Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

by Mo Yan

  Yingchun then picked up Pang Fenghuang and lovingly gazed at her pink little face; with tears in her eyes, she kissed her on both cheeks, then turned and reluctantly handed her to Pang Kangmei.

  “Three bald little boys aren’t the equal of one fairy maiden.”

  Yingchun picked up the third puppy, patted her on the head, rubbed her mouth, stroked her tail, and put her in Fenghuang’s arms.

  “Fenghuang,” she said, “this is yours.”

  Finally Yingchun picked up Lan Kaifeng, half of whose face was covered by a blue birthmark, which she rubbed. With a sigh, her face now streaked with tears, she said, “You poor thing. . . how come you’re also . . .”

  She handed Kaifeng to Hezuo, who held her son close. Because a wild boar had taken a chunk out of her rear end, she now had a hard time keeping her balance and often leaned to one side. You, Lan Jiefang, reached out to take the third generation of blue-faced boy from her, but she refused.

  Yingchun picked me, the runt of the litter, up from the kang and put me into Lan Kaifang’s arms.

  “Kaifang,” she said, “this one’s yours. He’s the smartest.”

  All the while this was happening, Lan Lian rested on his haunches beside the dog kennel, where he covered the bitch’s eyes with a piece of black cloth and rubbed her head to keep her calm.

  38

  Jinlong Raves about Lofty Ideals

  Hezuo Silently Recalls Old Enmities

  I just about jumped out of the wicker chair, but managed to hold back. I lit a cigarette and slowly puffed on it to calm down. I stole a glance at the eerie blue eyes of Big-head Lan, and in them I saw the cold, hostile look of the dog that accompanied my former wife and my son for fifteen years. But then I discovered it was similar to the look of my deceased son, Lan Kaifang: just as cold, just as hostile, just as unforgiving toward me.

  I’d been assigned as head of the Political Section at the County Supply and Marketing Cooperative, and no matter how you look at it, I was one of those people who amused himself by writing florid little essays for the provincial newspaper.

  By that time, Mo Yan had already been sent to help out at the Reports Section of the County Committee Propaganda Department, and even though he held a peasant household registration, his almost fanatical ambition was known throughout the county. He wrote day and night, never combing his hair; his clothes, which reeked of cigarette smoke, were only washed when it rained and he could hang them outside in time. My former wife, Huang Hezuo, was so fond of this slob she never failed to lay out tea and cigarettes when he dropped by, while my dog and my son seemed hostile to him.

  Anyway, soon after I was transferred over to the County Supply and Marketing Cooperative, Hezuo was assigned to the restaurant at the co-op’s bus station, where her job was to fry oil fritters. I never said she was a bad woman, and I’d never go public with any of her shortcomings. She cried when I told her I wanted a divorce and asked me: What is it you don’t like about me? And my son asked: Papa, what did Mama ever do to you? My parents were less generous: You’re no big shot, son, so what makes you think you’re too good for her? My inlaws were the bluntest of all: Lan Jiefang, you bastard son of Lan Lian, take a piss and look at yourself in the puddle. Finally, my superior assumed a somber tone when he heard the news: Comrade Jiefang, you could use a little self-awareness! Yes, I admit it, Huang Hezuo did nothing wrong, and she was easily my equal, or better. But I, well, I simply didn’t love her.

  The day that Mother returned the children to their parents and handed out the puppies, Pang Kangmei, then deputy head of the County Committee Organization Department, had her driver take a group photo of the four couples, four children, and four puppies under the apricot tree in the family compound. To look at the photo, you’d think we were one happy family, whereas in fact dark schemes rested in all our hearts. Copies of the photo hung in six homes, but probably none of them has survived.

  After the picture was taken, Chang Tianhong and Pang Kangmei offered to take us home in their car. While I was trying to make up my mind, Hezuo thanked them but said she wanted to spend the night at Mother’s house. Then, as soon as the car drove off, she picked up our son and the puppy and said she wanted to go; nothing anyone said could change her mind. Just then the puppies’ mother broke free of Father’s grip and ran outside, the blindfold having slipped down around her neck and looking like a black necklace. She went straight for my wife before I could stop her and sank her teeth into Hezuo, who shrieked and was only able to keep from falling by sheer force of will. She insisted we leave immediately, but Baofeng ran inside for her medical kit and tended to Hezuo’s injured buttock. Jinlong took me aside, gave me a cigarette, and lit one for himself. Little clouds of smoke veiled our faces. In a tone of voice that was somewhere between sympathy and ridicule, he said:

  “Can’t take it anymore, is that it?”

  “No,” I replied coldly. “Everything’s fine.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “It’s all a comedy of errors anyway, but you’re a man of standing. And women? Well, they are what they are.” He rubbed his thumb against two fingers, then drew an imaginary official’s cap, and added, “As long as you’ve got those, they’ll come when you call them.”

  Hezuo walked toward me, with Baofeng’s help. Our son, who was holding his puppy in one hand and his mother’s shirttail with the other, was looking up at her. Baofeng handed me some anti-rabies medicine and said:

  “Put this in the refrigerator as soon as you get home. The instructions are on the box. Follow them exactly, in case . . .”

  “Thank you, Baofeng,” Hezuo said as she gave me an icy glare. “Even dogs can’t stand me.”

  Wu Qiuxiang, stick in hand, had taken out after the dog, who ran straight to the kennel, where she snarled at Qiuxiang, her eyes green.

  Huang Tong, whose back by then was badly bent, was standing beneath the apricot tree; he railed at my parents:

  “You Lan people have so little feelings for family, even your dog bites its own! Strangle the damn thing, or someday I’ll burn down that kennel with her in it.”

  My father poked his nearly bald broom in the kennel. The yelps of pain from inside the kennel brought my mother hobbling out the door.

  “Kaifang’s mother,” she said apologetically to Hezuo, “don’t be angry. That old dog was just trying to protect her pups, and that’s the only way she knows how.”

  No matter how insistently Mother, Baofeng, and Huzhu tried to get her to stay, Hezuo was determined to leave. Jinlong looked at his watch and said:

  “It’s too late for the first bus, and the second one won’t leave for a couple of hours. If you don’t think my car is too run-down for you, I’ll drive you home.”

  With a sideways glance at him, she took our son by the hand and, without saying good-bye to anyone, limped off in the direction of the village. Still holding the puppy in his arms, Kaifang kept turning to look back.

  My father came up beside me. The years had softened the blue birthmark on his face, and the fading sunlight made him look older than ever. With a quick look at my wife and son up ahead, I stopped and said:

  “Go on back, Dad.”

  He sighed and, obviously crestfallen, said, “If I’d known I’d pass this birthmark on to my descendants I’d have remained a bachelor.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” I said. “I don’t consider it a blemish, and if it bothers Kaifang he can get a skin graft when he grows up. There have been lots of medical advances lately.”

  “Jinlong and Baofeng belong to somebody else now, so your family is the only real worry I’ve got.”

  “We’ll be fine. Just look after yourself.”

  “These past three years have been the best of my life,” he said. “We have more than three thousand jin of wheat stored up and several hundred more of other grains. Your mother and I will have food to eat even if we don’t harvest a thing over the next three years.”

  Jinlong’s Jeep drove up on the bumpy road. “Dad,” I said,
“you go on back. I’ll come see you when I get some free time.”

  “Jiefang,” he said sadly, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, “your mother says that two people are fated to be together. ...” He paused. “She wants me to tell you to be faithful to your vows. She says that people in official circles can ruin their future by divorcing their wives. Hers is the voice of experience, so keep that in mind.”

  “I understand, Dad.” As I looked into his homely, somber face, my heart was gripped by sadness. “Go back and tell Mom not to worry.”

  Jinlong pulled up and stopped next to us. I opened the passenger door and got in.

  “Thanks, your eminence,” I said. He turned his head and spit the cigarette in his mouth out the window.

  “Eminence be fucked!” he replied, and I laughed with a loud sputter. “Watch what you say when you’re around my son, okay?” He grunted. “Actually, what difference does it make? Males should start thinking about sex when they’re fifteen. If they did, they wouldn’t always complain about women.”

  “Then why not begin with Ximen Huan?” I replied. “Maybe you can coach him into becoming a big shot someday.”

  “Coaching alone isn’t enough,” he said. “It all depends on what he’s made of.”

  We caught up with Hezuo and Kaifang. Jinlong stuck his head out the window.

  “Sister-in-law, let me give you and my worthy nephew a ride.”

  Limping badly as she walked hand-in-hand with Kaifang, who was holding the puppy in his other arm, she walked right past us, head held high.

  “How stubborn can you get!” Jinlong exclaimed as he banged his fist against the steering wheel, producing an urgent honk. He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Don’t underestimate that woman,” he said. “She’s a handful.”

  We caught up with her a second time, and Jinlong stuck his head out the window again, beeping his horn to get her attention.

  “You’re not ignoring me because my car’s so run-down, are you, sister-in-law?”

  Hezuo kept walking, head high, eyes fixed relentlessly on the road ahead. She was wearing gray pants; the right pant leg was rounded, the left sort of caved in, and there was a blood or an iodine stain on the seat. She had my sympathy, no doubt about that, but I still found her repulsive. Bobbed hair that revealed the pale skin of her neck, emaciated ears with virtually no lobes, a wart on her cheek with two black hairs — one long and one short — and the greasy smell of oil fritters that never washed off, I found them all repulsive.

  Jinlong drove up ahead and stopped in the middle of the road, where he opened the door and climbed out. Standing beside the Jeep with his hands on his hips, legs apart, he wore a defiant look. I hesitated for a moment before joining him outside.

  The stalemate was set, and I was thinking that if Hezuo had the legendary powers of superheroes, she’d step on me, step on Jinlong, and flatten the Jeep, neither stopping nor walking around us. The late-afternoon sunlight on her face highlighted her dark, bushy eyebrows, which nearly met in the center of her forehead, her thin lips, and a pair of smallish eyes, which were now filled with tears. How could I not sympathize with someone like that? Still, I found her repellent.

  The look of displeasure on Jinlong’s face gave way to a mischievous smile.

  “Young sister-in-law, I know what a come-down it is for you to ride in a run-down car like this, and I know you’ve always looked down on me, a simple peasant. I also know that you’d walk all the way to the county town before you’d get into my car. Sure, you can keep walking, but Kaifang can’t. So won’t you help me out of this awkward situation, for the sake of my worthy nephew, if nothing else?”

  Jinlong walked up to her, bent down, and picked up Kaifang and the puppy. Hezuo put up feeble resistance, but he had already opened the car door and deposited Kaifang and the puppy on the backseat. Kaifang cried out “Mama,” his voice cracking. Puppy Four added a couple of weak barks. I opened the door on the other side, glared at her, and said mockingly:

  “Your chariot, your Highness!”

  She didn’t move.

  “Huanhuan’s aunt,” Jinlong said, smiling broadly, “if your husband weren’t here, I’d pick you up and put you in the car.”

  Hezuo blushed. The look in her eyes as she stared at Jinlong was a complex one. I knew what she was thinking at that moment. I’m being truthful when I say that my feelings of repulsion toward her had nothing to do with what had happened between her and Jinlong, just as I wouldn’t be repelled by intimacies between a woman I loved and her husband. To my surprise, she got into the car, but from Jinlong’s side, not mine. I slammed my door shut; Jinlong shut his door.

  As we started off down the bumpy road, I glanced into the rearview mirror to see that she had her arms wrapped tightly around her son, whose arms were in turn wrapped tightly around the puppy. That really upset me.

  “You’re going too far this time,” I muttered, just as we were negotiating a small, narrow stone bridge. She abruptly opened the door and would have jumped out if not for Jinlong, who kept his left hand on the steering wheel, reached back with his right, and grabbed her by the hair; I spun around and held her by the arm. The boy started crying, the dog started barking. When we reached the far end, Jinlong drove his fist into my chest.

  “Stupid bastard!” he growled.

  He stopped the car and climbed out; wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, he kicked the door and cursed:

  “You’re a stupid bastard too!” he growled at Hezuo “You can die, he can die, and so can I. But what about Kaifang? A three-year-old boy, what’s he done to deserve that?”

  Kaifang was still bawling; Puppy Four was yelping like crazy.

  With his hands in his pockets, Jinlong turned, walked in circles, and puffed loudly. Then he opened the door, reached in, and wiped Kaifang’s face dry of tears and snot. “Okay, little one, no more tears. The next time you come, your uncle here will pick you up in a fancy VW sedan.” Then he patted Puppy Four on the head.

  “What are you yelping about, you little son of a bitch?”

  We flew down the road after that, leaving everyone else — horse- and donkey-drawn wagons, tractors of the four- and three-wheeled varieties, and people on bikes and on foot — in our dust. Bouncing around and rattling noisily, we rode along as Jinlong kept his foot on the gas and his fist on the horn. I held on for dear life.

  “Is everything bolted down tight on this thing?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m a world-class race-car driver.” We began to slow as we passed the donkey market and the road followed the contours of the river. The water sparkled like gold in the sunlight; a little blue-and-white motorboat sped past.

  “Worthy nephew Kaifang,” Jinlong said, “your uncle is an ambitious man who plans to turn Northeast Gaomi Township into a land of great joy and make Ximen Village a riverside pearl. That run-down county town you live in will one day be a Ximen Village suburb. What do you think of that?”

  There was no response from Kaifang, so I turned around and said, “Your uncle asked you a question!” He was fast asleep, drooling onto the head of Puppy Four, whose eyes were barely open. Probably carsick. Hezuo was looking out the window at the river, showing me the side of her face with the mole. Her lips were pursed in what could only be a scowl.

  We spotted Hong Taiyue just before we reached town. He was riding an old bicycle — from our pig-raising days — and straining to keep moving. The back of his shirt was sweat-stained and spotted with mud.

  “It’s Hong Taiyue,” I called out.

  “I saw him,” Jinlong replied. “He’s probably on his way to the County Committee with another complaint.”

  “Against who?”

  “Whoever he can.” Jinlong paused, then said with a laugh, “He and my old man are like two sides of the same coin.” He honked as we shot past the bicycle. “Even with all their disputes, Hong Taiyue and Lan Lian are two of a kind!”

  I turned in time to see Hong’s bicycle wobble a time or two, but
he stayed upright and quickly faded into the distance, but not before his curses reached us on the air:

  “Fuck you, Ximen Jinlong! You’re the bastard offspring of a tyrannical landlord!”

  “I’ve already committed his curses to memory,” Jinlong laughed. “Actually, I kind of like the old guy.”

  We pulled up to our door and stopped. But Jinlong kept the engine running.

  “Jiefang, Hezuo, we’re looking back at thirty or forty years, and we must have learned one thing to survive till now, which is, we don’t have to get along with others, but we have to get along with ourselves.”

  “That’s the truth,” I said.

  “Actually, it’s crap!” he said. “I met a pretty girl last month in Shenzhen, who said to me, ‘You can’t change me!’ What did I say to that? Then I’ll change myself!’”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “If you have to ask, you’ll never understand.” He made a spectacular U-turn, stuck his arm out the window, and made a couple of strange, childish gestures with his white-gloved hand before speeding off.

  As we stood in the yard, Hezuo said to the boy and the dog:

  “This is our home.”

  I took the box of anti-rabies ampoules out of my bag and handed it to her.

  “Put this in the refrigerator,” I said coldly “One injection every three days. Don’t forget.”

  “Did your sister say that rabies is always fatal?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Wouldn’t that solve all your problems?” She snatched the ampoules from me and walked into the kitchen to put them in the refrigerator.

  39

  Lan Kaifang Happily Explores His New Home

  Puppy Four Misses His Old Kennel

  I received the best treatment anyone could ask for my first night in your home. Though I was a dog, I slept indoors. When your son was taken back to Ximen Village to be raised by your mother, he was only a year old, and he hadn’t been back since. Like me, he was curious about this new place. I followed him inside and immediately began running around to familiarize myself with the layout.