Under the Red Flag

by Jin, Ha

  The older generation shook their heads again and again, sighing over how time was flying. It was as if yesterday when Hai and Hong had been small pupils in the Central Elementary School, but in the twinkling of an eye they became man and woman, ready to have their own children.

  Mrs. Chen never liked the Pangs. Now and then she glanced at Mr. Pang and her son-in-law-to-be. They drank hard liquor with mugs and spat into an ashtray that sat right on the dining table. Mrs. Pang even sucked a mullet’s head before their guests. Hai’s siblings, a younger brother and an elder sister, who had a baby girl and a husband working in Sand County, were drinking Gold Star beer with the noise of an exuberant creek. Meanwhile, Hong was sipping apple wine and her face was pink and shimmering, which made her resemble a young bride. She liked the sautéed tree ears, so her chopsticks kept transporting them into her small mouth.

  “Ah,” Director Ma cried and stood up. Before he could move a step he threw up—a yellowish shaft of liquid food splashed on the edge of the brick bed and the dirt floor. Immediately Mrs. Pang ran to the kitchen to get a bowl of vinegar to sober him up. Hong took a broom and a dustpan to remove the vomit. Hai’s sister was helping too.

  “Old Pang,” Secretary Liu said, patting the bulldozer driver on the shoulder, “What a good daughter-in-law you have. See, she’s begun to work. Hai is a lucky young man, to have such a nice girl.” Then, giggling, he turned to Director Ma. “Old Ma, you’re no good. One mug can throw you down like a corpse.”

  “Come, let’s drink!” Ma’s face was carmine, and he lifted Mrs. Chen’s mug, which still had some soda in it.

  Immediately Hai poured in some cold water. Ma clinked mugs with Liu and they drank up. “Good liquor,” Ma said.

  Then both mugs were refilled, though with different stuff, and together they emptied four mugs in a row.

  Three minutes later Ma, filled with cold water, said he wanted to go out to pee. Liu stood up and said that he was going with Ma to the public latrine across the street, and that he didn’t want to litter the outhouse in the Pangs’ backyard. Obviously he was going to vomit. Hai held out a hand to support him. “Take care of your bride, young chairman,” Liu said and stopped Hai’s hand, “or you’ll lose her. Ha ha—” He followed Ma out, staggering toward the front gate.

  Mrs. Chen said Liu had no sense of propriety, and she reminded the others that he had once vomited on the county magistrate’s leather shoes at a dinner. Mr. Pang, touching his right ear cropped by a piece of American shrapnel in the Korean War, agreed that the two leaders always liked to have a drop too many. Hong felt short of breath; the sour smell of the half-digested food scattered by Ma irritated her nostrils. She began to wonder how she could share the same roof with these savages. A sadness was rising in her chest. She wanted to weep. How she regretted having picked the paper ball. Why did she have to take a husband? She didn’t need a man like Hai. Better to be an old maid than live with him and this family.

  The more she thought about the engagement, the more heartbroken she became. Soon she was stuffing herself with the large pieces of chicken breast that had been put aside for the leaders. Then she pulled the platter of stewed mullet closer and munched one chunk after another, regardless of her mother’s stepping on her foot and Mrs. Pang’s squinting at her. She wanted to eat and eat and eat. If possible, she would have eaten up everything the Pangs owned. If they didn’t like her, they had better break the engagement now.

  Once in a while she glared at Hai, but to him her angry eyes were simply more charming, like blooming lilies. He was apparently tipsy and kept grinning at her boldly.

  Then Director Ma burst in, gasping. “Come, help me stop Secretary Liu. He’s walking in the street and shaking hands with everyone, even called a donkey ‘my comrade.’”

  Both Hai and his father lurched to their feet and rushed to the door, but before he could get out, Hai vomited on the threshold. His legs were shaky as he was running to the front gate, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

  “Swine!” Hong said under her breath. Her mother pinched her on the thigh under the table.

  Aunt Zheng came to the Chens’ twice the next week and asked for a list of gifts that the bride wanted from the Pangs. Because the wedding was scheduled for October 1, only seven weeks left, they should provide the list as soon as possible. Mrs. Chen said that she wasn’t sure of what to ask for and must discuss it with Hong, who had been very busy recently, working a few extra evenings a week at the department store, doing a rush job of selling cotton cloth. The old matchmaker knew the Chens were waiting to see whether Hai would become the vice-chairman. If the promotion ended in his favor, they might want nothing, since nowadays power was more valuable than money and property.

  The County Party Committee’s decision on the promotion arrived at the Commune Administration the next Saturday. On hearing that Feng Ping was the lucky one, both Mrs. Chen and her daughter burst out crying. Hong wailed so loudly that even passersby on the front street could hear her. A number of children gathered at the window ledge and watched the big girl blowing her nose and wiping her tears and squirming on the brick bed. Her face seemed bloated with pain, her bangs stuck to her pale forehead. The children couldn’t figure out what calamity had fallen on this household.

  “She must’ve a stomachache, worms in her insides,” said a boy.

  “No, she lost her wristwatch.”

  “Why not report it to the police?”

  In fact, Hong couldn’t help missing another man, the only one she had ever liked. Three years ago, she had seen him playing volleyball against the Harvest Fertilizer Plant’s team. She didn’t know his name, though she heard that his team was from Tile County. While watching him play, she was longing to touch his square face and her heart was leaping. He wasn’t handsome but looked so sweet and innocent. Afterwards she never tried to find out who he was, nor did she tell anybody how she felt. She thought herself silly and impractical, trying hard to forget him. For some reason, now all at once that young face came back to her, wrenching her heart.

  Mrs. Chen came out and drove the children away. Though she couldn’t stop her own tears, she didn’t blame her daughter for not listening to her. Too late now. Damn the Pangs, she wished they had never existed.

  Lilian came that evening. The two friends talked about the promotion. Although she understood how Hong felt—it must have been as if all your property was gone—Lilian still thought Pang Hai might be the better choice. This notion aroused Hong’s interest. “Do you mean Pang Hai may have a good position in the future?” Hong said.

  “No way.” Lilian shook her head. “To tell you the truth, his official career may be over, because Feng Ping is above him now and can always step on him. He must hate Hai to the bones. A man can forgive everything except for murdering his father or stealing his wife.”

  “Then why did you say Hai was better?”

  “Look at Feng, he’s a monkey. At least Hai is like a man in appearance.”

  “For me they’re the same. Hai is a gorilla.” Hong smirked and rubbed her chest as though hit by her own words.

  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 fr
om 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.

  Meanwhile Hong was running toward the well on Old Folk Road. Tears were streaming out of her eyes, and she was too ashamed to face her mother and the in-laws now. It was she who had brought such a disaster on Hai and herself. The Pangs had spent four thousand yuan on the banquet alone and couldn’t receive a fen in return. All the food was eaten up by the pupils. Oh, Hai and she would never be able to clear the debt. Such a miserable life was worse than death. Without thinking twice, she jumped into the dark well. To her surprise, it was not so deep as she had thought. The water barely reached her chest, but it was ice cold. She touched her thighs, her hips, her stomach, her breasts, her neck, and found every part of her body all right. She began trembling as she realized she had been merely a step away from the jaws of death. If she had plunged herself headlong, she would have killed herself easily by hitting the rocks. She groped around and felt the slippery wall covered with moss. It was impossible to climb out.

  A moment later
a metal bucket came down, hitting the rocky wall with a clank. Hong realized it was time to cook dinner and the well would be busy soon. She stuck her body to the wall and avoided standing in the way of the bucket, which floated on the surface of the water for a second, plunged in, came out full, and rose to the mouth of the well. Then another bucket descended and carried up a full load too. Hong raised her head to see who was up there, but she saw only the drawer’s blue sleeves.

  It occurred to her that this well was used by the people on three streets for drinking water. On Bath Street there was a well whose water had been sweeter than this one. Two years ago, the daughter of the Tangs on Blacksmith Road had drowned herself and her baby girl in that well because her husband and parents-in-law had scolded her for being unable to bear them a boy. People who had used the well for drinking water never stopped cursing the young woman. There were a lot of ways to kill herself, why did she choose this well? Because of the drowned bodies, no one would go there to fetch drinking water. Only a few families used the well for washing now. A pain seized Hong’s heart. If she had died in here, she would have been a restless ghost, because everybody up there would have cursed her. Then she remembered her mother. How unfilial she was. When he was dying, her father had asked her to take good care of her mother, but she had forgotten everything and acted so foolishly. She burst into tears and blew her nose over the water. Another bucket was coming down. Hong held her breath.

  Up on the ground a large-scale search for the bride was under way. Lilian had gone to Feng Ping’s office and cursed him in front of his subordinates. At first Feng wanted to have her dragged out, but on hearing that she had told his mother on him—the old woman was waiting at home to scold him—and that Hong had disappeared, Feng restrained his temper and began to worry, sweat breaking out on his narrow forehead. Obviously the whole thing had gotten out of hand. If Hong killed herself he would feel guilty all his life. Such a nice girl, she shouldn’t end up this way, in the hands of that rascal Pang Hai. With his squint eyes glittering, Feng told Lilian, “Stop blaming, all right? We must hurry and find Hong. It’s terrible. I hope nothing will happen to her.” Then he picked up the telephone and ordered the militia to search every dangerous cliff, ditch, pit, and hole in Dismount Fort and its vicinity, and report to him the minute they found her.