I waded slowly out toward the deep water; the surface, calm once again, reflected shards of light, thousands of them. Water grasses ensnared my feet; fish nibbled at my knees with their warm little mouths. I kept walking forward, until the water rose above my navel. I felt spasms in my gut – unbearable hunger. Then Mother’s intimate and revered, incomparably graceful breasts floated into my brain. But she had smeared hot pepper juice on her nipples, and had reminded me over and over, “You’re seven years old, time to stop nursing.” How come I’d had to live to the age of seven? Why hadn’t I died before reaching that age? Tears slid down my cheeks and into my mouth. I really ought to die, and not allow all those unclean foods to contaminate my mouth and digestive tract. Emboldened by the thought, I took several more steps forward, and the water suddenly swallowed up my shoulders; I could sense the rush of dark currents along the riverbed. I steadied my feet on the bottom to resist the powerful current. A swirling eddy drew me to it, and I was terrified. As the mud under my feet was being swept away by the rapid current of the river I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper and being pushed forward, straight into that fearful eddy. I fought to resist the force and began to scream.
Just then I heard Mother’s shouts: “Jintong – Jintong, my son, where are you…”
That was followed by a series of shouts from my sixth sister, Niandi, First Sister Laidi, and a familiar yet somehow alien thin voice; I guessed it was my second sister, the one with rings on all her fingers, Zhaodi.
I shrieked as I fell forward and was swallowed up by the eddy.
When I awoke, the first thing I saw was one of Mother’s wonderfully erect breasts, its nipple gently observing me like a loving eye. The other one was already in my mouth, taking pains to tease my tongue and rub up against my gums, a veritable stream of sweet milk filling my mouth. I smelled the heavy fragrance of Mother’s breast. I later learned that Mother had washed the pepper oil off her nipples with the rose-scented soap Second Sister, Zhaodi, had given her as an act of filial respect, and that she had also dabbed some French perfume in the cleavage between.
The room was aglow with lamplight; a dozen or more red candles had been stuck in silver candelabras on high altars. I noted that several people were seated and standing around Mother, including Sima Ku, my second brother-in-law; who was showing off his new treasure: a cigarette lighter that ignited every time he pressed the top. Young Master Sima observed his father from a distance, indifferent, no trace of intimacy.
Mother sighed. “I ought to give him back to you. The poor thing doesn’t even have a name.”
Sima Ku said, “Since my name, Ku, means a warehouse, let’s fill it with grain – Hang. We’ll call him Sima Liang.”
Mother said, “Did you hear that?” Mother said. “You are now Sima Liang.”
Sima Liang cast an indifferent glance at Sima Ku.
“Good lad,” Sima Ku said, “you remind me of myself when I was young. Mother-in-law, I thank you for protecting the life of our Sima heir. From this day on, you can look forward to enjoying life. Northeast Gaomi Township is our dominion.”
Mother responded with a noncommital shake of her head. “If you want to be truly filial,” she said to Zhaodi, “you can store up some grain for me. I don’t ever want to go hungry again.”
The following night, Sima Ku organized a great celebration in honor of the national victory in the War of Resistance and his own return to his homeland. Eight surrounding scholar trees were festooned with a cartload of firecrackers, then the men smashed two dozen pig iron woks and dug up a cache of explosives buried by the demolition battalion, with which they fashioned a device that would make a huge explosion. The firecrackers popped and cracked half the night, bringing down all the leaves and small branches from the eight scholar trees. The dazzling splinters of metal from the big device lit up half the sky. They slaughtered a dozen pigs and another dozen head of cattle, then dug up a dozen vats of vintage liquor. Filling large platters with the cooked meat, they laid them out on tables set up in the middle of the street; everyone could help themselves by using the bayonets stuck into the meat to cut off as much as they wanted; if you sliced off a pig’s ear and tossed it to one of the dogs hanging around the table, no one said a word. The vats of liquor were placed beside the tables, each with a ladle hanging on its side. Anyone wanting a drink helped himself; if you felt like taking a bath in the stuff, no one cared. That day was made for village gluttons. The eldest son of the Zhang family, Zhang Qian’er, ate and drank himself dead right there on the street. As they were carrying off his corpse, liquor and meat sprayed from his mouth and nose.
Chapter Four
1
One late afternoon a couple of weeks after the demolition battalion had been driven out of town, Fifth Sister, Pandi, handed Mother a child wrapped in an old army uniform. “Mother,” she said, “take her.”
Pandi was drenched, her thin clothes sticking to her skin; I was attracted to the sight of her full, high-arching breasts. Her hair gave off the heated aroma of distiller’s mash. Datelike nipples quivered under her blouse, and I could barely keep from rushing over to bite and fondle them. I didn’t have the nerve. Always hot-tempered, Pandi lacked First Sister’s gentle nature and needed little provocation to slap your face. Maybe it would be worth it. I went over and hid from view beneath a pear tree, biting my lip and wishing I were braver.
“Stop right there!” Mother shouted at her. “Come back here!”
“Mother,” Pandi said with an angry glare, “I’m your daughter too. If you can take care of their babies, you can take care of mine.”
“Am I this family’s babysitter?” Mother replied just as angrily. “You no sooner have your babies than you hand them over to me. Not even dogs do that!”
“Mother,” Pandi said, “when the good days came around, you shared in our good fortune. Now that we’ve run into a spell of bad luck, not even our children are spared, is that it? A bowl has to be held straight so the water won’t spill.”
First Sister’s laughter emerged from the darkness and sent cold chills up my spine. “Fifth Sister,” she said icily, “you can tell that fellow Jiang I’m going to kill him one day!” “First Sister,” Pandi replied, “it’s too early to be celebrating! Not even death will clean the slate for your turncoat husband, Sha Yueliang. So don’t go off half-cocked. If you do, no one will be able to save you.”
“Stop fighting!” Mother shouted, before sitting down heavily on the ground.
A big, bright moon climbed above the ridge of our roof and shone down on the faces of the Shangguan girls, making them seem as if coated with blood. Mother shook her head sorrowfully and sobbed. “I’ve wasted my life raising a bunch of ingrates who only curse me for my efforts. Get out of my sight, all of you. I don’t ever want to see any of you again!”
Like a specter, Laidi streaked into the west wing, where she began muttering, as if Sha Yueliang were there with her. Lingdi returned from the marshes as if in a dream, a string of croaking bullfrogs in her hand; she entered the compound by climbing over the southern wall.