Now the list of gifts had grown. In addition to eight dresses, six satin quilts, a TV set, a Phoenix bicycle, a Shanghai wrist-watch, and other expensive items, Hong insisted on a large banquet, fifty tables at least. She was not a girl who could be bought so cheap. Her mother felt uneasy about the banquet. “You know, dear,” she said, “you shouldn’t ask for such a thing, too costly. The wool comes from the sheep’s own skin—you and Hai will be buried in debt.”
“I don’t care. If I can’t live with him, I’ll kill myself.”
The Pangs agreed to every item on the list except for the banquet, not because they had to borrow the money (they might end up making a little profit, since by custom every guest would leave a good sum after he regaled himself), but because nowadays it was illegal to hold an extravagant wedding banquet. True, the peasants in the villages still squandered money away on food and liquor at weddings, but they were far away from the authority and could get away with it, whereas Pang Hai, a revolutionary cadre of the twenty-third rank, wouldn’t take the risk.
But the bride was absolutely adamant, saying this was a once-in-a-lifetime event and had to be joyful and lavish. After Aunt Zheng traveled back and forth three more times, the Pangs finally yielded.
On the morning of October 1, National Day, Hong in a red flowered dress left home for the Pangs. She rode the new Phoenix bicycle and was accompanied by two bridesmaids, Lilian and Mingming, a salesgirl in the department store. On the backs of their bicycles they carried the bride’s belongings, mainly clothes. The big pieces, like a cupboard and a pair of chests, had been shipped to the groom’s house several days before. Mrs. Chen would come in an hour. The wedding was to take place in the Pangs’ backyard, just a few blocks away.
It was a fine day. The sky was cloudless and a cool breeze was blowing gently. A few orioles were fluttering and twittering in the willows. On their way the bride and her maids were greeted by several cart drivers who whooped and cracked their long whips, and also by a group of little boys who made obscene gestures and chanted, “Slow down, my bride, you’ll have a baby boy tomorrow night.”
“That boy is your grandpa,” Lilian shouted. Hong and Mingming kept pedaling quietly.
The banquet would start at two-thirty in the afternoon, because many guests came from villages over fifteen kilometers away; they would have to leave early, relinquishing the most delightful part of the wedding—busting the bridechamber, which would take place at night. The wedding ceremony was presided over by Secretary Liu, who wore a red paper flower in the buttonhole of his breast pocket, as though he were the bridegroom. He delivered a short speech, wishing the young couple longevity, a lifelong happy union, and a houseful of children and grandchildren.
Then together the bride and the groom sang two songs, “The East Is Red, the Sun Is Rising” and “Happy, We Must Not Forget the Communist Party.” A few firecrackers exploded as candies and roasted peanuts were thrown in the air for the children, who rushed around and pushed each other like a flock of chickens pecking at grain. Some people wanted the couple to eat an apple, which would be held in the air by a thread so that the bride and the groom had to press their lips together to take a bite. But Director Ma told them, “Let’s skip that part for the moment, and they’ll do it after the feast.” He also reminded them that there would be a lot of performance in the evening. The guests from distant villages were rather disappointed, but they were consoled by the fragrance of the dishes being cooked at the two brick ranges constructed specially for the wedding. They couldn’t help turning their eyes to the four cooks in white hats. Two headless pigs, skinned and gutted, hung upside down beyond the kitchen shed.
Hong shuddered at the thought of chamber-busting. These boors could do anything, and she would be exhausted to death, having to control her temper and please these uncles and cousins. She remembered reading in a newspaper that at a village wedding three men had been killed by a chamber wall that had been busted as well and fallen on them. She told of her fear to Lilian, who assured her that she would keep her company at night and fight any man who dared to touch Hong.
Fried carps and whole chickens had been placed on the square tables. The first course, tenderloin sautéed with bamboo shoots, was being carried out in platters which resembled small barges. The guests were eager to see what wine and liquor they were going to drink. “See those large vats over there?” a young peasant said. “Screw his mother, I thought they had beer inside. Only vinegar and soy sauce were in them. Almost choked me just now.”
Another man chuckled. “Serves you right. Who told you to steal a bowl of that?”
“They must’ve spent thousands for the feast, tut-tut-tut,” an old man said. “Every part is so big.”
Suddenly the back gate opened and the barrel of a rifle emerged, then a band of militia. “Don’t move!” the tall commander ordered through a megaphone, his other hand raising a Mauser pistol. “This banquet is banned.”
A whole company of militia rushed in, every man fully armed, even carrying four grenades and a filled canteen on the hips. Pang Hai went over to argue, but the commander ordered his guards, “Hold the groom in custody. Don’t let him go.” Then he announced to the stunned guests, “Now you are free to leave.”
Nobody moved. Some of them had sent a gift to the Pangs or the Chens before the wedding, and many had saved their appetite for this feast by cutting both breakfast and lunch, so they all stayed. They saw a broad red flag flitting beyond the brick wall toward the back gate. Some children were singing the song “Destroy the Old and Set Up the New.”
Before the song was finished, schoolchildren poured in. There were about three hundred of them and every one wore a red armband. The militia commander spoke through the megaphone again. “Comrades Small Red Guards, your task today is to wipe out the food. You must eat up this old feudal custom. Start now!”
Promptly the children split into fifty groups around the tables and began attacking the dishes. They didn’t bother to pick up chopsticks, using their hands instead. Their cheeks swelled up as their jaws were crunching. Every bite they took was a sting in Pang Hai’s heart. Suddenly Hai sprang away and rushed into the kitchen shed. Four militiamen followed him, shouting, “Halt, halt!”
Hai picked up a large shovel used for stir-frying and plunged toward a nearby table. He wanted to chop down a few of these little wolves. But before he could reach them, the militiamen seized him, pinned him to the ground, and removed the shovel. “I borrowed the money, I borrowed the money!” Hai groaned.
Women were crying inside and outside the house. Hong sat on the ground for a few minutes; then she got up and hid away in the haystack. Mr. Pang didn’t lose his head and begged his leaders to intervene. Secretary Liu and Director Ma went up to the militia commander and talked with him. Five minutes later they returned, shaking their heads. “Feng Ping sent them here,” Liu told Mr. Pang. Ma chimed in, “He’s too high-handed.” They dared not say more, because Feng was their superior now.
Meanwhile, realizing the banquet was gone altogether, the guests began leaving. However, some of them were so hungry they didn’t leave without doing something. They smashed the soy-sauce and vinegar vats. Broken cups, plates, bowls were scattered everywhere in the yard.
“Feng Ping, I screw your ancestors one by one!” Hai yelled again and again, his mouth pointing to the sky.
Though cursing Feng Ping too, Lilian didn’t lose her senses, and unlike Mingming, who had fled, she still remembered her duty as a bridesmaid. She had noticed Hong slipping to the haystack and tried keeping an eye on her. But when she went to fetch the bride half an hour later, Hong was no longer there! “Hong, where are you?” Lilian cried. Her voice reminded others of the delicate bride. No girl could stand such a blow. Mrs. Chen was mad, crying and plunging in vain at the militia commander. She wanted to take him to the Commune Administration to seek justice, but the man merely gave her a contemptuous look, his guards holding her back.