Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

sallow face and sunken mouth; they lit up Lü Xiaopo’s puffy face and bulbous red nose; and they lit up Zhao Yonggang’s face, stamped with a sneer. When it lit up Diao Xiaosan’s mouth, with its missing fangs, I grew even calmer, like an old monk standing before a sacred idol.
    In the end, the motor took hold, and its horrible sound on the river assaulted the night air and the moon. The boat moved slowly out into the river. By stepping on the ice at the river’s edge with a swagger, I made my way to the pier, looking like a domestic pig that had stepped out from the crowd of people seeing the hunters off. The red lanterns waved back and forth like balls of fire, creating just the right atmosphere for my leap through the air.
    I wasn’t thinking anything, I just acted, just moved.
    The boat lurched to one side and Diao Xiaosan seemed about to stand up. Liu Yong, who was bent over starting the motor, went flying into the river, raising blue-white shards of water into the air. The motor sputtered, emitting black smoke and weak complaints. My ears seemed waterlogged. Lü Xiaopo teetered, his open mouth reeking of alcohol, as he fell backward, his body half in the boat and half in the water for a moment, his waist fulcrumed on the steel plate railing, until he tipped headfirst into the river, he too raising blue-white, silent shards of water into the air. I started jumping up and down, five hundred jin of pig making the boat lurch from side to side. Qiao Feipeng, the hunters’ adviser, who years before had had dealings with me, fell weakly to his knees and kowtowed. How funny was that! Without a thought running through my head, I picked him up and threw him out of the boat. More silent shards of water. That left only Zhao Yonggang, the only one who looked like a worthy opponent. He swung a club and hit me in the head. The sound of it breaking in two went from my skull to my ears; one half of the club flew into the water, the other half was still in his hand. I didn’t have time to consider the pain in my head. My eyes were fixed on what remained of his club as it came straight toward my mouth; I grabbed it in my teeth and held on. He put all his considerable strength in trying to pull it out until his face turned as red as a lantern trying to outshine the moon. I let go, and he flew backward into the water; you might think I planned it like that, but I really didn’t. At that moment all sound, all color, all smells rushed toward me.
    I jumped into the river, sending a column of water several yards into the air. The water was cold and felt sticky, like liquor that had aged for years. I saw all four of them floating on the surface. Liu Yong and Lü Xiaopo were so drunk they could neither function nor think clearly, so there was no need for me to hasten their departure from the world. Zhao Yonggang was the only real man among them, and if he could make it to dry land, then I’d let him live. Qiao Feipeng was the nearest to me; he struggled to keep his purple nose above water. Disgusted by the way he was gasping for air, I conked him on the head with my hoof. He didn’t move after that, except for his rear end, which floated to the surface.
    I let the current take me downriver. Water and moonbeams formed a silvery liquid, like donkey milk about to freeze. Behind me, the boat’s motor was making crazy noises, while from the riverbank came a chorus of shouts. The only one I could distinguish was:
    “Shoot him! Shoot!”
    The six ex-soldiers had taken the assault rifles with them back to town. Since it was peacetime, the planners of the massacre were punished for using such advanced weapons to hunt wild animals.
    I dove to the bottom, leaving all sound above and behind me, just like a certain first-rate novelist.

36

Thoughts Throng the Mind as the Past Is Recalled
Disregarding Personal Safety, Pig Saves a Child
    Three months later, I was dead.
    It all happened one afternoon when the sun was hidden. A bunch of kids were playing on the gray ice covering the river behind Ximen Village. They ranged in age from three and four up to seven and eight. Some were sledding across the ice, others were playing with tops, and I was watching this next generation of Ximen Village residents from the woods. I heard the welcoming call from the other side of the river:
    “Kaifeng Geming Fenghuang Huanhuan — all you kids, come home.”
    I saw the weathered face of the woman, the blue kerchief over her head waving in the wind, and