“It’s not that I want to die. The King of Yan has ordered my execution.”
A smile quickly appeared on King Zheng’s face and disappeared just as quickly, like a passing breeze. “You have accomplished so much for Yan that your name is praised more than the king’s. He fears your ambition. This result is expected.”
“That is indeed one reason, but not the main one. I also advised the King of Yan to build Yan’s own calculating formation. This gave him the excuse he needed to kill me.”
King Zheng turned to gaze at Jing Ke. The surprise in the king’s eyes was genuine.
“I don’t care if you believe me. My advice was given with the hope of strengthening Yan. It’s true that the calculating formation was a stratagem I came up with to destroy Qin by taking advantage of your obsession with eternal life. But it’s also a genuinely great invention. Through its calculating power, we can understand the language of mathematics and divine the mysteries of the universe. It could have opened a new era.”
The executioner had reached the top of the platform and stood in front of the rope holding up the stone monument, waiting for the final order as he held the knife in his hand.
In the distance, under a bright baldachin, the King of Yan waved his hand in assent. The supervising official shouted the order to carry out the sentence.
Jing Ke suddenly opened his eyes wide as though awakening from a dream. “I’ve got it! The calculating formation doesn’t have to rely on the army, not even people. All those gates—AND, NOT, NAND, NOR, and so on—can be made from mechanical components. These components can be made very small, and when they’re put together they will be a mechanical calculating formation! No, it shouldn’t be called a calculating formation at all, but a calculating machine! Listen to me, King; wait!” Jing Ke shouted at the King of Yan in the distance. “The calculating machine! The calculating machine!”
The executioner cut the rope.
“The calculating machine!” Jing Ke shouted the three words with the last of his breath.
As the giant stone fell, in that moment when its massive shadow blotted out everything in the world, King Zheng felt the end of his life. But in the eyes of Jing Ke, a faint ray of light heralding the beginning of a new era was extinguished.
TAKING CARE OF GOD
1.
Once again, God had upset Qiusheng’s family.
This had begun as a very good morning. A thin layer of white fog floated at the height of a man over the fields around Xicen village like a sheet of rice paper that had just become blank: the quiet countryside being the painting that had fallen out of the paper. The first rays of morning fell on the scene, and the year’s earliest dewdrops entered the most glorious period of their brief life… but God had ruined this beautiful morning.
God had gotten up extra early and gone into the kitchen to warm some milk for himself. Ever since the start of the Era of Support, the milk market had prospered. Qiusheng’s family had bought a milk cow for a bit more than ten thousand yuan, and then, imitating others, mixed the milk with water to sell. The unadulterated milk had also become one of the staples for the family.
After the milk was warm, God took the bowl into the living room to watch TV without turning off the liquefied petroleum gas stove.
When Qiusheng’s wife, Yulian, returned from cleaning the cowshed and the pigsty, she could smell gas all over the house. Covering her nose with a towel, she rushed into the kitchen to turn off the stove, opened the window, and turned on the fan.
“You old fool! You’re going to get the whole family killed!” Yulian shouted into the living room. The family had switched to using liquefied petroleum gas for cooking only after they began supporting God. Qiusheng’s father had always been opposed to it, saying that gas was not as good as honeycomb coal briquettes. Now he had even more ammunition for his argument.
As was his wont, God stood with his head lowered contritely, his broom-like white beard hanging past his knees, smiling like a kid who knew he had done something wrong. “I… I took down the pot for heating the milk. Why didn’t it turn off by itself?”
“You think you’re still on your spaceship?” Qiusheng said, coming down the stairs. “Everything here is dumb. We aren’t like you, being waited on hand and foot by smart machines. We have to work hard with dumb tools. That’s how we put rice in our bowls!”
“We also worked hard. Otherwise how did you come to be?” God said carefully.
“Enough with the ‘how did you come to be?’ Enough! I’m sick of hearing it. If you’re so powerful, go and make other obedient children to support you!” Yulian threw her towel on the ground.
“Forget it. Just forget it,” Qiusheng said. He was always the one who made peace. “Let’s eat.”
Bingbing got up. As he came down the stairs, he yawned. “Ma, Pa, God was coughing all night. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You don’t know how good you have it,” Yulian said. “Your dad and I were in the room next to his. You don’t hear us complaining, do you?”
As though triggered, God began to cough again. He coughed like he was playing his favorite sport with great concentration.
Yulian stared at God for a few seconds before sighing. “I must have the worst luck in eight generations.” Still angry, she left for the kitchen to cook breakfast.
God sat silently through breakfast with the rest of the family. He ate one bowl of porridge with pickled vegetables and half a mantou bun. During the entire time he had to endure Yulian’s disdainful looks—maybe she was still mad about the liquefied petroleum gas, or maybe she thought he ate too much.
After breakfast, as usual, God got up quickly to clean the table and wash the dishes in the kitchen. Standing just outside the kitchen, Yulian shouted, “Don’t use detergent if there’s no grease on the bowl! Everything costs money. The pittance they pay for your support? Ha!”
God grunted nonstop to show that he understood.
Qiusheng and Yulian left for the fields. Bingbing left for school. Only now did Qiusheng’s father get up. Still not fully awake, he came downstairs, ate two bowls of porridge, and filled his pipe with tobacco. At last he remembered God’s existence.
“Hey, old geezer, stop the washing. Come out and play a game with me!” he shouted into the kitchen.
God came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. He nodded ingratiatingly at Qiusheng’s father. Playing Chinese Chess with the old man was a tough chore for God; winning and losing both had unpleasant consequences. If God won, Qiusheng’s father would get mad: You fucking old idiot! You trying to show me up? Shit! You’re God! Beating me is no great accomplishment at all. Why can’t you learn some manners? You’ve lived under this roof long enough! But if God lost, Qiusheng’s father would still get mad: You fucking old idiot! I’m the best chess player for fifty kilometers. Beating you is easier than squishing a bedbug. You think I need you to let me win? You… to put it politely, you are insulting me!
In any case, the final result was the same: the old man flipped the board, and the pieces flew everywhere. Qiusheng’s father was infamous for his bad temper, and now he’d finally found a punching bag in God.
But the old man didn’t hold a grudge. Every time after God picked up the board and put the pieces back quietly, he sat down and played with God again—and the whole process was repeated. After a few cycles of this, both of them were tired, and it was almost noon.
God then got up to wash the vegetables. Yulian didn’t allow him to cook because she said God was a terrible cook. But he still had to wash the vegetables. Later, when Qiusheng and Yulian returned from the fields, if the vegetables hadn’t been washed, she would be on him again with another round of bitter, sarcastic scolding.