THE GLOOMY, RAINY autumn of 1939 was followed by a freezing winter. Dogs that had been shotto death or blown up by hand grenades hurled by Father, Mother, and their martyred friends layin the soggy marshland, frozen together with fallen stalks of sorghum. Dogs killed by blasts ofJapanese muskmelon grenades in the Black Water River and those that had struggled to becomepack leaders, only to die cruelly, lay icebound among withered water grasses and weeds alongthe banks. Famished crows pecked at the frozen corpses with their purple beaks. Like blackclouds they soared in the sky between the riverbank and the marshland.
Granddad, Father, Mother, and the woman Liu hibernated in their dilapidated village throughthe endless winter. Father and Mother were already aware of the relationship between Granddadand the woman Liu, but it didn’t bother them. The way she looked after everyone during thesetrying days was something my family remembered even decades later. Her name was formallyadded to our ‘family scroll’, where she is listed just below Passion, who follows Grandma, whois second only to Granddad.
It was the woman Liu who had consoled Granddad after Father lost one of his testicles.
‘Single-stalk garlic is always the hottest,’ she said. With her encouragement, Beauty, who wouldbecome my mother, had aroused Father’s wounded, ugly, strange-looking little pecker, therebyensuring the continuation of our family line.
All this had happened in late autumn, when migrating wild geese often appeared in the sky,and fangs of ice were forming in the marshland. With the arrival of blustery northwest winds, oneof the coldest winters in history began.
The shack was piled high with dry sorghum leaves; and there was plenty of grain in thekitchen. To supplement their diet with more nutritious food and keep up their strength and health,Granddad and Father often went dog-hunting. The death of Red had turned the dogs of NortheastGaomi Township from a roving pack into a bunch of individual marauders. They were neverorganised again. Human nature once more won out over canine nature, and the paths gouged outby the dogs were slowly reclaimed by the black earth.
Father and Granddad went hunting every other day, bagging only a single dog each time. Themeat provided necessary nutrition and internal heat, and by the spring of 1940, Father had growntwo fists taller. Having fed on human corpses, the dogs were strong and husky; eating a winter’ssupply of fatty dog meat was, for Father, the same as eating a winter’s supply of human flesh.
Later he would grow into a tall, husky man who could kill without batting an eye. I wonder ifthat had anything to do with the fact that, indirectly, he had cannibalised his own people?
One night a warm southeasterly wind blew, and the next morning they could hear the icecracking on the Black Water River. New buds the size of rice appeared on weeping willows, andtiny pink flowers exploded onto the branches of peach trees. Early- arriving swallows flewthrough the air above the marshland and the river, hordes of wild rabbits chased one another inmating rituals, and the grass turned green. After several misty rain showers, Granddad and Fathertook off their dogskin clothing. Day and night, the black soil of Northeast Gaomi Township wasthe scene of endless stirrings by a host of living, growing things.
Now that spring had arrived, Granddad and Father felt confined in the shack. They went out towalk along the dikes of the Black Water River, then crossed the stone bridge to visit the graves ofGrandma and of Granddad’s fallen soldiers.
‘Let’s join the Jiao-Gao regiment, Dad,’ Father said.
Granddad shook his head.
‘How about joining up with Detachment Leader Leng?’
Granddad shook his head.
The sun shone bright and beautiful that morning. Not a cloud in the sky. They stood speechlessbefore Grandma’s grave.
East of the bridge, far off in the distance, they saw seven horses trotting sluggishly towardsthem on the northern dike. When they got closer, Father and Granddad recognised the freshlyshaved foreheads of the Iron Society. Leading them was a swarthy man with a ring of dark molesaround his right eye. It was Black Eye, who had already had an illustrious reputation way backwhen Granddad was living a bandit’s life. Back then bandit gangs and the Iron Society went theirown ways – well water not mixing with river water – and Granddad had held them in contempt.
Then, in the early winter of 1929, Granddad and Black Eye had fought on the dusty bank of theSalty River, with no winner and no loser.
The seven horses trotted up to the dike in front of Grandma’s grave, where Black Eye reined inhis mount. Instinctively Granddad rested his hand on the handle of his Japanese ‘tortoiseshell’
pistol.
‘So it’s you, Commander Yu!’ Black Eye sat steadily in his saddle.
Granddad’s hand shook. ‘It’s me!’
When Granddad challenged him with a dark look, Black Eye chuckled dully and dismounted.
He gazed down at Grandma’s grave. ‘She’s dead?’
‘She’s dead!’ Granddad said tersely.
‘Goddamn it!’ Black Eye spat out angrily. ‘A good woman like that winding up dead as soonas you get your hands on her!’
Flames shot from Granddad’s eyes.
‘If she’d come with me back then, it wouldn’t have turned out like this!’ Black Eye said.
Granddad drew his pistol and aimed it at Black Eye.
‘If you’ve got the balls,’ Black Eye said calmly, ‘you’ll avenge her. Killing me only proveshow chickenhearted you are!’
What is love? Everybody has his own answer. But this demon of an emotion has spelled doomfor more valiant men and lovely, capable women than you can count. Based upon Granddad’sromantic history, my father’s tempestuous love affairs, and the pale desert of my ownexperiences, I’ve framed a pattern of love that applies to the three generations of my family.
The first ingredient of love – fanaticism – is composed of heart-piercing suffering: the bloodflows through the intestines and bowels, and out of the body as faeces the consistency of pitch.
The second ingredient – cruelty – is composed of merciless criticism: each partner in the loveaffair wants to skin the other alive, physically and psychologically. They both want to rip outeach other’s blood vessels, muscles, and every writhing internal organ, including the heart. Thethird ingredient – frigidity – is composed of a protracted heavy silence. Icy emotions frost thefaces of people in love. Their teeth chatter so violently they can’t talk, no matter how badly theywant to.
In the summer of 1923, Granddad lifted Grandma down off her donkey, carried her into thesorghum field, and laid her on his straw rain cape; thus began the tragic ‘internal-bleeding’ phase.
In the summer of 1926, when Father was two, Grandma’s servant Passion became the thirdmember of a triangle, thrusting her lovely thighs between Granddad and Grandma; this was whenthe ‘skinning alive’ began. Their love thus moved from the heaven of fanaticism to the hell ofcruelty.
Passion was one year younger than Grandma, who turned nineteen in the spring of 1926. Theeighteen-year-old girl had a strong, healthy body, long legs, and large, unbound feet. Her darkface featured round watery eyes, a pert little nose, and thick, sensual lips. The distillery wasflourishing at the time, and our sorghum wine had taken eighteen counties in nine prefectures bystorm. The air was redolent with the aroma of wine. In the intoxicating atmosphere, when thedays were long and the nights short, the men and women in my family had enormous capacitiesfor wine. Granddad and Grandma, of course; but even the woman Liu, who had never tasted winebefore, was now able to drink half a decanter at one sitting.
Passion, who at first only drank to accompany Grandma, eventually couldn’t live without herwine. The alcohol enlivened them and instilled them with the courage to face danger fearlesslyand view death as a homecoming. They abandoned themselves to pleasure, living an existence ofmoral degeneracy and fickle passions. Granddad had become a bandit by then: he coveted notriches, but a life of vengeance and countervengeance, a never-ending cycle of cruelty that turneda decent commoner into a blackhearted, ruthless bandit with great skills and courage to match.
After killing Spotted Neck and his gang, and nearly paralysing my greedy great-granddad withfear, he left the distillery and began a romantic life of looting and plundering. The seeds ofbanditry in Northeast Gaomi Township were planted everywhere: the government producedbandits, poverty produced bandits, adultery and sex produced bandits, banditry produced bandits.
Word of Granddad’s prowess in single-handedly wiping out the seemingly invincible SpottedNeck and his gang at the Black Water River spread like wildfire, and lesser bandits flocked tohim. As a result, the years 1925 to 1928 marked a golden age of banditry in Northeast GaomiTownship. Granddad’s reputation rocked the government.
This was during the tenure of the inscrutable Nine Dreams Cao, whom Granddad still detestedfor having beaten him with the shoe sole until his skin peeled and his flesh gaped. His day ofvengeance against the Gaomi county magistrate would come.
In early 1926, he and two of his men kidnapped Nine Dreams Cao’s fourteen-year-old son infront of the government office. Carrying the screaming little boy under one arm and holding hispistol in the other hand, Granddad swaggered up and down the granite-paved street in front of theofficial residence. The shrewd, competent enforcer, Little Yan, pursued him with county soldiers,shouting and shooting from a safe distance. Granddad spun around and put his pistol to the boy’stemple. ‘You there, Yan!’ he shouted. ‘Get your ass back there and tell that old dog Nine DreamsCao that he can have his son back for ten thousand silver dollars. If I don’t get it within threedays, this kidnap is going to end with a dead kid!’
‘Old Yu,’ Little Yan asked genially, ‘where do we make the exchange?’
‘In the middle of the Black Water River bridge.’
Granddad and his two men filed out of town, the boy still under his arm. He had white teethand red lips, and though his features were contorted by all that crying, he was still a handsomeboy. ‘Stop crying,’ Granddad told him. ‘I’m your foster-dad, and I’m taking you to see yourfoster-mom!’ He really started crying then, which tried Granddad’s patience. Waving his short,glistening sword under the boy’s nose, he threatened, ‘I said no more crying. If you keep it up,I’ll slice off your ear!’ The boy stopped crying immediately and was carried along between thetwo younger bandits with a stunned look on his face.
When they were about five li out of town, Granddad heard hoofbeats behind him. Spinningaround to look, he saw a cloud of dust, raised by galloping horses. Granddad ordered the twobandits over to the side of the road, where the three of them huddled together with their hostage,a gun at his head.
The horsemen, led by the shrewd Little Yan, circled Granddad and his men, then headedtowards Northeast Gaomi Township, a trail of dust in their wake.
Momentarily confused, Granddad quickly realised what was happening. ‘Damn!’ he said,slapping his thigh. ‘We’re wasting our time with this!’
His two young accomplices asked stupidly, ‘Where are they going?’
Without stopping to answer, Granddad fired at the retreating horsemen; but they were out ofrange, and his bullets disappeared into the dust.
Little Yan led his men to our village in Northeast Gaomi Township and straight to our house.
He had a speedy horse and he knew the way. Meanwhile, Granddad was running as fast as hislegs would carry him. Nine Dreams Cao’s son, used to a life of ease and luxury, managed only ali or so before he collapsed. ‘Finish him off and be done with it,’ one of the younger banditssuggested. ‘He’s too much trouble.’
‘Little Yan’s going after my son,’ Granddad said, as he picked up Young Master Cao, hoistedhim over his shoulder, and took off at a trot. When the younger bandits urged him to speed up, hesaid, ‘We’re already too late, so there’s no need to go any faster. Everything will be all right aslong as this little bastard stays alive.’
Back in the village, Little Yan and his men burst into the house, grabbed Grandma and Father,and tied them onto a horse.
‘You blind dog!’ Grandma railed. ‘I’m Magistrate Cao’s foster-daughter!’
With a sinister smile, Little Yan said, ‘His foster-daughter is precisely who he told us to nab.’
Little Yan and his horsemen met up with Granddad on the road. Hostages on both sides hadguns at their heads as they passed so close they could have reached out and touched each other;but no one dared make a move.
Granddad looked up at Father, who was held tightly in Little Yan’s arms, and at Grandma,whose hands were tied behind her back. ‘Zhan’ao,’ she said to Granddad, who had a dejectedlook on his face, ‘let my foster-dad’s son go, so they’ll set us free.’
Granddad squeezed the boy’s hand tightly. He knew he’d have to let him go sooner or later,but not just now.
When it was time to exchange the hostages at the wooden bridge over the Black Water River,Granddad mobilised nearly all the bandits in Northeast Gaomi Township, over 230 of them.
Their weapons loaded and ready, they lay or sat around the northern bridgehead.
At midmorning, the magistrate’s soldiers arrived, winding their way down from the southerndike of the river. Four of them carried a sedan chair that rocked above them. When they reachedthe southern bridgehead, Nine Dreams Cao greeted Granddad. With a smile on his face he said,‘Zhan’ao, how could the husband of my foster-daughter kidnap his own nephew? If you neededmoney, all you had to do was ask for it.’
‘It’s not the money. I haven’t forgotten those three hundred lashes with the shoe sole!’
Rubbing his hands together and laughing, Nine Dreams Cao said, ‘It was a mistake, all amistake! But if it hadn’t been for that beating we’d never have met. Worthy son-in-law, youachieved real glory by eliminating Spotted Neck, and I will make that known to my superiors,who will in turn reward you for your deed.’
‘Who cares about being rewarded by you for my deeds?’ Granddad said rudely. His wordsbelied the fact that his heart was softening.
Little Yan pulled back the curtain of the sedan chair, and Grandma slowly emerged withFather in her arms.
She started to walk out onto the bridge, but was stopped by Little Yan. ‘Old Yu,’ he said,‘bring Young Master Cao out onto the bridge. We’ll release them on command.’
‘Now!’ Little Yan called out when both sides were ready.
With a shout of ‘Dad!’ Little Master Cao ran towards the southern bridgehead, while Grandmawalked with Father at a dignified pace to the northern side.
Granddad’s men aimed their short rifles; the government soldiers aimed long ones.
Grandma and the Cao boy met in the middle of the bridge, where she bent over to saysomething to him. But, with a loud wail, he skirted her and ran like the wind to the southernbridgehead.
This incident witnessed the end of the golden days of banditry in Northeast Gaomi Township.
In the third month of 1926, Great-Grandma passed away. With Father in her arms, Grandma rodeone of our black mules back to her childhood home to make funeral arrangements, planning to begone only three days and never imagining that heaven would interfere to make that impossible.
On the day after her departure, the skies opened up and released a torrential rain so dense thateven the wind couldn’t penetrate it. Since Granddad and his men could no longer stay in thegreenwoods, they returned to their homes, for in such weather even swallows hole up in theirnests to twitter dreamily. Government soldiers were kept from going out, but they really weren’tneeded anyway, since the truce between Nine Dreams Cao and Granddad was still holding. Thebandits returned to their homes, stuck their weapons under their pillows, and slept the days away.
Granddad was surprised to learn from Passion that Grandma had braved the violent rainstormto return to her parents’ home to arrange for her mother’s funeral. In her loathing for her parents,Grandma had refused to have anything to do with them for years. But as they say, ‘Strong windseventually cease, unhappy families return to peace.’
The rain sluiced down from the eaves like waterfalls. The murky water rose waist- high,saturating the soil and eroding the bases of walls. Rain-weary, Granddad fell into a state ofnumbness: drinking and sleeping, sleeping and drinking, until the distinction between day andnight blurred, and chaos reigned. More restless than he had ever felt in his life, he scratched thecurly black hair on his chest and thighs, but the more he scratched the more they itched. The kangexuded a woman’s acrid, salty smell. He threw a wine bowl onto the kang. It shattered. A littlerat with a gaping mouth jumped out of the cabinet, gave him a mocking look, and leaped up ontothe window ledge, where it stood on its hind legs and cleaned its mouth with its front claws.
Granddad picked up his pistol and fired, blowing the rat out of the window.
Passion ran into the room, her dark hair a mess; seeing Granddad on the kang with his armswrapped around his knees, she bent over wordlessly, picked up the shards of the wine bowl, andturned to leave.
A hot flash surged into Granddad’s throat. ‘You?.?.?. stop there?.?.?.’ he said with difficulty.
Passion bit her thick lower lip. Her sweet smile suffused the gloomy room with a ball ofgolden light. The beating of raindrops beyond the window seemed suddenly blocked by a wall ofgreen. Granddad looked at Passion’s mussed hair, her delicate little ears, and the arch of herbreasts. ‘You’ve grown up,’ he said.
Her mouth twitched, and two cunning little wrinkles appeared in the corners.
‘What were you doing?’
‘Sleeping!’ She yawned. ‘I hate this weather. How long is it going to rain? The bottom musthave fallen out of the Milky Way.’
‘Douguan and his mom must be stuck there. Didn’t she say she’d return in three days? The oldlady must have rotted by now!’
‘Is there anything else?’ Passion asked him.
He lowered his head and, after a pensive moment, said, ‘No, that’s all.’
Passion bit her lip again, smiled, and walked out, wiggling her hips.
Darkness returned to the room, and the grey curtain of rain beyond the window was thickerand heavier than ever.
Passion walked back in and leaned up against the door frame, watching Granddad throughmisty eyes. He felt the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands began to sweat.
‘What do you want?’
She smiled demurely. The room was once again filled with golden light.
‘Do you feel like drinking?’ Passion asked him.
‘Will you join me?’
‘All right.’
She brought in a decanter of wine and sliced some salted eggs.
Outside, the rain beat like thunder, and a chilling air seeped in through the window, causingGranddad’s nearly naked body to shudder.
‘Cold?’ Passion asked disdainfully.
‘I’m hot!’ he fired back testily.
She filled two bowls with wine, kept one, and handed him the other.
After tossing their empty bowls onto the kang, they just gazed at each other. Two blue flamesdanced in the golden glow in the room. The golden flames singed his body, the blue flamessinged his heart.
‘A noble man gets his revenge, even if it takes ten years!’ Granddad said icily as he shoved hispistol into its holster.
Black Eye straightened up and walked from the dike down to Grandma’s grave. He circled itonce, kicked the earth, and sighed. ‘People live but a generation, and grass dies each autumn! OldYu, the Iron Society is going to fight the Japanese. Join us!’
‘Join a superstitious society like yours?’ Granddad sneered.
‘Don’t get on your high horse! The Iron Society is protected by the gods. Heaven smiles on usand the people trust us. Being asked to join is an honour.’ Black Eye stamped his foot at the headof Grandma’s grave and continued: ‘Your black master here is willing to take you on for hersake.’
‘I don’t need your damned pity! One of these days, you and I are going to settle things, onceand for all. Our business isn’t finished!’
‘You don’t scare me!’ Black Eye patted the revolver on his hip. ‘I know how to use one ofthese, too.’
A handsome young Iron Society soldier walked down from the dike and stayed his leader’shand. With modest self-control, he said, ‘Commander Yu, the soldiers of the Iron Society havelong respected you, and we’d be honoured if you joined us in our mission to keep the countrywhole. We must put aside our squabbles and drive off the Japanese! Individual scores can besettled later.’
Granddad was intrigued by the man, who reminded him of his own valiant young AdjutantRen, who had died tragically while cleaning his gun. ‘Are you a member of the CommunistParty?’ he asked derisively.
‘Not the Communist Party,’ the young man replied, ‘and not the Nationalist Party. I hate themboth!’
‘I like your spirit!’ Granddad said approvingly.
‘They call me Five Troubles.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ Granddad said.
Father had been standing motionless beside Granddad for a long time, gazing curiously at theshaved foreheads of the Iron Society soldiers. That was their identifying mark, but itssignificance escaped him.
Granddad, Father, Mother, and the woman Liu hibernated in their dilapidated village throughthe endless winter. Father and Mother were already aware of the relationship between Granddadand the woman Liu, but it didn’t bother them. The way she looked after everyone during thesetrying days was something my family remembered even decades later. Her name was formallyadded to our ‘family scroll’, where she is listed just below Passion, who follows Grandma, whois second only to Granddad.
It was the woman Liu who had consoled Granddad after Father lost one of his testicles.
‘Single-stalk garlic is always the hottest,’ she said. With her encouragement, Beauty, who wouldbecome my mother, had aroused Father’s wounded, ugly, strange-looking little pecker, therebyensuring the continuation of our family line.
All this had happened in late autumn, when migrating wild geese often appeared in the sky,and fangs of ice were forming in the marshland. With the arrival of blustery northwest winds, oneof the coldest winters in history began.
The shack was piled high with dry sorghum leaves; and there was plenty of grain in thekitchen. To supplement their diet with more nutritious food and keep up their strength and health,Granddad and Father often went dog-hunting. The death of Red had turned the dogs of NortheastGaomi Township from a roving pack into a bunch of individual marauders. They were neverorganised again. Human nature once more won out over canine nature, and the paths gouged outby the dogs were slowly reclaimed by the black earth.
Father and Granddad went hunting every other day, bagging only a single dog each time. Themeat provided necessary nutrition and internal heat, and by the spring of 1940, Father had growntwo fists taller. Having fed on human corpses, the dogs were strong and husky; eating a winter’ssupply of fatty dog meat was, for Father, the same as eating a winter’s supply of human flesh.
Later he would grow into a tall, husky man who could kill without batting an eye. I wonder ifthat had anything to do with the fact that, indirectly, he had cannibalised his own people?
One night a warm southeasterly wind blew, and the next morning they could hear the icecracking on the Black Water River. New buds the size of rice appeared on weeping willows, andtiny pink flowers exploded onto the branches of peach trees. Early- arriving swallows flewthrough the air above the marshland and the river, hordes of wild rabbits chased one another inmating rituals, and the grass turned green. After several misty rain showers, Granddad and Fathertook off their dogskin clothing. Day and night, the black soil of Northeast Gaomi Township wasthe scene of endless stirrings by a host of living, growing things.
Now that spring had arrived, Granddad and Father felt confined in the shack. They went out towalk along the dikes of the Black Water River, then crossed the stone bridge to visit the graves ofGrandma and of Granddad’s fallen soldiers.
‘Let’s join the Jiao-Gao regiment, Dad,’ Father said.
Granddad shook his head.
‘How about joining up with Detachment Leader Leng?’
Granddad shook his head.
The sun shone bright and beautiful that morning. Not a cloud in the sky. They stood speechlessbefore Grandma’s grave.
East of the bridge, far off in the distance, they saw seven horses trotting sluggishly towardsthem on the northern dike. When they got closer, Father and Granddad recognised the freshlyshaved foreheads of the Iron Society. Leading them was a swarthy man with a ring of dark molesaround his right eye. It was Black Eye, who had already had an illustrious reputation way backwhen Granddad was living a bandit’s life. Back then bandit gangs and the Iron Society went theirown ways – well water not mixing with river water – and Granddad had held them in contempt.
Then, in the early winter of 1929, Granddad and Black Eye had fought on the dusty bank of theSalty River, with no winner and no loser.
The seven horses trotted up to the dike in front of Grandma’s grave, where Black Eye reined inhis mount. Instinctively Granddad rested his hand on the handle of his Japanese ‘tortoiseshell’
pistol.
‘So it’s you, Commander Yu!’ Black Eye sat steadily in his saddle.
Granddad’s hand shook. ‘It’s me!’
When Granddad challenged him with a dark look, Black Eye chuckled dully and dismounted.
He gazed down at Grandma’s grave. ‘She’s dead?’
‘She’s dead!’ Granddad said tersely.
‘Goddamn it!’ Black Eye spat out angrily. ‘A good woman like that winding up dead as soonas you get your hands on her!’
Flames shot from Granddad’s eyes.
‘If she’d come with me back then, it wouldn’t have turned out like this!’ Black Eye said.
Granddad drew his pistol and aimed it at Black Eye.
‘If you’ve got the balls,’ Black Eye said calmly, ‘you’ll avenge her. Killing me only proveshow chickenhearted you are!’
What is love? Everybody has his own answer. But this demon of an emotion has spelled doomfor more valiant men and lovely, capable women than you can count. Based upon Granddad’sromantic history, my father’s tempestuous love affairs, and the pale desert of my ownexperiences, I’ve framed a pattern of love that applies to the three generations of my family.
The first ingredient of love – fanaticism – is composed of heart-piercing suffering: the bloodflows through the intestines and bowels, and out of the body as faeces the consistency of pitch.
The second ingredient – cruelty – is composed of merciless criticism: each partner in the loveaffair wants to skin the other alive, physically and psychologically. They both want to rip outeach other’s blood vessels, muscles, and every writhing internal organ, including the heart. Thethird ingredient – frigidity – is composed of a protracted heavy silence. Icy emotions frost thefaces of people in love. Their teeth chatter so violently they can’t talk, no matter how badly theywant to.
In the summer of 1923, Granddad lifted Grandma down off her donkey, carried her into thesorghum field, and laid her on his straw rain cape; thus began the tragic ‘internal-bleeding’ phase.
In the summer of 1926, when Father was two, Grandma’s servant Passion became the thirdmember of a triangle, thrusting her lovely thighs between Granddad and Grandma; this was whenthe ‘skinning alive’ began. Their love thus moved from the heaven of fanaticism to the hell ofcruelty.
Passion was one year younger than Grandma, who turned nineteen in the spring of 1926. Theeighteen-year-old girl had a strong, healthy body, long legs, and large, unbound feet. Her darkface featured round watery eyes, a pert little nose, and thick, sensual lips. The distillery wasflourishing at the time, and our sorghum wine had taken eighteen counties in nine prefectures bystorm. The air was redolent with the aroma of wine. In the intoxicating atmosphere, when thedays were long and the nights short, the men and women in my family had enormous capacitiesfor wine. Granddad and Grandma, of course; but even the woman Liu, who had never tasted winebefore, was now able to drink half a decanter at one sitting.
Passion, who at first only drank to accompany Grandma, eventually couldn’t live without herwine. The alcohol enlivened them and instilled them with the courage to face danger fearlesslyand view death as a homecoming. They abandoned themselves to pleasure, living an existence ofmoral degeneracy and fickle passions. Granddad had become a bandit by then: he coveted notriches, but a life of vengeance and countervengeance, a never-ending cycle of cruelty that turneda decent commoner into a blackhearted, ruthless bandit with great skills and courage to match.
After killing Spotted Neck and his gang, and nearly paralysing my greedy great-granddad withfear, he left the distillery and began a romantic life of looting and plundering. The seeds ofbanditry in Northeast Gaomi Township were planted everywhere: the government producedbandits, poverty produced bandits, adultery and sex produced bandits, banditry produced bandits.
Word of Granddad’s prowess in single-handedly wiping out the seemingly invincible SpottedNeck and his gang at the Black Water River spread like wildfire, and lesser bandits flocked tohim. As a result, the years 1925 to 1928 marked a golden age of banditry in Northeast GaomiTownship. Granddad’s reputation rocked the government.
This was during the tenure of the inscrutable Nine Dreams Cao, whom Granddad still detestedfor having beaten him with the shoe sole until his skin peeled and his flesh gaped. His day ofvengeance against the Gaomi county magistrate would come.
In early 1926, he and two of his men kidnapped Nine Dreams Cao’s fourteen-year-old son infront of the government office. Carrying the screaming little boy under one arm and holding hispistol in the other hand, Granddad swaggered up and down the granite-paved street in front of theofficial residence. The shrewd, competent enforcer, Little Yan, pursued him with county soldiers,shouting and shooting from a safe distance. Granddad spun around and put his pistol to the boy’stemple. ‘You there, Yan!’ he shouted. ‘Get your ass back there and tell that old dog Nine DreamsCao that he can have his son back for ten thousand silver dollars. If I don’t get it within threedays, this kidnap is going to end with a dead kid!’
‘Old Yu,’ Little Yan asked genially, ‘where do we make the exchange?’
‘In the middle of the Black Water River bridge.’
Granddad and his two men filed out of town, the boy still under his arm. He had white teethand red lips, and though his features were contorted by all that crying, he was still a handsomeboy. ‘Stop crying,’ Granddad told him. ‘I’m your foster-dad, and I’m taking you to see yourfoster-mom!’ He really started crying then, which tried Granddad’s patience. Waving his short,glistening sword under the boy’s nose, he threatened, ‘I said no more crying. If you keep it up,I’ll slice off your ear!’ The boy stopped crying immediately and was carried along between thetwo younger bandits with a stunned look on his face.
When they were about five li out of town, Granddad heard hoofbeats behind him. Spinningaround to look, he saw a cloud of dust, raised by galloping horses. Granddad ordered the twobandits over to the side of the road, where the three of them huddled together with their hostage,a gun at his head.
The horsemen, led by the shrewd Little Yan, circled Granddad and his men, then headedtowards Northeast Gaomi Township, a trail of dust in their wake.
Momentarily confused, Granddad quickly realised what was happening. ‘Damn!’ he said,slapping his thigh. ‘We’re wasting our time with this!’
His two young accomplices asked stupidly, ‘Where are they going?’
Without stopping to answer, Granddad fired at the retreating horsemen; but they were out ofrange, and his bullets disappeared into the dust.
Little Yan led his men to our village in Northeast Gaomi Township and straight to our house.
He had a speedy horse and he knew the way. Meanwhile, Granddad was running as fast as hislegs would carry him. Nine Dreams Cao’s son, used to a life of ease and luxury, managed only ali or so before he collapsed. ‘Finish him off and be done with it,’ one of the younger banditssuggested. ‘He’s too much trouble.’
‘Little Yan’s going after my son,’ Granddad said, as he picked up Young Master Cao, hoistedhim over his shoulder, and took off at a trot. When the younger bandits urged him to speed up, hesaid, ‘We’re already too late, so there’s no need to go any faster. Everything will be all right aslong as this little bastard stays alive.’
Back in the village, Little Yan and his men burst into the house, grabbed Grandma and Father,and tied them onto a horse.
‘You blind dog!’ Grandma railed. ‘I’m Magistrate Cao’s foster-daughter!’
With a sinister smile, Little Yan said, ‘His foster-daughter is precisely who he told us to nab.’
Little Yan and his horsemen met up with Granddad on the road. Hostages on both sides hadguns at their heads as they passed so close they could have reached out and touched each other;but no one dared make a move.
Granddad looked up at Father, who was held tightly in Little Yan’s arms, and at Grandma,whose hands were tied behind her back. ‘Zhan’ao,’ she said to Granddad, who had a dejectedlook on his face, ‘let my foster-dad’s son go, so they’ll set us free.’
Granddad squeezed the boy’s hand tightly. He knew he’d have to let him go sooner or later,but not just now.
When it was time to exchange the hostages at the wooden bridge over the Black Water River,Granddad mobilised nearly all the bandits in Northeast Gaomi Township, over 230 of them.
Their weapons loaded and ready, they lay or sat around the northern bridgehead.
At midmorning, the magistrate’s soldiers arrived, winding their way down from the southerndike of the river. Four of them carried a sedan chair that rocked above them. When they reachedthe southern bridgehead, Nine Dreams Cao greeted Granddad. With a smile on his face he said,‘Zhan’ao, how could the husband of my foster-daughter kidnap his own nephew? If you neededmoney, all you had to do was ask for it.’
‘It’s not the money. I haven’t forgotten those three hundred lashes with the shoe sole!’
Rubbing his hands together and laughing, Nine Dreams Cao said, ‘It was a mistake, all amistake! But if it hadn’t been for that beating we’d never have met. Worthy son-in-law, youachieved real glory by eliminating Spotted Neck, and I will make that known to my superiors,who will in turn reward you for your deed.’
‘Who cares about being rewarded by you for my deeds?’ Granddad said rudely. His wordsbelied the fact that his heart was softening.
Little Yan pulled back the curtain of the sedan chair, and Grandma slowly emerged withFather in her arms.
She started to walk out onto the bridge, but was stopped by Little Yan. ‘Old Yu,’ he said,‘bring Young Master Cao out onto the bridge. We’ll release them on command.’
‘Now!’ Little Yan called out when both sides were ready.
With a shout of ‘Dad!’ Little Master Cao ran towards the southern bridgehead, while Grandmawalked with Father at a dignified pace to the northern side.
Granddad’s men aimed their short rifles; the government soldiers aimed long ones.
Grandma and the Cao boy met in the middle of the bridge, where she bent over to saysomething to him. But, with a loud wail, he skirted her and ran like the wind to the southernbridgehead.
This incident witnessed the end of the golden days of banditry in Northeast Gaomi Township.
In the third month of 1926, Great-Grandma passed away. With Father in her arms, Grandma rodeone of our black mules back to her childhood home to make funeral arrangements, planning to begone only three days and never imagining that heaven would interfere to make that impossible.
On the day after her departure, the skies opened up and released a torrential rain so dense thateven the wind couldn’t penetrate it. Since Granddad and his men could no longer stay in thegreenwoods, they returned to their homes, for in such weather even swallows hole up in theirnests to twitter dreamily. Government soldiers were kept from going out, but they really weren’tneeded anyway, since the truce between Nine Dreams Cao and Granddad was still holding. Thebandits returned to their homes, stuck their weapons under their pillows, and slept the days away.
Granddad was surprised to learn from Passion that Grandma had braved the violent rainstormto return to her parents’ home to arrange for her mother’s funeral. In her loathing for her parents,Grandma had refused to have anything to do with them for years. But as they say, ‘Strong windseventually cease, unhappy families return to peace.’
The rain sluiced down from the eaves like waterfalls. The murky water rose waist- high,saturating the soil and eroding the bases of walls. Rain-weary, Granddad fell into a state ofnumbness: drinking and sleeping, sleeping and drinking, until the distinction between day andnight blurred, and chaos reigned. More restless than he had ever felt in his life, he scratched thecurly black hair on his chest and thighs, but the more he scratched the more they itched. The kangexuded a woman’s acrid, salty smell. He threw a wine bowl onto the kang. It shattered. A littlerat with a gaping mouth jumped out of the cabinet, gave him a mocking look, and leaped up ontothe window ledge, where it stood on its hind legs and cleaned its mouth with its front claws.
Granddad picked up his pistol and fired, blowing the rat out of the window.
Passion ran into the room, her dark hair a mess; seeing Granddad on the kang with his armswrapped around his knees, she bent over wordlessly, picked up the shards of the wine bowl, andturned to leave.
A hot flash surged into Granddad’s throat. ‘You?.?.?. stop there?.?.?.’ he said with difficulty.
Passion bit her thick lower lip. Her sweet smile suffused the gloomy room with a ball ofgolden light. The beating of raindrops beyond the window seemed suddenly blocked by a wall ofgreen. Granddad looked at Passion’s mussed hair, her delicate little ears, and the arch of herbreasts. ‘You’ve grown up,’ he said.
Her mouth twitched, and two cunning little wrinkles appeared in the corners.
‘What were you doing?’
‘Sleeping!’ She yawned. ‘I hate this weather. How long is it going to rain? The bottom musthave fallen out of the Milky Way.’
‘Douguan and his mom must be stuck there. Didn’t she say she’d return in three days? The oldlady must have rotted by now!’
‘Is there anything else?’ Passion asked him.
He lowered his head and, after a pensive moment, said, ‘No, that’s all.’
Passion bit her lip again, smiled, and walked out, wiggling her hips.
Darkness returned to the room, and the grey curtain of rain beyond the window was thickerand heavier than ever.
Passion walked back in and leaned up against the door frame, watching Granddad throughmisty eyes. He felt the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands began to sweat.
‘What do you want?’
She smiled demurely. The room was once again filled with golden light.
‘Do you feel like drinking?’ Passion asked him.
‘Will you join me?’
‘All right.’
She brought in a decanter of wine and sliced some salted eggs.
Outside, the rain beat like thunder, and a chilling air seeped in through the window, causingGranddad’s nearly naked body to shudder.
‘Cold?’ Passion asked disdainfully.
‘I’m hot!’ he fired back testily.
She filled two bowls with wine, kept one, and handed him the other.
After tossing their empty bowls onto the kang, they just gazed at each other. Two blue flamesdanced in the golden glow in the room. The golden flames singed his body, the blue flamessinged his heart.
‘A noble man gets his revenge, even if it takes ten years!’ Granddad said icily as he shoved hispistol into its holster.
Black Eye straightened up and walked from the dike down to Grandma’s grave. He circled itonce, kicked the earth, and sighed. ‘People live but a generation, and grass dies each autumn! OldYu, the Iron Society is going to fight the Japanese. Join us!’
‘Join a superstitious society like yours?’ Granddad sneered.
‘Don’t get on your high horse! The Iron Society is protected by the gods. Heaven smiles on usand the people trust us. Being asked to join is an honour.’ Black Eye stamped his foot at the headof Grandma’s grave and continued: ‘Your black master here is willing to take you on for hersake.’
‘I don’t need your damned pity! One of these days, you and I are going to settle things, onceand for all. Our business isn’t finished!’
‘You don’t scare me!’ Black Eye patted the revolver on his hip. ‘I know how to use one ofthese, too.’
A handsome young Iron Society soldier walked down from the dike and stayed his leader’shand. With modest self-control, he said, ‘Commander Yu, the soldiers of the Iron Society havelong respected you, and we’d be honoured if you joined us in our mission to keep the countrywhole. We must put aside our squabbles and drive off the Japanese! Individual scores can besettled later.’
Granddad was intrigued by the man, who reminded him of his own valiant young AdjutantRen, who had died tragically while cleaning his gun. ‘Are you a member of the CommunistParty?’ he asked derisively.
‘Not the Communist Party,’ the young man replied, ‘and not the Nationalist Party. I hate themboth!’
‘I like your spirit!’ Granddad said approvingly.
‘They call me Five Troubles.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ Granddad said.
Father had been standing motionless beside Granddad for a long time, gazing curiously at theshaved foreheads of the Iron Society soldiers. That was their identifying mark, but itssignificance escaped him.