Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

her pipe and sucked on it like a toothless old man. “Birdman Han planted a dragon seed,” she said, “but all he got for his efforts was a flea! Why did Geng Lianlian send you here?”
    Jintong stammered, “She asked me to invite you to take a tour of the Eastern Bird Sanctuary.”
    “That’s not the real reason,” Ji said as she picked up her mug of tea and took a drink. She banged it down on the table and said, “What she really wants is a bank loan.”
5
    On one glorious spring day, Ji Qiongzhi elevated Jintong’s status in the eyes of others by leading a delegation of Dalan’s most influential officials and, by special invitation, the managers of the Construction Bank, the Bank of Industry and Commerce, the People’s Bank, and the Bank of Agriculture on an inspection tour of the Eastern Bird Sanctuary. Lu Shengli, a woman of majestic bearing, dressed very simply that day, but any discerning individual could see that this very simplicity was in itself a fashion statement, and that her “simple” clothes were all designer imports.
    Forty or more expensive sedans pulled up at the gate of the Eastern Bird Sanctuary, where a pair of red palace lanterns three meters in diameter, filled with more than a hundred silver-throated skylarks, hung. Parrot Han had trained the birds to start singing as soon as they heard the sound of automobile engines. The lanterns vibrated with the skylarks’ songs, natural music of unsurpassed and unforgettable beauty. The arched roof of the gate was home to more than seventy nests of golden swifts, also trained by the magical hand of Parrot Han. A wooden plaque standing alongside the gate gave the English name of the swifts and a Chinese and English detailed description of the birds. Of special note was the fact that the nearly transparent nests were famous for their high nutritional value; a single nest sold for 3,000 yuan. For this occasion, Geng Lianlian had secretly installed several hundred audio speakers on nearby trees, which flooded the area with taped birdcalls. Just inside the gate, four wooden plaques proclaimed: Birds Call Flowers Sing, one gigantic word on each plaque. At first, the observers assumed that the word “sing” was a mistake, but they quickly realized that it was the perfect choice, since the flowers of the Eastern Bird Sanctuary did in fact appear to be singing as they swayed along with the nearly deafening birdcalls. A flock of well-trained wild chickens performed a welcoming dance in the middle of the courtyard, pairing off as couples one minute and spinning in the air the next, in perfect cadence with the music. These can’t be wild chickens! They’re nothing less than a flock of young gentlemen (for the sake of aesthetic continuity, Parrot Han had trained only male birds), a flock of young dandies forming a multicolored chorus line that dazzled the observers’ eyes. Geng Lianlian and Jintong led the visitors into the sanctuary’s performance hall, where Parrot Han, wearing ceremonial dress with embroidered red flowers, waited impressively, baton at the ready. Once the visitors were inside, a young female attendant threw a switch, flooding the hall with light, and twenty tiger-skin parrots on a horizontal perch directly opposite the entrance sang out in unison: Welcome welcome, hearty welcome, welcome welcome, hearty welcome! The visitors responded with ecstatic applause. Before the sound had died out, a flock of little siskins flew out, each carrying a folded pink slip in its beak, which they dropped into the hands of the visitors. Opening their slips, the visitors read the following: Greetings to your honorable personages! Your advice and guidance will be much appreciated. The recipients clicked their tongues in amazement. Next came two mynahs dressed in red jackets and little green hats; waddling up to a microphone at the center of the stage, one of them announced haughtily, Ladies and gentlemen, how do you do! The second mynah translated into fluent English. Thank you for honoring us with your presence. We welcome your precious advice — more translation. The director of the Municipal Trade Bureau, who knew English well, commented, Pure Oxford English. Now, for your enjoyment, we offer a solo rendering of “The Women’s Liberation Anthem,” sung by Hill Mynah. A hill mynah in purple dress bird-walked up to the microphone and bowed to the audience, so deeply that they could see the two yellow flaps on the back of her head. She said,