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There was no time like the present. I knew I’d do it. First I kicked off the goose and wiped away some of the excrement. Then, before I started, I didn’t forget to bow respectfully. Moving something that heavy was child’s play to a boat person. Calmly and in complete control, I grasped the rope with both hands and pulled with all my might. The stone obediently righted itself and stood at the right angle for me to lift it with my arms and hip. Slowly it began to move, and it seemed to me to weigh at least two hundred jin. Experience told me that it was too heavy for one man to move, but it gave me a tremendous surprise: it was helping me along, dispensing good will and a warm feeling. The heavy stone slid easily along the cement floor, never wavering, with no doubt or hesitation, and by pulling hard, it didn’t take me long to drag it free of the pavilion. Bianjin’s geese reacted with panicky honks, which attracted the attention of the truck drivers in the car park. Thinking I was a thief, one of them stood up and, with a grin, shouted to me, ‘I knew you were a three-handed sort, the way you slinked around there. But a memorial stone? What are you going to do with that? Take it home and build a house to win a bride?’

It was a lucky break. Those truckers were all outsiders, and Milltown meant nothing to them. But their laughter brought me out in a cold sweat. This was Milltown, where everyone was on the lookout for something, and my risky adventure could be over before it really began. I had to move fast. Move fast! Fast! I kept telling myself. Fast! Move fast! I urged the stone, but, seemingly offended, it chose this moment to make a display of its dignity and flaunt its weight. Now pulling it behind me was like dragging a mountain along, and by the time I reached the path by the cotton warehouse, my arms felt as if they were about to fall off and I was gasping for breath. I had to stop. When I turned to look behind me, the first group of followers was catching up. A pair of white geese and three ducks were waddling my way, raising the alarm with their honks and quacks. Then the second wave came into view: the geese’s master, idiot Bianjin. He was brandishing a duck whistle. ‘Stop right there, Ku Dongliang!’ he shouted. ‘Kongpi, I said stop!’ His enraged shouts ripped through the night. ‘You’ve got guts, Kongpi. What are you dragging there? I told you to stop! Where do you think you’re going?’

He blew his duck whistle, which drew more geese and ducks from around the piers, and before I knew it I was surrounded by them. Everyone — man and fowl — was talking at once. The ducks’ and geese’s incomprehensible complaints fell on deaf ears, but not the idiot’s angry shouts. ‘How dare you, Ku Dongliang! I thought somebody was stealing a hammer or a jack, but no, you’re stealing the memorial stone! I never thought you’d have the guts to actually steal the martyr Deng Shaoxiang’s spirit!’

‘Stop the crazy talk, idiot. I’m not stealing her spirit, I’m taking the stone to show my father. He’s in terrible health, but this’ll cure him.’

‘You’re the idiot! That stone isn’t some magic elixir, how can it cure your dad?’ With one hand on his hip and the other pointing to his own nose, he said, ‘You’ve certainly got guts. Do you know what you’ve done? You’re an active counter-revolutionary. You can be shot for that.’

‘What do you know about active counter-revolutionaries?’ I asked. ‘Or historical ones, for that matter? With my own eyes I saw one of your geese shit on the martyr’s memorial. Come and look for yourself. If that’s not goose shit, what is it? What kind of counter-revolutionary is that goose of yours, huh? Should they take it out and shoot it?’

One look at the mess on the memorial stone and his nerves began to betray him. He looked at his flock. ‘Which one was it? Tell me. He won’t get away with it.’

‘All your geese look alike. How am I supposed to know which one it was? But if one of them shit on the memorial stone, I’m sure the others did too. They’re all counter-revolutionaries, and they’ll have to be taken out and shot.’

‘Stop trying to scare me.’ After glowering at me, he turned back to his flock and thought for a minute. Then he came up with a smart comment. ‘The goose shouldn’t have shit on it, but it’s an animal and it doesn’t know any better. Are you an animal too? Don’t you know any better?’

He stumped me. Not having anything to say, I gave him a shove. ‘You really are an idiot. I can’t argue with an idiot. If they shoot me, they shoot me, and it’s none of your business. Get out of my sight.’ I kicked a goose and two ducks out of my way and continued dragging the stone towards the embankment.

Bianjin grabbed a handful of my clothes. ‘Where do you think you’re going? I’m in charge of the pavilion. I can’t let you take anything out of it.’

I’d underestimated his intelligence and his physical skills. With a shout he jumped on to the stone, and the added weight nearly broke my arms. I immediately let go of the rope. Seeing that I’d given up, his next move was to take control of the rope. We went for it at the same time, four hands grasping at the same spot. We bumped heads, hard, and I saw stars. That enraged me, so I grabbed hold of his tattered shirt and pushed him to the side of the road. ‘Good dogs stay out of the way, idiot, so be a good dog and get out of my way. If you don’t, I’ll twist that dog’s head of yours off.’

But I had underestimated Bianjin’s courage. He surprised me by sticking his head right up to my chest. ‘Go ahead,’ he said. ‘Twist it off. If you don’t, then you’re the dog.’

Bianjin and I grappled atop the memorial. He was no pushover, and as the struggle raged, I fought to stay on top. But that proved to be an unwise tactic: if I couldn’t control Bianjin, I wouldn’t be able to move the stone. In the end, I abandoned it, ran around and jumped on to Bianjin’s back, pinning his arms to his sides and holding on tight. He was not a young man, after all, and couldn’t get out of my bear hug, though he stamped around as best he could and screamed in distress, ‘Help! Someone come and catch Ku Dongliang! Catch a counter-revolutionary!’

The screams brought Old Qin, night watchman at the cotton warehouse, running, lunch box in hand. But when he saw who it was, he lost interest and continued shovelling food into his mouth. ‘So it’s you two,’ he said finally. ‘What’s all this about a counter-revolutionary? It’s just an idiot and a kongpi. Counter-revolutionary? That’s above both of your ranks. Don’t waste my time.’

‘He’s stealing the martyr’s memorial stone,’ Bianjin cried out desperately. ‘He’s a counter-revolutionary, an active counter-revolutionary. Get the police!’

Old Qin ignored Bianjin’s pleas. Instead, he walked up to the stone, still holding his lunch box, and gave me a quizzical look. ‘Come to think of it, this is strange. What do you want this for? A souvenir for your dad or something? But it’s only a memorial. Why bother to drag it around like that? As far as I’m concerned, your dad’s head is filled with mush. What difference does it make if he’s descended from a martyr or not? What matters is getting by the best you can in good health.’

Old Qin’s admonition fell on deaf ears — mine and Bianjin’s. Bianjin looked up and vented his anger and frustration on Old Qin. ‘Why don’t you get the police instead of standing around talking like a fool? You’re abetting a criminal, and that’s a crime punishable by three years in prison!’

Old Qin lost his temper and kicked Bianjin in the rear. ‘You stinking idiot!’ he cursed. ‘I tried to teach you how to do arithmetic, but you were too dumb to learn. The only way you could count six geese is by using your fingers, so what’s all that talk about three years in prison? Lucky for me you’re an idiot, or you’d sentence me to three hundred years! If you weren’t an idiot, you’d have lined everyone up along the Golden Sparrow River and shot them!’ His anger growing, he kicked Bianjin a second time.