which a dozen or so fist-sized stars peeked. Jinju twisted her ankle and fell. “Gao Ma,” she gasped. “I cant walk another step.
He bent down and helped her up. “We have to keep moving. Your family will send people to find us.”
“But I can’t walk anymore…” By now she was crying.
He let go of her arms and began pacing the area. Autumn insects chirped amid the jute; a dog barked in a distant village.
Jinju lay on her back in a daze. Her ankle was swelling and her legs ached. “Get some sleep,” he said. “There must be five thousand acres of jute here, and the only way they could find us would be to use police dogs. Close your eyes and get some sleep.”
She awoke during the middle of the night. The sky was filled with stars, all winking mysteriously. Heavy pearl drops of dew splashed noisily on jute leaves that had fallen to the ground. Insects chirped more loudly than ever, setting up a racket like the plucking of lute strings by a bamboo pick. A sound like shifting sand rose from the floor of the jute field. This must be what it’s like to sail the ocean, she thought, lying on her back. The jute had an acrid smell that scooped up the rank aroma of moist earth as it leapt from the ground. A pair of night birds circled above, the flapping of their wings and their eerie screeches penetrating the thickening mist. She tried to roll over, but her body seemed weighted down, turned to stone. A myriad of tiny, thin sounds rose from the field, as if mysterious little creatures were prancing and tiptoeing among the jute plants, from which phosphorescent eyes glimmered and winked. Her terror returned.
Mustering all her strength, Jinju staggered to her feet. The cold autumn-night air had chilled her to the bone, numbing her limbs with the dampness of the ground. She was suddenly reminded of something her mother had told her: sleeping on damp ground in misty night air is an open invitation to leprosy. Mother’s face flashed before her eyes, giving rise to remorse: no heated kang to sleep on, no scurrying mice in the rafters, no crickets chirping in the corner of the wall, and none of Elder Brother’s talking in his sleep or Second Brother’s snores in the next room. She stood as if her body had ceased to function, her thoughts fixated on her cozy, smoky kang. Frightened by thoughts of the night around her and of the day to come, she suddenly saw herself as absurd and Gao Ma as loathsome.
Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and now stars shimmered brighdy, some of the light turning pale green as it reflected off of the jute leaves and stalks. She looked at Gao Ma, who was sitting up only three paces away, his hands clasped around his knees to pillow his head. He neither moved nor made a sound, like a figure carved of stone. At that moment they were separated by an immense gulf, and she felt alone as, one by one, the green eyes around drew nearer and nearer, and the crisp tramping of dry leaves by tiny paws rattled in her ears. Behind her lay a blanket of cold air, as icy snouts nuzzled the nape of her neck. A scream tore from her throat-she couldn’t help herself.
Gao Ma leapt to his feet and ran in a circle; the jute crackled like burning oil, and a line of little green lights flew around him like a spinning hoop. “What’s wrong? What is it?”
This was a man, not a cold, dark rock on a reef, and his panic snapped her out of her imaginings. Waves of cold air behind her drove her into his arms; into the heat from his body
“Elder Brother Gao Ma, I’m scared, and I’m cold…”
“Don’t be scared, Jinju, I’m right here.”
He held her tightly, and the strength of his arms rekindled long-dormant memories. Only months before he had held me like this and pressed his bristly mouth against mine. But now she had neither the will nor the strength to answer the call of his burning lips, which reeked of moldy garlic.
She twisted her stiff neck around and hugged him tightly. “I’m cold… numb all over…”
Gao Ma loosened his grip, and her knees buckled. He picked up her coat from where she had lain, and as he shook it out, green flashes spilled into the surrounding jute, swelling and shrinking, brightening and fading.
Gao Ma draped the coat over her shoulders. Made heavy by the wet night air, it gave off the rank odor of a foul dogskin. He laid her down on the ground to massage her limbs with his callused hands. Each finger and toe, every muscle and tendon was rubbed and massaged, her joints pinched and prodded. Electric currents spread from each spot his hands touched. A warmth flowed from her feet to her head and back down to her feet. Closing her eyes to mere slits, she reached out to catch the green sparkles that floated about his naked back, which was thin and bony. But what she found most enticing were his dark, pea-sized, manly nipples, which she suddenly felt compelled to pinch.
Sometimes he kneaded her muscles with strong pressure, sometimes his hand barely brushed her skin; sometimes he pinched her joints hard, and sometimes he scarcely prodded them. Her breathing grew heavier, her heart began to race, and she purged her mind of things she had been thinking about only a moment earlier. His body felt cold and damp next to her heat. His breath came in chilled puffs, now with a slight minty odor. She was tense with anticipation.
As his fingers peeled away her skin, she reacted with a mixture of fear and curiosity, raising her arms as if wanting to protect something. But his rough hands were now caressing her breasts, sending shivers up her spine and pulling her skin taut, as jolts of electricity coursed through her body.
All around him green dots flickered; they stuck to the jute bushes, they danced, they flew, they described wobbly, dense, lovely arcs… He was nearly encased in those green sparkles, which showed up even on his teeth.
She heard herself moan.
So many green sparkles, so many fireflies. They sizzled as they flew through the air. She arched her spine, grabbing at his back as if she were snaring the sparkles fighting on him. “They’re not green all the time. Watch them change color: now they’re a deep scarlet… now green… now scarlet… green again… and finally a shimmering blanket of gold…”
They didn’t wake up until the dark few moments before dawn. Only nesded in his arms did she feel real; as soon as she left his embrace, everything had form, but no substance.
“You must be exhausted, Elder Brother. Are you feeling all right?”
His mouth was next to her ear, into which he breathed puffs of minty air.
The stars, tiny shards of jade green, blinked in the pale sky. The mist was getting heavier; so, too, was the rank odor of damp earth. Insects, worn out after a night of chirping, were quiedy asleep. No sounds emerged from the frozen faces of jute bushes. With the rumbling of waves in her ears, her eyelids damp and sticky, she buried her head in the crook of his arm, where she fell into a deep sleep, her arms wrapped tighdy around his neck.
Dawn was announced by the cries of birds. Dewy pearl drops draped the deep-green jute leaves, which, reenergized, pointed sharply heavenward. The stalks-deep red, occasionally light yellow-stood straight and tall. The early-morning sun sent bright-red rays slicing earthward to light up Gao Ma’s face. It was a thin face, but clear and alert. An irrepressible glint of happiness shone in his eyes. At this moment he knew she couldn’t be apart from him even for a minute. His strength drew her to him like a magnet, until her eyes followed his every move. Thoughts of the night that had just passed set her heart pounding and the blood rushing to her face. Once again she threw herself into his arms, unable to control her emotions, and nibbled at his neck. Greedily she swallowed her saliva mixed with his salty, sweaty grime. When she bit down on his carotid artery she felt its powerful throbbing, a sensation that transported her to a world of enchantment and wonder, where she lost control over herself. She bit, she sucked, she nuzzled his skin with her lips, and as she did, she felt her internal organs open up like new flowers. “Elder Brother Gao Ma,” she said, “Elder Brother Gao Ma, nothing could make me regret any of this, not death itself!”
The dewy pearls splashed to the ground; now the branches seemed coated with a layer of oil that produced a dazzling sheen, and out of the earth rose a steamy dampness. From somewhere behind them came the cry of a spotted quail, a drawn-out, oppressive sound, as if, in some magical way, the bird had thrust its beak into the earth to muffle its cry. Another quail returned the call from somewhere in front. The early-morning air seemed to hang motionless, holding the jute bushes fast in its grip, like a coral reef standing inert in a sea of red.
He pushed her away. “We should eat something,” he said.
She smiled and lay back, gazing up at the chaotic green sparkles and shards of golden-red sunlight. She was raptly concentrating on a hidden spot in the recesses of her mind where the sound of swelling tides remained, distant and mysterious. Wishing she could immerse herself forever in that realm, she lay perfecdy still and held her breath; the sparkles, like tiny globules of quicksilver, froze in space and quivered briefly, as if to show they could glide away at any moment.
“Come on, get up and eat,” Gao Ma said, shaking her wrist. He took some flatcakes and garlic out of his cloth
