Meanwhile, Zunlong had thrown himself into his work, and within half an hour had built a raft several meters long. Since they had no oars, he recommended that they use wooden spades. Lu Liren gave the order. Then he replied to Sima Liang, “Go tell your granny that I’ve granted her request.” He looked at his watch. “You two can leave now.” But we didn’t, because when we looked toward the house, we saw Mother walk out the door with a bamboo basket covered by a piece of white cloth over one arm and carrying a red earthenware teapot in her other hand. Zaohua walked out after her, a bunch of green scallions in her arms. Behind her came Sima Ku’s twin daughters, Sima Feng and Sima Huang; they were followed by the twin sons of the mute and Third Sister, Big Mute and Little Mute. Then came Lu Shengli, who had just learned to walk. Bringing up the rear was Shangguan Laidi, her face heavily powdered. The procession moved slowly. The twin girls kept looking at the bean vines and the morning glories growing among them, hoping to see dragonflies, butterflies, or cicada shells. The twin boys kept looking at trees lining the lane – scholar trees, willow trees, and mulberry trees, with their light yellow bark; they were looking for delectable snails. Lu Shengli kept her eyes peeled for puddles, and whenever she spotted one, she stomped down in the water and filled the lane with gales of innocent laughter. Laidi was walking like a proper young lady, but I was so far away I could see only her powdered face, not her features.
Lu Liren took a pair of binoculars from the neck of one of his guards and looked across the river. A soldier beside him asked with a sense of urgency, “Are they here?”
“No,” he said without looking away. “Not a trace of them. All I see is a crow pecking at a pile of horse dung.”
“Could something have happened to them?” the guard asked anxiously.
“I don’t think so. They’re all marksmen, and no one would dare try to stop them.”
Suddenly, a group of dark-skinned men stood on the opposite dike; the sun’s shifting reflection on the surface created the illusion that they were standing on the water, not the dike. “There they are,” Lu Liren said. “Have the signalmen let them know we’re here.”
A young soldier stepped up, raised a short, stubby, strange-looking pistol, and fired it into the air. A yellow ball arced into the sky, froze there for a moment, and then fell in a sweeping curve, leaving a trail of white smoke and a sizzling sound before falling into the river. As it fell, some gulls were tempted to go after it, but a closer look sent them fleeing with shrill cries.
“Give another signal,” Lu Liren said, when there was no response.
This time the soldier took out a red banner, tied it to the end of the branch Zunlong had discarded, and waved it in the air; the men on the other bank roared their approval.
“Good,” Lu Liren said as he draped the binoculars around his neck. He turned to the young officer who had spoken with him a moment before. “Staff Officer Qian, run back and tell Chief of Staff Du to bring the prisoners, on the double.” Staff Officer Du turned and ran down the dike.
Lu Liren jumped onto the raft and stomped on it to see how sturdy it was. “It won’t break up out on the river, will it?” he asked Zunlong.
“Don’t you worry, sir. Back in the autumn of 1921, the villagers ferried Senator Zhao across the river. I made the raft they used.”
“These are important prisoners,” Lu Liren said. “There can be no mistakes.”
“Don’t you worry, sir. If there are, you can cut off nine of my ten fingers.”
“What good would that do? If the worst happened, even taking nine of my fingers would serve no purpose.”
Mother led her procession up the dike, where she was met by Lu Liren. “Aunt,” he said politely, “wait here for the time being. They’re being brought over now.” He bent down to put his face up close to Lu Shengli. Frightened, she started to cry, embarrassing Lu, who straightened his eyeglasses and said, “She doesn’t even know her own daddy.” “Fifth Son-in-law,” Mother said with a sigh. “All this fighting, back and forth, when’s it going to end?” Lu had an answer ready. “Don’t worry, in two or, at the most, three years, you’ll have the peaceful life you’re looking for.” Mother said, “I’m just a woman, and I ought to keep my thoughts to myself, but can’t you find it in you to let them go? After all, you and they are part of the same family.” “Dear Mother-in-law,” Lu said with a smile, “that’s not for me to decide. But how did you wind up with so many troublesome sons-in-law?” He laughed, a mirthful sound that lightened the mood on the dike. “Can’t you ask your superiors to grant clemency?” “Please, Mother-in-law, don’t trouble yourself over things like this.”
A detachment of guards came down the lane escorting Sima Ku, Babbitt, and Niandi. Sima Ku’s hands were tied behind his back with rope; Babbitt’s were tied in front of him; Niandi’s were free. When they passed by our house, Sima Ku walked up to the door. A guard blocked his way. Sima Ku spat at him and shouted, “Get out of my way, I’m going in to say good-bye to my family.” Cupping his hands in front of his mouth, Lu Liren trumpeted down the lane, “Commander Sima, there’s no need for that. They’re all right here.” As if he hadn’t heard, Sima hunched his shoulders and, followed by Babbitt and Niandi, forced his way into the yard, where the three of them dawdled a while. Lu Liren kept looking at his watch, as the escort troops on the other side of the river waved a red banner back and forth. The signalman on this side waved his in response.
Finally, Sima Ku and his companions walked out of the yard and made their way up the dike. “Ready the raft!” Lu Liren ordered. A dozen or so soldiers responded by pushing the raft out into the roiling river. It bobbed to the surface and was turned parallel to the bank by the current. The soldiers held tightly to the rope handles to keep it from setting off downriver.
“Commander Sima, Mr. Babbitt,” Lu Liren said, “we’re a benevolent army. Humanity is our guiding principle, which is why I’ve permitted your family to see you off. Please be quick about it.”
Sima Ku, Babbitt, and Niandi walked over to where we were standing. Sima was smiling; Babbitt looked worried. Niandi was in a somber mood, looking like a martyr, unafraid to die. “Sixth Sister,” Lu Liren said softly, “you may stay behind.” But Niandi shook her head, determined to follow her husband.
Mother took the cloth covering off of her basket, and Zaohua handed her a peeled scallion, which she broke in half and stuffed into a flatcake. Then she took a jar of bean paste from her basket and handed it to Sima Liang. “Hold it,” she said. He took it and stood there staring at her. “Don’t stare at me,” she said, “look at your father.” Sima Liang’s gaze flew over to the face of Sima Ku, who looked down at his husky, dark-skinned son. A cloud of worry had settled on his face, something we hardly ever saw. His shoulder twitched. Was he going to reach down to touch his son? Sima Liang’s lips parted. “Dad,” he said softly. Sima Ku’s yellow eyes seemed to spin; he forced back tears and swallowed them. “Don’t forget, son,” he said, “that no member of the Sima family has ever died in bed. I don’t expect you to, either.” “Dad, are they going to shoot you?” Sima Ku gazed at the murky river out of the corner of his eye. “Your father failed because he was too soft, too kind. So don’t you forget that if you’re going to be a bad man, you must kill without mercy, and if you’re going to be a good man, you’ll always have to walk with your head bowed to keep from stepping on ants. The one thing you must never become is a bat, neither bird nor beast. Can you remember that?” Biting his lip, Sima Liang nodded.