When Dawa’s three sons saw their mother covered in blood, they drew their daggers and rushed over to Danzeng’s tent. Everyone followed them. Danzeng’s youngest brother, Duoji, had also taken up his dagger and was guarding the door to their tent. He watched the three raging youths approach with a cold light in his eyes.
A few people tried to plead with them and pull them away, but it was no good. The three young men were like young bulls, afraid of nothing that earth or heaven could throw at them. They raced up to the tent door and set upon Duoji. Danzeng’s second brother, Niduo, pushed through the crowd and entered the fray. The five men wrestled with each other. When Danzeng pulled one of them away, another plunged in. Meanwhile, Baila continued sobbing inside the tent.
No one knew who had stabbed whom, but there was blood on the ground. One of the young men fell to the floor, then another followed him. Then they got up again and started over.
Shida arrived, supporting the tottering figure of Wangjiu, the clan elder he’d brought back with him from another part of the grassland. The crowd automatically made way for the old man.
‘Stop it, all of you!’ Wangjiu’s body was ailing; he shivered constantly when the wind blew and it was getting worse. He did not want to see the clan at war with itself and hoped that the sight of his frail old body might shake them into calling a halt to the bloodshed.
As society had changed, so the role of the clan elder had all but disappeared. Even though Wangjiu was still highly regarded on the grassland, he was rarely called upon to get involved in clan affairs. In fact, there were no affairs that required his input. Team Leader Danzeng was the government’s representative and had authority over the herders in political matters. As for people’s private matters, the head of the household took care of those.
Wangjiu had spent decades roaming the grassland, and though the wind and sun had weathered his body, he still had a wise head. He’d been a mighty man in his youth, afraid of nothing, but in old age he was peaceable, restrained and self-aware, and he knew exactly when and when not to intervene. This was not such a common quality – how often did people rate themselves too highly or too little because they’d forgotten who they were? As a result, Wangjiu commanded great respect from clan members whenever they saw him.
Hearing the clan elder’s angry instruction, the six men separated. All of them except Danzeng were wounded. They stared menacingly at one another.
‘Go home, the rest of you!’ Wangjiu straightened up and glared at the assembled onlookers. His voice was not loud, but it had strength and authority. The onlookers smiled with embarrassment and returned to their tents.
‘So tell me, does someone have to die before you call this off?’ Wangjiu gave a dry cough. He sat down on a chair that Cuomu had brought over and stared down the six men in front of him.
Under the glare of those cloudy eyes, the men who’d just been baying for blood lowered their heads and looked at their boots in silence.
‘Drawing your daggers to resolve an argument between two jealous women – you really are quite something! What fine grassland men you are – killing people is so much easier than killing yaks.’ Wangjiu’s face flushed with anger.
‘Gela, don’t be angry! It’s because I didn’t teach them well. I’ll reprimand them shortly.’
‘Danzeng, I’m not talking about you. You’re a production-team leader, but if you can’t manage the affairs of your own tent, how can you manage the team?’
‘Yes, yes, Gela has spoken correctly. I have not managed them well.’ Danzeng bowed in response.
Cuomu poured a cup of water and offered it to Wangjiu with both hands. ‘Bola, please drink.’
The old man accepted the cup, took a sip and said, ‘Call your mother out.’
Cuomu went back into the tent and pulled the weeping Baila in front of the old man.
‘You have quite a few men in your family, don’t you? If you kill one, there will still be two left, right?’
‘I…’ Baila was racked with sobs and her hair was dishevelled; she did not dare raise her head.
‘The only woman in your family, and you spend all of your time watching someone else’s tent – do you have no self-respect? Has Dawa taken any space in your tent or any of your belongings? Does your man not come back? Has he left you and become her support instead? How could you be so vicious – using a ram’s horn to stab her!’
‘I didn’t… I don’t know how, but the ram sprang out of my hands.’ Baila raised her head, cast a nervous glance at the elder, then looked down again.
‘The ram sprang out of your hands by itself? Baila, how can you say that? Everyone on the grassland knows that your wild jenny personality will never change and that when your man visits another woman’s tent you flare up. Why not tie him to your waist so he can’t leave at night!’
‘Gela… I…’ Baila could only cry piteously.
‘Enough. Go and see her and take her some butter. Unless you really want to see a war between your men and her sons?’ Wangjiu gave her a sharp look. He was angry and upset, which brought on another coughing fit. He covered his mouth with his hand and Cuomu quickly massaged his back with her fingers.
‘You three, come over!’ He beckoned to Gongzha’s three brothers.
The three young men were covered in blood. They walked quietly over to the old man, bowed and stood up straight.
Wangjiu looked them up and down. ‘So you’re all grown-up and you want to avenge your mother? Your father died young, and Gongzha is away in the army. If it hadn’t been for your Uncle Danzeng, wouldn’t you have been food for the wolves long ago? Now that you’ve grown up, you take your knives to your Uncle Danzeng’s tent for something like this? Your hearts have been eaten by wolves!’
The boys looked at one another. Eventually the second eldest, Gongzan, walked over to Danzeng, bowed and said, ‘I’m sorry, Uncle Danzeng!’ Without waiting for Danzeng to reply, he turned and kicked his brothers – ‘Let’s go’ – and the three of them raced off across the grassland.
*
It was not helpful to measure grassland distances in kilometres; much better to count the number of hours you’d need to ride it. If someone said how many hours it took by horse, everyone knew how far it was; if someone used kilometres, everyone rolled their eyes. Zhuo Mai’s border unit was based at least four hours’ ride from Cuoe Grassland; getting there and back took a whole day.
‘How is she, Dr Zhuo? Will it leave a scar?’ Ciwang asked warmly when Zhuo Mai arrived two days later.
‘A cut this big? Of course it will leave a scar!’ Zhuo Mai replied without turning his head.
Ciwang gasped and took a step back. ‘Will… will it look ugly?’
‘Well, it won’t look like it did before.’ Zhuo Mai took out a syringe and said to Dawa, ‘I’m going to give you some anaesthetic. The cut is deep and I’ll need to put in some stiches for it to heal.’
Dawa nodded and smiled drily. ‘Thank you, Dr Zhuo. If it’s going to be ugly, then let it be ugly. This face has never brought me any luck; things will be simpler if it’s ruined.’
‘What are you saying? Such a beautiful face, how can it be ruined just like that?’ Ciwang tapped his foot. ‘I need to find Danzeng.’
‘What can you achieve by finding him? Don’t you think his woman has caused enough damage? Go home, Ciwang. My sons are here; they can take care of me. Thank you for helping me yesterday.’
‘Well… alright.’ Ciwang made his way slowly to the door, then glanced back at Dawa. ‘If there are any problems, send Gongzan to find me.’
Dawa waved at him and closed her eyes.
Ciwang left and returned to his own tent, humming a song. When he stepped through the door, he called to his woman to serve tea and whistled cheerfully.
‘Managed to flatter your way into her heart, did you?’ Ciwang’s woman banged the wooden tea bowl down in front of him. ‘There’s just one thing I don’t understand: how come the ram managed to escape Baila’s grip so easily?’
Ciwang chuckled darkly and did not reply.
‘Baila has a sharp tongue and she’s always hated Dawa for taking her man, but she wouldn’t go so far as to hurt her. It’s very strange.’
‘That’s Buddha’s punishment to her.’ Ciwang laughed coldly.
‘Why would Buddha want to punish Dawa? That woman only had one man on this grassland. Wouldn’t Buddha get a little tired if he concerned himself with private family matters like that? I don’t think it’s Buddha’s punishment – I think it’s yours. Because she likes Danzeng and she doesn’t like you.’
‘What foolish talk is this?’ Ciwang pounded the table and stood up, slapping her so hard that her body spun. ‘You’ve gone crazy.’
His woman gave a hollow laugh. ‘I saw Baila being pushed by someone – the ram only got away because she couldn’t stay upright. I’m not crazy – you’re the one who’s crazy!’ She dabbed the trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth and stared at her man with reddened eyes.
Ever since their daughter Yangji had run away, she had blamed everything on her husband. As a mother, she couldn’t stop thinking of her child out in the empty wilderness. Where had she got to? Had she run into a wolf or a bear? Her man wasn’t worried; her man’s eyes were fixed on another woman; her man’s heart was fixed on driving away the other men around that woman and bringing her into his embrace. That made her angry; it made her hate her man even more. So when, from another corner of the sheep pen, she’d seen her man give the ram that Baila was holding a surreptitious shove, she’d felt crushed. That hateful act turned her heart as cold as a chunk of ice frozen for a thousand years.
‘You’ll be punished for this!’ She sank to the ground, her hair dishevelled. Her wrinkles had got a lot deeper in recent days. She looked across at her man, who was humming a tune, fumbling open a bottle of baijiu and pouring it into his mouth. There was nothing she could do but suffer.
*
After her wound healed, Dawa took a bandage she’d got from Dr Zhuo, cut it into it circles, squares and triangles the size of her fingernails and carefully pasted them onto her cheek. This was apparently very popular in the city, so Danzeng had told her after coming back from the county town one time. Dawa had sought out Dr Zhuo and asked for a bandage, saying her leg hurt, but she’d never used it. She took it out now because she didn’t want to give that woman of Danzeng’s the satisfaction of thinking that just because she was no longer beautiful, she had also lost the power to attract. She wanted her to understand that even if her face was ruined, Danzeng would still want her.
When the sun had warmed the grassland, Dawa left her tent wearing the silk dress that Danzeng had bought her, deliberately letting its soft collar show outside her sheepskin chuba. She had washed her hair and used butter to smooth it down until it gleamed; then she’d asked Ciwang’s woman to help her braid it into tiny plaits. She fixed pieces of turquoise around her head and gathered her plaits into a net inlaid with yellow jade. With great ceremony, she led her horse to Danzeng’s tent, then called, ‘Danzeng, dear Danzeng, come out!’
Baila came out. When she saw the lively, healthy Dawa, her face changed colour and she disappeared back into the tent.
Danzeng walked over, smiling. ‘Has your wound healed? You’re leading your horse – where are you going?’
‘I want to go to the town to send Gongzha a letter. But I heard that bears have been making trouble along the road through No Man’s Land, so can you come with me?’ Dawa smiled, her face as fresh as a spring breeze.
‘Alright. Wait a minute.’ Danzeng went into his tent and came out with his rifle on his back. He unhitched his horse from beside the tent.
The two walked down the road side by side and after a short distance leapt up onto their horses at the same time. Dawa knew Baila would be watching. She wanted her to watch, she wanted her to know that the man at her side would come away with her anytime she asked. Baila should not think she could tie down her man’s heart just because she had a tent. Men’s hearts were like shooting stars: the flowers on the ground could not determine where they would fall on a given night. Catching this falling star was not something that could be achieved through treachery.
There was another pair of eyes following them – Ciwang’s.
Ciwang’s woman was also standing beside her tent, watching the two horses disappear into the depths of the grassland. She laughed coolly. ‘Someone really wasted his efforts,’ she said.
Ciwang swung his foot back and kicked her in the side.
‘Go on, kick me!’ his woman said, scrambling to her feet. ‘Kick me to death and you still won’t get your prize – she doesn’t like you at all.’
Some days later, Dawa began to sense that something wasn’t right. When she went out in the middle of the night to urinate, it was as if someone was watching her, but when she turned round there was no one there. What was going on? One night, when it happened again, her heart began to pound. Was she thinking too much or was there really someone watching her?
The next day, everyone else in the encampment went to the pasture. But Danzeng said that she hadn’t yet recovered her strength after her injury and he gave her special dispensation to stay close to home and look after some sick lambs.
Dawa gave the lambs some tea water to drink, closed the pen and tied the dog up at the gate before returning to her tent. She pulled out a shovel and began to clean her own tent’s sheep pen while humming a herding song. Suddenly everything went dark. A black cloth had been thrown over her head. Then came a forceful blow to the back of her scalp, and that was the last thing she knew.
That night when everyone came home from the pasture, they found Dawa wandering aimlessly around the encampment, hair tousled and stark naked.
Gongzan was shocked. He quickly pulled off his leather chuba, wrapped his mother in it and took her home. Dawa’s two legs hung bare, kicking uncontrollably. She shouted wildly, ‘Danzeng, come on, come and visit my tent! No need for you to drive the dog away; I’ve tied it up! Hee hee hee… You’ve knocked out my dog – I don’t want you. You dead ghost, you’ve already gone, you won’t take care of me anymore, how will I look after so many children?’
How could a healthy person lose her sanity so quickly?
*
When Gongzha got the news, it was already ten days after the onset of Dawa’s madness. He ran to the company commander’s office with the telegram in his hand; he didn’t even knock, just pushed the door open and burst in.
‘Gongzha, you fucker, you’ve been in the army eight years and you still haven’t learnt to knock?’ The old company commander was now the regimental commander. He’d been looking at a map with the new company commander. When he saw that it was Gongzha making such a noisy entry, he swore at him affectionately.
Gongzha chuckled. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I forgot again!’ He went back to the door, snapped his heels together and roared, ‘Reporting!’ His shout frightened the orderly serving tea so much his hand shook and the teacup smashed to smithereens on the floor.
‘Gongzha, you fucker, if you don’t yell “Reporting!”, you scare people to death, and when you do yell “Reporting!”, you scare them even more.’
‘Ha ha, sir…’ Gongzha strode over, scratching his head with an embarrassed laugh.
‘Give it to me, give it to me. Is it that you want to go fucking hunting again?’ Because Gongzha was both a skilled marksman and a local, the regimental and divisional leaders always liked taking him when they went hunting, and it was usual for him to accompany them for several days.
‘No, sir, it’s not for the regimental commander to go hunting…’
‘Of course I’m not going hunting. Gongzha, you fucker, what level of Mandarin have you actually reached?’ The regimental commander took the piece of paper from his hand. ‘Oh, your mother’s unwell? You want to ask for leave to go back home?’
‘Yes, sir. I didn’t have a father, only a mother. Now that she’s poorly, I’m sick worried.’
‘It’s “worried sick”, not “sick worried”,’ the regimental commander chided with a laugh. He passed the company commander a leave slip. ‘Where did you come from, if you didn’t have a father? You can’t even speak!’
The company commander signed the leave slip and passed it to Gongzha. ‘Off with you.’
Gongzha laughed embarrassedly, took the slip, snapped his heels together and saluted, then ran out of the office, repeating, ‘Worried sick, worried sick, worried sick.’
The regimental commander and the orderly doubled-over laughing.
Gongzha repeated ‘worried sick’ all the way back to the barracks.
‘Old Squad Leader, how did it go? Did they approve your leave?’ Gongzha had been the squad leader for five years, so the new recruits all called him Old Squad Leader. He should have retired from the army long ago, but the regimental commander liked him and had persuaded him to stay on until a suitable job became available. This year a directive to that effect had finally arrived. Gongzha could soon hope to return home for good.
‘Approved, approved – two months!’ Gongzha smiled contentedly and with this smile forgot ‘worried sick’ again. He quickly asked the other men, ‘What was I saying when I came in?’
‘“Worried sick.” You were saying “worried sick” over and over. Old Squad Leader, what are you were worried sick about?’
‘Right, right, right, it’s “worried sick”. I’m worried sick about my mother’s illness.’ Gongzha laughed, smacked his head and began to get his things together.
When his fellow soldiers heard that Gongzha was going home to see his family, they all brought him specialities from their hometowns and stuffed them one after the other into his backpack. The regimental commander’s orderly also came and gave Gongzha a bag of fruit sweets, saying they were from the regimental commander for his mother.
‘The regimental commander really likes you, Gongzha.’
‘I’m honest, alright? Not like you lot, visiting women’s tents all over the place, trouble the regimental commander giving,’ Gongzha replied in his distinctive Mandarin. He continued organising his things.
Love In No Man's Land Page 13