Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

would take on any man alive and never come out second best. He didn’t have the energy to let his thoughts continue. Once he was seated on the steps, his sole wish was that the dogs would finish him off quickly. He hated the thought of leaving behind a leg, or something like that. Gobble up every scrap, lick up every drop of blood, and let Shangguan Jintong’s disappearance be a complete mystery.
    A wayward calf came to Jintong’s rescue, a miraculous scapegoat. The calf, fat and oily, its hide like fine satin, had broken free from a nearby butcher shop. Its flesh obviously surpassed that of Jintong, for the dogs abandoned their assault on Jintong the instant they laid eyes on the fat little calf. He watched as the calf, frightened out of its wits, ran right in amid the pack of dogs. With a single leap, the mastiff sank its fangs into the calf’s neck. With a mournful lowing, it was thrown onto its side, and the wolfhounds went for its belly, ripping it open in a flash. The rest of the dogs joined in the kill, nearly picking the calf up off the ground as they tore it limb from limb.
    Jintong took off running, avoiding dark lanes. This time, by god, if I run into those dogs, there won’t be a calf to come to my rescue. It’s out in the open for me. I’m bound to have better luck if I go where people are and try to scare up some rags to cover my body. If all else fails, I’ll go home to Mother. If necessary, I’ll follow in her footsteps and become a scavenger, since I’ve had my share of the good life these past few years with Old Jin and Geng Lianlian. If I die now, at the age of forty-two, so what?
    No place was more “out in the open” than the town’s market square, with its movie theater, bordered by a museum on one side and a library on the other. All three buildings were fronted by tall steps, with blue glass walls that rose up into the sky and rotating electric lights. He’d often driven past this theater in Lianlian’s car, but had never realized how big it was. Now, as Prince Jintong, down on his luck, strolled alone through the square, it seemed enormous, taking up the entire vista. The square was laid with octagonal concrete tiles. His feet were killing him. He took a look at one of the soles; there were at least ten blisters the size of grapes, some of which had already popped and were oozing a clear liquid. The blood blisters hurt the worst. When he spotted several piles of animal droppings, the thought that they might be dog shit filled him with dread.
    A gust of wind carried several white plastic bags tumbling through the air around him; he ran after them in spite of his aching feet, catching one and racing after another, leaving bloody footprints all the way to the edge of the square. The second bag was snagged on the branch of a holly tree, so he sat down, and remained sitting even though the cold wind and tiles sent stabbing pains up his rectum. As he wrapped the plastic bags around his feet, he noticed that many others were caught in the tree, and in a mad but joyous frenzy he took them all down and wrapped them around his feet. He stood up and started walking again, happy to see that his soles were springier and more comfortable, and that the shooting pains were hardly noticeable. The scraping sound of his plastic feet traveled into the distance.
    The rumble of heavy machinery came to him from the bank of the Flood Dragon River. Here in the renamed Osmanthus District residents were home in bed sleeping peacefully. All the lights in the district were off, except for a few lighted windows in the newly built Osmanthus Mansions southeast of where he stood, the most luxurious building in town. Finally, he decided to head over to the pagoda and be with his mother. This time he wouldn’t leave her side again, no matter what. If that made him a hopeless case, so be it. He might not be able to dine on ostrich eggs, or bathe in a sauna, but he wouldn’t have to worry again about sinking so low that he walked the streets alone, half naked, plastic bags for shoes.
    As he passed shop after shop along the way, he was drawn to a brilliant window display; he stopped — though he shouldn’t have — in front of six fashionably dressed mannequins, three male and three female, standing in the window. What caught his attention, besides the golden or jet black hair, the sleek and intelligent foreheads, the high noses, the curled lashes, the expressions of tenderness in the eyes, and the soft, red