sent to investigate. Just before noon, the breathless man returned, sweaty-faced and mud-spattered, to report that the Japanese had surrounded Saltwater Gap at daybreak and that it was impossible to know what was going on there. He’d hidden in a clump of reeds some three li away, where he’d heard demonic cries and wolfish howls and seen thick columns of smoke rising from the village. After the man left, Granddad poured some wine, tipped back his head, and drained the cup, then ran to get his pistol, which he had hidden in a hole in the double-layer wall.
As he rushed outside, he bumped into seven or eight ragged, pale-faced refugees from Saltwater Gap, leading a popeyed, shedding old mule with two baskets slung over its back. A torn jacket with loose padding covered the one on the left; in the one on the right squatted a boy of about four. Granddad examined the boy’s skinny neck, his enlarged head, his fleshy, fanlike ears, as he sat peacefully in the basket, not a care in the world, whittling a white willow switch with a nicked knife so rusty it had turned red. Wooden curlicues flew from the basket. Granddad asked his parents about the situation in the village, never taking his eyes off the child, particularly his large ears, which symbolised good luck, longevity, and great fortune.
The adults vied with one another to describe the actions of the Japanese soldiers in their village. They had managed to escape because their son, who had started bawling the previous afternoon, demanded to be taken to visit his maternal grandma. No threats or promises could get him to change his mind, and they finally gave in and, early the next morning, readied their mule. When the first shots were fired, they were one step ahead of the Japanese, who put the village under siege. Granddad asked about Second Grandma and my little auntie Xiangguan, but they shook their heads and fidgeted, anxious looks on their faces.
The boy in the basket lowered his busy hands to his belly, raised his head, and said weakly, his eyes closed, ‘Why aren’t we moving? Waiting to be killed?’ His parents froze for a moment, perhaps pondering the prophetic possibilities of what he’d said, then awoke to the reality of their situation. The mother looked numbly at Granddad as the father slapped the mule’s rump, and the squad of refugees skittered off down the road. Granddad watched their retreating backs, especially the boy with the big droopy ears. His premonition would prove accurate, for twenty years later the little bastard would become a demonic zealot in this sinful spot known as Northeast Gaomi Township.
Granddad ran to the western wing, where he opened the hole in the double-layer wall to get his pistol. It was gone, but he could see the outline of the spot where it had lain. Something funny was going on here. He turned, and there stood Grandma, a contemptuous grin on her face. Thin eyebrows curved downward on her dark, gloomy face. Granddad glared at her and demanded, ‘Where’s my pistol?’
Her upper lip switched as two blasts of cold air snorted from her nostrils. With a final disdainful look she turned, picked up a feather duster, and began dusting the kang.
‘Where’s my pistol?’ Granddad thundered.
‘How the hell should I know?’ she retorted, mercilessly beating the poor bedding.
‘Give me my pistol,’ Granddad said, trying to keep his anxieties under control. ‘The Japanese have surrounded Saltwater Gap,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I have to see how they are.’
Grandma spun around angrily and said, ‘Then go! It’s none of my damned business!’
‘Give me my pistol.’
‘How should I know where it is? Don’t ask me.’
Granddad pressed up close. ‘You stole my pistol and gave it to Black Eye, didn’t you?’
‘That’s right, I gave it to him! And that’s not all. I slept with him, and I loved it! It was wonderful! One hell of a time!’
Granddad’s mouth split into a grin and he uttered a single ‘Ah!’ as he clenched his fist and hit her squarely in her nose, from which dark blood spurted. She shrieked and crumpled to the floor like a toppled column. As she struggled to her feet, he drove his fist into her neck. The second punch, a real powerhouse, sent her flying into a chest against the wall.
‘Slut! Filthy bitch!’ Granddad lashed out through clenched teeth. Bad blood stored up over the years coursed through his veins like a poison. He was thinking back to the untold shame of being knocked down by Black Eye, and to how often he’d imagined Grandma lying beneath the wolfish man, moaning and panting and crying out shamelessly; with his guts writhing like snakes, and his body as hot as the midsummer sun, he grabbed the date- wood bolt from the door and took aim at Grandma’s blood-smeared head as she tried to get to her feet, vital and tenacious as ever.
‘Dad!’ Father ran in screaming, grabbed the door bolt, and held on for dear life. His shout saved Grandma’s life for sure. So instead of dying at the hands of Granddad, she would one day die from a Japanese bullet, and her death would be as glorious and as brilliant as ripened red sorghum.
Grandma crawled over to Granddad, wrapping her arms around his knees and rubbing his muscular legs. She raised her gloomy face, soaked with tears and blood, and said, ‘Zhan’ao – Zhan’ao – elder brother – dearest eldest brother, kill me, go ahead and kill me! You can’t imagine how it hurts to see you go, you’ll never know how badly I want you to stay. With all the Japanese out there, I fear you’ll never come back. No matter how great you may be, it’s just you and your gun, and even a tiger is no match for a pack of wolves. It’s that little bitch’s doing, it’s all her fault. You were never out of my mind when I was with Black Eye, and I won’t let you go to your death! I can’t live without you. Besides, my ten days aren’t up yet, not till tomorrow. She’s robbed me of half of you… All right, go if you have to… She can have one of my days… I hid your beloved pistol and thirty-one bullets in the rice vat…’
With her face buried in his legs, he was filled with remorse, especially since Father was lurking fearfully behind the door. Despising himself for being so brutal, he bent down, lifted up Grandma, who was nearly unconscious, and carried her over to the kang. He decided not to go to Saltwater Gap until first thing the next morning. Let heaven watch over mother and daughter and keep them from harm!
Granddad rode his mule from the village to Saltwater Gap, a distance of only fifteen li, although it seemed like miles. Even though the black mule ran like the wind, it wasn’t fast enough for Granddad, who whipped it mercilessly with the hempen reins. Clods of earth flew in all directions behind the mule’s hooves, a thin layer of dust hung in the air above the fields, and the sky was filled with rivers of meandering black clouds; a peculiar odour drifted over on the wind from Saltwater Gap.
Oblivious to the sprawling bodies, human and animal, Granddad went straight to Second Grandma’s and rushed into the yard, his heart sinking as he saw the broken gate and smelled the stench of blood. He despaired when he saw the bedroom door, barely hanging on its hinges. Second Grandma lay on the kang in the same position she’d assumed when offering up her body to protect Little Auntie… Xiangguan was sprawled on the dirt floor in front of the kang, her face puddled in her own blood, her mouth open in a silent scream.
Granddad let out a roar, drew his pistol, and stumbled to the still-panting black mule, which he smacked on the rump with his pistol, wanting to fly to the county town to avenge the murders on the Japanese. He didn’t realise he’d taken the wrong road until he became aware of a patch of withered yellow reeds standing silently and solemnly in the morning sunlight. As he swung the mule around and headed off to town, he heard shouts behind him, but he kept beating the mule wildly without a backward glance. With each blow, the mule bucked, but the more it protested the angrier Granddad became. He was taking his fury out on the poor animal, which bucked and twisted so violently it finally threw its rider into last year’s sorghum.
Granddad climbed to his feet like a wounded beast and aimed his pistol at the narrow head of the lathered mule, which stood rigidly, its head lowered and its rump covered by goose-egg-sized lumps and streaks of dark blood. Granddad levelled the gun with his shaky hand. Just then our other mule came flying down the road out of the red sunrise, Uncle Arhat on its back. Its hide shone as though covered with a coat of gold dust.
Uncle Arhat, exhausted, jumped down off the mule and took a couple of tottering steps before nearly collapsing. Placing himself between Granddad and the black mule, he reached out and forced down the hand holding the pistol. ‘Zhan’ao,’ he said, ‘come to your senses!’
As he looked into the face of Uncle Arhat, Granddad’s seething anger turned into simmering sorrow, and tears slid down his face. ‘Uncle,’ Granddad said hoarsely, ‘both of them, mother and daughter… It’s horrible…’
Overcome by grief, he squatted on the ground. Uncle Arhat helped him up and said, ‘Manager Yu, a noble man can wait a decade to seek revenge. You should be back there taking care of arrangements so the dead can rest in peace.’
Second Grandma wasn’t dead. She gazed into the staring eyes of Granddad and Uncle Arhat as they stood beside her kang. Seeing her thick, heavy lashes, her dimming eyes, bloody nose, gnawed cheeks, and swollen lips made Granddad’s heart feel as though it had been cleaved by a knife, the searing pain mixed with an agitation he
