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I’m not crying, Gao Yang muttered to himself. I’m not.

Summoning all his energy, he got to his feet and pushed his back against the tree trunk as hard as he could, in order to take some of the pressure off his arms. The policewoman, Song Anni, came up to survey the scene. She removed her cap, smoothing her lush black hair, but kept her sunglasses on as she wiped her moist, shiny lips with a handkerchief that quickly covered her mouth as her glance landed on the horse-faced young man’s mess. “No problems here?” she asked in a muffled voice.

Gao Yang didn’t feel like answering, and Fourth Aunt was incapable of it, so it was up to the horse-faced young man: “No p-problem, even if I f-fuck your old lady!”

Terrified that she was going to hit the young man, Gao Yang spun around to look at him. But the policewoman just turned and walked away, her mouth covered by the handkerchief.

“Worthy brother,” Gao Yang said, struggling to get the words out, “don’t make things any harder on yourself.”

The young man just grinned. His face was as pale as a sheet of paper.

The policewoman returned with Zhu and Zheng in tow. Zhu had a metal pail, Zheng carried three empty beer bottles, and the policewoman held a ladle.

At the tap the water pressure was so strong it made Zhu’s pail sing; he filled it to overflowing and carried it away without turning off the water, which sloshed over the bricks and tiles on the ground. The fragrance of fresh water drifted on the air to Gao Yang, who breathed it in deeply. It was almost as if a strange beast in his stomach were calling out: “Water… Your Honor… be merciful… water, please” Zheng no sooner put one of his bottles under the tap than it was full, froth quickly gathering at the top. He walked up to Gao Yang with three full bottles. “Want some?”

Gao Yang nodded vigorously. He could smell the water, and the sight of Zheng’s puffy face filled him with such gratitude he nearly wept.

Zheng held one of the bottles up to Gao Yang, who grabbed the mouth with his teeth and sucked in thirstily, taking a huge slug, some of it taking a wrong turn down his windpipe. He choked so violently his eyes rolled back in his head. Zheng tossed the bottle to the ground and began pounding him on the back. Water shot out of Gao Yang’s mouth and nose.

“Slow down,” Zheng said. “There’s plenty.”

Even after polishing off three bottles of water, Gao Yang was still thirsty. His throat was on fire, but he could see by the look of displeasure on Zheng’s face that it would be unwise to ask for more.

The horse-faced young man struggled to his feet and was helped to some water by Whiskers Zhu. Gao Yang stared greedily as he drank five bottles. Two more than me, he grumbled inwardly.

Fourth Aunt was probably unconscious, since the policewoman was ladling water over her. Clear when it hit her, the water dripped to the ground a dirty gray. Her short-sleeved jacket, made of mosquito netting and long a stranger to soap and water, regained some of its original whiteness in the dousing. With wet clothes clinging to her back, she looked skeletal, her shoulder blades poking up like sharp crags. Hair stuck to her scalp, from which dirty water dripped to the ground and formed shiny puddles.

The stink rising from her body made Gao Yang’s stomach lurch. Maybe, he thought, she’s already dead. But just as he shivered from the fearful thought, he saw her white head rise slowly, straining the poor woman’s neck to its limit. The water made her hair look thinner than ever, and all he could think of was how much uglier bald women are than bald men. That in turn reminded him of his mother, who was bald when she died, and he nearly wept.

At one time his mother, too, had been a white-haired yet energetic old woman. But that changed halfway through the Cultural Revolution, when her nice white hair was ripped out by poor and lower-middle-class peasants. Maybe she deserved it, since she had married a landlord. Who else could they attack, if not her? A husky, middle-aged member of the Guo family named Qiulang grabbed her by the hair and pushed her head down with all his might. “Bend over, you old silverhead!” he growled. Gao Yang watched from a distance, and the scene was as vivid in his mind now as the day it happened. He could hear his white-haired old mother whimper like a little girl…

Brought to her senses by the dousing, Fourth Aunt twisted her lips around her toothless gums and began to whimper like a little girl…

“Thirsty?” he heard the policewoman ask Fourth Aunt with a hint of tenderness. But instead of replying, she just whimpered. Her voice was hoarse and shrill at the same time, and her sobs lacked the crispness and force of a moment before.

“What happened to all that window-smashing bravado?” the policewoman asked as she dumped another ladleful of cool water over Fourth Aunt’s head as a final gesture before picking up the pail of water and walking over to Gao Yang. Unable to see her eyes because of the mirror lenses, he focused his attention on the narrow slit formed by her tightly shut lips. He shuddered, reminded for some reason of a debristled hog. She didn’t say a word as she set the pail down, ladled out some water, and splashed it on his chest; involuntarily he tucked his neck between his shoulders and uttered a strange muffled cry. She grinned, her pretty, even teeth sparkling in the light, then scooped out some more water and dumped it over his head. No shudder this time, since he knew it was coming, and after the cool water ran slowly down his back and chest it left gray streaks on his legs. Suddenly revitalized and uncommonly clear-headed, he sensed that the cool water was the greatest source of joy he had ever known. Now as he gazed at the policewoman’s lovely mouth, it was with an enormous sense of gratitude.

She doused him only twice before moving on to the horse-faced young man, who stood deathly pale, one eye swollen shut, the other opened wide; his lip curled in a grin for the policewoman’s benefit. Insulted by the look, she scooped out a ladleful of water and hurled it into his pallid face with all her might. He, too, tucked his neck down between his shoulders.

“What do you say to that?” she snarled angrily.

He shook his drenched head. “Nice and cool,” he replied, still grinning. “Just wonderful.”

She scooped out another ladleful and hurled it in his face, not caring where or how forcefully it struck him. “I’ll show you nice and cool!” she screeched. “Well see how wonderful it is!”

“Nice and cool feels good nice and cool feels good…? he was screaming, twisting at the waist, kicking out with both feet, and jerking his head back and forth.

Tossing the ladle to the ground, the policewoman picked up the pail and dumped it over his head. But even that didn’t exhaust her anger, so she rapped him several times on the head with the rim of the pail, as if to make sure that every drop of water wound up on him. Then she flipped the pail to the ground and stood in front of him, hands on her hips, her chest heaving. -

To Gao Yang, the sound of the pail banging against the young man’s head was muffled and wet, and it set his teeth on edge.

The young man, sputtering now, rested his long head-which seemed to swell and turn a mahogany color-against the tree trunk. Gao Yang heard the man’s stomach growl and watched his neck stretch forward until the tendons seemed about to pop through the taut skin. Over and over he tried to close his mouth, but couldn’t. Then, all of a sudden, it gaped wide, and a gusher of filthy water spewed out, hitting the policewoman full in the chest before she could scramble out of the way.