Pow!

melting snow—each left an impression on my mind and seemed to sharpen my senses. The ground near the roadside houses, out of the sun, was still covered by snow; some obscured by piles of garbage and much of it stippled by the jumbled prints of wandering dogs and chickens unsure of their footing. People were entering and leaving Beauty Hair Salon. Thick black smoke billowed from the chimney sticking out from under the eaves; black tar oozed from its base and stained the snow beneath. Yao Qi was standing in his usual pose, smoking his pipe on the steps of his house, a man frozen in deep thought. He waved when he saw me and, though I'd have preferred to ignore him, on second thought I walked up and looked him in the eye, instantly reminded of the indignity I'd suffered at his hands. After Father ran off, he'd once said to me in front of a group of good-for-nothings: ‘Xiaotong, go home and tell your mom to leave her door unlocked for me tonight!’ They'd had a big laugh but I'd retorted angrily: ‘Yao Qi, fuck you and all your ancestors!’ This time I was ready to cut him down to size with every dirty saying I could think of but he took me by surprise: ‘Good Nephew Xiaotong,’ he began amiably. ‘What's your dieh up to these days?’

    ‘Do you really expect me to tell you?’ I replied icily.

    ‘You've got quite a temper, young man,’ he said. ‘Go home and tell him to come see me. I need to talk to him about something.’

    ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I'm not your message boy, and he wouldn't come to see you anyway.’

    ‘Yes, quite a temper,’ he said, ‘and obstinate to boot.’

    Putting Yao Qi behind me, I turned into Lan Clan Lane, which connected to Hanlin Bridge over Five Dragons River behind the village and became the highway to the county seat. A VW Santana was parked in front of the Lan house. The driver was inside, listening to music, while the neighbourhood children ran round touching the bright exterior with their fingers. The lower half of the car was covered with mud. Obviously, someone of authority was visiting Lao Lan and, since it was mealtime—and drinking time—I could smell the aromatic clouds emanating from inside. Distinguishing the various meaty smells was easy—it was as if I could see them. Then I recalled Mother's admonition: ‘Never call on someone at mealtime. Your arrival will be awkward for them and embarrassing for you.’ But I wasn't there looking for a free snack; on the contrary, I was there to invite Lao Lan to our house for a meal. So I decided to interrupt the party and do what Mother had sent me to do.

    It would be my first time inside the Lan compound. And it was just as I'd said earlier. From the outside, the Lan house looked less impressive than ours. But once I was in their front yard I discovered the fundamental difference between the two: ours was like a bun made from white flour wrapped round a filling of rotten cabbage leaves; theirs was a bun made of whole-grain flour wrapped round three delicacies. Theirs had a multi-grain, highly nutritious skin, dark grain with no impurities. And though ours was nice and white, it was made of trashy, chemically whitened flour that's bad for your health. Stored for years in a war-preparedness warehouse, it was wheat powder denuded of all nutritive value. Using edible buns as a metaphor for homes is a stretch, I know that, Wise Monk, so forgive me. But with my poor educational background, that's the best I can come up with. Well, I'd no sooner stepped into the yard than his two fierce wolfhounds erupted in loud, threatening barks. They were chained to splendid doghouses by nickel-plated chain collars that rattled with every move. Instinctively, I backed up against the wall to prepare to ward off an attack. Unnecessarily, as it turned out, because they thought I was beneath them, and their half-hearted barks were mere formalities. Their bowls were filled with fine food, which included bones with plenty of bright red meat on them. Wild beasts survive on raw meat—it's what keeps them mean and fearless. ‘If you feed a ferocious tiger nothing but sweet potatoes, in time it'll turn into a pig.’ Lao Lan said that, and it made the rounds in the village. He also said, ‘Dogs walk the earth eating shit, wolves travel the world eating meat.’ ‘Character qualities stubbornly resist change.’ That's something else he said, and it too made the rounds in the village.

    A man in a white cap emerging from the eastern room