by Li Rui
I know why you hate me. You hate me on account of Sack. Just because Sack looks like Humi. If Sack didn’t look like Humi, who’d he look like? Sack is Humi, Humi is Sack. Hate or no hate, it’s all the same. Laid out in a coffin or not laid out in a coffin, it’s all the same. It’s a sack full of burnt rice; all your fucking hate is for nothing! Without turning around I can see his burning eyes. As soon as he lays eyes on me, his eyes burn. Burn, go ahead and burn—I can’t do anything about it, I can’t tell him to stop. My living ancestors, one day I want to walk up to him and look him straight in those burning eyes and tell him, Third Dog is not called Third Dog, his name is Sack. When Sack was born all the tree leaves were rustling, hua-la, hua-la, hua-la filled the sky and the ground. I’ll tell him that. And then it’ll be all right if you tell me to go lie in a coffin or hang myself or work my whole life without getting work points or go hungry my whole life!
I know why he hates me so much. He hates me because Third Dog is not Third Dog, Third Dog is Sack! Just because the sack is filled with burnt rice! Hate or no hate, it’s all the same. This whole damned thing was predestined and can’t be changed, even by the Old Man in Heaven himself, damn it! Hate or no hate, it’s all the same. Sack is Humi. Humi is Sack. You can’t blame me because she always follows you. You can’t blame me because a sack spread on the ground became a mattress. You can’t blame me that only a man and a woman were out there alone. Hate or no hate, it’s all the same.
34
He finally stopped talking to Ugly Baby and, leaning on that sledge handle reddened with his own blood, turned away. The half-exposed rock embankment full of white uneven hammer blows was like a fresh scar sadly running through the middle of the valley. A slight breeze mussed his hair. The broken skin of his hand hurt the same as if it had been burned by flames. That frequent thought crossed his mind once again. Kugen’r thought, How can they understand me? I’m the son of a martyr; I am my father; I am changing the world for my father. How can they understand me? A person who so desperately hopes to be understood by others is a weakling. Zhao Yingjie’s solitary, steadfast determination to press ahead stemmed from his iron will, not from the understanding of others.
The early winter sun was like a woman who had just become a grandmother, kindly and warmly placing the mountains and the people at her feet, gently reaching out and caressing the withered brambles on the bleak mountaintops and the hair on people’s heads mussed by the wind, gently embracing the frustration that rose like a blurred mountain mist in Kugen’r’s heart. Beside him was a group of laboring men, constantly striking the blasted rock with resonant blows from their tools. Each resonant blow was like a cold, hard pebble, thrown one after another into that sense of frustration, only making it appear deeper and broader. When the green disappeared on the leafless high plains, the only thing that remained was pure distance and pure and simple grayish yellow. Of the four seasons, Kugen’r felt he belonged to the plains in winter; standing amid the grayish yellow immensity, he was deeply moved by his own inexpressible frustration and couldn’t help but feel he had gained a solitary vantage point above the world. An inexhaustible and tender regard welled up in his eyes; he projected his frustration and solitude over the speechless mountains, which in turn gave rise to more inexhaustible frustration and solitude. The resonant blows stirred them like a cold wind shaking the last dry leaves on the branch tips of the trees, patiently waiting for them to fall, waiting for them to provide the final explanatory note on the immense plain with their fall. Everything would end in a huge snowfall, end with hill and dale covered in white.
Every winter for the last six years, Kugen’r had had to visit these deep mountain ravines and stand before the rocks. It had already become an unbreakable commandment. The way Kugen’r saw it, of the twelve big and small valleys of Stunted Flats, they could on average remake a valley every two years by blasting the stone. It would take twenty-four years to complete his plan.
The entire male labor force, old and young, of Stunted Flats together consisted of only about thirteen people, all of whom were crippled, with him the only exception. Therefore he had to shoulder the responsibility for the heaviest and most dangerous tasks, such as drilling the rock and setting the explosive charges. Kugen’r perfectly understood that the twenty-four years needed to transform the mountain rivers had, in fact, actually become his personal plan, a test of his determination and will. To face or avoid these rocks had simply become the point of his existence. From time immemorial, no one knows how long the mountains of Stunted Flats had lain there silently, but this was the first time in millions of years that, due to his existence, because he faced them, these rocks and yellow earth possessed real significance. Every winter, the men laboriously piled up stone embankments; by summer, most had been knocked down by floodwaters. But with the arrival of winter, Kugen’r would, as always, take his team to the mountain valleys. This had become a test of iron will between man and mountain. Kugen’r knew there was no retreat and no stopping for him, for stopping would imply that the last six years of striving were a total loss and, even more, that he was totally useless, that he was as meaningless as the yellow earth and stones. While providing him with a throne from which he could look down upon the world, the high plains had also laid an unfathomable trap for him. It was an abyss that could never be filled by time or history.
In this test of will, the only thing that disturbed Kugen’r was the constant hunger. The excessively heavy labor during cold weather only increased his appetite. Regardless of how much he ate, he was always hungry. Hunger was often like a flood inundating a sandy beach, and it welled up out of his very flesh and bone. He had no choice but to put down whatever tool he was using when the uncontrollable shaking began. Without reason or mercy, hunger never shrank from reminding Kugen’r of life’s existence and its mortal weaknesses. To conquer his hunger, Kugen’r utilized a method of the people of his hometown, carrying beans and corn cooked in sand in his pockets. The moment he felt hungry, he’d shove handful after handful of the scorched yellow ammunition into his mouth. He would vigorous and noisily chew it up until the corn or beans became a sweet and aromatic liquid between his tongue and teeth, in order to replenish his exhausted will and strength. Whenever he reached that point, the movement of his jaw would remind him more of a horse than a man.
When he turned to face Tianzhu, who was panting, he was assailed by a violent hunger, like a landslide in his innards. He couldn’t be sure if it was the news that Uncle Gimpy had hanged himself or hunger that made everything in front of him go blank. He distinctly felt his forehead break out in a sweat. He hurriedly grabbed a handful of fried beans and stuffed them, along with the news that Uncle Gimpy had hanged himself, into his empty belly.
Tianzhu said, You have to stop work, something has happened in the village, Uncle Gimpy hanged himself.
Kugen’r said, I never thought the class struggle in our village was so complicated.
When he said this, his mouth was full of chewed-up beans, filled with the aroma of fried beans. Kugen’r couldn’t figure out why Uncle Gimpy would hang himself. Everything had been conducted according to Party policy; everything had just begun. This sudden occurrence turned the struggle that had just begun into an unpredictable kaleidoscope. Uncle Gimpy, the rich peasant, wasn’t the only thing hanged from that beam. The imagined results of the class struggle had been completely turned upside down in that room with its horsey odor, even before it started, and been hanged for nothing on that dirty beam.
Kugen’r had some difficulty overcoming the suddenness of the news, much like recovering from a sudden bout of hunger, making him momentarily indecisive. Amid the broken stone stood the half-piled embankment full of gray chip marks, like a freshly opened wound in the mountainous wilds, an ugly sight in the grayish yellow valley. The cold white stream water flowed through the cracks in the stone, then silently and coldly away.
Kugen’r said, I never really thought the class struggle in our village was so complicated, so
complicated.
The winter sun hung high and white above the heads of the group of male laborers.
35
That half-built stone embankment was lying there, clear to the eye when you turned to look. Everyone had left. Some had gone up the slope, others had not. Seeing no one around, I called out to stop him.
I said, Humi, have you been sworn at again?
He just laughed and walked around the bend with me. He laughed and said, Anyone who wants to scold a ragged old commune member can damn well do it.
I said, Humi, why doesn’t anyone scold me? What the fuck do you owe to him? What wrong did you do to him?
He just laughed again and stopped. He laughed and said, I owe him a dog, but there’s nothing to be done about it. Just because I owe him a dog, does that mean he has to swear?
I said, Why didn’t you say that to Tianzhu’s face?
He just laughed.
I said, You just laugh and don’t say anything.
He laughed and said, If I said anything, it wouldn’t be Uncle Gimpy hanging there now.
At the mention of Uncle Gimpy, we fell silent. All that could be heard was the sound of footsteps. That half-built stone embankment lay at the bottom of the valley, motionless, clear to the eye when you turned back to look. The group of men shuffled away from there on their way back to the village.
I said, Humi, what’s the meaning of spending a whole life shuffling back and forth?
He smiled and said, Ugly Baby, you can’t ask me that—you have to ask someone who has already reached the end.
I said, Who’s reached the end?
He said, Uncle Gimpy.
I said, Nonsense. How can you ask a dead guy?
He smiled and said, In this life, no living person has reached the end yet. If you haven’t reached the end yet, how can you know the purpose? Whereas the dead have all reached the end. Only when you reach the end will you know the purpose. But there’s no point in knowing, because you can’t tell anyone. No matter how hard you try, you’ll never find out. Uncle Gimpy has reached the end, but who can find out what he’s doing?
I said, What was it with Uncle Gimpy? Why did he do it?
He said, Uncle Gimpy was a fool. He just wanted to jump the gun on the Old Man in Heaven. Actually, it doesn’t matter what a person does in life, it doesn’t matter if they enjoy life or suffer; in the end, the Old Man in Heaven gives you only one road—everyone dies in the end. Willing, you have to die; unwilling, you still have to die. Uncle Gimpy jumped the gun on the Old Man in Heaven. Why jump the gun? If it’s yours, it’s yours. If it’s not yours, it’s not yours. If it’s not yours, even if you snatch it, it’s still not yours. If you don’t snatch it and it’s yours, it’s still yours. Uncle Gimpy didn’t do anything in life save feed a few donkeys, nothing else. So what was there to jump the gun for? In a hurry, you have to die; not in a hurry, you still have to die. Anyway, it’s death. It’s that one road. Willing, you have to take it; unwilling, you still have to take it. There’s no other road you can take. You say he was in a hurry? Uncle Gimpy was a fool.
I swore at him. I said, What the fuck are you talking about? Circle around and circle back, like a donkey on a millstone path.
He said, It’s worse than a donkey on a millstone path. In life, a man is never unhitched from his millstone. Pulling it around and around, he can no longer pull before he’s old, so he has a little one. Born to pull, it pulls and bears. It goes on and on without end. Besides those donkeys, Uncle Gimpy didn’t have a wife or child, so why jump the gun?
I said, Just like a poor unmarried guy—you can’t stop talking about a wife and children.
He said, Of course. If Uncle Gimpy had a wife and kids, do you think he would have hanged himself? I’d like to have a wife. If I had a wife, I wouldn’t beat her or scold her; if we had something good to eat, I’d let her eat first; if we had new clothes, she’d be the first to wear them. I’d want to have a pile of kids with her and raise them and then watch as our kids had kids of their own. I don’t think there is anything better or more beautiful under Heaven than that.
I just smiled. I said, You’re no better than others. Your wife and kids run on the millstone path of others. You’ve got no one to run for you on the fucking millstone path, but you’ve got a son who blindly runs on someone else’s millstone path.
He smiled. He laughed and said, Sack! Sack!
I swore at him again. You’ve fucking gone crazy thinking about a wife. More nonsense!
He smiled. He laughed.
That half-built stone embankment lay at the bottom of the valley, deep and far away. Looking back, you could see it. The newly broken stone shone white under the sun, dazzling white. It stopped a stream of cold, bright mountain water, which poured through the cracks in the stone, flowing away, cold and bright. A group of men had shuffled past here, and must have shuffled back again to the village.
Tianzhu suddenly sang out loudly, making his face turn red and veins pop out on his neck.
That half-built stone embankment lay motionless on the valley floor. The newly broken and exposed stone was white. From a distance it looked like a motionless corpse laid out in the valley.
And you ask why Uncle Gimpy did it?
36
Fuck it all to hell! Live as a fool! Die as a fool!
Xue Meng weeps at once.
Turning his head to look back at the world,
He sees not one bit of it;
He doesn’t see his little brother in Wuying.
Striking my horse, I pass through the willow grove.
Seeing Xue Gang, I tremble with rage.
Live as a fool! Die as a fool! Fuck it all to hell!
37
Uncle Chuandeng Uncle Chuandeng Uncle Chuandeng my dad wants you and Erniu to hurry over and make a coffin for Uncle Gimpy we didn’t see anything we just ate a handful of beans there was a rope above Uncle Gimpy’s head Commune Head Liu cut him down with an axe everyone in the village saw it he cut him down when he cut down Uncle Gimpy then he fell hurry up my dad is waiting for you at the village we still have to buy cigarettes my dad said if we’re short one fen he’ll beat the hell out of us
38
They made me fast the green one inside the green one inside the green one is silent the green one doesn’t pay attention to me inside they made me fast the green one pays no attention to me they made me fast
39
I knew he was unwilling. But I’m the leader. Do you know what a leader is? To be a leader means that you must lead when you are willing and you must also lead when you are unwilling. Willing or unwilling, you must lead!
I said, Okay, we’ll see; that’s the way it was at the scene. It was suicide. There’s no need to look into it. Go with me to the cave. I’ve got an assignment for you.
He lifted his eyes to look at me. He didn’t move. I knew he was unwilling. But I’m the leader.
I said, Let’s go, Kugen’r. I still have to visit other production teams to pass on the central Party documents, after which I’ll go back to the commune. I must speak with you before I leave. I have an assignment for you.
He walked behind me. I knew he was unwilling. But I’m the leader!
Back at the cave, I said, Kugen’r, take out your notebooks. You must record the work assigned by the leader.
Looking at me, he took out his notebooks. I knew he was unwilling.
I said, There are three things: first, the rich peasant Cao Yongfu, fearing punishment for his crimes, committed suicide, fully demonstrating the sharp nature and complexity of the class conflict at Stunted Flats. Second, the incident must be used to stir up a high tide of mass criticism, and each and every one of his crimes must be brought to light and thoroughly criticized. Third, write up the facts of the incident and report them to the commune to bring it to the attention of the other production teams and units.
In silence he recorded each item. I knew he was unwilling.
I said, Kugen’r, this issue is still an issue.
If every damned teacher by negative example died and only us positive people were left, there wouldn’t be much of a class struggle left to wage and all future political movements would be difficult to carry out.
He looked at me and said, I really never thought the class struggle of Stunted Flats was so complicated. It never entered my mind.
He just looked at me. I knew what he was thinking. I knew what he was thinking in his heart. No matter how complicated this matter is, do you think you can just put this on the leader? By making it more complicated? Do you think you’re something special because you have more education than I do? You think it’s fine, that you can do anything you want? You might know more words than I do, but have you faced the number of bullets I have? When I was engaged in the revolution, bullets flew everywhere. Are you aware of that? Where were you when Political Commissar Wang fell into my arms? Where were you when I swore my oath to Political Commissar Wang? I told him I would spend my whole life here watching over him. Do you think this can be done by simply reciting a few lines from the quotations of Chairman Mao?
He said, Commune Head Liu, don’t worry. We want to see the class struggle in Stunted Flats through to the end! We will not rest until victory is ours!
I knew he was unwilling; I knew what he was thinking. But can you conduct this against your leaders? I spent my whole life working here. How many days have you been here? Do you think you can do anything you want because you know a few more words than I do?