Pow!

uncommon martial skills? I thrust the dagger at his midsection but he merely reached out, grabbed me by the wrist and jerked my arm upward.

    I heard a pop as my shoulder dislocated.

    My act of vengeance came to a whimpering end.

    For a long time after that, Luo Xiaotong's ‘act of vengeance’ was the most popular joke in the village. My sister and I suffered both from considerable humiliation but also from a spot of fame. Some people even came to our defence and said that we were not to be taken lightly, that Lao Lan's day of judgement would come once we grew up. Be that as it may, people stopped inviting us to their homes for a meal. Lao Lan had Huang Biao's wife send food over a few times, but not for long. Huang Biao put aside any grudges he might have had to deliver a message from Lao Lan: I was invited to return to United Meatpacking as director of the meat-cleansing workshop. I turned him down. I may have been small and insignificant but I had my pride. Did he really expect me to go back to work at the plant, now that neither my father nor my mother was there? But that decision had no effect on my memories of the good times in the plant, and Jiaojiao and I often found ourselves walking past it without intending to. Our legs just carried us over on their own, and there we were confronted by an imposing gateway of black granite that sported a new sign—the company's name in a large bold script—and an automated double gate, all modern improvements. The plant had been transformed from the modest United Meatpacking Plant into the imposing Rare Animals Slaughterhouse Corporation. The grounds were landscaped with exotic plants and trees and the workers streaming in and out all wore white smocks. People familiar with the place knew it was a slaughterhouse, but everyone else would have thought it was a hospital. There was one thing, however, that hadn't changed—the pine rebirth platform, which still stood in a corner of the yard, a symbolic link to the past. One night, both Jiaojiao and I dreamt that we climbed the platform and saw Father and Mother moving rapidly along a newly paved road in a wagon pulled by a camel. She saw both our mothers seated at a table groaning under plates of good food, repeatedly clinking their glasses for a toast. The liquor in their glasses was green, she said, and she wondered if it was infused with leopard gallbladder.

    What I suffered from most during those days was neither hunger nor loneliness but embarrassment, a result of my failed attempt to wreak vengeance. It simply could not continue; I had to break the hold of this emotion and find a way to make Lao Lan suffer. Killing him was no longer possible, nor was it absolutely necessary. If I managed to stick a knife in him and end his life, we'd wind up suffering a similar fate. There must be better way. But what? Then it came to me—the perfect plan.

    At noon on one fine autumn day Jiaojiao and I strode into the plant with our dagger and scissors. No one tried to stop us. We were met by Huang Biao. When we asked him about Lao Lan, he nodded in the direction of the banquet hall. ‘Hey, brave boy,’ he called out as we walked towards the hall.

    Lao Lan and the new plant manager, Yao Qi, were entertaining clients and feasting on delicacies such as donkey lips, cow anuses, camel tongues and horse testicles—everything that sounded terrible but tasted divine. We were greeted by the pungent odours of their meal. Neither Jiaojiao nor I had tasted meat in a long time, and the sight of that loaded table made us drool. But we were on a mission and would not be distracted. Lao Lan spotted us when we stepped into the room. The infectious smile on his face was immediately replaced by a frown. At his discreet signal, Yao Qi stood up to greet us: ‘Ah, it's you, Xiaotong, Jiaojiao. The food is in another room. Come with me.’

    ‘They are the orphaned children of two former workers,’ Lao Lan explained to his guests softly. ‘The plant is responsible for their welfare.’

    ‘Out of my way!’ I pushed Yao Qi aside and approached Lao Lan. ‘Don't be afraid, Lao Lan,’ I said. ‘You don't have to break into a sweat or get tied up in knots. We're not here to kill you—we're here to let you do the killing.’ I turned the dagger round in my hand, Jiaojiao did the same with her scissors, and we offered them, handles first, to Lao Lan. ‘Go ahead, Lao Lan,’ I said. ‘We've lived long enough, more than long enough, so come on,