Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

appearance. Your driver pulled a long face until your wife gave him a carton of cigarettes, which turned his face back to oval.
    Your son and I were in the backseat, which was stacked high with packages: liquor, tea, pastries, and fabrics. This was my first trip back to Ximen Village since I’d ridden to the county town in Ximen Jinlong’s Jeep. I’d been a three-month-old puppy then; now I was an adult dog with a full range of experiences. Emotionally, I watched the scenery go by on both sides of the broad, tree-lined highway. There were few cars on the highway, so my driver drove at speeds that seemed close to flying.
    My excitement was not shared by your son, who sat quietly, absorbed in the Tetris game he was playing on his electronic toy. His intensity was visible in the way he was biting his lower lip, his thumbs dancing on the buttons. He stomped his foot and puffed angrily each time he missed.
    This was the first time your wife, who in the past always took the bus or rode her bicycle back to the village, had ridden in the official car in your name. And it was the first time she’d returned looking like the wife of an official instead of wearing her stained work clothes and not bothering about her hair or face. It was the first time she’d brought expensive gifts with her instead of homemade oil fritters. And it was the first time she’d brought me along rather than locking me in the yard to keep an eye on the house. Her attitude toward me had taken a positive turn after I’d snooped out your lover, Pang Chunmiao; more accurately, I suppose, my importance had, in her eyes, increased considerably She often talked to me about what was on her mind, like a garbage pail for her throwaway comments and complaints. And I was not just her confessor figure, I was, it seemed, a sort of adviser:
    “What do you think I ought to do, Dog?”
    “Do you think she’ll leave him, Dog?”
    “Do you think she’ll go see him at his conference in Jinan, Dog, or will he take her someplace else for a little tryst?”
    “Do you think there really are women who can’t get by without a man, Dog?”
    I dealt with these interminable questions the only way I could: with silence. I gazed up at her, my thoughts leaping up and down in concert with her questions; sometimes flying to heaven, sometimes plummeting to hell.
    “Tell me honestly, Dog, who’s right, him or me?” She was sitting on a kitchen stool, leaning up against the butcher block as she sharpened a rusty knife, the edge of the spatula, and a pair of scissors. Apparently, she’d decided to utilize our chat time to put a shiny edge on all the sharp objects in the house. “She’s younger than me, and prettier, but I was young and pretty once. Isn’t that right? Besides, I may not be young and good looking now, but neither is he. He never was good looking, not with that blue birthmark across half his face. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and the sight of his face makes me shudder. Dog, if Ximen Jinlong hadn’t ruined my reputation as a girl, do you think I’d have stooped to marrying this one? Dog, my life was ruined, all thanks to those two brothers. ...” When her complaints reached this stage, tears would moisten the front of her clothes. “Now I’m an ugly old woman, while he’s a prominent official, so it’s time to get rid of the old lady, like throwing away a pair of worn socks. Does that make sense to you, Dog? Is that a sign of conscience?” She sharpened the knife with determination. “I have to stand up for myself. I’m going to hone my body till it shines like this knife.” She touched the edge of the blade to her finger. It left a white mark; sharp enough. “We’re going back to the village tomorrow, Dog, and you’re coming along. We’ll go in his car. In all these years I’ve never once sat in his car, keeping public and private separate to protect his good name. I can take credit for half of the prestige he enjoys with the public. Dog, people take advantage of good people, just like people ride good horses. But no more. Now we’re going to be like those other wives of officials, doing whatever we have to do to show people that Lan Jiefang has a wife, and that she is to be reckoned with. . . .”
    The car drove across the newly built Bridge of Wealth and into Ximen Village. The squat old stone bridge stood unused nearby, except for a bunch of bare-assed boys taking turns diving into the river below and sending water