Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

with a piercing stare at the same time as the other guests turned to look at him. He grinned complacently, revealing a row of golden yellow teeth. That’s the best I can do to describe the strange sight he presented as he jumped at yet another opportunity to show off.
    Pang Hu removed his hand from Hong Taiyue’s grip and, along with the other hand, reached out to Yingchun. The hardened hands of this grenade-throwing war hero had softened over years of a more genteel life, and Yingchun, flustered and moved, but clearly grateful for the gesture, just stood there, her lips quivering, unable to speak. Pang Hu took her hands, shook them warmly, and said, “How happy you must be!”
    “Happy, happy, everybody’s happy . . . ,” Yingchun managed to mutter through her tears.
    “Happy together, happy together!” Mo Yan interjected.
    “Why isn’t Lan Lian here, ma’am?” Pang Hu’s gaze swept past the two rows of tables.
    The question tied Yingchun’s tongue in knots and thoroughly embarrassed Hong Taiyue. An ideal opportunity for Mo Yan to speak up again.
    “He’s probably taking advantage of the bright moonlight to till his one-point-six acres of land.”
    Panther Sun, who was sitting next to Mo Yan, must have stepped on Mo Yan’s foot. “Why’d you do that?” he screamed with patent excess.
    “Shut that stinking mouth of yours. No one would mistake you for a mute,” Sun said menacingly, keeping his voice down. He reached down and pinched Mo Yan on the thigh, drawing a loud screech and turning his face white.
    “Okay, enough of that,” Pang Hu said to break the awkwardness. He then gave his best wishes to the four newlyweds. Jinlong wore a silly smile, Jiefang seemed to be about to cry, Huzhu and Hezuo displayed indifferent looks. Pang Hu turned to his wife and daughter: “Bring the wedding gifts.”
    “I can’t believe this, Secretary Pang,” Hong Taiyue said. “You’ve already lent glitter to our humble surroundings by your gracious presence, and there was no need to go to any additional expense.”
    Pang Kangmei held a framed mirror with the dedication in red “Congratulations to Lan Jinlong and Huang Huzhu in becoming a revolutionary couple” in one corner. The mirror was decorated with a drawing of Chairman Mao in a long gown, bundle in hand, as he encouraged miners to rebel in the city of Anyuan. Wang Leyun held up a similar framed mirror with the same dedication, with “Lan Jiefang and Huang Hezuo” replacing the other names, in red in the corner. The inlaid photograph was of Chairman Mao in a woolen overcoat standing on the beach at the resort city of Beidaihe. Jinlong or Jiefang ought to have stood up to receive the gifts, but they sat there as if glued to their seats, making it necessary for Hong Taiyue to urge Huzhu and Hezuo to go up in their stead, since they appeared to be reasonably alert. After taking the mirror, Huang Huzhu bowed deeply to Wang Leyun, and when she looked up there were tears in her eyes. She was wearing a red top over red pants, her thick black braid falling all the way to her knees, bound at the end with a red bow. Wang Leyun reached out and touched the braid with tender affection. “You must hate the idea of cutting it off, I guess,” she said.
    At last the opportunity presented itself for Wu Qiuxiang to speak up. “It’s not that, ma’am. My daughter’s hair is different from other girls’. If she cut it, blood would seep from it.”
    “How strange,” Wang said. “But now I know why it felt sort of fleshy when I touched it. There must be capillaries running through it.”
    Hezuo refrained from bowing when she took the mirror from Pang Kangmei. She merely thanked her modestly. Kangmei offered her hand in friendship. “I wish you every happiness,” she said as Hezuo took the hand, turned her head, and said through her tears, “Thank you.”
    In my view, her fashionable hairstyle, her slim waist, and her dark skin made Hezuo prettier than Huzhu, and with her you got better than you deserved, Jiefang. She’s the one who ought to feel cheated, not you. With that blue birthmark, you could be the best person in the world and you’d still scare the hell out of anyone who saw you. Where you belong is down in the bowels of hell as one of Lord Yama’s attendants, not here on earth as an official. But you made it, you became an official, and you felt that Hezuo was beneath you. Everything about this world befuddles me, I’ll tell you that.
    Once that