kissed her on both cheeks, then turned and reluctantly handed her to Pang Kangmei.
“Three bald little boys aren’t the equal of one fairy maiden.”
Yingchun picked up the third puppy, patted her on the head, rubbed her mouth, stroked her tail, and put her in Fenghuang’s arms.
“Fenghuang,” she said, “this is yours.”
Finally Yingchun picked up Lan Kaifeng, half of whose face was covered by a blue birthmark, which she rubbed. With a sigh, her face now streaked with tears, she said, “You poor thing… how come you’re also…”
She handed Kaifeng to Hezuo, who held her son close. Because a wild boar had taken a chunk out of her rear end, she now had a hard time keeping her balance and often leaned to one side. You, Lan Jiefang, reached out to take the third generation of blue-faced boy from her, but she refused.
Yingchun picked me, the runt of the litter, up from the
“Kaifang,” she said, “this one’s yours. He’s the smartest.”
All the while this was happening, Lan Lian rested on his haunches beside the dog kennel, where he covered the bitch’s eyes with a piece of black cloth and rubbed her head to keep her calm.
38
Jinlong Raves about Lofty Ideals
Hezuo Silently Recalls Old Enmities
I just about jumped out of the wicker chair, but managed to hold back. I lit a cigarette and slowly puffed on it to calm down. I stole a glance at the eerie blue eyes of Big-head Lan, and in them I saw the cold, hostile look of the dog that accompanied my former wife and my son for fifteen years. But then I discovered it was similar to the look of my deceased son, Lan Kaifang: just as cold, just as hostile, just as unforgiving toward me.
I’d been assigned as head of the Political Section at the County Supply and Marketing Cooperative, and no matter how you look at it, I was one of those people who amused himself by writing florid little essays for the provincial newspaper.
By that time, Mo Yan had already been sent to help out at the Reports Section of the County Committee Propaganda Department, and even though he held a peasant household registration, his almost fanatical ambition was known throughout the county. He wrote day and night, never combing his hair; his clothes, which reeked of cigarette smoke, were only washed when it rained and he could hang them outside in time. My former wife, Huang Hezuo, was so fond of this slob she never failed to lay out tea and cigarettes when he dropped by, while my dog and my son seemed hostile to him.
Anyway, soon after I was transferred over to the County Supply and Marketing Cooperative, Hezuo was assigned to the restaurant at the co-op’s bus station, where her job was to fry oil fritters. I never said she was a bad woman, and I’d never go public with any of her shortcomings. She cried when I told her I wanted a divorce and asked me: What is it you don’t like about me? And my son asked: Papa, what did Mama ever do to you? My parents were less generous: You’re no big shot, son, so what makes you think you’re too good for her? My inlaws were the bluntest of all: Lan Jiefang, you bastard son of Lan Lian, take a piss and look at yourself in the puddle. Finally, my superior assumed a somber tone when he heard the news: Comrade Jiefang, you could use a little self-awareness! Yes, I admit it, Huang Hezuo did nothing wrong, and she was easily my equal, or better. But I, well, I simply didn’t love her.
The day that Mother returned the children to their parents and handed out the puppies, Pang Kangmei, then deputy head of the County Committee Organization Department, had her driver take a group photo of the four couples, four children, and four puppies under the apricot tree in the family compound. To look at the photo, you’d think we were one happy family, whereas in fact dark schemes rested in all our hearts. Copies of the photo hung in six homes, but probably none of them has survived.
After the picture was taken, Chang Tianhong and Pang Kangmei offered to take us home in their car. While I was trying to make up my mind, Hezuo thanked them but said she wanted to spend the night at Mother’s house. Then, as soon as the car drove off, she picked up our son and the puppy and said she wanted to go; nothing anyone said could change her mind. Just then the puppies’ mother broke free of Father’s grip and ran outside, the blindfold having slipped down around her neck and looking like a black necklace. She went straight for my wife before I could stop her and sank her teeth into Hezuo, who shrieked and was only able to keep from falling by sheer force of will. She insisted we leave immediately, but Baofeng ran inside for her medical kit and tended to Hezuo’s injured buttock. Jinlong took me aside, gave me a cigarette, and lit one for himself. Little clouds of smoke veiled our faces. In a tone of voice that was somewhere between sympathy and ridicule, he said:
“Can’t take it anymore, is that it?”
“No,” I replied coldly. “Everything’s fine.”
“That’s good,” he said. “It’s all a comedy of errors anyway, but you’re a man of standing. And women? Well, they are what they are.” He rubbed his thumb against two fingers, then drew an imaginary official’s cap, and added, “As long as you’ve got those, they’ll come when you call them.”
Hezuo walked toward me, with Baofeng’s help. Our son, who was holding his puppy in one hand and his mother’s shirttail with the other, was looking up at her. Baofeng handed me some anti-rabies medicine and said:
“Put this in the refrigerator as soon as you get home. The instructions are on the box. Follow them exactly, in case…”
“Thank you, Baofeng,” Hezuo said as she gave me an icy glare. “Even dogs can’t stand me.”
Wu Qiuxiang, stick in hand, had taken out after the dog, who ran straight to the kennel, where she snarled at Qiuxiang, her eyes green.
Huang Tong, whose back by then was badly bent, was standing beneath the apricot tree; he railed at my parents:
“You Lan people have so little feelings for family, even your dog bites its own! Strangle the damn thing, or someday I’ll burn down that kennel with her in it.”
My father poked his nearly bald broom in the kennel. The yelps of pain from inside the kennel brought my mother hobbling out the door.
“Kaifang’s mother,” she said apologetically to Hezuo, “don’t be angry. That old dog was just trying to protect her pups, and that’s the only way she knows how.”
No matter how insistently Mother, Baofeng, and Huzhu tried to get her to stay, Hezuo was determined to leave. Jinlong looked at his watch and said:
“It’s too late for the first bus, and the second one won’t leave for a couple of hours. If you don’t think my car is too run-down for you, I’ll drive you home.”
With a sideways glance at him, she took our son by the hand and, without saying good-bye to anyone, limped off in the direction of the village. Still holding the puppy in his arms, Kaifang kept turning to look back.
My father came up beside me. The years had softened the blue birthmark on his face, and the fading sunlight made him look older than ever. With a quick look at my wife and son up ahead, I stopped and said:
“Go on back, Dad.”
He sighed and, obviously crestfallen, said, “If I’d known I’d pass this birthmark on to my descendants I’d have remained a bachelor.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I said. “I don’t consider it a blemish, and if it bothers Kaifang he can get a skin graft when he grows up. There have been lots of medical advances lately.”
“Jinlong and Baofeng belong to somebody else now, so your family is the only real worry I’ve got.”
“We’ll be fine. Just look after yourself.”
“These past three years have been the best of my life,” he said. “We have more than three thousand
Jinlong’s Jeep drove up on the bumpy road. “Dad,” I said, “you go on back. I’ll come see you when I get some
