Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

him.

“I guess we ought to give your son what he wants, don’t you think…”

As his tears flowed freely, he parted the hair he was holding, like a man walking through the hanging branches of a weeping willow, not stopping until he’d reached his destination. Huzhu knelt on the bed to await his arrival.

The scene was replayed several dozen times, until my friend said he would like to make love facing her. She replied in a voice devoid of feeling:

“No, this is how dogs do it.”

56

Monkey Show in the Square

Shortly after the first day of 2000, two humans and one monkey appeared in the square in front of the Gaomi train station. I’m sure, dear reader, that you have already guessed that the monkey was the latest reincarnation of Ximen Nao, following the donkey, the ox, the pig, and the dog. Naturally, it was a male monkey, and not one of those cute little things we’re so used to seeing. It was a large rhesus monkey, whose coat was a dull green-gray, sort of like dry moss. His eyes, far apart and sunk deep into their sockets, gave off a frightful glare. His ears lay flat against his head like fungi, his nostrils flared upward, and his open mouth, seemingly without an upper lip, showed nothing but teeth; that alone was enough to frighten anyone off. He was dressed in a red sleeveless jacket, turning a savage monkey into a comical one. Truth is, there’s no reason to call him either savage or comical, since a monkey in human clothes is just that and nothing more.

A chain around the monkey’s neck was attached to the wrist of a young woman. I don’t need to tell you, dear reader, that the young woman in question is our long-lost Pang Fenghuang, and that the young man with her was the long-lost Ximen Huan. Both were wearing filthy down coats over tattered blue jeans and dirty knockoff sneakers. Fenghuang had dyed her hair a golden yellow and plucked her eyebrows, leaving only thin arcs. She wore a gold ring in her right nostril. Ximen Huan had dyed his hair red and had a silver ring above his right eye.

Gaomi had come a long way by then, though it still didn’t compare favorably with the big cities. There’s a saying that goes: “The bigger the woods, the more diverse the bird population; the smaller the woods, the fewer the birds.” These two strange birds and their ferocious monkey attracted an immediate crowd of curious gawkers, as well as at least one busybody who ran to the local police station to report what was going on.

The crowd instinctively formed a circle around Ximen Huan and Pang Fenghuang, which is what they wanted. He pulled a bronze gong out of his backpack and struck it – bong bong- which attracted even more people and tightened the circle. One sharp-eyed person in the crowd recognized the youngsters, but all the others were staring wide-eyed at the monkey and couldn’t have cared less who his handlers were.

While Ximen Huan rhythmically beat the gong, Fenghuang took the chain off her wrist to give the monkey more room to maneuver, and then removed a straw hat, a tiny carrying pole, two tiny baskets, and a tobacco pipe from her backpack, laying them on the ground beside her. Then, to the rhythm of Ximen Huan’s gong, she began to sing in a raspy but melodious voice. The monkey took that as his cue to stroll around the square. It was a stumbling gait, since his legs were bowed; his tail dragged on the ground behind him as he glanced all around.

The bronze gong rings out bong bong bong

I tell monkey to do nothing wrong

He received the Tao on Mount Emei

And returned home as king of his trade, truly strong

He’ll perform for our countrymen

Who will pay for my song

“Move back! Clear the way!” Newly assigned deputy station chief Lan Kaifang elbowed his way through the crowd. He was born to be a cop. In two years on the force he had acquitted himself so well that at the unprecedented young age of twenty he’d been picked as deputy chief of the train station police substation, one of the most crime-ridden areas in town. It was a ringing affirmation of his talent and dedication.

Be an old man with a straw hat and pipe

Stroll round the square, hands in back, walking along

As she sang, Fenghuang tossed the straw hat to the monkey, who nimbly put it on his head. Next she tossed him the pipe; he jumped up and put it in his mouth. That done, he clasped his hands behind his back, bent at the waist, and bowed his legs; with his head rocking from side to side and his eyes darting, he looked like an old man out for a stroll, and was rewarded with laughter and applause.

“Move back! Clear the way!” Lan Kaifang squeezed up to the front. His heart had begun to sink when he received the busybody’s report, for rumors had reached his ears that Ximen Huan and Pang Fenghuang had been kidnapped and sent to Southeast Asia, where one was forced to perform manual labor, the other was sold into life as a prostitute; another version had it that they had both died of drug overdoses somewhere in the south. But deep down, he believed they were alive and well, especially Fenghuang. You, dear reader, would not have forgotten how he cut his own finger so Ximen Huan could test the restorative powers of Huang Huzhu’s hair. Well, that cut showed how he felt. So when he received the report, he knew who they were and knew they were back. He dropped what he was doing and ran to the square, the image of Fenghuang floating before his eyes the whole way. He hadn’t seen her since his grandmother’s funeral, when she’d been wearing a white down jacket and a white knit cap; her tiny face, red from the biting cold, had made her seem to be a pure and chaste fairy-tale princess. When he heard her raspy singing, Kaifang, who treated criminals with the callousness they deserved, felt his eyes glaze over.

Let’s see Erlang carry a mountain and chase the moon

Then a phoenix spreading her wings to pursue the sun

Pang Fenghuang picked up the little carrying pole and its two tiny baskets with her foot and flipped it into the air with such skill that it landed on the monkey’s back. First he rested it on his right shoulder, with one basket in front, the other in back; Erlang carrying a mountain and chasing the moon. Then he rested it on his back, with one basket to the left, the other to his right; a phoenix spreading her wings to pursue the sun.

I perform all my tricks at least once

So please pay up for my song

The monkey threw down the carrying pole, picked up a red plastic platter Fenghuang had thrown down for him, and began passing it around.

Good uncle, good aunt

Grandpa and Grandma

Brothers, sisters, fellow countrymen

I’ll take even a dime if that’s all you have

But give a hundred, and you’re the Guanyin Bodhisattva come to earth

While Fenghuang sang, the people tossed money into the platter held high over the monkey’s head. One-jiao, two-jiao, and three-jiao coins, plus one-, five-, and ten-yuan bills, fell into his pan with hardly a sound.

When the monkey was face-to-face with Lan Kaifang, the policeman put in a thick envelope containing a month’s wages and overtime pay. With a screech, the monkey fell to all fours and, with the platter in his mouth, scampered over to Pang Fenghuang.

Bong bong bong – Ximen Huan struck his gong three times and bowed deeply to Kaifang, like a circus clown. Then he straightened up and said:

“Many thanks, Uncle Policeman!”

Fenghuang took the money out of the envelope and, holding it in her right hand, slapped it rhythmically against the palm of her left hand to show off to the audience as she imitated a pop song:

All of us, we’re Gaomi folk

Every one of us a living Lei Feng

You gave us a wad of RMB

A good deed without even leaving your name

Kaifang pulled the brim of his hat down low, turned on his heel, and pushed his way through the crowd without