He Liping performed her “nine-stage plum-blossom” only that one time. Apparently, a report was sent to the commune revolutionary committee, from which emerged a pronouncement that spears belonged only in the hands of descendants of the reddest of the red. How could anybody have allowed one to fall into the hands of someone who came from the five black categories?
Head bowed and utterly demoralized, He Liping worked silently alongside the other members of the commune. Then when all the other city kids spread their wings and flew off to their homes, she felt all alone and lonely, and that gained her plenty of sympathy. The team leader started giving her light duties. No one gave a thought to whether or not she should get married. The young male villagers hadn't forgotten her skills with a spear, and stayed clear of her.
One day she sat on the footrest of the waterwheel dangling her legs and staring at the placid green water on the pond. Junior, who was resting at the edge of the pond, couldn't keep his eyes off her darkly tanned face; high, bony nose; and eyes so dark and large there didn't seem to be any room for the whites. Her eyebrows swept sharply toward her temple hair, and there was a large, dark red mole squarely in the center of her left brow. Her teeth were very white, her mouth quite large, and her hair so thick and bushy that Junior couldn't see any of her scalp. She was dressed that day in a blue gabardine army-style tunic that was nearly white from all the washings; a snowy white wedge of skin and the lacy trim of an undershirt poked out above the unbuttoned collar of her tunic. As his gaze continued downward, Junior grew so flustered he had to turn his face toward the cabbage patch, over which a pair of butterflies frolicked. But he didn't see the butterflies, since his head was filled with images of He Liping's tunic pockets, which were thrust outward by the arching breasts behind them.
The oldster Guo Three was not a true farmer. Junior had heard people say he once worked as a “big teapot” in a Qing-dao whorehouse when he was young. Junior didn't know what a “big teapot” did, and he was too shy to ask.
Guo Three, now wifeless, lived a bachelor's existence, although there was talk that he had something going with the wife of Li Gaofa, who wore her glossy hair pulled straight back above a large fair-skinned face. Broad in the beam, she waddled like a duck when she walked. She lived close enough to the pond so that Junior and Guo Three could see her yard when they worked the waterwheel. A large, black, and very mean dog prowled the area.
They had been irrigating the cabbage patch for four days when the Li woman came over to the pond carrying a straw basket. She sidled up to the edge of the pond, a little at a time, until she was right beside the waterwheel. “Ge-ge-ge-ge,” she tittered.
“Third Uncle,” she said to Guo Three, “the team leader gave you the best job.”
Guo Three giggled. “It may look easy, but it's not. Just ask Junior.”
After working the wheel for several days in a row, Junior had noticed that his arms were, in fact, starting to ache. He just grinned and looked down on the Li woman's greasy, swept-back hair, and had a funny feeling. He didn't like her, not at all.
“That gimpy devil I'm married to was sent on a rock-gathering expedition to South Mountain,” the Li woman said. “He took his bedroll, since he won't be back for a month. I think the team leader's out to get me. With all the able-bodied young bachelors around here, why'd he send the gimpy devil?”
Junior noticed that Guo Three was blinking nervously and heard a dry chuckle rattle around in his throat. “He was showing how much he valued you folks,” he said.
“Hah!” the Li woman snorted angrily. “The old jackass is just out to get me.”
This time the oldster Guo Three held his tongue. The Li woman stretched lazily and squinted up at the sun. “Third Uncle, it's nearly noon. Time for a break.”
Guo Three shielded his eyes with his hand and looked up at the sun. “Yes, I guess it is.” He let go of the winch handle and shouted into the field, “Little He, break time!”
“Third Uncle,” the Li woman said, “that dog of ours has been off his feed the last few days. How about taking a look at him for me?”
Guo Three glanced at Junior. “After I've smoked a pipeful,” he said.
As she walked off, the Li woman looked over her shoulder and said, “Don't be too long.”
“I know, I know,” he replied with affected agitation, as he took out his tobacco pouch and his pipe. “How about you, lad?” he said to Junior with uncharacteristic warmth. “Smoke?” Then he stuck the pipe into his mouth without waiting for an answer. Junior watched him light it. “I'm getting old,” he said as he thumped his waist with his fists. “It doesn't take much for these old bones to start aching.”
Guo Three walked off in the footsteps of the Li woman. But instead of watching either of them, Junior turned back toward the cabbage patch, where He Liping was standing stock still on a field embankment, hoe in hand. The sight saddened Junior. The water in the pond, polluted by the leather scoops of the waterwheel, turned muddy and rank-smelling. He could almost taste it. The metal pipe gave out a hollow cough, the chain clanked once or twice, the handlebar turned backward a time or two, and the water drained back into the pond. The waterwheel fell silent.
As he sat on the wooden plank and let his legs dangle over the edge, Junior noticed that his hands had rubbed the rust off the handlebar. On that sunny day, water flowing sluggishly down the furrows in the cabbage patch caught the sun's rays and shone like splintered silver. The plants seemed frozen in place, and so did the high riverbank at the far end of the cabbage patch and the persimmon tree atop it, whose leaves were already starting to turn a fiery red. Junior looked westward just in time to see Guo Three stride into the yard of the Li home, where the big black dog barked once, then wagged his tail in welcome. Guo Three and the dog went inside together. Purple flowers were blooming on lentils climbing a trellis in the yard. Ripples rose on the surface of the pond, where a duck quacked and a goose honked. Two pairs of wings flapped against the water. The white long-necked gander pushed the duck under the water, and when they surfaced, he was riding on her back. Junior jumped to the ground, scooped up a handful of mud, and flung it at the gander. But it was, after all, just mud, which fell apart before it even hit the water, raising only some tiny splashes. The duck, still mounted by the gander, sped around the pond.
Junior was visited by emotions he'd never known before. He felt chilled, and the mist above the pond raised goose bumps. He didn't dare straighten up, suddenly mortified by the bulge in his pants. And, wouldn't you know it, He Liping chose that moment to walk along the embankment toward the waterwheel.
Step by step she drew near to Junior, who by then was sitting on the ground. She seemed much bigger all of a sudden, and her hair shimmered with flecks of golden light. Poor Junior's heart was beating like mad, his teeth were chattering. He rested his hands on his knees, and from there let them slide down to the tops of his feet. Finally he scooped little balls of mud out of the ground.
He heard He Liping's voice: “Where's Guo Three?”
He heard his own quaking reply: “He went to Li Gaofa's house.”