startle him awake by barking, I’d go over and lick him on the face, feeling the tickle of his peach fuzz. He’d open his eyes and ask, “Time to get up, Little Four?”
The first day we followed your wife’s instructions to the letter, partly because her smell followed us most of the way; she was watching us. Perfectly understandable – she was a mother, after all. I walked a yard or so behind your son, keeping my ears and eyes open, especially when crossing the street. A car was coming our way, driving normally, still two hundred yards away, plenty of time to cross. Your son wanted to, but I grabbed his shirt with my teeth and wouldn’t let him. “What’s wrong with you, Little Four?” your son said. “Don’t be chicken.” But I wouldn’t let go. It was my job to keep my mistress from worrying. Once the car had passed, I let go of him, but remained on my guard, prepared to protect your son with my life, if necessary, as we crossed the street. I could tell by the smell that your wife’s mind was at ease. She followed us all the way to school. I watched her ride off on her bike and then trotted after her, keeping a distance of a hundred yards or so between us. I waited till she put her bike away, changed into her work clothes, and started her day before running up and barking softly to let her know everything was all right. A look of gratification came over her, and the smell of love was strong.
We started taking shortcuts on the third day, after letting your son sleep till seven o’clock. We could make it to the school gate in twenty-five minutes if we took our time and fifteen if we ran. After you were kicked out of the house you often stood at your office window with Russian binoculars to watch us as we passed down a nearby lane.
In the afternoons we were in no hurry to get home. “Little Four, where’s Mama now?” he’d ask me. I’d sniff the air to pick up her scent. I’d only need a minute to fix her location. If she was at work, I’d face north and bark; if she was home, I’d face south and bark. When she was home, that’s where we headed, no matter what. But if she was at work, we could have a little fun.
Your son was a good boy. He never followed the example of those unruly kids who left school with their backpacks and went to one roadside stall or department store after another. The only thing he liked to do was go to the New China Bookstore and borrow children’s books for a fee. Once in a while he’d buy one, but most of the time he just paid to borrow them. The person in charge of selling and lending children’s books? Your lover, that’s who. But she wasn’t your lover then. She was nice to your son; I could smell the good feelings, and not just because we were regular customers. I didn’t pay much attention to how she looked, since her scent was intoxicating enough. I could distinguish a couple of hundred thousand scents floating around in the city by then, from plants to animals, from mining ores to chemicals, and from food to cosmetics. But none of them pleased me like Pang Chunmiao’s scent. To be perfectly honest, there were in the neighborhood of forty local beauties who emitted a lovely scent. But they all had impurities. All but Chunmiao. Hers was like a mountain spring or the wind in a forest of pine trees, fresh, uncomplicated, and never-changing. How I yearned for her touch – not the sort of yearning associated with family pets, but… damn it, even a great dog can experience a momentary weakness. As a rule, dogs weren’t allowed inside the bookstore, but Pang Chunmiao made an exception for me. You couldn’t find another shop in town that was as deserted as the New China Bookstore, which employed three female clerks, two middle-aged women, and Pang Chunmiao. The other two women did their best to butter up Chunmiao, for obvious reasons. Mo Yan, who was one of the bookstore’s rare customers, once saw Lan Kaifang sitting in a corner absorbed in a book, so he went over and tugged on the boy’s ear. Then he introduced him to Pang Chunmiao, telling her he was the son of Director Lan of the County Supply and Marketing Cooperative. She said that’s who she thought he was. Just then I barked to remind Kaifang that his mother had gotten off work and that her scent had traveled to the hardware store, and if we didn’t leave now, we wouldn’t get home before she did. “Lan Kaifang,” Chunmiao said, “you’d better be getting home now. Listen to your dog.” Then she said to Mo Yan, “That’s a very intelligent dog. Sometimes Kaifang gets so wrapped up in a book he forgets everything. When that happens, the dog runs in from outside, grabs his clothes in his teeth, and drags the boy out of the shop.”
42
Lan Jiefang Makes Love In His Office
Huang Hezuo Winnows Beans at Home
After that first kiss, I wanted to back off, wanted to run away. Sure, I was happy, but I was also afraid and, of course, suffering from guilt feelings. That twentieth and last time I had sex with my wife had been a product of the internal conflict I was feeling that night. I tried my best to be a decent lover, but I finished much too soon.
Over the six days that followed, off in the countryside or at a meeting, cutting a ribbon at an opening ceremony or as a guest at a banquet, in the car or on a stool, standing or walking, awake or asleep, Pang Chunmiao was constantly on my mind, and I was trapped in intoxicating feelings from which I simply could not extricate myself in spite of the inner voice that kept saying: Stop here, go no further. It was a reminder that grew progressively weaker.
At noon on the following Sunday I was a guest at a luncheon for a visiting official from the provincial government. I ran into Pang Kangmei at the county guesthouse. She was wearing a dark blue dress and a string of pearls. Her face was lightly powdered. The guest of honor was a man I’d come to know during a three-month course at a Party school, and though the banquet was hosted by the organization department, he asked that I be invited. I sat through the meal as if needles were poking up out of my chair. The way I sputtered and stammered, I must have sounded like an idiot. As hostess, Pang Kangmei toasted the guest and invited him to eat and drink, witty remarks falling like pearls until he was tongue-tied and enchanted. During the meal, she cast three chilled looks my way, each boring right through me. When the meal was over, she saw our official to his room, smiling all the way and making small talk with all the other luncheon guests. Since her car was the first to arrive, we shook hands to say good-bye. The mere touch of her skin was repulsive, but she said in a tone that sounded filled with concern, “You don’t look well, Deputy Chief Lan. If you’re sick, you should go see a doctor.”
As I rode off I pondered Kangmei’s comment and shuddered. Over and over I warned myself: Lan Jiefang, if you don’t want to wind up broken physically and saddled with a ruined reputation, you must keep from plunging over the cliff. But when I stood at my office window and looked down at the weather-beaten New China Bookstore signboard, my fears and worries dried up and flew away, leaving only thoughts of her behind, thoughts etched deeply in my mind. In forty years on this earth I’d never felt anything like that. After adjusting the pair of Soviet Red Army binoculars a friend had brought back from Manzhouli, I focused my gaze on the bookstore entrance. The double doors, with their rusty metal handles, were unlocked; from time to time someone walked out, and my heart raced. Each time I was hoping to see her slender figure emerge, then gracefully cross the street and walk elegantly up to me. But it was never her, always book buyers, young or old, male or female. When their faces were pulled into the lenses of my binoculars, their expressions were very much alike – mysterious and bleak. I’d start thinking crazy thoughts. Had something bad happened in the store? Had something happened to her? More than once I entertained the thought of going to see for myself, pretending to be a customer, but with what little reason remained, I managed to hold back. I gazed up at the clock; it was only one thirty, still an hour and a half to go before the time we’d agreed upon to meet. I thought about taking a nap on the army cot I kept behind the screen, but I was too worked up to sleep. I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I shaved and trimmed my nose hairs. Then I studied my reflection in the mirror, half red, half blue – truly ugly. I gently tapped the blue side and cursed: Ugly shit! My self-confidence was on the verge of crumbling. Several times I heard light footsteps coming my way, and I rushed to open the door to greet her. But the hall was always empty. So I sat where she always sat and waited impatiently, flipping through the book I’d handed to her; I could almost see her sitting there reading. Her smell was on that book, her fingerprints were all over it…
Finally, I heard a knock at the door and felt cold all over. I was shivering, my teeth were chattering. I rushed over and opened the door. The smile on her face found its way into my soul. I forgot everything, the words I’d planned to say to her, Pang Kangmei’s veiled warning, all my fears. I took her in my arms and kissed her; she kissed me back.
Between kisses we looked into each other’s eyes. There were tears on her cheeks; I licked them dry – salty
