Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

hips. Her military trousers had also turned white from countless washings. Finally, she had on a pair of fashionable white sneakers. To make her appearance more appealing, she cinched her belt even tighter right in front of us. She smiled and displayed all the charm of a lovely white fox; but the smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, and she now displayed the ferocity of a white fox. “You’ve just driven away Qin Er. What heroes!” With a smirk she removed the arrow from the table and jiggled it with three fingers. “What a remarkable arrow,” she said. “Is it Li Guang’s? Or maybe Hua Rong’s. Anyone dare to stand up and put a name to this?” Her lovely black eyes swept the classroom. No one stood up. She grabbed her pointer.
Fowl
She smacked the table. “I’m warning you,” she said, “in my classroom you’ll wrap all your little hoodlum tricks in a piece of cotton and take them home to your mothers” — “Teacher, my mother’s dead!” Wu Yunyu shouted—”Whose mother is dead?” she asked. “Stand up.” Wu Yunyu stood up, trying to look unconcerned. “Come up to the front, where I can see you.” Wu Yunyu, wearing a greasy snakeskin cap down low over his wispy head — as it was all year round, even, it was said, when he slept at night or bathed in the river — strutted up to the front of the classroom. “What’s your name?” she asked with a smile. Wu Yunyu told her his name with blustery airs. “Students,” she said, “my name is Ji Qiongzhi. I was orphaned as a baby and spent my first seven years living in a garbage heap. I then joined a traveling circus. There isn’t a hoodlum or delinquent type I haven’t seen. I learned to do stunt cycling, walk a tightrope, swallow a sword, and spit fire. Then I became an animal trainer, starting with dogs and moving to monkeys, bears, and finally tigers. I can teach a dog to jump through a hoop, a monkey to climb a pole, a bear to ride a bicycle, and a tiger to roll over. At the age of seventeen, I joined a revolutionary army. I’ve battled the enemy, my sword entering white and exiting bright red. At twenty, I was sent to the South China Military Academy, where I learned sports, painting, singing, and dancing. At twenty-five I married Ma Shengli, head of intelligence at the Public Security Bureau and a champion wrestler whom I can fight to a draw.” She brushed back her short hair. She had a dark, healthy, revolutionary face; pert breasts that strained proudly against her shirt; a valiant nose, fierce, thin lips, and teeth as white as limestone. “I, Ji Qiongzhi, am not afraid of tigers,” she said as dryly as plant ash, as she glared contemptuously at Wu Yunyu. “So do you think I’m afraid of you?” At the same time she was voicing her contempt, she reached out with her pointer, inserting the tip under the edge of Wu’s cap, and, with a flick of the wrist, tore it off his head, like flipping a flatcake on a griddle, with an audible
whoosh.
It all happened in a mere second. Wu covered his head with both hands, the scalp looking like a rotten potato; his arrogant expression disappeared without a trace and was replaced by a look of stupidity. Still holding his head, he looked up, searching for the object that kept his disfigurement hidden. It was high up in the air, dancing and spinning on the tip of her pointer, round and round like a circus performer’s prop; the sight of his cap spinning so artfully, so captivatingly, drove the soul right out of Wu Yunyu’s body. Another flick of her wrist, and the cap soared into the air, only to settle back onto the tip of the pointer and spin some more. I was dazzled. She flung it into the air again. But this time, she guided the ugly, smelly thing so that it landed at Wu Yunyu’s feet. “Put that crummy hat back on your head and get your ass back in your seat,” she said with a look of disgust. “I’ve eaten more salt than you have noodles,” she said as she picked the arrow up off the table. Her glare landed on one of the students. “You! I’m talking to you,” she said icily. “Bring me that bow!” Ding Jingou stood up nervously, walked to the platform, and obediently laid the bow on the table. “Back to your seat!” she said, picking up the bow. She tried it out. “The bamboo’s too soft, and the bowstring’s next to useless! The best bowstrings are made from a cow’s tendon.” Fitting the feathered arrow onto the horsehair string, she pulled it back lightly