‘What a monumental joke,’ Lao Lan said to the crowd as tears gushed from his eyes. ‘If my marriage had been an unhappy one, I could easily have demanded a divorce. Why in the world would I do what he's saying? My fellow villagers are not easily fooled. I ask you, is Lao Lan capable of anything so stupid?’
‘Then tell me: how did my sister die?’ Su Zhou demanded fiercely.
‘You give me no choice, Su Zhou,’ Lao Lan said as he crouched down and wrapped his arms round his head. ‘You're forcing me to reveal a family disgrace. For some idiotic reason, your sister took the easy way out—she hanged herself…’
‘Why?’ Su Zhou insisted tearfully. ‘Tell me, why did she hang herself?’
‘Mother of my children, how could you be so foolish…’ Lao Lan wept as he pounded his head with his fist.
‘You bastard, Lao Lan,’ Su Zhou said through clenched teeth, ‘you and your secret mistress killed my sister, then made it look like suicide. Now I'm going to avenge her death!’ He grabbed the hatchet, jumped off the coffin and rushed at Lao Lan.
‘Stop him!’ Mother shrieked.
People leapt to their feet and grabbed Su Zhou round his waist. But not before he flung the hatchet at Lao Lan's head. It glinted in the light as it sliced through the air, trailing a bloody path above our heads. Mother quickly pushed Lao Lan out of the way. The hatchet dropped harmlessly to the floor and she kicked it across the room. ‘Su Zhou,’ she cried out in alarm, ‘what savage impulse drove you to try to kill him in broad daylight?’
‘Ha-ha, ha-ha,’ Su Zhou laughed wildly. ‘Yang Yuzhen, you wanton woman, it was you, you conspired with Lao Lan to kill my sister…’
Mother's face turned from red to white and her lips quivered as she pointed to Su Zhou with a shaky finger. ‘You…slinging unfounded…slander…’
‘Luo Tong,’ Su Zhou shouted as he pointed to Father, ‘you worthless excuse of a man, you green-hatted cuckold! Are you a man or are you not? They made you factory manager and your son a director so she could sleep with your boss. How can you still have the nerve to show your face in the village? If I were you, I'd have hanged myself long ago.’
‘Fuck you, Su Zhou!’ I rushed up and buried my fist in his gut.
Some men ran up and pulled me away.
Yao Qi tried to calm things down. ‘Young brother,’ he said to Su Zhou, ‘you don't hit a man in the face and you don't try to humiliate him, especially in the presence of his son and daughter. Now that you've brought this out in the open, how is Luo Tong supposed to hide his shame?’
‘Fuck your old lady, Yao Qi!’ I screamed.
Jiaojiao threaded her way up front and joined me: ‘Fuck your old lady, Yao Qi!’
‘A couple of brave children,’ Yao Qi said with a smile. ‘Always ready to fuck someone's old lady. But do you know how do that?’
‘Mind your language, everyone,’ said Chen Tianle. ‘We've heard enough. I'm the master of ceremonies and what I say goes. Lift the coffin!’
No one paid him any attention—they couldn't take their eyes off Father, who had backed into a corner, his head raised, as if studying the patterns in the ceiling. Neither Su Zhou's curses nor Yao Qi's sarcasm seemed to have had any effect on him.
Outside, the sleeting rain splashed loudly. The monks and the musicians stood like wooden statues, unmoved by the downpour. A yellow-bellied swallow swooped into the room and darted round in a panic, the gusts of wind from its flapping wings making the candle flames flicker.
Father breathed a sigh and walked away from the wall, taking slow steps—one, two, three, four…blank stares followed him—five, six, seven, eight. He stopped in front of the hatchet, looked at it, then bent over and picked it up, holding the wooden handle with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. He wiped the chicken blood off the blade on the front of his jacket with the meticulous care of a carpenter cleaning his tools. He then took hold of the hatchet with his left hand. My father was the village's most famous lefty—I was one too and so was my sister. Lefties are known for being smart; but when we were at the table eating, our chopsticks invariably clashed with Mother's, since she was right-handed. Father walked up to Yao Qi, who hid behind Su Zhou. He then walked up to Su Zhou, who hid behind his sister's coffin, followed at once by Yao Qi in an effort to keep Su Zhou between him and Father. The truth is, they meant nothing to Father. He walked up to Lao Lan, who got to his feet and nodded calmly. ‘Luo Tong, I once thought highly of you but the truth is that you were no match for Wild Mule and you're no match for Yang Yuzhen.’
Father raised the hatchet over his head.
‘Father!’ I shrieked as I ran to him.
‘Father!’ Jiaojiao shrieked as she ran to him.
The local reporter raised his camera.
The cameraman turned his lens to Father and Lao Lan.
The hatchet circled the air above Father then swung down and split open Mother's head.
She stood as still as a post for a few seconds and then slumped into Father's arms.
POW! 40
Two nimble-footed electricians pound a nail into the temple's interior wall, attach a wire and hang a floodlight from it. When it's switched on its blinding light turns the dusky hall as pale as an epileptic. I squint to protect my eyes as spasms wrack my arms and legs, and the loud buzz of a cicada rings in my ears. I fear a relapse and desperately want to urge the Wise Monk to let us into his room behind the idol to escape from that light. But he sits there calmly, looking quite comfortable. That's when I discover a pair of fancy sunglasses on the floor beside me, possibly forgotten by the medical student—I can't be sure if she is in fact Lao Lan's daughter, since the world is full of people with the same name. I owe her for saving my life, and returning the glasses would be the right thing to do. But she's gone without a trace, so I put them on to keep the bright light out of my eyes. If she comes back I'll give them to her. If not I'll keep wearing them. I know a young woman like her would not want her glasses worn by someone like me. Everything has changed colour, taken on a soft, creamy hue, and I feel comfortable again. Lao Lan strides through the door, brings his uninjured arm up to his chest in a salute, then bows deeply and says almost in jest: ‘Revered Horse Spirit, to atone for my ignorance and for offending you, I will put on an opera especially for you. I ask you to help me in my goal of becoming rich. When I do I will donate whatever it takes to refurbish your temple and give you a new coat of gold paint. I will even supply you with a bevy of young women to enjoy at leisure, so you will no longer have to enter people's homes in the dead of night’ His vow draws titters from his entourage; they cover their mouths with their hands. Fan Zhaoxia curls her lip. ‘Are you asking for something from the Spirit or trying to make it angry?’ she asks. ‘What do you know? The Spirit understands me. Revered Horse Spirit, what do you think of this wife of mine? I'll be glad to offer you her services if you like’ Fan Zhaoxia gives him a swift kick. ‘You really do have a dog's mouth that can't spit out ivory,’ she says. ‘The Horse Spirit will show itself and use its hooves to put you out of your misery.’ ‘Papa, Mamma,’ their daughter calls from the yard, ‘I want some cotton candy’