3the dim light of a filthy bean-oil lamp on a millstone in the barn flickered uneasily, wisps ofblack smoke curling from the tip of its flame. the smell of lamp oil merged with the stink ofdonkey droppings and urine. the air was foul. the black animal lay on the ground betweenthe millstone and a dark green stone trough. all shangguan lü could see when she walked inwas the flickering light of the lamp, but she heard the anxious voice of shangguan fulu:
“what did she have?”
she turned toward the sound and curled her lip, then crossed the room, past the donkey andshangguan shouxi, who was massaging the animal’s belly; she walked over to the windowand ripped away the paper covering. a dozen rays of golden sunlight lit up the far wall. shethen went to the millstone and blew out the lamp, releasing the smell of burned oil to snuff outthe other rank odors. shangguan shouxi’s dark oily face took on a golden sheen; his tinyblack eyes sparkled like burning coals. “mother,” he said fearfully, “let’s leave. everybody atfelicity manor has fled, the japanese will be here soon …”
shangguan lü stared at her son with a look that said, why can’t you be a man? avoidingher eyes, he lowered his sweaty face.
“who told you they’re coming?” shangguan lü demanded angrily.
“the steward at felicity manor has been firing his gun and sounding the alarm,”
shangguan shouxi muttered as he wiped his sweaty face with an arm covered with donkeyhairs. it was puny alongside the muscular arm of his mother. his lips, which had beenquivering like a baby at the tit, grew steady, as his head jerked up. pricking up his tiny ears tolisten for sounds, he said, “mother, father, do you hear that?”
the hoarse voice of sima ting drifted lazily into the barn. “elders, mothers, uncles, aunts— brothers, sisters-in-law — brothers and sisters — run for your lives, flee while you can,hide in the fields till the danger passes — the japanese are on their way — this is not a falsealarm, it’s real. fellow villagers, don’t waste another minute, run, don’t trade your lives for afew broken-down shacks. while you live, the mountains stay green, while you live, the worldkeeps turning — fellow villagers, run while you can, do not wait until it’s too late …”
shangguan shouxi jumped to his feet. “did you hear that, mother? let’s go!”
“go? go where?” shangguan lü said unhappily. “of course the people at felicity manorhave run off. but why should we join them? we are blacksmiths and farmers. we owe notariff to the emperor or taxes to the nation. we are loyal citizens, whoever is in charge. thejapanese are human, too, aren’t they? they’ve occupied the northeast, but where would theybe without common folk to till the fields and pay the rent? you’re his father, the head of thefamily, tell me, am i right?”
shangguan fulu’s lips parted to reveal two rows of strong, yellow teeth. it was hard to tellif he was smiling or frowning.
“i asked you a question!” she shouted angrily. “what do you gain by showing me thoseyellow teeth? i can’t get a fart out of you, even with a stone roller!”
with a long face, shangguan fulu said, “why ask me? if you say leave, we leave, if yousay stay, we stay.”
shangguan lü sighed. “if the signs are good, we’ll be all right. if not, there’s nothing wecan do about it. so get to work and push down on her belly!”
opening and closing his mouth to build up his courage, shangguan shouxi asked loudly,but without much confidence, “has the baby come?”
“any man worth his salt focuses on what he’s doing,” shangguan lü said. “you take careof the donkey, and leave women’s business to me.”
“she’s my wife,” shangguan shouxi muttered. “no one says she isn’t.”
“my guess is this time it’s a boy,” shangguan shouxi said as he pressed down on thedonkey’s belly. “i’ve never seen her that big before.”
“you’re worthless …” shangguan lü was losing spirit. “protect us, bodhisattva.”
shangguan shouxi wanted to say more, but his mother’s sad face sealed his lips.
“you two keep at it here,” shangguan fulu said, “while i go see what’s going on outthere.”
“where do you think you’re going?” shangguan lü demanded as she grabbed herhusband’s shoulders and dragged him back to where the donkey lay. “what’s going on outthere is none of your business! just keep massaging the donkey’s belly. the sooner she foals,the better. dear bodhisattva, lord in heaven. the shangguan ancestors were men of iron andsteel, so how did i wind up with two such worthless specimens?”
shangguan fulu bent over, reached out with hands that were as dainty as his son’s, andpressed down on the donkey’s twitching belly. the donkey lay between him and his son;pressing down one after the other, they seemed to be on opposite ends of a teeter-totter. upand down they went, massaging the animal’s hide. weak father, weak son, accomplishinglittle with their soft hands — limp wicks, fluffy cotton, always careless and given to cuttingcorners. standing behind them, shangguan lü could only shake her head in frustration, beforereaching out, grabbing her husband by the neck, and jerking him to his feet. “go on,” shedemanded, “out of my way!” she sent her husband, a blacksmith hardly worthy of the name,reeling into the corner, where he sprawled atop a sack of hay. “and you, get up!” she orderedher son. “you’re just underfoot. you never eat less than your share, and you’re never aroundwhen there’s work to be done. lord in heaven, what did i do to deserve this?”
shangguan shouxi jumped to his feet as if his life had been spared and ran over to join hisfather in the corner. their dark little eyes rolled in their sockets, their expressions were amixture of cunning and stupidity. the silence in the barn was broken once again by the shoutsof sima ting, setting father and son squirming, as if their bowels or bladders were about tobetray them.
shangguan lü knelt on the ground in front of the donkey’s belly, oblivious of the filth, alook of solemn concentration on her face. rolling up her sleeves, she rubbed her handstogether, creating a grating noise like scraping the soles of two shoes together. laying hercheek against the animal’s belly, she listened attentively with her eyes narrowed. then shestroked the donkey’s face. “donkey,” she said, “go on, get it over with. it’s the curse of allfemales.” then she straddled the donkey’s neck, bent over, and laid her hands on its belly. asif planing a board, she pushed down and out. a pitiful bray tore from the donkey’s mouth andits legs shot out stiffly, four hooves quaking violently, as if beating a violent tattoo on fourdrums, the jagged rhythm bouncing off the walls. it raised its head, left it suspended in the airfor a moment, then brought it crashing back to earth with a moist, sticky thud. “donkey,endure it a while longer,” she murmured. “who made us female in the first place? clenchyour teeth, push … push harder …” holding her hands up to her chest to draw strength intothem, she took a deep breath, held it, and pushed down slowly, firmly.
the donkey struggled, yellow liquid shot out of its nostrils as its head jerked around andbanged on the ground. down at the other end, amniotic fluid and wet, sticky feces sprayed thearea. in their horror, father and son covered their eyes.
“fellow villagers, the jap horse soldiers have already set out from the county seat. i’veheard eyewitness accounts, this is not a false alarm, run for your lives before it’s too late …”
sima ting’s shouts entered their ears with remarkable clarity.
shangguan fulu and his son opened their eyes and saw shangguan lü sitting beside thedonkey’s head, her own head lowered as she gasped for breath. her white shirt was soakedwith sweat, throwing her solid, hard shoulder blades into prominent relief. fresh blood pooledbetween the donkey’s legs as the spindly leg of its foal poked out from the birth canal; itlooked unreal, as if someone had stuck it up there as a prank.
once again, shangguan lü laid her twitching cheek against the donkey’s belly and listened.
to shangguan shouxi, his mother’s face looked like an overripe apricot, a serene goldencolor. sima ting’s persistent shouts floated in the air, like a fly in pursuit of rotting meat,sticking first to the wall, then buzzing over to the donkey’s hide. pangs of fear struckshangguan shouxi’s heart and made his skin crawl; a sense of impending doom wracked him.
he lacked the courage to run out of the barn, for a vague sense of foreboding told him that theminute he stepped out the door, he’d fall into the hands of jap soldiers — those squat littlemen with short, stubby limbs, noses like cloves of garlic, and bulging eyes, who ate humanhearts and livers and drank their victims’ blood. they’d kill and eat him, leaving nothingbehind, not even bone scraps. and at this very moment, he knew, they were massing innearby lanes to get their hands on local women and children, all the while bucking andkicking and snorting like wild horses. he turned to look at his father in hopes of gainingsolace. what he saw was an ashen-faced shangguan fulu, a blacksmith who was a disgrace tothe trade, sitting on a sack of hay, arms wrapped around his knees as he rocked back andforth, his back and head banging against the wall. shangguan shouxi’s nose began to ache, hewasn’t sure why, and tears flowed from his eyes.
with a cough, shangguan lü slowly raised her head. stroking the donkey’s face, shesighed. “donkey, oh donkey,” she said, “what have you done? how could you push its leg outlike that? don’t you know the head has to come out first?” water spilled from the animal’slackluster eyes. she dried them with her hand, blew her nose loudly, then turned to her son.
“go get third master fan. i was hoping we wouldn’t have to buy two bottles of liquor and apig’s head for him, but we’ll just have to spend the money. go get him!”
shangguan shouxi shrank up against the wall in terror, his eyes glued to the door, whichled to the lanes outside. “the l-lanes are f-filled with j-japanese,” he stammered, “all those j-japanese …”
enraged, shangguan lü stood up, stormed over to the door, and jerked it open, letting in anearly-summer southwest wind that carried the pungent smell of ripe wheat. the lane was still,absolutely quiet. a cluster of butterflies, looking somehow unreal, flitted past, etching apicture of colorful wings on shangguan shouxi’s heart; he was sure it was a bad omen.
