Lu’s eyes grew bleary from writing under an oil lamp. Though full of self-disgust, he constantly imagined different ways to get out of the trouble. He knew he could never meet the standard set by the leaders. More than a hundred pages? That was a book, and they might make many copies of it. The whole village would read it, and probably all the commune cadres too. He was no writer and had no time to learn to be one. Even if he were, he wouldn’t dare to write such a book. But in two days he would have to hand it in; by no means could he get it ready. How, oh how could he find a way out of the crisis?
He thought of giving gifts to the leaders, but he wouldn’t have any real money until the end of the year, when the brigade’s annual account was settled. Those leaders wouldn’t accept promises. Four months remained—and no distant water could quench the fire here and now. However, one thing continually came to his mind and tickled his brain: General Chou’s Shrine at Sea-Watch Cliff was said to be about to open after being in ruins for eight years. The temple had been built in memory of a national hero, Chou Wu, who a hundred years ago led the Chinese troops and civilians in burning the ships of the Japanese invaders and driving them back into the sea. In order to inspire patriotism among the Chinese, the present government decided to restore it. Lu heard that the temple was under repair and that monks were being recruited.
The ocean of misery has no bound, he thought; repent and the shore is at hand. Why don’t you give it a try? Good, quit the whole thing. I’ll leave this mess behind and go into the mountain. For sure, they won’t bust the temple and drag me out. That would violate the Party’s religious policy and they would get themselves into trouble. Being a monk, I’ll have time to study, have food and clothes always, and no worry about earthly affairs. I’m fed up with the farm work here. You work your ass off but get no pay if the harvest is poor. Fulan has her place to go; I too have somewhere to stay. I won’t come back, even if she begs me on her knees. Let her learn a lesson from being a widow with a husband alive.
What if you don’t like the temple? Why worry so much? If it’s no good in there, you can always come back. Who’ll force you to be a monk? No time to waste; you must leave as soon as possible. Hide away for a while. In a few weeks I’m sure they’ll lose interest in the case. At least I’ll have enough time there to figure out a new way to deal with them.
A few lines of Chairman Mao’s poetry echoed in his mind: “Many things must be done in a hurry / Heaven and earth spin—time presses / Ten thousand years are too long / We must seize every hour.” Yes, go. The longer the night lasts, the more nightmares will come up.
He got up, grabbed his pen, and wrote on a blank sheet of paper,
Respectable Leaders:
Having understood the gross nature of my crime, I have decided to become a monk. I love our country and am grateful to the Party, but I feel too ashamed to face anybody in the village, so I am leaving now for a temple where I can continue self-examination and self-education. I will study hard there and live a new, peaceful life. Farewell, my dear comrades.
Yours guilty,
Lu Han
P.S. Please inform my wife of my leaving so that she can come back and take care of the house and the pigs. I really appreciate this.
He wrapped into a blanket his summer clothes and his only two packets of Great Gate cigarettes, and tied them up with a rope. With all his secret personal savings—eleven yuan—in his pocket, and the clothes bundle on his back, he went into the kitchen and drank two scoops of cold water. He returned to blow out the lamp, then walked into the dark.
The night was cool and moonlit, filled with insects’ chirring and frogs’ croaking. He was not afraid of wolves. What he really feared was man, to him the most vicious animal and the most dangerous thing, because only man knew how to trap you. He ran as fast as he could and forced himself not to listen to any distinct sound. Fortunately, the temple was not far away, only four and a half kilometers from Ox Village. In twenty minutes it emerged in the distance. The glazed tiles shimmered in the moonshine, and the curved eaves stretched along the ridge of a hill and were shaded by the huge crowns of trees. On the roof perched the statuary lions and tigers that seemed alive and ready to stand up and patrol like guarding gods. What a view, Lu thought; it must be a place where immortals visit. He hastened his steps and felt he had made a wise decision. Anyone who lived in that majestic temple would enjoy longevity and happiness. Yes, he said to himself, go there, and forget the hubbub and turmoil at home.
At once his body became light, as if he were flapping a pair of wings through the air. Within half an hour he stood at the front entrance of the temple, striking the wooden gate and shouting, “Open the door!”
After a short while a noise came from inside. He heard someone coughing and shuffling to the entrance. Beyond the high stone wall flickered the light of an oil lamp. “Who’s there?” an old man’s voice asked.
“Master,” Lu said, feeling his heart in his throat, “I came to study gods with you. Please open the door and let me in.”
“What do you really want in the middle of the night?”
“To be your disciple. Please open the door.”
With a screech a hole six inches square was revealed on the gate, and a column of light thrust out. Lu moved closer and saw the old monk’s chubby face, gray hair, smiling eyes. He had a large wart beside his crimson nose.
“Master, I want to be your student.”
“Young man,” the monk said, “1 do want to take a lot of students, but so far 1 don’t have any. I’ve no say in this.”
“Take me please, Master. I can read and write. I can work and cook.”
“Like I said, I want to, but I have no say in hiring.”
“Hiring? You mean I have to be hired?”
“Yes, employed. Everybody wants to be a monk all of a sudden. It’s like seeking employment. No, more than a job, it’s like going to college. A new monk is a cadre of the state, you know, the twenty-fourth rank, with a salary of forty-three yuan a month. Besides, you have food and clothes free and don’t have to stay here at night. You can even marry a woman if you want, and have your own home in a nearby village. Not a bad deal at all. Things have changed these days. We plan to receive many tourists, and the temple will be expanded. Anyway, I wish you good luck, young man.”
“Wait a minute,” Lu said. He put his sinewy hand on the opening and asked, “Do you know who I should talk to?”
“Your brigade leaders. You have to be elected by the commune members, I guess; or at least recommended by the Party branch. Good luck. I hope to see you here someday.” The opening was closed and the light disappeared.
As though struck by a thunderbolt, Lu dropped onto the stone steps and remained blank for a few minutes. Then he jumped to his feet, picked up the bundle, and was about to run back. No, he changed his mind, I can’t leave like this. The goddamn monk is sleeping inside while keeping me outside in the dank night. No, this is not equal. This is not socialism. I must leave him some work to do. Lu unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants, and hunkered down, emptying his bowels right in front of the gate. After a few relieving moans, he fished for paper in his pockets, but couldn’t find any. Luckily, there was a piece of cornstalk lying on a step; he picked it up and cleaned himself with three strokes. He stood up and threw the stalk over the wall. “Keep it, you fat seedless monk,” he barked.