Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

headstrong boy, choosing to farm apart. Pulling an ox the size of an insect, pushing a wood-wheeled cart. Sooner or later you’ll have to join, and sooner is better than later to start . . .
    Faced with that sort of harassment, my courage began to falter, but not my excitement. The scene before me was like a play in which I was cast as the number-two character. Yes, a negative character, but more important than the positive characters out there. I felt it was time to make an appearance. I needed to go onstage, for the sake of my father’s character and self-respect, but also to bear witness to my courage and, of course, for the sake of your ox-glory. So I led you out of the shed in plain view of everyone. I thought you might have stage fright, but you surprised me by your total absence of fear. Your halter was actually nothing more than a thin rope tied loosely around your neck. One tug, and you could have snapped it. If you hadn’t wanted to follow me, I couldn’t have done a thing about it. But you did, willingly, even happily All eyes were on us, so I raised my head and stuck out my chest to make myself look like someone they’d have to deal with. I couldn’t see what I looked like, but their laughter told me what a comical figure I must have cut, a little clown. Then you picked the wrong time to act up and bellow, the antic and the soft sound proving you were still a youngster. Then you got it into your head to charge the village leaders lined up in the doorway of the main house.
    Who was there? Well, Hong Taiyue was there; so were Huang Tong and Yang Qi. Wu Qiuxiang was there too. She’d replaced Yang Guixiang as head of the Women’s Association. I pulled on the rope to keep you from charging. All I’d wanted to do was take you into the yard to show you off, to let them see how handsome and spirited an independent farmer’s ox can be. I wanted them to see that before long, you’d be the best-looking ox in Ximen Village. But you chose that moment to show how perverse you can be and, with hardly any effort, dragged me behind you like a monkey on a string. When you pulled a little harder, the rope parted. Standing there holding half a length of rope in my hand, I watched as you headed straight for the leading figures. I thought Hong Taiyue would be your primary target, either him or Huang Tong, so I was surprised to see you heading straight for Wu Qiuxiang. At the time that made no sense to me, but I understand now. She was wearing a purple jacket and blue pants; her hair was oiled, with a plastic hair clasp, a sort of come-hither butterfly effect. The crowd looked on slack-jawed as this startling scenario began to play out, and by the time anyone reacted, you’d already butted Wu Qiuxiang to the ground; not content with that, you kept butting her, wrenching shrieks of horror from her as she rolled on the ground. She clambered to her feet to get away, but you made sure that didn’t happen by ramming your head into her large hip as she waddled along, tilting from side to side; with a loud croak, she tumbled forward and landed at the feet of Huang Tong, who turned and ran, with you in hot pursuit. Jinlong sprang into action. He jumped onto your back — that’s how long his legs were — wrapped his arms around your neck, and held on for all he was worth. You kicked, you reared, you twisted, but you couldn’t throw him off. So then you ran madly around the yard, sending people fleeing for their lives, their panicky screams hanging in the air. Jinlong grabbed your ears and pinched your nose till he brought you under control. Then people rushed up and pinned you to the ground.
    “Put a ring in his nose,” someone shouted, “then geld him, and hurry!”
    I hit out with the rope in my hand, not caring who it landed on.
    “Let my ox go!” I screamed. “You thugs, let him go!”
    My brother Jinlong — brother, my eye!—was still on you, his face ashen, a dazed look in his eyes, his fingers stuck up your nostrils. I laid into him with my rope.
    “You traitor!” I roared. “Take your hand away, take it away!”
    My sister Baofeng ran up to stop me from beating her brother. Her face was bright red, and she was sobbing. I couldn’t tell whose side she was on.
    My mother stood there like a block of wood and muttered:
    “My sons, ah . . . stop it, you two, what do you think you’re doing?”
    Hong Taiyue’s voice was heard over the crowd:
    “Go get me a rope, and hurry!”
    Huang Tong’s daughter,