Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

sisters were howling, the other three were lying on the ground with their hands over their ears, their fannies sticking up, like those stupid, awkward birds that bury their heads in the sand when they’re pursued, forgetting all about their hindquarters.
    “Little sisters!” Again she heard a voice in the bushes. “Down on your bellies, hit the ground and crawl over here …”
    She lay on her belly and searched for the man in the bushes. Finally, she spotted him amid the lithe branches of a red willow. The dark-faced stranger with the white teeth was waving her over. “Hurry!” he shouted. “Crawl over here.”
    A crack opened up in her confused mind and let in rays of light. Hearing the whinny of a horse, she turned to look behind her and saw a gold-colored colt, its fiery mane flying as it galloped onto the stone bridge from the southern end. The lovely, halterless colt was unruly, lively, reveling in its youth. The son of Third Master Fan’s Japanese stud horse, it belonged to Felicity Manor; in other words, the golden colt was another of his grandsons. She knew that lovable colt, and she liked it. She often saw it galloping up and down the lane, throwing Aunty Sun’s dogs into a frenzy. When it reached the middle of the bridge, it stopped as if brought up short by the wall of straw, or made woozy by the liquor it was soaked in. It cocked its head and scrutinized the straw. What could it be thinking? she wondered. Another shriek tore through the air as a lump of blinding molten metal crashed into the bridge with a thunderous roar, seemingly having traveled a great distance. The colt disintegrated before her eyes; one of its charred legs landed in the bushes nearby. A wave of nausea drove a sour, bitter liquid up from her stomach into her throat, and at that moment, she understood everything. The colt’s severed leg showed her what death was all about, and a sense of horror made her quake, made her teeth chatter. Jumping to her feet, she dragged her sisters into the bushes.
    All six younger sisters huddled around her, holding on to each other like stalks of garlic wrapped around the stem. Laidi heard that now familiar hoarse voice shouting at her, but the seething waters of the river swallowed up the sound.
    Folding her baby sister into her arms, she felt the searing heat of the little girl’s face. A calmness returned to the river for the moment, giving the layer of smoke a chance to dissipate. More of those hissing black objects flew over the Flood Dragon River, dragging long tails behind them before landing in the village with muffled explosions, followed by faint screams from women and the thud of collapsing structures. Not a soul in sight on the opposite dike, nothing but a solitary locust tree. On the riverbank below stood a line of weeping willows whose branches touched the surface of the water. Where were these strange, scary flying objects coming from? she wondered stubbornly. A shout —
Ai ya ya
— broke her concentration. The sight of the Felicity Manor assistant steward, Sima Ku, riding his bicycle up onto the bridge appeared through the branches. What’s he doing? she wondered. It must be because of the horse. But he was holding a lit torch, so it wasn’t the horse, whose corpse was splattered all over the bridge and whose blood stained the water below.
    Sima Ku slammed on the brakes and flung the torch into the liquor-soaked straw, sending blue flames into the sky. Jerking his bicycle around, but too rushed to climb onto it, he ran it down the bridge, the blue flames licking at his heels. The eerie
Ai ya ya
shouts kept spilling from his mouth. When a sudden loud crack sent his wide-brimmed straw hat flying into the river, he let go of his bicycle, bent low at the waist, stumbled, and fell face-first onto the bridge flooring.
Crack, crack, crack
, a string of noises like firecrackers. Sima Ku hugged the bridge flooring and crawled like a lizard. Suddenly he was gone, and the cracking noises stopped. The bridge all but disappeared in blue, smokeless flames, those in the center rising higher than the others and turning the water below blue. Laidi’s chest constricted in the stifling air and waves of heat; her nostrils were hot and dry. The waves of heat changed into gusting, whistling winds. The bushes were wet, sort of sweaty; the leaves of trees curled up and withered. Then she heard the high-pitched voice of Sima Ku emerge from behind the dike:
    “Fuck your sisters, you little Nips.