the wall, he gazed fearfully at the opening in the door. “Don’t shout, or I’ll strangle you,” the inmate threatened. “An ass-licking, tail-wagging dog is what you are!”
“Elder Brother… please don’t.”
“Tell us what kind of noodles they were.”
He shook his head.
“I know, they were hollow-core noodles. Now we’ll see how hollow your core is!” The inmate signaled the others. “Come on, men, three punches apiece, until we get him to puke!”
The young inmate clenched his fist, took aim at Gao Yang’s breastbone, and delivered three quick, hard punches.
Gao Yang wailed piteously, and while his mouth was open, the mass of noodles came tumbling out. When he was through vomiting, he lay sprawled on the cement floor.
Okay, thief,” the middle-aged inmate said, “I heard you yell for your great-aunt out there, but you didn’t get a single tomato. So now I’m going to reward you.”
“Uncle, I don’t want-”
“Keep your voice down. I’m going to let you lap up the noodles he just deposited on the floor.”
Down on his knees, the young inmate begged softly, “Uncle, good Uncle, dear Uncle, I promise I’ll never again-”
The sudden rattle of keys at the door sent the three men scurrying to their cots.
The door opened with a blaze of light, and an officer standing in the doorway held up a sheet of paper. “Number Nine, out!”
Crawling over to the door as fast as he could, leaving a trail of tears and snot, Gao Yang pleaded, Officer, please, please save me!”
“What’s wrong with you, Number Nine?” the officer asked him.
“He’s sick,” the middle-aged inmate said. “All feverish, talks jibberish. They brought him some food from the infirmary, but he threw everything up.”
“Should we still take him out?” the man asked his partner.
“Let’s try it and see what happens.” • “On your feet!” the guard ordered.
As soon as Gao Yang was standing, the nearest officer snapped a pair of golden handcuffs over his wrists.
CHAPTER 13
– from a ballad sung by Zhang Kou at the County Building wall, made scale-proof on orders of County Administrator Zhong Weimin following an incident in which the people broke into the county
administrator’s office and trounced some long-resented officials
1.
After clambering unsteadily to his feet, Gao Ma toppled over again, just as seven or eight gaily colored parakeets flew in through the open window, made passes above and below the roof beams, then playfully hugged the walls, brushing past Jinju’s hanging corpse. The silkiness of their feathers made them appear bare-skinned. Jinju’s body swung gracefully, causing the doorframe to creak. In the late-night silence even the faintest sounds thudded against his eardrum. Although no pain disturbed his numbed heart, the sickeningly sweet taste in his mouth told him he was about to cough up blood again. “Gao Ma!” He shouted his own name. Gao Ma, you were fated to take a bloody fall from the moment Jinju became yours. You have coughed up blood, vomited blood, spat blood, pissed blood-you are blood-spattered from head to toe.
Clutching the doorframe, he straightened up slowly, like a bent tree reaching for the sky. It was hard, but he managed to stand on his own two feet. It’s all my fault, Jinju. The sight of her sagging belly made the sickeningly sweet taste in his throat stronger than ever. Mounting a bench, he fumbled with the knot in the rope-shaky hands, feeble fingers. The strong, acrid, and garlicky smell of her body hit him full-force; so did the sickeningly sweet taste in his throat. He could discern a slight difference between the smell of her blood and his. A man’s blood is blazing hot, a woman’s icy cold. A woman’s blood is clean and pure, a man’s dirty and polluted. Parakeets flitted under his armpits and between his legs, their malicious squawks making his heart skip a beat. He lacked the strength to loosen the knot. The rope was so thick, and was stretched so taut, that he knew he could never untie it.
He found a match and lit the kerosene lamp; as light flooded the vacant room and cast shadows of flying parakeets on the wall, he seethed with sudden hostility toward those lovely birds. The shadow of Jinju’s body spread out across the wall and the floor.
He brushed against her as he went into the kitchen for the cleaver. In his gropings his hand touched the chimney brush and the spatula, but not his cleaver.
“Have you forgotten that my brothers took your cleaver, Gao Ma?” It was Jinju’s voice. With her face backed by the lamplight, she appeared to be smiling, although he couldn’t be sure. “Elder Brother Gao Ma,” she said with a smile, “I’m sure it’s a son.”
“I’d be just as happy with a daughter. I’ve never favored boys over girls.”
“No, a daughter won’t do. We have to make sure he gets a good education, high school and college, so he can find work in town and not have to suffer the miserable life of a farmer.”
“Jinju, going away with me brought you nothing but misery.” He stroked her head.
“You shared my misery.” She rubbed his bony chest. “My parents shouldn’t have demanded so much money from you,” she said sadly.
“That’s okay, I’ll scrape it together,” he said confidently. “I’ll get at least five thousand for the garlic. And since all the villagers will have plenty of money, I can borrow the rest-I’m sure they’ll help-so we can get married before the baby arrives.”
“Marry me now,” she said. “I can’t live in that house any longer.”
Little green dots played on her face, and he wondered if they were parakeet feathers that had stuck to it.
That was when he remembered the saber, a family relic. He’d been caught handling it when he was a child. “Put it down!” Grandpa had said. Grandpa was still alive then. “It’s rusty. I’m going to sharpen it,” Gao Ma had retorted. “This is no toy!” Grandpa had said, and snatched it out of his hand. “This saber has killed a man,” Mother had said. She was still alive then, too. “Don’t you dare play with it.” And so they had hidden it on a roof beam to keep it away from him.
He moved the stool over, reached up to the beam, and felt around until his hand bumped into something long and hard. He brought it into the light. As he slipped the saber out of its wooden scabbard, the faces of Grandpa and Mother appeared before him.
The blade was dotted with red rust but still plenty sharp. And even though the tip had snapped off, it was made of good steel. Gao Ma’s hand moved through the air until saber met rope. But the saber inexplicably bounced back, sending him crashing to the floor. He scrambled to his feet just as the rope parted and Jinju fell to the floor-toes first, then heels, then the rest of her body, face up: a crumbling mountain of silver, a collapsed jade pillar, raising a pitiful ill wind that made the kerosene lamp flicker. He knelt down and loosened the noose around her neck. A breathy sigh escaping from her mouth drew a shriek of joy from his. But she didn’t make another sound. Her body
