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Autoren: Mo Yan
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personnel, money, everything. Punish anyone who stands in the way!’ A small fleet of Audi A6s drives up with a police escort, and Mayor Hu steps out of the car. On-site cadres rush to report. The mayor's face grows grave at the enormity of the situation and he walks towards some of the stricken individuals.

    With Father (actually, with me) in command, the United Meatpacking Plant began production as scheduled.

    I was enjoying a meal in the kitchen.

    ‘Your father's the plant manager,’ Huang Biao said, ‘but you run the show.’

    ‘I'd be careful with what I say, Huang Biao,’ I replied sternly although I was secretly pleased with his words. ‘My father won't be pleased that thought.’

    ‘It's not just what I think, my young friend. It's what everyone thinks. I can't help repeating what I hear. It's my nature. I just thought you'd like to know.’

    ‘What else do they think?’ I said, trying to sound casual.

    ‘That sooner or later Lao Lan will fire your father and hire you in his place. If you ask me, there's no need to be humble when that day comes. Having officials for parents is never as good as being one yourself.’

    I turned my attention back to the meat in front of me and ignored him but I didn't ask him to stop. His flattering remarks—half true, half false—were like spice for the meat, stimulating my appetite and giving me a sense of true comfort. When I finished the meat, I felt replenished and sated. It now lay in my stomach, waiting to be digested, as I drifted off into a state of suspended animation, as if afloat in the ether. Thinking back now, those were among the happiest days of my life. When I first went to the plant kitchen to feast on meat during working hours, I did so on the sly so as not to be seen. But the day came when I could openly enjoy my meals. When we were gearing up for production in the workshop, I'd say: ‘Yao Qi, take over while I go to the kitchen to think.’

    ‘Go ahead, Director, leave everything to me,’ he'd reply deferentially. ‘I'll let you know if there are problems.’

    I gave such heavy responsibilities to Yao Qi not to patch up relations between him and my parents but because he'd become such a good worker—it was the right thing to do. I had no authority to give him an official title or status but he was the de facto director when I was away. I'd also planned to repay the kindnesses of Cheng Tianle, but he had changed and not for the better. He walked about with a frown and never said a word, as if people owed him money and refused to pay it back. My good opinion of him was pretty much a thing of the past.

    It was clear that many of the men, including Yao Qi, resented the fact that I ate in the plant kitchen during working hours. I had no way of knowing what truly lay behind the the sweet words and smiles with which he greeted me. But I had no time to waste worrying about that. Why should I? Meat was my life, my love; the meat that went into my stomach, and only that meat, was mine. Meat in my stomach made me carefree and happy, and if the men were unhappy, if they were envious, if they drooled at the thought of it, even if they were downright angry, that was no concern of mine. They could drop dead for all I cared.

    I told Lao Lan and my parents that the way to ensure that United flourished was to see that I remained strong and vigorous and that my creative juices kept flowing. An endless supply of meat guaranteed both. The only thing that kept my brain functioning was a bellyful of meat. Without it, my brain was like rusty machinery. My parents withheld their response to my request but Lao Lan roared with laughter.

    ‘Luo Xiaotong,’ he said, ‘Director Luo, is there even a remote chance that this plant could not supply you with the meat you desire? No, I want you to eat. Eat as much as you can, set a new standard of eating, create a model of eating and, in the process, establish the prestige of our plant.’ He turned to my parents. ‘Lao Luo, Yang Yuzhen, meat-eaters are fated to enjoy prosperity and power. Paupers are not blessed with a well-developed digestive system. Do you believe that? Well, I do. The quantity of meat any individual is slated to eat is predetermined at birth. For you, Luo Xiaotong, the quantity is probably twenty tonnes, and the King of Hell will see that you eat every bit of it.’ Another hearty laugh, this time joined in by my parents.

    ‘We're lucky United Meatpacking is in financial good shape,’

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