Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

sweat covered his oily face, and his cheeks twitched so violently they distorted his features. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he shouted, “Elder sister-in-law, please let me go … I’ll get down on my knees and bang my head against the ground for you …”
    He had nearly reached the gate when Shangguan Fulu, stripped to the waist, came barging through. He was wearing only one shoe, and his bare, scrawny chest was smeared with something green, like axle grease, like a gaping, festering wound. “Where have you been, you walking corpse?” Shangguan Lü cursed angrily.
    “Elder brother, what’s going on out there?” Fan Three asked anxiously. Ignoring both the curse and the question, Shangguan Fulu stood there with an idiotic smile on his face, a string of
duh-duh-duhs
streaming from his mouth, like chickens pecking the bottom of an earthenware dish.
    Shangguan Lü grabbed her husband by the chin and shook him hard, wrenched his mouth up one minute and down the next, stretching it horizontally and then vertically. A dribble of saliva emerged from one corner. He coughed, then spat up, and finally settled down. “What’s going on out there” He looked at his wife with deep sorrow.
    As his mouth twisted, he sobbed. “The Japanese horse soldiers have reached the river …”
    The dull thuds of approaching horse hooves froze them in their tracks. A flock of magpies with white tail feathers flew overhead, their cries settling over the compound. Then the stained glass in the church steeple shattered noiselessly, splintered glass glinting in the sunlight. But immediately after the glass began flying, the crisp sound of an explosion engulfed the steeple, sending dull sound waves like the rumble of iron wheels spreading in all directions. A powerful wave of heat toppled Fan Three and Shangguan Fulu like harvested wheat. It sent Shangguan Lü reeling backward into the wall. A black earthenware chimney with ornamental carvings rolled off the roof and landed on the brick path in front of her, where, with a loud crash, it crumbled into pieces.
    Shangguan Shouxi ran out of the house. “Mother,” he sobbed, “she’s dying, she’s going to die. Go get Aunty Sun …”
    She glared at her son. “If it’s your time to die, then you die. If it isn’t, you don’t. Nothing can change that.”
    Listening but not quite grasping her meaning, the three men looked at her with tears in their eyes. “Fan Three,” she said, “do you have any more of that secret potion that speeds the delivery process? If you do, give a bottle to my daughter-in-law. If not, then to hell with it, and with you.” Without waiting for his answer, she tottered in the direction of the gate, head high, chest thrown out, not looking at any of them.
9
    On the morning of the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, 1939, in the largest village of Northeast Gaomi Township, Shangguan Lü led her mortal enemy, Aunty Sun, into her house, ignoring the bullets whizzing overhead, to help deliver her daughter-in-law’s baby. At the very moment they walked through the door, out on the open field near the bridgehead, Japanese horse soldiers were trampling the corpses of guerrilla fighters.
    Shangguan Fulu and his son were milling in the yard with the horse doctor, Fan Three, who proudly held up a bottle filled with a viscous green liquid. The three men had been in the same spot when Shangguan Lü left to find Aunty Sun, but were now joined by the redheaded Pastor Malory. Wearing a loose Chinese robe, with a heavy brass crucifix around his neck, he was standing beneath Shangguan Lu’s window, head up, facing the morning sun, as he intoned a prayer in the local dialect: “Dear Jesus, Lord in Heaven. Merciful God, reach out to touch the heads of me, Your devoted servant, and the friends gathered here, give us the strength and the courage to face this challenge. Let the woman inside safely deliver her infant, give the goat plenty of milk and the laying hens plenty of eggs, throw a sheet of black before the eyes of the evil invaders, let their bullets jam in their weapons, and let their horses lose their way and perish in bogs and marshes. Dear Lord, send all Your punishments down on my head, let me take unto myself the suffering of all living creatures.” The other men stood silently listening to his prayer. The looks on their faces showed the depths to which they were moved.
    With a sneer, Aunty Sun pushed Pastor Malory aside and walked in the door. His