Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

causing trouble. By staying in the shadows of the buildings south of the road, I was able to make it unobserved to the Ximen family compound.
    The gate was open; the old apricot stood there as always, its branches covered with fresh blossoms that filled the air with their fragrance. I stayed in the shadows and gazed in at eight tables with plastic tablecloths. A light that had been strung outside and hung from a branch of the apricot tree lit the compound up like daytime. I knew the people who were sitting at the tables. A bad lot, all of them. The onetime puppet security chief Yu Wufu, the turncoat Zhang Dazhuang, Tian Gui the landlord, and the rich peasant Wu Yuan were seated at one table. Seated at one of the other tables were the onetime chief of security Yang Qi and two of the Sun brothers, Dragon and Tiger. The tables were littered with the leavings of a banquet; the guests were already good and drunk. I later learned that Yang Qi was in the business of selling bamboo poles — he’d never been much of a farmer — which he purchased in Jinggangshan and transported to Gaomi by train and from there to Ximen Village by truck. He sold his entire first load to Ma Liangcai, who used the poles to build a new school. Almost overnight Yang Qi became a wealthy man. Sitting there as the village’s richest man, he was dressed in a gray suit with a bright red tie. By rolling up his sleeves, he was able to show off his digital wristwatch. He took out a pack of American cigarettes and tossed one to Dragon Sun, who was gnawing on a braised pig’s foot, and another to Tiger Sun, who was wiping his mouth with a napkin. He crumpled the empty pack, turned, and shouted toward the east-side room:
    “Boss lady!”
    The boss lady came running outside. What do you know, it was her, Wu Qiuxiang! Would you believe it, Boss Lady? That was when I noticed that the wall just east of the compound gate had been whitewashed to accommodate a sign in red: Qiuxiang Tavern. Wu Qiuxiang, the proprietress of Qiuxiang Tavern, ran up to where Yang Qi was sitting. Her smiling face was heavily powdered; she had a towel over one shoulder and a blue apron around her waist — obviously a shrewd, competent, enthusiastic, professional innkeeper. This was a different world — reforms and openings to the outside world had brought profound changes to Ximen Village. Qiuxiang was all smiles as she asked Yang Qi:
    “What can I do for you, Boss Yang?”
    “Don’t call me that,” Yang said with a glare. “I’m just a peddler of bamboo poles, not the boss of anything.”
    “Don’t be modest, Boss Yang. At ten yuan apiece, the sale of ten thousand makes you a wealthy man. If you’re not a boss, then there can’t be a soul in Northeast Gaomi Township worthy of the title.” Matching her exaggerated compliment with a touch on Yang’s shoulder, Qiuxiang continued. “Just look at how you’re dressed. What you’re wearing had to cost at least a thousand.”
    “You women, open your bloody mouths and out comes the flattery At this rate, you’ll won’t be happy until I explode like one of those bloated dead pigs back on the pig farm.”
    “Okay, Boss Yang, you’re not worth a thing, a pauper, does that sound better to you? You close the door on me before I have a chance to ask for a loan. Now then,” Qiuxiang said with a pout, “what can I get for you?”
    “Huh? Are you mad at me? Don’t pout like that, it gives me a hard-on.”
    “To hell with you!” Qiuxiang fired back, slapping Yang Qi on the head with her greasy towel. “Now tell me, what do you want?”
    “A pack of cigarettes. Good Friends.”
    “That’s all? What about liquor?” With a quick glance at the red faces of Tiger and Dragon Sun, she said, “These brothers look to be in dire need of a drink.”
    “Boss Yang is buying today,” thick-tongued Dragon said, “so we ought to drink less.”
    “Is that an insult directed my way?” Yang Qi exclaimed as he banged his fist on the table. “I may not be rich,” he said with feigned anger, “but I won’t go broke buying a few drinks for you two.” He reached out and pinched Qiuxiang on the rear and said, “Okay, two bottles of Black Vat.”
    “Black Vat? Too low-class. For friends like this, the least you can do is treat them to some Little Tiger.”
    “Damn, Qiuxiang, you sure know how to take a hint and run with it,” Yang Qi said with a note of resignation. “All right, make it Little Tiger.”
    Lan Jiefang, I’m