chapter one
1
from where he lay quietly on the brick-and-tamped-earth sleeping platform, his kang, pastormalory saw a bright red beam of light shining down on the virgin mary’s pink breast and onthe pudgy face of the bare-bottomed blessed infant in her arms. water from last summer’srains had left yellow stains on the oil tableau, investing the virgin mary and blessed infantwith a vacant look. a long-legged spider hung from a silvery thread in the bright window,swaying in a light breeze. “morning spiders bring happiness, evening spiders promisewealth.” that’s what the pale yet beautiful woman had said one day when she saw one of theeight-legged creatures. but what happiness am i entitled to? all those heavenly breasts andbuttocks in his dream flashed through his head. he heard the rumble of carts outside and thecries of red-crowned cranes from the distant marsh, plus the angry bleats of his milk goat.
sparrows banged noisily into the paper window covering. magpies, the so-called happinessbirds, chattered in poplar trees outside. by the look of things, happiness could well be in theair today. then suddenly his head cleared, and the beautiful woman with the astonishingly bigbelly made a violent appearance, haloed in blinding light. her nervous lips quivered, as if shewere about to say something. she was in her eleventh month, so today must be the day. in aflash pastor malory understood the significance of the spider and magpies. he sat up and gotdown off the kang.
after picking up a black earthenware jug, he walked out to the street behind the church,where he saw shangguan lü, wife of shangguan fulu, the blacksmith, bent over to sweep thestreet in front of the shop. his heart skipped a beat, his lips quivered. “dear lord,” hemuttered, “almighty god …” he crossed himself with a stiff finger and backed slowly into acorner to silently observe the tall, heavyset shangguan lü?as she silently and single-mindedlyswept the dew-soaked dust into her dustpan, carefully picking out pieces of trash and tossingthem aside. her movements were clumsy but vigorous; her broom, woven from golden millettassels, was like a toy in her hand. after filling the dustpan and tamping down the dust, shestraightened up.
just as shangguan lü reached the head of her lane, she heard a commotion behind her andturned to see what it was. some women came running through the black gate of felicitymanor, home of the town’s leading gentry family. they were dressed in rags, their facessmeared with soot. why are these women, who normally dress in silks and satins, and arenever seen without rouge and lipstick, dressed like that? just then, a wagon master known toall as “old titmouse” emerged from the compound across the way on his new wagon, with itsdark green canopy and rubber tires. the women clambered aboard even before it came to acomplete stop. the wagon master jumped down and sat on one of the still damp stone lions tosilently smoke his pipe. sima ting, steward of felicity manor, strode out from the compoundwith his fowling piece, his movements as quick and nimble as a young man. jumping to hisfeet, the wagon master glanced at the steward, who snatched the pipe out of his hand, tookseveral noisy puffs, then looked up at the early-morning rosy sky and yawned grandly. “timeto go,” he said. “wait for me at the black water river bridge. i’ll be along shortly.”
with the reins in one hand and his whip in the other, the wagon master turned the wagonaround. the women in the bed behind him shouted and chattered. the whip snapped in theair, and the horses trotted off. brass bells around the horses’ necks sang out crisply, the wagonwheels crunched on the dirt road, and clouds of dust rose in the wagon’s wake.
after taking a piss in the middle of the road, sima ting shouted out at the now distantwagon, then cradled his fowling piece and climbed the watchtower, a thirty-foot platformsupported by ninety-nine thick logs and topped by a red flag that hung limply in the dampmorning air. shangguan lü watched him as he gazed off to the northwest. with his long neckand pointy mouth, he looked a little like a goose at a watering trough.
a cloud of feathery mist rolled through the sky and swallowed up sima ting, then spat himback out. bloody hues of sunrise dyed his face red. to shangguan lü, the face seemedcovered by a dazzling layer of sticky syrup. by the time he raised the fowling piece over hishead, his face was red as a cockscomb. she heard a faint metallic click. it was the triggersending the firing pin forward. resting the butt of the piece against his shoulder, he stoodwaiting solemnly. so did shangguan lü, as the heavy dustpan numbed her hands, and herneck was sore from cocking it at such a rakish angle. sima ting lowered his fowling pieceand puckered like a pouting little boy. she heard him curse the gun: “you little bastard, howdare you not fire!” he raised it again and pulled the trigger. crack! flames followed the crispsound out of the barrel, simultaneously darkening the sun’s rays and lighting up his red face.
then an explosion shattered the silence hanging over the village; sunlight filled the sky withbrilliant colors as if a fairy standing on the tip of a cloud were showering the land below withradiant flower petals. shangguan lü’s heart raced from excitement. though only ablacksmith’s wife, she was much better with a hammer and anvil than her husband could everhope to be. the mere sight of steel and fire sent blood running hot through her veins. themuscles of her arms rippled like knotted horsewhips. black steel striking against red, sparksflying, a sweat- soaked shirt, rivulets of salty water flowing down the valley betweenpendulous breasts, the biting smell of steel and blood filling the space between heaven andearth. she watched sima ting jerk backward on his perch, the damp morning air around himsoaked with the smell of gunpowder. as he circled the tiny platform, he broadcast a warningto all of northeast gaomi township:
“all you elders, fellow townsmen, the japs are coming!”
