted his features. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he shouted, “Elder sister-in-law, please let me go… I’ll get down on my knees and bang my head against the ground for you…”

He had nearly reached the gate when Shangguan Fulu, stripped to the waist, came barging through. He was wearing only one shoe, and his bare, scrawny chest was smeared with something green, like axle grease, like a gaping, festering wound. “Where have you been, you walking corpse?” Shangguan Lu cursed angrily.

“Elder brother, what’s going on out there?” Fan Three asked anxiously. Ignoring both the curse and the question, Shangguan Fulu stood there with an idiotic smile on his face, a string of duh-duh- duhs streaming from his mouth, like chickens pecking the bottom of an earthenware dish.

Shangguan Lu grabbed her husband by the chin and shook him hard, wrenched his mouth up one minute and down the next, stretching it horizontally and then vertically. A dribble of saliva emerged from one corner. He coughed, then spat up, and finally settled down. “What’s going on out there” He looked at his wife with deep sorrow.

As his mouth twisted, he sobbed. “The Japanese horse soldiers have reached the river…”

The dull thuds of approaching horse hooves froze them in their tracks. A flock of magpies with white tail feathers flew overhead, their cries settling over the compound. Then the stained glass in the church steeple shattered noiselessly, splintered glass glinting in the sunlight. But immediately after the glass began flying, the crisp sound of an explosion engulfed the steeple, sending dull sound waves like the rumble of iron wheels spreading in all directions. A powerful wave of heat toppled Fan Three and Shangguan Fulu like harvested wheat. It sent Shangguan Lu reeling backward into the wall. A black earthenware chimney with ornamental carvings rolled off the roof and landed on the brick path in front of her, where, with a loud crash, it crumbled into pieces.

Shangguan Shouxi ran out of the house. “Mother,” he sobbed, “she’s dying, she’s going to die. Go get Aunty Sun…”

She glared at her son. “If it’s your time to die, then you die. If it isn’t, you don’t. Nothing can change that.”

Listening but not quite grasping her meaning, the three men looked at her with tears in their eyes. “Fan Three,” she said, “do you have any more of that secret potion that speeds the delivery process? If you do, give a bottle to my daughter-in-law. If not, then to hell with it, and with you.” Without waiting for his answer, she tottered in the direction of the gate, head high, chest thrown out, not looking at any of them.

9

On the morning of the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, 1939, in the largest village of Northeast Gaomi Township, Shangguan Lu led her mortal enemy, Aunty Sun, into her house, ignoring the bullets whizzing overhead, to help deliver her daughter-in-law’s baby. At the very moment they walked through the door, out on the open field near the bridgehead, Japanese horse soldiers were trampling the corpses of guerrilla fighters.

Shangguan Fulu and his son were milling in the yard with the horse doctor, Fan Three, who proudly held up a bottle filled with a viscous green liquid. The three men had been in the same spot when Shangguan Lu left to find Aunty Sun, but were now joined by the redheaded Pastor Malory. Wearing a loose Chinese robe, with a heavy brass crucifix around his neck, he was standing beneath Shangguan Lu’s window, head up, facing the morning sun, as he intoned a prayer in the local dialect: “Dear Jesus, Lord in Heaven. Merciful God, reach out to touch the heads of me, Your devoted servant, and the friends gathered here, give us the strength and the courage to face this challenge. Let the woman inside safely deliver her infant, give the goat plenty of milk and the laying hens plenty of eggs, throw a sheet of black before the eyes of the evil invaders, let their bullets jam in their weapons, and let their horses lose