Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

out of my mind — emerged from the western rooms. Before stepping out, she had looked into the broken remnant of a mirror hanging on the wall to check her appearance, of that I’m sure. She was wearing an indigo blue jacket over loose black pants; a blue apron with white flowers was tied around her waist, and a blue and white kerchief, matching the pattern of the apron, covered her head. It was a nicely coordinated outfit. Her haggard face was lit up in the sunlight; her cheeks, her eyes, her mouth, and her ears all combined to dredge up a host of memories. Quite a woman she was, a treasure I’d have loved to kill. Lan Lian, you bastard, you’ve got a good eye. If you’d married the pockmarked Widow Su from West Village, even being transformed into the Supreme Daoist Jade Emperor would not have been worth it. She walked up to Hong Taiyue, bowed deeply, and said:
    “Brother Hong, you’re too important to worry about the problems of small fry like us. You mustn’t bring yourself down to the level of this coarse laborer.”
    I saw the tautness in Hong Taiyue’s face fall away. Like a man climbing off his donkey to walk downhill, in other words, using her arrival as a way forward, he said:
    “Yingchun, I don’t have to rehash your family history for you. You two can act recklessly if you think your own situation is hopeless, but you have to think about your children, whose whole lives are ahead of them. Eight or ten years from now, when you look back, Lan Lian, you’ll realize that everything I said to you today was for your own good, for you, your wife, and your children. It’s the best advice anyone could give.”
    “I understand, Brother Hong,” she said as she tugged at Lan Lian’s arm. “Tell Brother Hong you’re sorry. We’ll go home and talk about joining the commune.”
    “What’s there to talk about?” Lan Lian said. “Even brothers are dividing up family property, so what good is putting strangers together to eat out of the same pot?”
    “You really are stubborn,” Hong Taiyue said indignantly. “All right, Lan Lian, go ahead, be out there all by yourself. We’ll see who’s more powerful, you or the commune. Today I’m all but pleading with you to join the commune, but one day, Lan Lian, you’ll get down on your knees and beg me to let you in, and that day is not far off, take my word for it!”
    “I won’t join! And I’ll never get down on my knees in front of you!” His eyes were lowered as he continued. “Your Party regulations state, ‘Joining a commune is voluntary, leaving it is permissible.’ You cannot force me to join!”
    “You’re a stinking dog turd!” Hong Taiyue said in a furious out-burst.
    “Brother Hong, please don’t. . .”
    “You can stop that Brother this and Brother that,” Hong said scornfully. “I’m the Party secretary,” he said to Yingchun with a look of disgust. “And I’m the village chief, not to mention a member of the village security force!”
    “Party secretary, village chief, security officer,” Yingchun echoed timidly, “we’ll go home and talk this over . . .” She shoved Lan Lian and sobbed, “You stubborn ass, your head is made of stone, come home with me right now ...”
    “I’m not going anywhere until I’m finished with what I have to say. Village chief, you injured my donkey, so you have to pay to fix his leg.”
    “I’ll pay, all right, with a bullet!” Hong Taiyue patted his holster and laughed. “Lan Lian, oh my, Lan Lian, you’re really something.” Then, raising his voice, he exclaimed, “Tell me who this apricot tree belongs to.”
    “It belongs to me.” Huang Tong, commander of the local militia, had been standing in his doorway, watching the argument develop. He ran up to Hong Taiyue and said, “Party secretary, village chief, security officer, this tree was given to me during land reform, but it hasn’t produced a single apricot, and I’ve been thinking of taking it down one day. Like Ximen Nao, it has a score to settle with us poor peasants.”
    “That’s a bunch of crap!” Hong Taiyue said coldly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. If you want to be on my good side, then don’t make up stories. This tree produces no fruit because you haven’t taken care of it. It’s got nothing to do with Ximen Nao. The tree may belong to you now, but sooner or later it’s going to be the property of the commune. The road to collectivization requires the complete elimination of