Life and Death are Wearing Me Out

fire. What is it? he shouted. The woman inside responded weakly, It’s got that thing between its legs. Chen covered his face with his hands and walked in tight circles in the snow beneath the window. Wu! he uttered at the end of each circle. Wu! The old man in the sky has opened his eyes, finally, and Chen Dafu now has an heir — My sister tore out of the house and asked me what was wrong. Jinlong’s dying, I said. He fell off the platform and hit the ground. He won’t last long.
    My sister elbowed her way through the crowd and knelt at Jinlong’s side. First she put her finger under his nose, then she rubbed his hand, and finally felt his forehead. Take him inside, she commanded, and hurry! The four warrior attendants picked him up and headed for the office, but my sister stopped them. Take him home and put him on the kang! They turned and carried him into my mother’s house, where there was a heated kang. My sister made sideward glances to the Huang sisters, Huzhu and Hezuo, who were looking on, teary-eyed. The fair skin of their faces was dotted with chilblains like ripe cherries.
    First my sister relieved my brother of the leather belt he wore day and night and tossed it, along with the starter’s pistol, into a corner, where it landed on top of a curious mouse, which squeaked once and died, blood seeping from its nose. Then she pulled down my brother’s pants to expose his discolored, louse-covered buttocks. With a frown, she opened an ampoule with a pair of tweezers, drew some liquid into a syringe, and jammed it haphazardly into him. In all she gave him two injections and hooked him up to an IV drip. She deftly found a vein on her first attempt, just as Wu Qiuxiang entered with a bowl of ginger tea, which she planned to spoon-feed my brother. With her eyes, my mother anxiously sought the opinion of my sister, who simply nodded noncommittally. Wu Qiuxiang began spooning the ginger tea into my brother’s mouth, her own mouth opening and closing in concert with his, so typical of mothers, something that cannot be faked. Wu Qiuxiang saw herself as my brother’s true mother. I knew that her feelings toward my brother and sister were complex, since relations between our two families were messy, to say the least. Her mouth was moving in concert with his not because of any special ties between our families, but because she knew what was in her daughters’ hearts and had witnessed my brother’s exceptional talents during the revolution. She was determined that one of her daughters would marry him, the ideal prospective son-in-law. The thought seared my mind, driving out my concern for my brother’s survival. I’d never cared much for Wu Qiuxiang, but seeing her run out of the willow grove, bent at the waist, that day had actually brought us closer together. That was because every time we met, her face reddened and she did her best to avoid eye contact. I began to take notice of her: thin waist and pale ears with a red mole on one lobe. There was magnetism in her laugh, which was deep and low. I was in the shed one night, helping Dad feed the ox, when she slipped in quietly and handed me two warm chicken eggs. She put her arm around me and held my head up against her breast. You’re a good boy, she said softly. You didn’t see anything, did you? In the darkness, I heard the ox ram his good horn into a post; his eyes were like burning torches. Given a fright, she pushed me away and slipped back outside. I followed her, a shifting silhouette in the starlight, experiencing feelings I couldn’t describe.
    I’ll be honest with you. When she pressed my head up against her breast, my little pecker stiffened. That seemed terribly wrong, and it bothered me for the longest time afterward. I was enchanted by Huang Huzhu’s long braid, and from that became enchanted by her. I drifted into a fantasy world, wishing that Wu Qiuxiang would marry Hezuo, the daughter with the boyish haircut, to Jinlong, and let me marry Huzhu. But it was far more likely that she’d marry Huzhu to my brother. She was no more than ten minutes older than her sister, but even one minute still made her the elder sister, and elder sisters were always expected to marry first. I was in love with Huzhu, but given the ambiguous relationship between me and her mother, who had pressed my head against her breast in the ox shed and caused my pecker to stiffen, there was no chance she’d be allowed to marry me. I hurt, I was anxious, I had guilt