“What puzzles me is how senior officials can eat like kings, dress like princes, and have the medical care of the gods; then, when they reach their seventies or eighties and it’s time to die, off they go. But take a look at our old farmers. They work all their lives, raise a couple of worthless sons, never eat good food or wear decent clothes, and in their nineties they’re still out in the fields every day.”
“Our leaders have to deal with all lands of problems, while we con cera ourselves with working, eating, and sleeping, period. That’s why we live so long-we don’t wear our brains out”
“Then tell me why everyone wants to be an official and no one wants to be a peasant.”
“Being an official has its own dangers. One slip and you re worse off than any peasant could possibly imagine.”
A stalk of garlic snapped in two as she yanked it out of the ground. She whimpered.
“Be careful,” Gao Yang grumbled. “Each one’s worth several fen.”
“Why such a mean look?” His wife defended herself. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
The police wagon passed through a red gateway and screeched to a halt, sending Gao Yang’s head sliding into the horse-faced young man. The scent of blood persisted, but the garlic smell was gone.
CHAPTER 6
– from a ballad by Zhang Kou sung in front of the home of County Administrator Zhong after the glut
1.
She drifted in and out of consciousness as she lay across Gao Ma’s back, her arms wrapped tightly around his powerful neck. When they crossed Following Stream, leaving one county and entering another, she had sensed that all ties between her and the past, between her and her home, between her and her kin-if they still counted as such-had been cut with one stroke. She could no longer hear the shouts of her father and brother, but felt them on her back. Tipped with golden barbs, they danced in the air before flying across the river and snagging on the tips of jute bushes. With her eyes closed she could concentrate on the sound of Gao Ma’s body crashing through the jute field, so densely packed it stopped even the wind, creating the gentle sound of ocean waves.
The jute was restless, parting like water to allow passage through it, then closing up at once. There were moments when she felt as if she were in a little boat-something she never had in real life-and when she opened her eyes, she was treated to a blindingly colorful panorama. So she shut her eyes again and experienced comfort built upon a foundation of exhaustion. Gao Ma’s labored breathing sounded like the snorts of a thundering bull as he loped through the jute, an endless expanse of supple, yielding fetters against which they forged an unveering path- at least that’s how she felt. In her mind, an enormous, bronze-colored sun was sinking slowly in a shrouded sky at the tip of a chaotic universe. A cluster of unfamiliar words leapt into the air-she neither understood nor recalled where she’d seen them before-and vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind the stately presence of heaven and earth. The jute bent gendy in the cool dusk winds, then waved lighdy before slowly righting itself; it was like a scarlet sea. She and her man had been transformed into fish that had forgotten how to swim.
Jute, all you jute bushes, you re in his way, and in mine. Your green lips pout and your crafty, ebony eyes squint; you laugh with a strange mirthfulness, and you stretch your legs-smiling faces, treacherous limbs.
Gao Ma stumbled and fell headlong to the ground, and as his body broke her fall, she felt the jute give beneath her. A sea of it swelled and crashed over them like tidal waves, swallowing them completely. Not daring to open her eyes, she tried to will herself into a state of torpor. The sounds of the world were pushed far into the distance, until all her senses were filled to bursting with the tenderness of jute.
2.
The roar of waves woke her, breaking over her persistently until she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Gao Ma’s gaunt face, framed in the rich orange rays of sunlight. His face was purple, his lips parched and cracked; there were dark circles around his eyes, and his hair looked like the wiry fur of a street mutt. Shuddering at the sight, she quickly became aware that her hand was in the tight grip of his, and as she gazed into his eyes, she felt as if a total stranger were grasping her hand. A sense of terror that swept through her was invaded by faint lurkings of guilt, the recognition of which further terrified her. She pulled her hand free and shrank from him, until her path of retreat was blocked by a tall and unyielding wall of jute. Golden slivers of sunlight seeped through the interstices of the jute wall, and the talon-shaped leaves quivered in some secret sign.
It was Father’s voice, old and raspy: “Jinju… Jinju…” She sat up rigidly and grabbed Gao Mas hand. “Jinju… Jinju…” Elder Brother’s voice, shrill and flustered. Their calls glided over the tips of jute bushes and continued on toward the horizon. Gao Ma sat up, his eyes round and alert, like those of a cornered dog.
They held their breath and listened intently. The rustling of bushes and the sounds of heavy breathing at the sandbar to the north deepened the stillness of dusk. She could hear her own heartbeat.
“Jinju… Jinju… Jinju… Jinju! You little whore, you’re doing this to ruin me!”?
She could almost see her father crying. Releasing Gao Ma’s hand, she stood up with tears in her eyes.
Father’s shouts were, if anything, drearier than ever. She called out just before Gao Ma clamped his hand over her mouth. The hand reeked of garlic-she clawed at it, her muffled shouts oozing out between the fingers. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and began dragging her away. She clawed at his head. As he sucked in his breath, the hand covering her mouth fell. Something wet and sticky emerged from under her fingernails as they dug into his scalp, and she watched trickles of golden-red blood appear at his hairline and flow into his eyebrows.
She threw her arms around his neck. “You… what is it?” She was crying.
He touched his forehead with his palm. “You scraped off a scab where the stool hit me.”
Laying her head on his shoulder, she sobbed softly. “Elder Brother Gao Ma, it’s all my fault… I did this to you.”
“It’s not your fault. I asked for it.” He paused. “Jinju, I see things more clearly now. You go back home.” He squatted down and held his head in his hands.
“No… Elder Brother…” She knelt down and wrapped her arms around his knees. “My mind’s made up,” she said. “I’ll follow you anywhere, even if we have to beg to get by.”
3.
Night set in as the sun sank beneath the horizon. The jute tips were capped by an ethereal green mist, through
