Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

as if I were flailing in a pool of water.
    “Uncle — Little Uncle —!”
    “Uncle — Little Uncle —!”
    Shouts from Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua — one low, the other high — rose from behind the patch of castor plants. I opened my mouth to answer them, only to have it fill up with piss. My assailants hurriedly put away their hoses, pulled up their pants, and vanished into the castor patch.
    Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua stood by the footbridge, calling out blindly, like Yunii often did. Their shouts hung above the field for a long time, filling my heart with sadness and stopping up my throat. I struggled to my feet, but before I’d managed to straighten up, I fell on my face. I heard Zaohua call out excitedly, “There he is!”
    Together they lifted me up by my arms; I was as unsteady as one of those knock-over dolls. When Zaohua got a good look at my face, her mouth cracked open and —
wah
— she began to bawl. Sima Liang reached down to feel my backside — I yelped in pain. He looked at his hand, red with blood and green from the mulberry switches. His teeth chattered. “Little Uncle, who did this to you?” “They did …” “Who are they?” “Wu Yunyu, Wei Yangjiao, Ding Jingou, and Guo Qiusheng.” “Let’s go home, Little Uncle,” he said. “Grandma’s worried half to death. You out there, Wu Wei Ding Guo, you four bastards, I want you to listen and listen good. You may be able to hide today, but not tomorrow; you might get past the first of the month, but not the fifteenth. You touch another hair of my little uncle, and they’ll be hoisting a flagpole at your house!”
    Sima Liang’s shouts still hung in the air when Wu, Wei, Ding, and Guo jumped out of the field of castor plants, laughing loudly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Where did this runt with all the big talk come from? Isn’t he afraid of losing his tongue?” They picked up their mulberry switches and, like a pack of dogs, charged us. “Zaohua, you take care of Little Uncle,” Sima Liang shouted as he pushed me away and rushed to meet the charge of the attackers, all bigger than him. They were shocked by this fearless, almost suicidal charge, and before they could raise the switches, Sima Liang drove his head into the belly of cruel, foul-mouthed Wei Yangjiao, who bent over double and fell to the ground, where he curled up into a ball, like an injured hedgehog. The other three attackers brought their switches down on Sima Liang, who protected his head with his arms and took off running, with them hot on his heels. Compared to the weakling Shangguan Jintong, the little wolf Sima Liang was a more interesting specimen. They shouted excitedly — the chase was on, the battle was launched on the lethargic grassland. If Sima Liang was a little wolf, Wu, Guo, and Ding were massive and savage but very clumsy mongrels. Wei Yangjiao was a hybrid — half wolf and half mongrel — so he had been Sima Liang’s first target. Knocking him out of commission removed the leader of the pack. Sima ran fast for a while, then slowed down, using a tactic designed to deal with zombies, changing directions often to keep them from catching up to him. Several times they lost their footing when they had to change direction. The knee-high grass parted and closed back up as they passed through it, scaring tiny wild rabbits out of their burrows; one couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, and was squashed under Wu Yunyu’s heavy foot. Sima Liang did more than merely run; every once in a while he turned and charged his pursuers. By zigging and zagging, he’d open up enough distance between them that he could turn and make a lightning attack on one. He picked up a dirt clod and flung it in Ding Jingou’s face; he took a bite out of Wu Yunyu’s neck; and he employed the Cross-eyed Beauty tactic against Guo Qiusheng, grabbing the object hanging between his legs and pulling it hard. All three bullies were wounded, but Sima Liang had received plenty of blows to the head in the process. They were slowing down. Sima Liang retreated to the footbridge. His pursuers formed up ranks; they were gasping for breath, spittle flying like an old bellows, as they cautiously took out after him as a group again — by then, Wei Yangjiao had caught his breath and rejoined his pals. He was like a cat on the prowl. Bending down low, he began to crawl, feeling his way with his hands, his bone-handled knife lying coldly on the ground. “You motherfucker! Bastard son of a