IV
Meat Boy, by Li Yidou
A late autumn night; the moon was out, hanging in the western sky, the edges of its visible half blurred like a melting ice cube. Cold rays of light danced in the sleepy village of Liquor Scent. Someone’s rooster crowed from a chicken coop. The sound was muffled, as if emerging from a deep cellar.
Muted though the sound was, it still roused the wife of Jin Yuanbao from her sleep. She wrapped a quilt around her shoulders and sat up, feeling disoriented in the surrounding mist. Pale moonbeams slanted in through the window, stamping white designs on the black quilt. Her husband’s feet stuck out from under the covers to her right, icy cold. She covered them with a corner of the quilt. Little Treasure slept curled up on her left, his breathing deep and even. The muffled crows of roosters from even farther away came on the air. She shivered and climbed down off the bed, throwing a jacket over her shoulders as she walked into the yard, where she gazed up into the sky. Three stars hung in the west and the Seven Daughters rose in the east. It would soon be dawn.
The woman went inside and nudged her husband.
‘Time to get up.’ she said. ‘The Seven Daughters are up already.’
The man stopped snoring and smacked his lips a time or two before sitting up.
Is it dawn already?’ he asked, with a hint of confusion.
‘Just about,’ the woman said. ‘Get there a little earlier this time, so it won’t be a wasted trip like the last time.’
Slowly the man draped his lined coat over his shoulders, reached out for a tobacco pouch at the head of the bed, filled his pipe, and stuck it between his lips. Then he picked up a flint, a stone, and some tinder to make a fire. Angular sparks flew, one landing on the tinder, which caught fire when he blew on it. The deep red flame glowed in the dark room. He lit his pipe and took a couple of quick puffs. He was about to snuff out the tinder when his wife said:
‘Light the lantern.’
‘Are you sure you want to?’ he asked.
‘Go ahead and light it,’ she said. ‘A tiny bit of lantern oil can’t make us any poorer than we are now.’
He took a deep breath and blew again on the tinder in his hand, watching it grow brighter and brighter and finally turning into a real flame. The woman brought the lantern over and lit it, then hung it on the wall, where it cast its feeble light throughout the room. Husband and wife exchanged hurried glances, then looked away. One of the many children sleeping next to the man was talking in his sleep, loudly, like shouting slogans. One of the others reached out and rubbed the greasy wall. Yet another was weeping. The man tucked the one child’s arm back under the covers and nudged the weeping child.
‘What are you crying about?’ he said impatiently. ‘Little family wrecker!’
The woman took a deep breath. ‘Shall I boil some water?’
‘Go ahead,’ the man replied. ‘A couple of gourdfuls will be enough.’
The woman thought for a moment, then said, ‘Maybe three this time. The cleaner he is, the better our chances.’
The man raised his pipe without replying, then peeked over at the corner of the bed, where the little brat was sleeping soundly.
The woman moved the lantern over to the door, so the light would shine into both rooms. After washing out the wok, she dumped in the three gourdfuls of water, put the lid on, and picked up a handful of straw, which she lit from the lantern and carefully inserted into the stove. The fire blazed as she fed it more straw, golden tongues of flame licking up to the surface and bringing color to the woman’s face. The man sat on a stool beside the bed and stared blankly at the woman, who seemed younger somehow.
The water gurgled to a boil and the woman added more kindling to the stove. The man knocked the bowl of his pipe against the bed, cleared his throat, and said hesitantly:
‘Big-Tooth Sun’s wife, over at East Village, is pregnant again, and she’s still got one at the tit.’
‘Everybody’s different,’ the woman said agreeably. ‘Who wouldn’t like to have a baby every year? And triplets each time?’
‘Big-Tooth’s got it made, the son of a bitch, just because his brother-in-law’s an inspector. He had poor-quality goods, but that didn’t stop him. When he’d have been lucky to reach second-grade, he came out of it with special grade.’
‘Becoming an official’s easy if you’ve got connections at court. That’s the way it’s always been,’ the woman said.
‘But Little Treasure is a cinch to be first-grade. No other family can match our investment,’ the man said. ‘You ate a hundred catties of beancakes, ten carp, four hundred catties of turnips…’
‘I ate? That food may have gone into my stomach, but it stayed there just long enough to turn into milk for him to suck out of me!’
Steam from the boiling water seeped out from under the lid of the wok, causing the lamplight to flicker weakly, like a little red bean, in the misty air.
The woman stopped feeding the stove and turned to the man.
‘Bring me the wash basin,’ she demanded.
He grunted a reply and went into the yard, quickly returning with a chipped black ceramic basin. The bottom was covered by a thin layer of frost.
The woman removed the lid from the wok, releasing a cloud of steam that nearly extinguished the lantern. Slowly the light returned to the room. She picked up the gourd and scooped hot water into the basin.
‘Aren’t you going to add cool water?’ the man asked.
She tested the water with her hand. ‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s just right. Go get him.’
The man went into the next room, bent down, and lifted up the boy, who was still snoring. When he started crying, Jin Yuanbao patted him on the bottom and made cooing sounds.
‘Treasure, Little Treasure, don’t cry. Daddy’s going to give you a bath.’
The woman took the child from him. Little Treasure crooked his neck and nestled against her bosom, groping with his hands.
‘Want Mama… milk…’
She had no choice but to sit in the doorway and open her blouse. Little Treasure took a nipple into his mouth and immediately began gurgling contentedly. The woman was hunched over, as if the child were weighing her down.
The man stirred the water in the basin with his hand.
‘He’s had enough,’ he said to hurry her along. ‘The water’s getting cold.’
The woman patted Little Treasure’s bottom.
‘Treasure,’ she said, ‘my Treasure, stop sucking. You’ve already sucked me dry. Time for a bath. When you’re all clean, we’ll take you to town for an outing.’
She pushed the child away, but Treasure refused to give up the nipple, stretching it as far as it would go, like a worn-out piece of rubber.
The man reached out and jerked the child away. The woman moaned, Treasure shrieked tearfully. Jin Yuanbao patted his bottom, harder this time, and said angrily:
‘What are you screeching about?’
‘Not so hard,’ the woman complained. ‘Bruises will lower the grade.’
After stripping Treasure’s clothes off and tossing them aside, the man tested the water again. ‘It’s pretty hot,’ he mumbled, ‘but that’ll put a little color in him.’ He laid the naked boy down in the basin, drawing yelps of pain louder than the screeches of a moment earlier. As if elevated from a rolling hill to a towering mountain peak. The boy’s legs curled inward as he fought to climb out of the basin. But Jin Yuanbao kept pushing him back. Beads of hot water splashed the woman. Quickly covering her face with her hands, she complained softly:
‘Treasure’s daddy, the water’s too hot. Burning his skin will lower the grade.’
‘This little family wrecker, his water’s got to be just right, not too cold, not too hot. All right, add half a gourdful of cool water.’
The woman scrambled to her feet without covering her droopy breasts; the hem of her blouse hung limply
