Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

ordered people to convert the dead pigs into food for living pigs. At first I noticed that my feed tasted different somehow, so late at night I sneaked out of my pen to see what was going on in the building where our food was prepared, and that’s when I learned their secret. I have to admit that for animals as stupid as pigs, cannibalism is not a significant taboo, nothing to get excited about. But to an extraordinary soul like me, it gives rise to a whole bunch of painful associations. Yet the will to live is more powerful than spiritual torment. Actually, I was worrying myself needlessly. If I was a man, eating pork was perfectly natural. And if I were a pig, as long as the other pigs were okay with eating their dead brothers and sisters, who was I to complain? Go ahead, eat. Close your eyes and eat it. After I’d learned how to sound air-raid warnings, I got the same food the other pigs got. I knew they weren’t doing this to punish us, but because it was the only thing they had for us to eat. The fat started falling off my body, I was constipated, and my urine was reddish yellow. I was a little better off than the others, only because I could get out and walk around at night, picking up rotten vegetables here and there, however infrequently. What I’m saying is, if we hadn’t eaten the unique feed Jinlong prepared for us, none of us would have survived the winter and been greeted by the warmth of spring.
    Jinlong mixed the meat from dead animals with some horse and cow dung, and chopped up sweet potato vines to make his unique pig feed. It saved the lives of a lot of pigs, and that included me and Diao Xiaosan.
    A new batch of traditional pig feed was sent down to us in the spring of 1973, bringing new life to the Apricot Garden Pig Farm. But before this occurred, more than six hundred pigs from Mount Yimeng had been converted into protein, vitamins, and plenty of other things needed to sustain life, thereby extending the lives of some four hundred others. So we howled for three full minutes to salute these self-sacrificing heroes, and as we howled, apricot flowers bloomed, the moon bathed the farm in its watery beams, and a floral perfume tickled our noses. The curtain was lifted on the year’s romantic season.

27

A Sea of Jealousy Rages as Brothers Go Crazy
Fast-talking, Glib Mo Yan Encounters Envy
    The moon that night rose eagerly into the sky even before the sun had set. In the rosy sunset, the atmosphere in the Apricot Garden Pig Farm was warm and congenial. I had a premonition that something important was going to happen that night. I stood up and rested my front hooves on the apricot tree, whose blossoms sent out a wonderful aroma. I looked up and, through the gaps in the tree, saw the moon — big, round, and silvery, as if cut out of a piece of tin — rise into the sky. At first I could hardly believe it was really the moon, but the brilliant beams that showered down soon convinced me.
    At the time I was still an immature, impressionable pig who became excited over anything new and strange and wanted to share it with the other pigs. Mo Yan was a lot like that. In an essay entitled “Brilliant Apricot Blossoms” he wrote about how he discovered Ximen Jinlong and Huang Huzhu one day at noon; they had climbed an apricot tree filled with blossoms and were moving so hot and heavy they sent flower petals falling to the ground like snow. Eager to share his discovery with as many people as possible, Mo Yan ran over to the feed preparation shed and shook the sleeping Lan Jiefang awake. He wrote:
    Lan Jiefang sat up abruptly, rubbed his bloodshot eyes, and asked: “What’s up?” The grass mat on the kang had created patterns on his face. “Come with me,” I said mysteriously. I led him around the two individual pens reserved for the boars and deep into the apricot grove. Typical lazy weather for late spring, and the pigs were all sound asleep in their pens, including the boar who was always acting strange. Hordes of bees were buzzing tirelessly around the flowers for their nectar; bright, pretty thrushes flitted around in the trees’ high branches, frequently signaling their presence with crisp, mournful cries. “Damn,” Lan Jiefang cursed unhappily. “What is it you want to show me?” I put my finger to my lips to shush him. “Squat down and follow me,” I said softly as we squatted down and inched forward. A pair of ocher rabbits were chasing each other among the trees; a beautiful,