Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

You may have crossed Marco Polo Bridge, but you’ll never cross Fiery Dragon Bridge!”
    Then he laughed:
    “Ah ha ha ha, ah ha ha ha, ah ha ha ha …”
    Sima Ku’s laughter seemed endless. On the opposite bank, a line of yellow caps popped up over the top of the dike, followed by the heads of horses and the yellow uniforms of their riders. Dozens of horse soldiers were now perched atop the dike, and though they were still hundreds of meters away, Laidi saw that the horses looked exactly like Third Master Fan’s stud horse. The Japs! The Japs are here! The Japs have come …
    Avoiding the stone bridge, which was engulfed in blue flames, the Japanese soldiers eased their horses down the dike sideways, dozens of them bumping clumsily into each other all the way down to the riverbed. She could hear the men’s grunts and shouts and the horses’ snorts as they entered the river. The water quickly swallowed up the horses’ legs, until their bellies rested on the surface. The riders sat their mounts comfortably, sitting straight, heads high, their faces white in the bright sunlight, which blurred their features. With their heads up, the horses appeared to be galloping, which in fact was impossible. The water, like thick syrup, had a sticky, sweet smell. Struggling to move ahead, the massive horses raised blue ripples on the surface; to Laidi, they looked like little tongues of fire singeing the animals’ hides, which was why they were holding their large heads so high, and why they kept moving forward, their tails floating behind them. The Japanese riders, holding the reins with both hands, bobbed up and down, their legs in a rigid inverted V. She watched a chestnut-colored horse stop in the middle of the river, lift its tail, and release a string of droppings. Its anxious rider dug his heels into the horse’s flanks to get it going again. But the horse, refusing to move, shook its head and chewed noisily on the bit.
    “Attack, comrades!” came a yell from the bushes to her left, followed by a muted sound like tearing silk. Then the rattle of gunfire — crisp and dull, thick and thin. A black object, trailing white smoke, hit the water with a loud
thunk
and sent a pillar of water into the air. The Japanese soldier on the chestnut horse was thrown forward at a bizarre angle, then sprang back, his arms flailing wildly in the air. Fresh black blood gushing from his chest soaked the head of his horse and stained the water. The horse reared, exposing its muddy forelegs and its broad, shiny chest. By the time its front hooves crashed through the surface of the water again, the Japanese soldier was draped face-up across the animal’s rump. A second Japanese soldier, this one on a black mount, flew headfirst into the river. Another, riding a blue horse, was thrown forward out of his saddle, but wrapped his arms around the animal’s neck and hung there, capless, a trickle of blood dripping from his ear into the river.
    Chaos reigned on the river, where riderless horses whinnied and spun around to struggle back to the far bank. All the other Japanese soldiers lay forward in their saddles, clamping down with their legs as they aimed their shiny rifles at the bushes and opened fire. Dozens of snorting horses made their way to the shoals the best they could. With beads of water dripping from their bellies and mud covering their purple hooves, they dragged long glistening threads all the way out to the middle of the river.
    A sorrel with a white forehead, a pale-faced Japanese soldier on its back, jumped and leaped toward the dike, its hooves thudding clumsily and noisily into the shoals. The squinting, tight-lipped soldier on its back smacked its rump with his left hand and brandished a silvery sword in his right, as he charged the bushes. Laidi saw beads of sweat on the tip of his nose and the thick lashes of his mount, and she could hear the air forced out through the horse’s nostrils; she could also smell the sour stench of horse sweat. All of a sudden, red smoke emerged from the sorrel’s forehead, and all four of its churning legs stiffened. Its hide was creased with more wrinkles than she could count, its legs turned to rubber, and before its rider knew what was happening, both he and the horse fell crashing into the bushes.
    The Japanese cavalry unit headed south along the riverbank all the way up to where Laidi and her sisters had left their shoes. There they reined in their horses and cut through the bushes up