flower in a pile of cow dung, or seeing a gorgeous butterfly fall in love with a dung beetle. I’m going to hold her hand. Tonight’s the night. He inched closer to her, until he felt their trousers touch. He kept staring at Zhang Kou’s mouth-opening and closing, opening and closing-trying to appear calm and composed. Is there no sound coming from that mouth, or is it being drowned out by the din around me? My heart sounds like corn leaves rustling in the wind. And he remembered when he first felt his heart moving toward Jinju, a year earlier.
I am lying in the cornfield gazing at clouds being carved up by sharp-edged leaves above me. The clouds vanish, and the sky is clear; the sun-baked ground blisters my back. White sap beads up and dangles from downy filaments, reluctant to fall earthward, like the tears on her lashes… millet moves in waves, then is stilled when the wind stops. The ripe stalks bow low as a pair of screeching magpies flies past, one nipping at the other’s tail. A curious sparrow follows them, mixing its cries with theirs. The air is pungent with the smell of garlic fresh from the ground.
Jinju is alone in the field, bent over as she cuts down the millet, dropping handful after handful between her legs, where it rustles heavily, hits the ground, and curls upward like a bushy yellow tail. My millet is all bundled and stacked. Emaciated lines of corn trying to see the sun fill the gaps between the stacks, the results of intercropping; but the millet bullies the puny cornstalks. Two acres isn’t enough for a bachelor like me. I’ve had my eye on her ever since I was discharged from the army last year. She’s no beauty; but then neither am I. Not that she’s ugly; but then neither am I. She was just a gangly little girl when I left; now she’s so grown up, and so robust. I like robust women. I’ll take my millet home this afternoon. My Shanghai-made Diamond-Brand wristwatch, which runs about twenty seconds fast every day, says 11:03.1 set it with the radio a few days ago, so it’s actually right on eleven. I can take my time getting home.
Gao Ma’s sense of pity ran deep as he stood, scythe in hand, secretly watching Jinju, who worked with the same concentration as the magpies chasing one another overhead, followed closely by the solitary sparrow. She didn’t know someone was behind her. Gao Ma kept a small cassette player in his pocket, listening to it with earphones. The rundown batteries distorted the sound. But it was good music, and that’s what counted. A young girl is like a flower. Jinju’s back was broad and flat, her hair damp. She was breathing hard.
The good-hearted Gao Ma removed the earphones and lay them against his neck, where the distorted music was still audible. “Jinju,” he called out softly. Music coming through the spongy earphone tips vibrated against his throat, making it itch. He reached up and adjusted them.
She straightened up slowly, a blank look on her sweaty, dusty face. She was holding a scythe in her right hand and a bundle of millet in her left. Wordlessly she gazed into the face of Gao Ma, who was mesmerized by the curve of her bosom beneath the pockets of a tattered, faded blue tunic. He said nothing. Jinju tossed down her scythe, split the millet into two bundles, and laid them on the ground. Then she took out a piece of hemp and wrapped up the bundles.
“Jinju, why do you have to do this alone?”
“My brother went to market,” she replied softly, wiping her face with her sleeve and pounding her waist with a fist. Sweat had turned her face pale. Wet strands of hair stuck to her temples.
“Cramp in your side?”
She smiled. Faint green stains dotted her front teeth, but the others sparkled. A missing collar button revealed an expanse of soft, white cleavage that unnerved him. The open throat was dotted with tiny red marks from the millet spikes, which had also deposited bits of white powder on her skin.
“Your older brother went to market?” He wished he hadn’t said that, since her older brother was a cripple; it was the second brother who normally went to market.
“No,” she replied evenly.
“Then he should be out here helping you.”
She squinted in the sunlight. He felt sorry for her.
“What time is it, Elder Brother Gao Ma?”
He looked at his watch. “Eleven-fifteen.” He quickly added, “But my watch is a little fast.”.
She sighed softly and looked over at his field of millet. “You’re lucky, Elder Brother Gao Ma, you’ve got only yourself to worry about. Now that you’re finished, you can take it easy.” She sighed again, then turned and picked up her scythe. “I have to get back to work.”
He stood motionless behind her bent figure for a moment. “I’ll help you,” he said with a sigh.
“Thanks, but I can’t let you do that,” she said as she straightened up.
He looked her in the eye. “Why not? I don’t have anything else to do. Besides, what are neighbors for?”
She lowered her head and muttered, “Well, I could use some help.”
He took the cassette player out of his pocket, switched it off, and laid it on the ground, earphones and all.
“What do you play on that?” she asked.
“Music,” he replied, cinching up his belt.
“It must sound nice.”
“It’s okay, except the batteries are getting low. I’ll get some new ones tomorrow, so you can listen to it.”
“Not me,” she said with a smile. “If I broke it, I couldn’t afford to have it fixed.”
“It’s not
They began cutting her millet, which rustled loudly. She walked ahead of him, but for every two rows she cut, he managed three; she laid out the bundles, he picked them up.
“Your father’s not too old to be out here helping you,” he grumbled.
Her scythe stopped in midair. “He has guests today.”
The heavy-hearted, mournful tone of her comment did not escape Gao Ma, who dropped the subject and returned to his work. His mood was further soured by the millet brushing against his face and shoulders. “I cut three rows for every two of yours, and you’re getting in my way,” he snapped.
“Elder Brother Gao Ma,” she complained, on the verge of tears, I’m worn out.”
“I should have guessed,” he replied. “This is no job for a woman.”
“People can endure anything.”
“If I had a wife, she’d be home in the kitchen or mending clothes or feeding the chickens. I’d never make her work in the fields.”
Jinju looked at him and muttered, “She’s a lucky woman, whoever she is.”
“Jinju, tell me what the villagers say about me.”
“I’ve never heard them say anything.”
“Don’t worry-whatever it is, I can take it.”
“Well, some of them say… don’t get mad… they say you messed up in the army.”
“That’s right, I did.”
“They say you and a regiment commander’s wife… he caught the two of you…”
Gao Ma sneered. “It wasn’t his wife, it was his concubine. And I didn’t love her. I hated her-I hated them all.”
“You’ve seen and done so much,” she said with a sigh.
“It’s not worth a dog’s fart,” he snarled. Throwing down his scythe, he scooped up some millet and straightened up. Kicking it angrily, he cursed again, “Not worth a dog’s fart!”
Her crippled brother limped up about then, as Gao Ma recalled. Though he was not yet forty, his hair was turning white and his face was deeply wrinkled. His left leg, shorter than the right, was rail thin, giving him a pronounced limp.
“Jinju!” he bellowed. “You plan to stay here through lunch?”
Cupping his hand over his eyes, Gao Ma muttered, “Why does your brother treat you like his worst enemy?”
She bit her lip as two large tears slid down her cheeks.
Jinju, I haven’t known a moment’s peace since you cried that day. I love you, I want to make you my wife… It’s been a year already, Jinju, but you avoid me whenever I try to talk to you… I want to rescue you from your living hell. Zhang Kou, another dozen lines is all I ask, enough time for me to take her hand… even if she screams in front of everyone, even if her mother jumps up and curses or slaps me. No, she wont scream, I know she wont. She’s
