I saw him. He was wearing a jacket made of local fabric with a button-down front, a white cloth sash around his waist, and a conical hat woven of sorghum stalks that hid most of his face from view, but not the luminous blue half or the intensely sad yet unyielding light in his eyes. He was waving a long bamboo pole with a piece of red cloth tied to the end, like the swishing tail of an ox, driving the egg-laying tussock moths away from his wheat stalks and onto the cotton plants or cornstalks belonging to the production brigade. Reduced to using this clumsy primitive method to protect his crops, it appeared as if he was doing battle with destructive insects, when in fact the real foe was the People’s Commune. Old friend, back when I was a donkey and then when I was an ox, I shared your comforts and your hardships; but now I’m a People’s Commune stud boar, and I can’t help you. I thought about relieving myself in your field to supply you with some organic fertilizer, but what if you stepped in it? Wouldn’t that turn a good deed into a bad one? I could bite through the People’s Commune cornstalks or uproot all their cotton plants, but that won’t do you any good, since they aren’t your enemy either. Old friend, keep at it, don’t waver. You are China’s sole independent farmer, so don’t forget, perseverance is victory. I looked up at the moon; the moon nodded at me and then leaped into the western sky. It was getting late, time for me to head back. But I’d no sooner started out through the wheat field than I spotted Yingchun hurrying my way with a rattan basket. The wheat tassels rustled when they brushed her hips as she passed by. The look on her face was that of a wife who is late delivering food to her husband as he labors in the field. Though they lived apart, they hadn’t divorced. And though they hadn’t divorced, the joys of the bedroom were denied them. Deep down I felt good about that. As a pig, I shouldn’t have given a damn one way or the other where human sex was concerned, but after all, I’d been her husband when I walked the earth as Ximen Nao. The distinct aroma of liquor emanating from her hung in the chilled farmland air. She stopped when she was no more than a couple of yards from Lan Lian to look at his slightly hunched back as, with great agility, he fanned away the moths with his bamboo pole. Back and forth it waved, whistling in the wind. Their wings weighted down by dew, their bellies heavy with eggs, the moths flew awkwardly. I’m sure he knew he was being watched, and probably guessed it was Yingchun, but instead of stopping, he merely slowed down the pace of his waving.
“Children’s father…” Finally she spoke.
The pole stopped in midair after a couple more swings. Like a scarecrow, he just stood there without moving.
“The children are married. We needn’t worry any longer,” Ying-chun said. Then she sighed. “I’ve brought you a bottle of liquor. Whatever else he may be, he’s still your son.”
Lan Lian made a grunting sound and swung the pole back and forth twice.
“Director Pang brought his wife and daughter to the banquet and presented both couples with framed mirrors inlaid with images of Chairman Mao.” Raising her voice slightly, she said emotionally, “Director Pang has been promoted to head of a cotton processing plant, and he’s agreed to give jobs to Jiefang and Hezuo. It was Secretary Hong’s idea. Jinlong, Baofeng, and Jiefang have been treated well by Secretary Hong, who is a good man. Don’t you think we should comply with his wishes?”
The pole waved violently in the air, snagging some flying moths in the red cloth; with loud chirps they crashed to the ground.
“Okay, I shouldn’t have said anything. Don’t be angry. Do as you wish. By now everyone’s used to what you’re doing. This is, after all, our sons’ wedding day, and I’ve come out here in the middle of the night so you can drink some of the wedding liquor. I’ll leave after that.”
Yingchun took a bottle out of her basket; it sparkled in the moonlight. After removing the cork, she walked up and handed it to him from behind.
The pole stopped again. He stood frozen to the spot. I saw tears glisten in his eyes as he rested the pole on his shoulder and tipped back his hat to gaze at the moon, which, naturally, looked down sadly at him. He took the bottle, but didn’t turn his head.
“Maybe you’re right, all of you, maybe I’m the only one who’s wrong. But I made a vow, and if I’m wrong, then that’s how I’ll end up.”
“After Baofeng is married,” Yingchun said, “I’ll leave the commune and stay with you.”
“No, independent farming means doing it alone. I don’t need anybody else. I have nothing against the Communist Party and I definitely have nothing against Chairman Mao. I’m not opposed to the People’s Commune or to collectivization. I just want to be left alone to work for myself. Crows everywhere in the world are black. Why can’t there be at least one white one? That’s me, a white crow!” He splashed some of the liquor up toward the moon and, in a voice as rousing, as stirring, and as desolate as I’ve ever heard, cried out, “Moon, you’ve accompanied me in my labors all these years, you’re a lantern sent to me by the Old Man in the Sky. I’ve tilled the soil by your light, I’ve sown seeds by your light, and I’ve brought in harvests by your light… You say nothing, you are never angry or resentful, and I’m forever in your debt. So tonight permit me to drink to you as an expression of my gratitude. Moon, I’ve troubled you for so long!”
The colorless liquor dispersed in the air like pearls tinged with blue. The moon trembled slightly and winked at Lan Lian. I can’t remember being so moved by anything. In an age when throngs of people sang the praises of the sun, it was unheard of for someone to hold such deep feelings for the moon. Lan Lian poured the last few drops of the liquor into his mouth, then held the bottle up over his shoulder.
“Okay,” he said, “you can go now.”
With a wave of his pole, he started walking. Yingchun got down on her knees, brought her hands together, and raised them to the moon, which shone down gently on her dancing tears, her graying hair, and her quivering lips…
In the face of this mutual love, I stood up in total disregard of the possible consequences, for I believed they would know in their hearts who I was and would not take me as some sort of monster. Supporting my front hooves on the springy tops of wheat stalks, I walked up to them along one of the field ridges. Clasping my hooves together, I bowed to them and made a pig noise to greet them. They gaped at me, blank looks that held shock and puzzlement. I am Ximen Nao, I said. I distinctly heard human sounds emerge from my throat, but there was no reaction from them. After what seemed like a long time, Yingchun shrieked, while Lan Lian pointed his pole at me and said:
“Pig demon, kill me if that’s what you want, but I beg you, please don’t trample my crops.”
Crippling sadness suddenly filled my heart. Humans and beasts walk down separate roads that virtually never intersect. Lowering myself down on all fours, I fled through the wheat field, crestfallen. But my mood improved the closer I came to Apricot Garden. All creatures on earth follow their own nature. Birth, old age, sickness, and death; joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, are dictated by irreversible objective laws. I was a boar at the time, so I had to carry out my boar responsibilities. Lan Lian stuck by his obstinacy to remain apart from the masses, so it was necessary for me, Pig Sixteen, to use my great intelligence, extreme courage, and extraordinary physical abilities to accomplish something that would stun the world, and crowd my piggish way into human history.
After entering Apricot Garden, I pretty much put Lan Lian and Yingchun out of my mind. Why? Because I saw that Diao Xiaosan had already seduced Butterfly Lover and had her hot to trot. Of the other twenty-nine sows, fourteen had already escaped from their pens, while the remaining fifteen were either banging their heads against the gates or crying to the moon. A grand prologue to mating was slowly opening. Before the major player had made his appearance, his understudy was already onstage. Damn him! I wouldn’t allow it.
29
Pig Sixteen Battles Diao Xiaosan
The Straw Hat Song Accompanies a Loyalty Dance
Diao Xiaosan sat with his back against the renowned apricot tree, holding an upturned straw hat filled with yellow apricots. One after another, he picked them up with his right hoof and tossed them into his mouth, smacking his lips as he ate the fruit and then spit out the pits, which landed several yards away. Resting under a skinny apricot tree separated some four or five yards from Diao Xiaosan, Butterfly Lover held a broken plastic comb in one hand and a hand mirror in the other, putting on flirtatious, coquettish airs. Ah, dear sow, your weakness is coveting petty gains. A tiny mirror and a broken comb, and you would take any boar to bed. Every so often Diao threw one of
