Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

dog invariably grabbed his clothes or nudged him behind the knee to keep him going. When they reached Tianhua Lane, they sped up; that was when my binoculars began sweeping the area in front of the New China Bookstore, which was on Tianhua Lane.
    My son took a slingshot out of his pocket and aimed at a bird in the pear tree in front of the home of my colleague, another deputy county head by the name of Chen. Pang Chunmiao appeared in front of the bookstore as if she’d fallen out of the sky. Son, dog, I’ve got no more time for you today.
    Dressed in a spotless white dress, she was a vision of loveliness. Her freshly washed face was free of makeup, and I could almost smell the sandalwood fragrance of her facial soap and the natural fragrance of her body, which intoxicated and nearly transported me into another world. She was smiling. Her eyes sparkled; morning light reflected off what I could see of her teeth. She was looking up at me and knew that I was looking down at her. It was rush hour; the street was clogged with cars; the pedestrian lanes were alive with motorbikes spewing black smoke; bicycles weaved in and out of cars and motorbikes coming at them, inviting a chorus of honking from exasperated drivers. On any other day I’d have found this all quite repellent, but today it was a glorious sight.
    She stood out there until her coworker opened the door for her; just before she walked inside, she put her fingers to her lips and tossed me a kiss. Like a butterfly, that kiss flew across the street, hovered briefly in the air just beyond my window, and then landed on my mouth. What a wonderful girl. I’d have died for her without hesitation.
    My secretary came in to tell me I was to attend a meeting that afternoon in the County Committee conference room to discuss the Ximen Village Resort development plans. Attendees would include the county Party secretary, his deputy, the county chief, the Party Committee, all county government department heads, and leading bankers. Jinlong, I knew, was going for broke this time, and down the line what awaited him, as well as me, would not be garlands of flowers and smooth sailing. I had a hunch that a cruel fate was in store for my brother and me. But we would both forge ahead, and in this regard, we were truly brothers, for good or ill.
    Before clearing my desk to leave for the meeting, I picked up my binoculars and took my customary position at the window, where I spotted my son’s dog leading my wife across the street and up to the door of the New China Bookstore. I’ve read several of Mo Yan’s stories in which he writes about dogs; they always seem more clever than humans, and that always gave me a laugh — such nonsense, I thought. But now, all of a sudden, I became a believer.

45

Dog Four Follows a Scent to Chunmiao
Huang Hezuo Writes a Message in Blood
    A silver Crown Victoria pulled up and parked in front of the school gate when I dropped your son off. A nicely dressed girl stepped out of the car, and your son waved to her, like any American boy might, and said, “Hi, Fenghuang!” She waved back. “Hi, Jiefang!” They walked in through the gate together.
    I crossed the street, turned east, then headed north, walking slowly toward the train station. Your wife had tossed me four onion rolls that morning and, so as not to appear ungrateful, I ate them all. Now they lay heavily in my stomach. When the Hungarian wolfhound who lived behind a restaurant smelled me out, he barked a friendly greeting. I didn’t feel like responding. I wasn’t a happy dog that morning. I had a hunch that before the day was over, bad things would happen to man and dog alike. Sure enough, I met your wife on the way before reaching her work site. I greeted her with dog sounds to let her know her son was safely in school. She jumped down off her bicycle and said:
    “Little Four, you saw it with your own eyes, he doesn’t want us anymore.”
    With a sympathetic look, I walked up to her and wagged my tail to try to make her feel better. Just because I didn’t care for the greasy odor that clung to her body didn’t alter the fact that she was my mistress. She walked her bike over to the curb and signaled for me to come to her, which I did. The roadside was littered with white blossoms from roadside Chinese scholar trees. A foul smell from a nearby panda-shaped trash can hung in the air. Farm tractors pulling trailers with vegetables and spurting black smoke from their exhaust pipes