full purple lip , like ripe grape , give second grandma – passion – she extraordinary appeal .
the sand of time have long since inter she origin and background .
she rich , youthful , resilient flesh , she plump bean-pod face , and she deep-blue , seemingly deathless eye be bury in the wet yellow earth , extinguish for all time she angry , defiant gaze , which challenge the world of filth , adore the world of beauty , and brim over with a intense consciousness .
second grandma have be bury in the black earth of she hometown .
she body be enclose in a coffin of thin willow cover with a uneven coat of reddish-brown varnish that fail to camouflage its wormy , beetle-holed surface .
the sight of she blacken , blood-shiny corpse be swallow up by golden earth be etch forever on the screen of my mind .
in the warm red ray of the sun , i see a mound in the shape of a human figure rise atop the heavy , deeply remorseful sandbar .
second grandma 's shapely figure ; second grandma 's high-arching breast ; tiny grain of shift sand on second grandma 's furrowed brow ; second grandma 's sensual lip protrude through the golden-yellow sand . . .
i know it be a illusion , that second grandma be bury beneath the black earth of she hometown , and that only red sorghum grow around she gravesite .
stand at the head of she grave – as long as it be not during the winter , when the plant be dead and frozen , or on a spring day , when cool southerly breeze blow – you can not even see the horizon for the nightmarishly dense screen of northeast gaomi sorghum .
then you raise you gaunt face , like a sunflower , and through the gap in the sorghum you can see the stunning brilliance of the sun hanging in the kingdom of heaven .
amid the perennially mournful sob of the black water river you listen for a lose soul drift down from that kingdom .
the sky be a beautiful clear blue .
the sun have not yet make a appearance , but the chaotic horizon on that early-winter morning be infuse with a blinding red light when old geng shoot at a red fox with a fiery torch of a tail .
old geng have no peer among hunter in saltwater gap , where he bag wild goose , hare , wild duck , weasel , fox , and , when there be nothing else around , sparrow .
in the late autumn and early winter , enormous flock of sparrow fly over northeast gaomi township , a shift brown cloud that roll and tumble above the boundless land .
at dusk they return to the village , where they settle on willow whose naked , yellowing limb droop earthward or arched skyward .
as the die red ray of the evening sun burn through the cloud , the branch light up with sparrow ' black eye shine like thousand of golden spark .
old geng pick up he shotgun , squint , and pull the trigger .
two sparrow crash to the ground like hailstone as shotgun pellet tear noisily through the branch .
uninjured sparrow see they comrade hit the ground and flap they wing , rise into the air like shrapnel send fly high into a lethargic sky .
father have eat some of old geng 's sparrow when he be young .
they be delicious .
three decade later , my older brother and i go into the sorghum field and engage some crafty sparrow in a heated battle .
old geng , who be already over seventy by then and live alone as a pensioner , be one of we most revered villager .
ask to speak at meeting to air grievance against the old order , he invariably strip to the waist onstage to show he scar .
' the japs bayonet i eighteen time , ' he would say , ' until you could not see my skin for all the blood .
but i do not die , and you know why ?
because i be protect by a fox fairy .
i do not know how long i lay there , but when i open my eye all i could see be a bright-red light .
the fox fairy be lick my wound . '
in he home , old geng – eighteen stabs geng – keep a fox-fairy memorial tablet , which some red guards decide to smash during the cultural revolution .
they change they mind and get out of there fast when they see he kneel in front of the tablet wield a cleaver .
old geng draw a bead on the red fox , know exactly which way it would run ; but he be reluctant to shoot .
he know he could sell the beautiful , bushy pelt for a good price .
if he be go to shoot , it have to be now .
the fox have already enjoy a full life , sneak over nightly to steal a chicken .
no matter how strong the villager make they chicken coop , the fox always find a way inside and no matter how many trap they set , it always get away .
that year the villager ' chicken coop seem build solely to store its food .
old geng have walk out of the village as the rooster be crow for the third time and go straight to a low embankment alongside the swamp in front of the village , where he wait for the chicken thief to show up .
dried-up marsh weed stand waist-high in the swamp , where a thin sheet of nearly transparent ice , possibly thick enough to bear a man 's weight , cover the stagnant water that have accumulate during the autumn rain .
yellow tassel atop imprison reed shiver in the freezing morning air , as powerful ray of light from far off in the eastern sky gradually illuminate the icy surface , which give off a moist radiance , like the scale of a carp .
then the eastern sky turn bright , stain the ice and reed the colour of mottle blood .
old geng pick up the odour and see a tight cluster of reed part slowly like a undulating wave , then close up quickly .
he stick he nearly frozen index finger into he mouth and breathe on it , then wrap it around the frost-covered trigger .
the fox bound out of the clump of reed and stand on the ice , turn it a bright red , as though it have go up in flame .
congeal blood cover its pointy little snout ; a chicken feather the colour of hemp be stick in its whisker .
it walk with stately grace across the ice .
old geng cry out , and it freeze on the spot , squint to get a good look at the embankment .
old geng shiver , close he eye , and fire .
like a little fireball , the fox roll into the reed .
old geng , he shoulder numb from the recoil , stand up under a silvery sky , look bigger and taller than usual .
he know the fox be hide amid the reed and stare at he with loathing .
something suspiciously like a guilty conscience begin to stir in old geng .
he think back over the past year and the trust the fox have show in he : it always know he be hide behind the embankment , yet it saunter across the ice as though put he conscience to the test .
and old geng have always pass the test .
but now he have betray this friendship , and he hang he head , gaze into the clump of reed that have swallow the fox , not even turn back to look when he hear the clatter of footstep behind he .
suddenly he feel a stab pain , and stumble forward , twist he body , drop he shotgun to the ice .
something hot squirm under he pants at the belt line .
run towards he be a dozen uniformed figure arm with rifle and glint bayonet .
instinctively he yell in fear , ' japan ! '
the japanese soldier pounce on he and bayonet he in the chest and abdomen .
he scream pitifully , like a fox howl for its mate .
the blood from he wound pit the ice beneath he with its heat .
he rip off he tattered shirt with both hand .
in he semiconscious state he see the furry red fox emerge from the clump of reed and circle round he once , then crouch down and gaze sympathetically .
its fur glow brilliantly and its slightly slant eye shine like emerald .
after a while , old geng feel warm fur rub against he body , and he lay there wait for the razor-sharp tooth to begin rip he apart .
if he be tear to shred , he would die with no complaint , for he know that a man who betray a trust be lower than a animal .
the fox begin lick he wound with its cold tongue .
old geng be adamant that the fox have repay he betrayal by save he life .
where else could you find another man who have sustain eighteen bayonet wound yet live to tell the tale ?
the fox 's tongue must have be coat with a miraculous substance since old geng 's wound be instantly soothe , as though treat with peppermint oil – or so he say .
villager who have go to town to sell straw sandal announce upon they return : ' gaomi have be occupy by the japanese .
there be a rise sun at the entrance ! '
the panic-stricken villager could only wait for the calamity they know be come .
but not all of they suffer from race heart and crawl flesh : two among they go about they business totally unconcerned , never vary they routine .
who be they ?
one be old geng , the other a onetime musician who love to sing peking opera – pocky cheng .
' what be you afraid of ? '
pocky cheng ask everyone he meet .
' we be still common folk , no matter who be in charge .
we do not refuse to give the government its grain , and we always pay we tax .
we lie down when we be tell , and we kneel when they order we .
so who would dare punish we ?
who , i ask you ? '
he advice calm many of the people , who begin sleep , eat , and work again .
but it do not take long for the evil wind of japanese savagery to blow they way : they feed human heart to police dog ; they rape sixty-year-old woman ; they hang row of human head from electric pole in town .
even with the unflappable example of pocky cheng and old geng , rumour of brutality be hard for the people to put aside , especially in they dream .
pocky cheng walk around happy all the time .
news that the japanese be on they way to sack the village create a glut in dogshit in and around the village .
apparently the farmer who normally fight over it have grow lazy , for now it lay there wait for he to come and claim it .
he , too , walk out of the village as the rooster be crow for the third time , run into old geng with he shotgun sling over he back .
they greet each other and part way .
by the time the eastern sky have turn red , the pile of dogshit in pocky cheng 's basket be like a little mountain peak .
he lay it down , stand on the southern edge of the village wall , and breathe in the cool , sweet morning air , until he throat itch .
he clear it loudly , then raise he voice to the rosy morning cloud and begin to sing : ' i be a thirsty grainstalk drinking up the morning dew – '
a shot ring out .
he batter , wingless feel hat sail into the air .
tuck in he neck , he jump into the ditch beneath the wall like a shot , bump he head with a resounding thud against the frozen ground .
not sure if he be dead or alive , he try move he arm and leg .
they be work , but barely .
he crotch be all sticky .
fear race through he heart .
i have be hit , he think .
he sit up and stick he hand down he pants .
with he heart in he mouth , he pull out he hand , expect it to be all red .
but it be cover with something yellow , and he nostril twitch from the odour of rotten seedling .
he try to rub the stuff off on the side of the ditch , but it stick to he skin .
he hear a shout from beyond the ditch : ' stand up ! '
he look up to see a man in he thirty with a flat , chiselled face , yellow skin , and a long , jut chin .
he be wear a chestnut-coloured wool cap and brandish a black pistol !
a forest of yellow-clad leg be align behind he , the calf wrap in wide , crisscrossed cloth leggings .
he eye travelled slowly upward past protrude hip , stop at dozen of alien face , all adorn with the smug smile of a man take a comfortable shit .
a rise sun flag droop under the bright-red sunrise ; onion-green ray glint off a line of bayonet .
pocky cheng 's stomach lurch , and he nervous gut relinquish they contents .
' get up here ! '
chestnut wool cap bark out angrily .
pocky cheng climb out of the ditch .
not know what to say , he just bow repeatedly .
chestnut wool cap be twitch right under he nose .
' be there nationalist troops in the village ? ' he ask .
pocky cheng look at he blankly .
a japanese soldier wave a bloodstained bayonet in front of pocky cheng 's chest and face .
he hear he stomach growl and feel he intestine writhe and twist slowly ; at any other moment , he would have welcome the intensely pleasant sensation of a bowel movement .
the japanese soldier shout something and swing the bayonet , slice pocky cheng 's padded jacket down the middle and free the cotton wad inside .
the sharp pain of part skin and sliced muscle leap from he rib cage .
he double over , all the foul liquid in he body seem to pour out at once .
he look imploringly into the enraged japanese face and begin to wail .
chestnut wool cap drive the barrel of he pistol into he forehead .
' stop blubber !
the commander ask you a question !
what village be this ?
be it saltwater gap ? '
he nod , try hard to control he sob .
' be there a man in the village who make straw sandal ? '
chestnut wool cap soften he tone a little .
ignore he pain , he eagerly and ingratiatingly reply , ' yes yes yes . '
' do he take he straw sandal to market day in gaomi yesterday ? '
' yes yes yes , ' he jabber .
warm blood have slither down from he chest to he belly .
' how about pickle ? '
' i do not know . . . do not think so . . . . '
chestnut wool cap slap he across the mouth and shout : ' tell i !
i want to know about pickle ! '
' yes yes yes , you honour , ' he mutter obsequiously .
' commander , every family have pickle , you can find they in every pickle vat in the village . '
' stop act like a fucking idiot .
i want to know if there be somebody call pickles ! '
chestnut wool cap slap he across the face , over and over .
' yes . . . no . . . yes . . . no . . .
you honour . . . do not hit i . . .
please do not hit i . . . you honour . . . ' he mumble , reel from the slap .
the japanese say something .
chestnut wool cap sweep the hat off he head and bow , then turn back , the smile on he face go in a instant .
he shove pocky cheng and say with a scowl , ' we want to see all the sandal maker in the village .
you lead the way . '
concerned about the dung basket he have leave on the wall , pocky cheng instinctively cock he head in that direction .
a bayonet that shine like snow flash past he cheek .
quickly conclude that he life be worth more than a dung basket and spade , he turn he head back and set out for the village on he bandy leg .
dozen of japs fall in behind he , they leather boot crunch across the frost-covered grass .
a few grey dog bark tentatively .
i be really in a fix this time , pocky cheng be think .
no one else go out to collect dogshit , no one but i , and i run into some real dogshit luck .
the fact that the japanese do not appreciate he good-citizen attitude frustrate he .
he lead they quickly to each of the sandal maker ' cellar .
whoever pickle be , he be sure in one now .
pocky cheng look off into the distance towards he house , where green smoke curl into the sky from the solitary kitchen chimney .
it be the most intense longing for home he have ever know .
as soon as he be finish he would go there , change into clean pants , and have he wife rub some lime into the bayonet wound on he chest .
the great woodwind player of northeast gaomi township have never be in such a mess .
oh , how he long for he lovely wife , who have grumble about he pocked face at first , but , resign at last , have decide that if you marry a chicken you share the coop ; marry a dog and you share the kennel .
early-morning gunfire beyond the village startle second grandma out of a dream in which she be fight grandma tooth and nail .
she sit up , she heart thump wildly , and , try as she might , she could not decide if the noise have just be part of the dream .
the window be coat with pale morning sunlight ; a grotesque pattern of frost have form on the pane .
shudder from the cold , she tilted she head so she could see she daughter , my aunt , who be lie beside she , snore peacefully .
the sweet , even breathing of the five-year-old girl soothe second grandma 's fear .
maybe it be only old geng shooting at wild game , a mountain lion or something , she console herself .
she have no way of know how accurate she prediction be , nor could she have know that while she be slide back under the cover the tip of japanese bayonet be jab old geng 's rib .
little auntie roll over and nestle up against second grandma , who wrap she arm around she until she could feel the little girl 's warm breath against she chest .
eight year have pass since grandma have kick she out of the house .
during that time , granddad have be trick into go to the jinan police station , where he nearly lose he life .
but he manage to escape and make he way home , where grandma have take father to live with black eye , the leader of the iron society .
when granddad fight black eye to a standstill at the salty water river , he touch grandma so deeply she follow he home , where they run the distillery with renew vitality .
granddad put he rifle away , bring he bandit day to a end , and begin life as a wealthy peasant , at least for the next few year .
they be troubling year , thanks to the rivalry between grandma and second grandma .
in the end , they reach a ' tripartite agreement ' in which granddad would spend ten day with grandma , then ten day with second grandma – ten day be the absolute limit .
he stick to he bargain , since neither woman be a economy lantern , someone to be take lightly .
second grandma be enjoy the sweetness of she sorrow as she hug little auntie .
she be three month pregnant .
a period of increase tenderness , pregnancy be a time of weakness during which woman need attention and protection , and second grandma be no exception .
count the day on she finger , she long for granddad .
he would be there tomorrow .
another crisp gunshot sound outside the village ,