with soot, naked from the waist up, a cloth sachet hanging from your neck, your rotund belly sticking out, feet bare, head shaved, dark eyes darting every which way as you sang tunes and did tricks. Not a soul on earth could get as many different sounds out of an ox’s hip bone as you could:
Then this local gem of a man’s real identity was revealed, and villagers learned to their surprise that he had been an underground member of the Northeast Gaomi Township branch of the Communist Party, who had sent secret reports up to the Eighth Route Army. He’d looked me in the eye after I’d turned over all my riches and, eyes like a pair of daggers, face the color of cold iron, had announced solemnly: “Ximen Nao, during the first stage of land reform, you managed to get by with your deceptive petty favors and phony charity, but this time you’re a cooked crab that can no longer sidle your way around, a turtle in a jar with no way out. You plundered the people’s property, you were a master of exploitation, you ran roughshod over men and had your way with women, you oppressed all the people, you are the epitome of evil, and only your death will quell the people’s anger. If we do not move you, a black rock of an obstruction, out of the road, if we do not chop you, a towering tree, down, land reform in Northeast Gaomi Township will come to a standstill and the poor and downtrodden peasants of Ximen Village will never be able to stand up on their own. The district government has approved and sent forward to the Township Government a judgment that the tyrannical landlord Ximen Nao is to be dragged up to the stone bridge on the outskirts of the village and shot!”
An explosion, a burst of light, and Ximen Nao’s brains were splattered over the gourd-sized stones beneath the bridge, polluting the air around it with a disagreeable stench. These were painful thoughts. I could say nothing in my defense; they refused to let me. Struggle against landlords, smash their dog heads, cut the tall grass, pluck out the thickest hairs. If you want to accuse someone, you’ll never run out of words. We’ll make sure you die convinced of your crimes, is what Hong Taiyue said, but they gave me no chance to argue in my defense. Hong Taiyue, your words meant nothing, you did not make good on your promise.
He stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, face to face with Lan Lian, an intimidating presence. Even though I was able only moments before to conjure up an image of him bending over obsequiously in front of me, ox bone in hand, he instilled fear in this wounded donkey. About eight feet separated my master and Hong Taiyue. My master was born to poverty, a member of the proletariat, red as could be. But he’d once claimed a foster relationship – father and son – with me, Ximen Nao, a dubious relationship, to say the least, and though he later raised his level of class consciousness and was in the vanguard of the struggle against me, thus recapturing his good name as a poor peasant and acquiring living quarters, land, and a wife, the authorities viewed him with suspicion, owing to his special relationship with Ximen Nao.
The two men faced off for a long moment. My master was the first to speak:
“What gave you the right to injure my donkey?”
“If he gnaws on the bark of my tree again, I’ll shoot him!” Hong Taiyue roundly rebuffed him, patting the holster on his hip for emphasis.
“There’s no need for you to be so damned vicious with an animal!”
“As I see it, people who drink from a well without considering the source or forget where they came from when they stand tall are worse than an animal!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Lan Lian, listen carefully to what I’m about to say.” Hong took a step closer and pointed to Lan Lian’s chest as if his finger were the muzzle of a gun. “After the success of land reform, I advised you not to marry Yingchun. I realize she had no choice in giving herself to Ximen Nao, and I support the government’s position that it’s a good thing for a widow to remarry. But as a member of the impoverished class, you should have married someone like Widow Su from West Village. Left without a room to live in or a strip of land to till after her husband died, she was forced to beg to survive. She may have a face full of pockmarks, but she’s a member of the proletariat, one of us, and she could have helped you maintain your integrity as a committed revolutionary. But you ignored my advice and were set on marrying Yingchun. Since our marriage policy stresses freedom of choice, I did not stand in your way. As I predicted, over the past three years your revolutionary zeal has evaporated. You are selfish, your thinking is backward, and you want to live in a style more dissipated than even your former landlord, Ximen Nao. You have turned into a degenerate, and if you don’t wake up soon, you’ll find yourself wearing the label of an enemy of the people!”
My master stared blankly at Hong Taiyue, without moving. Finally, after catching his breath, he said weakly:
“Old Hong, since Widow Su has those fine attributes, why don’t you marry her?”
Hong reacted to this seemingly inoffensive question as if he’d lost the power of speech. He looked hopelessly flustered before finding his voice. Without responding to the question, he said authoritatively:
“Don’t get cute with me, Lan Lian. I represent the Party, the government, and the impoverished residents of Ximen Village. This is your last chance to come around. I hope you rein in your horse before you go over the cliff, that you find your way back into our camp. We’re prepared to forgive your lack of resolve and your inglorious history of enslaving yourself to Ximen Nao, and we’ll not alter your class standing of farm laborer just because you married Yingchun. Farm laborer is a label with a gilded edge, and you had better not let it rust or gather dust. I’m telling you to your face that I hope you will join the commune, bringing along that roguish donkey, the wheelbarrow, the plow, and the farming tools you received during land reform, as well as your wife and children, including, of course, those two landlord brats Ximen Jinlong and Ximen Baofeng. Join the commune and stop working for yourself, end your quest for independence. Stop being headstrong, an obstructionist. We have brought over thousands of people with more talent than you. Me, Hong Taiyue, I’ll let a cat sleep in the crotch of my pants before I’ll let you be a loner on my watch. I hope you’ve listened to every word I’ve said.”
Hong Taiyue’s booming voice had been conditioned by his begging days, back when he went around beating an ox hip bone. For anyone with that sort of voice and eloquence not to become an official is an affront to human nature. Even I was caught up in his monologue as I watched him berate my master; he seemed taller than Lan Lian, though he was actually half a head shorter. The mention of Ximen Jinlong and Ximen Baofeng gave me the scare of my life, for the Ximen Nao who lived in my donkey body was on tenterhooks regarding the children he’d sired and then left stranded in the midst of a turbulent world. He fretted over their future, for although Lan Lian could be their protector, he could also be an agent of doom. Just then, my mistress, Yingchun – I tried desperately to put the image of her sharing my bed and accepting the seed that produced the two children out of my mind – emerged from the western rooms. Before stepping out, she had looked into the broken remnant of a mirror hanging on the wall to check her appearance, of that I’m sure. She was wearing an indigo blue jacket over loose black pants; a blue apron with white flowers was tied around her waist, and a blue and white kerchief, matching the pattern of the apron, covered her head. It was a nicely coordinated outfit. Her haggard face was lit up in the sunlight; her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth, and her ears all combined to dredge up a host of memories. Quite a woman she was, a treasure I’d have loved to kill. Lan Lian, you bastard, you’ve got a good eye. If you’d married the pockmarked Widow Su from West Village, even being transformed into the Supreme Daoist Jade Emperor would not have been worth it. She walked up to Hong Taiyue, bowed deeply, and said:
