Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

out of sight before I got a good look at his face. The bulldozer roared, its tracks clanking as it raised its toothed scoop and moved up to the house like a bizarre dinosaur. The old Taoist, Men Shengwu, dressed in his customary black robe, appeared like an apparition in front of the pagoda, and just as quickly vanished. All I could think to do was shout, “Don’t shock me, I’m a mental defect, isn’t that enough?”
    The helicopter returned, this time leaning to one side and spitting yellow smoke. A woman’s figure leaned out of the cockpit and shouted, her voice barely audible over the earsplitting
thunk-thunk-thunk
of the rotors, “Stop … can’t raze that… historic buildings … Qin Wujin …”
    Qin Wujin was the grandson of Mr. Qin Er, who had taught Sima Ku and me. He was in charge of the Cultural Relics Office, but was more interested in development than preservation, and was at that moment examining a large celadon bowl belonging to our family. How bright his eyes were. His jowls twitched; the shout from the helicopter overhead had obviously given him a start. As he looked up into the sky, the helicopter circled back and shrouded him in a blast of yellow smoke.
    Eventually, it landed in front of the pagoda. Even after it was safely on the ground, the flat blades of its rotor continued their witless revolutions —
thunk-thunk-thunk
— each turn slower than the one before, until they finally shuddered to a stop, and the beast sat there staring wide-eyed. A hatch opened in its belly, framed by light from the cockpit, and down the ladder came a man in a leather coat, followed by a woman in a bright orange windbreaker over a muted orange woolen skirt. Her calf muscles tensed at each step. She had a dignified, rectangular face under a dense swirl of shiny black hair. I recognized her at once: it was the daughter of Lu Liren and my sister Pandi — Lu Shengli, the former manager of the city’s Bank of Industry and Commerce. She had just been elevated to the position of mayor, following the death of the incumbent mayor, Ji Qiongzhi, who had died of a cerebral hemorrhage — from rage, according to some people. Shengli had inherited my fifth sister’s physique, but was more dignified than her mother, proving that each generation surpasses the former. She walked with her head held high, her chest thrust forward, like a thoroughbred racehorse. A middle-aged, big-headed man followed her down the ladder. He wore a designer suit and a wide tie.
    The man was turning bald, but had the face of a mischievous little boy, with spirited eyes that held great mystery. A bulbous nose sat atop a handsome little mouth with full lips, and his large, fair, and fleshy earlobes hung down heavily like turkey wattles. I’d never seen a man with a face like that before, nor a woman, of course. With regal looks like that, such individuals were the type fated to be emperors, to be lucky in love, to enjoy the company of three wives, six consorts, and seventy-two concubines. It could be Sima Liang, but I didn’t dare believe it. At first he didn’t see me, which was fine with me, since he surely could not acknowledge my presence. Shangguan Jintong was a former mental patient, a man with a sexual hang-up. Right behind him came a woman of mixed blood who was both taller and bigger than Lu Shengli. She had deep-set eyes and blood-red lips.
    Lu Shengli kept glancing at the man, a bewitching smile creasing her customary stern expression. Her smile was more precious than diamonds and more terrifying than poison. The Cultural Affairs director waddled over with our celadon bowl. “Mayor Lu,” he said, “how wonderful to have you come observe our work.” “What are you planning to do?” she asked. “We’re going to build a theme park around this ancient pagoda as a tourist attraction for Chinese and foreigners.” “Why wasn’t I informed?” “It was approved by your predecessor, Mayor Ji.” “Since it was her decision, we’ll have to go back to the drawing table. The pagoda is under the city’s protection, and I don’t want you knocking down the house in front. We are going to reinstate the snow market activities. How much amusement do you think you’ll get out of throwing up a few lousy electronic games, crummy bump’em cars, and chintzy game tables? What’s amusing about that? Comrade, vision is required if we’re going to attract foreign visitors and relieve them of their spending money. I’ve called upon the