8

county magistrate nine dreams cao had used a brilliant stratagem in the late autumn of 1928to wipe out the bandits of northeast gaomi township led by my granddad. decades later, whengranddad was in the mountains of hokkaido, this tragic page in history was always before him.

he thought back to how smug he had felt as he was driven in his black chevrolet sedan on thebumpy northeast gaomi township mountain road, an unwitting decoy who had led eighthundred good men into a trap. his limbs grew ice-cold at the memory of those eight hundred menlined up in a remote gulley outside jinan city to be mowed down by machine guns. while he wasroasting fine- scaled silver carp from hokkaido’s shallow rivers, he agonised over the eighthundred deaths.?.?.?.

after making a pile of broken bricks, granddad climbed over the high wall around the jinanpolice station in the small hours of the morning, then slid down the other side into clumps ofscrap paper and weeds, frightening off a couple of stray cats. he slipped into a house, changedfrom his black wool military uniform into some tattered clothes, then went out and merged withthe crowds on the street to watch his fellow villagers and his men being loaded onto boxcars.

sentries stood around the station with dark, murderous looks on their faces. black smoke pouredout of the locomotive, steam hissed from the exhaust pipes.?.?.?. granddad walked south on therusty tracks.

at dawn, after walking all day and night, he reached a dry riverbed that reeked of blood. thebodies of hundreds of northeast gaomi township bandits were piled up in layers, filling half theriverbed. he felt remorseful, horrified, vengeful. he was fed up with a life that was little morethan an unending cycle of kill-or-be-killed, eat-or-be-eaten. he thought of the chimney smokecurling in the air above his quiet village; of the creaking pulley as a bucket of clear water wasbrought out of the well to water a fuzzy young donkey; of a fiery red rooster standing on a wallcovered with date branches to crow at the radiant rays of dawn. he decided to go home.

after spending his whole life in the confines of northeast gaomi township, this was the firsttime he’d ever travelled so far, and home seemed to be on the other side of the world. recallingthat the train to jinan had travelled west the entire trip, he thought that all he had to do wasfollow the tracks east and he’d have no trouble getting back to gaomi county. when one of thetrains came down the tracks, he hid in a nearby ditch or amid some crops to watch the red orblack wheels rumble past, bending the curved tracks.

granddad ate when he could beg food in a village and drank when he came upon a river.

always he headed east, day and night. after two weeks, he finally spied the two familiarblockhouses at the gaomi train station, where the county aristocracy was gathered to see off theironetime magistrate nine dreams cao, who had been promoted to police commissioner forshandong province. granddad crumpled to the ground, not sure why or how, and lay with hisface in the black earth for a long time before becoming aware of the pungent taste of blood in thedirt.

he decided not to go home, even though he had often seen grandma’s snow-white body andfather’s strangely innocent smile in the cold realm of his dreams. he awoke to find his grimyface bathed in hot tears and his heart aching. when he gazed up at the stars, he knew how deeplyhe missed his wife and son. but now that the decisive moment had arrived, and he could smellthe intimate aroma of wine mash permeating the darkness, he wavered.

the slap and a half from grandma had created a barrier between them, like a cruel river.

‘ass!’ she’d cursed him. ‘swine!’ an angry scowl had underscored her outburst as she stoodthere, hands on hips, back bent, neck thrust forward, a trickle of bright-red blood running downher chin. the awful sight had thrown his heart into confusion.

in all his years, no woman had ever cursed him as viciously as that, and certainly no womanhad ever slapped him. it wasn’t that he felt no remorse over his affair with passion, but thehumiliating verbal and physical abuse had driven that remorse out of his heart, and self-recrimination had been supplanted by a powerful drive to avenge himself.

emboldened by a sense of self-righteousness, he’d gone to live with passion in saltwater gap,some fifteen li distant. after buying a house, he led what even he knew was a troubled life,discovering in passion’s deficiencies grandma’s virtues. now that he’d narrowly escaped death,his legs had carried him back to this spot, and he wanted to rush into that compound and revivethe past; but the sound of those curses erected a barrier that cut him off from the road ahead.

granddad dragged his exhausted body to saltwater gap in the middle of the night, where hestood in front of the house he’d bought two years earlier and looked up at the late-night moonhigh in the southwestern sky. passion’s vigorous, slender body floated in front of his eyes, and ashe thought about the golden flames ringing her body and the blue flames issuing from her eyes, atormenting nostalgia made him forget his mental and physical anguish. he pulled himself overthe wall and jumped into the compound.

keeping a rein on his feelings, he knocked on the window frame and cried out softly:

‘passion?.?.?. passion?.?.?.’

inside, a muffled cry of alarm, followed by the sound of intermittent sobs.

‘passion, can’t you tell who it is? it’s me, yu zhan’ao!’

‘brother?.?.?. dear brother! scare me to death, but i’m not afraid! i want to see you even ifyou’re a ghost! you’ve come to me, i, i’m deliriously happy.?.?.?. you didn’t forget me afterall.?.?.?. come in.?.?.?. come in.?.?.?.’

‘passion, i’m not a ghost. i’m still alive, i escaped!’ he pounded on the window. ‘did youhear that? could a ghost make sounds like that on your window?’

passion began to wail.

‘don’t cry,’ granddad said. ‘somebody will hear you.’

he walked over to the door, but before he got there, the naked passion was in his arms.

for two months, granddad didn’t step outside. he lay on the kang, staring blankly at thepapered ceiling. passion reported talk on the street about the bandits of northeast gaomitownship. when he could no longer bear his indelible memories of the tragedy, he filled the airwith the sound of grinding teeth. all those opportunities to take that old dog nine dreams cao’slife, yet he had spared him. his thoughts turned to my grandma. her relationship with ninedreams cao had been a major factor in his being duped, so his hatred for nine dreams caocarried over to her as well. who knows, maybe they had conspired to lead him into a trap. thenews passion brought made this seem likely.

one day, as passion was massaging his chest, she said, ‘dear brother, you may not haveforgotten her, but it didn’t take her long to forget you. after they took you away on the train, shewent with black eye, the leader of the iron society, and has lived with him in saltwater gap formonths.’ the sight of passion’s insatiable dark body gave birth to repugnance, and granddad’sthoughts returned to that other body, as fair as virgin snow. he remembered, again, that sultryafternoon when he had stretched her out on his straw rain cape in the dense shadows of thesorghum field.

granddad rolled over. ‘is my pistol still here?’

passion wrapped her arms around him. ‘what are you going to do?’ she asked fearfully.

‘i’m going to kill those dog bastards!’

‘zhan’ao! dear brother, you can’t keep killing people! think how many you’ve killedalready!’

he shoved her away. ‘shut up!’ he snarled. ‘give me my gun!’

she began to sob as she ripped open the seam of the pillow and removed his pistol.

with father in front of him, granddad followed five troubles on the black horse. even aftergazing for a long time at the dull grey surface of the salty water river and the vast whitealkaline plains stretching from its bank, his excitement from their stirring conversation stillhadn’t abated; yet he couldn’t stop thinking about his fight with black eye on the bank of theriver.

with his pistol under his arm, he rode a huge braying donkey all morning. when he reachedsaltwater gap, he tied his donkey to an elm tree at the village entrance to let it gnaw on the bark,then pulled his tattered felt cap down over his eyebrows and strode into the village. saltwatergap was a large village, but granddad walked straight towards a row of tall buildings withoutasking directions. winter was just around the corner, and a dozen chestnut trees with a fewstubborn yellow leaves were bent before the wind. though not strong, it cut like a knife.

he slipped into the compound in front of the tiled buildings, where the iron society wasmeeting. on the wall of a spacious hall with a brick floor hung a large amber-coloured paintingof a strange old man riding a ferocious, mottled tiger. a variety of curious objects rested on analtar beneath the painting – a monkey claw, the skull of a chicken, a dried pig gallbladder, a cat’shead, and the hoof of a donkey. incense smoke curled upward. a man with a ring of molesaround one eye was sitting on a thick, circular sheet of iron, rubbing the shaved dome of scalpabove his forehead with his left hand and covering the crack in his ass with his right. he waschanting loudly: ‘amalai amalai iron head iron arm iron spirit altar iron tendon iron bone ironcinnabar altar iron heart iron liver iron lung altar raw rice forged into iron barrier iron knife irongun no way out iron ancestor riding iron tiger urgent edict amalai amalai amalai?.?.?.’

granddad recognised the man as northeast gaomi township’s infamous half- man, half-demon, black eye.

his chant finished, black eye stood up and kowtowed three times to the iron ancestor seatedon his tiger. then he returned to his sheet of iron, sat down, and raised his fists, all ten fingernailsturned in and hidden from view. he nodded towards the iron society soldiers, who reached upwith their left hands to their shaved scalps and covered their asses with their right, closed theireyes, and raised their voices to repeat black eye’s chant. their sonorous shouts filled the hallwith demonic airs. half of granddad’s anger vanished – his plan had been to murder black eye,but his loathing for the man was being weakened by reverence and awe.

after completing their chant, the iron society soldiers kowtowed to the old demon on his tigermount, then formed two tight ranks in front of black eye. granddad had heard that the ironsociety soldiers ate raw rice, and now he watched as each of them took a bowl of it from blackeye and gobbled it down. then, one by one, they walked up to the altar and picked up themonkey claw, mule hoof, and chicken skull to rub on their shaved scalps.

the white sun was streaked with red by the time the ceremony was completed, when granddadfired a shot at the large painting, putting a hole in the face of the old demon on his tiger. thesoldiers broke ranks at the sound of gunfire, took a moment to get their bearings, then rushed outand surrounded granddad.

‘who are you? you’ve got the nerves of a thief!’ black eye thundered.

granddad lifted his tattered felt cap with the barrel of his smoking gun. ‘your venerableancestor, yu zhan’ao!’

‘i thought you were dead!’ black eye exclaimed.

‘i wanted to see you dead first!’

‘you think you can kill me with that thing? men, bring me a knife!’

a soldier walked up with a butcher knife. black eye held his breath and gave a sign to theman. granddad watched the blade of the knife hack black eye’s exposed abdomen as though itwere a chunk of hardwood, but all it left were some pale scratches.

the iron society soldiers began to chant in unison: ‘amalai amalai amalai iron head iron armiron spirit altar?.?.?. iron ancestor riding iron tiger urgent edict amalai?.?.?. amalai?.?.?. amalai?.?.?.’

granddad was stunned. how could anybody be impervious to knives and bullets? he ponderedthe iron society chant. everything on the body was iron – everything, that is, but the eyes.

‘can you stop a bullet with your eye?’ granddad asked.

‘can you stop a knife with your belly?’ black eye asked in return.

granddad knew he couldn’t stop a knife with his belly; he also knew black eye couldn’t stop abullet with his eye.

the iron society soldiers came out of the hall armed to the teeth and formed a ring aroundgranddad, glaring like tigers eyeing their prey.

granddad knew he only had nine bullets left in his pistol, and that, once he killed black eye,the soldiers would pounce on him like mad dogs and tear him to ribbons.

‘black eye,’ granddad said, ‘since you’re so special, i’ll spare those pisspots of yours. turnthe bitch over and we’re square!’

‘is she yours?’ black eye asked him. ‘will she answer if you call her? is she your legal wife?

a widow is like a masterless dog – they both belong to whoever raises them. if you know what’sgood for you, you’ll get the hell out of here! don’t blame old blackie for what happens if youdon’t.’

granddad raised his pistol. the iron society soldiers raised their cold, glinting weapons.

seeing their lips twitch, chanting, he mused, a life for a life!

just then granddad heard a mocking laugh from grandma. his arm fell to his side.

grandma stood on a stone step holding father in her arms, bathed in the rays of the sun in thewestern sky. her hair shone with oil, her face was rosy, her eyes sparkled.

‘whore!’ granddad railed, gnashing his teeth.

‘ass!’ grandma fired back impertinently. ‘swine! scum! sleeping with a serving girl is allyou’re good for!’

granddad raised his pistol.

‘go ahead!’ grandma said. ‘kill me! and kill my son!’

‘dad!’ my father yelled.

granddad’s pistol fell to his side again.

he thought back to that fiery red noon in the kingfisher- green sorghum and pictured herpristine body lying in black eye’s arms.

‘black eye,’ he said, ‘let’s make it just the two of us, fists only. either the fish dies or the netbreaks – i’ll wait for you on the banks of the river outside the village.’

he thrust his pistol into his belt and walked through the ring of stupefied iron society soldiers.

with a glance at my father, but not at my grandma, he strode out of the village.

as soon as he stepped up onto the steamy bank of the salty water river, granddad took offhis cotton jacket, threw down his pistol, tightened his belt, and waited. he knew black eyewould come.

the salty water river was as murky as a sheet of frosted glass reflecting the golden sunlight.

black eye walked up.

grandma followed, with father in her arms. she wore the same look of indifference.

the iron society soldiers brought up the rear.

‘a civil fight or a martial fight?’ black eye asked.

‘what’s the difference?’

‘a civil fight means you hit me three times and i hit you three times. a martial fight meansanything goes.’

granddad thought it over and said, ‘a civil fight.’

‘who first?’ black eye asked.

‘let fate decide. we’ll draw straws. the longest goes first.’

‘who’ll prepare the straws?’ black eye asked.

grandma put father on the ground. ‘i’ll do it,’ she said.

she plucked two lengths of straw, hid them behind her back, then brought them out in front.

‘draw!’

she looked at granddad, who drew a straw. then she opened her hand to show the remainingone.

‘you drew the long straw, so you go first!’ she said.

granddad drove his fist into black eye’s belly. black eye yelped.

having sustained the first punch, black eye straightened up, a blue glint in his eyes, andwaited for the next one.

granddad hit him in the heart.

black eye stumbled back a step.

granddad drove his final punch into black eye’s navel with all his might.

this time black eye stumbled back two steps. his face was waxen as he pressed his hand overhis heart and coughed twice, spitting out a nearly congealed clot of blood. then he wiped hismouth and nodded to granddad, who concentrated all his strength in his chest and abdomen.

black eye waved his huge fist in the air and swung it hard, stopping inches away fromgranddad. ‘i’ll spare you this one, for the sake of heaven!’ he said.

he also wasted his second punch. ‘i’ll spare you this one for the sake of earth.’

black eye’s third punch knocked granddad head over heels, like a mud clod; he hit the hard,alkaline ground with a loud thud.

after struggling to his feet, granddad picked up his jacket and his pistol, his face dotted withbeads of sweat the size of soybeans. ‘i’ll see you in ten years.’

a piece of bark floated in the river. granddad fired his nine bullets at it, smashing it tosmithereens. then he stuck his pistol into his belt and staggered into the wasteland, his bareshoulders and slightly bent back shining like bronze under the sun’s rays.

as black eye looked at the shattered pieces of bark floating in the river, he spat out a mouthfulof blood and sat down hard on the ground.

cradling father in her arms, grandma ran unsteadily after granddad, sobbing as she called hisname: ‘zhan’ao –’