Pow!

the eggs when I say so.’

    Lao Lan sat in the seat of honour, surrounded by Mother, Jiaojiao, Father and me.

    Mother opened a bottle and filled glasses. Then holding up hers, she said: ‘Thank you, Village Head, for the honour of visiting this humble abode.’

    ‘How could I refuse an invitation from someone so renowned as the man of the hour, Luo Xiaotong?’ He emptied his glass. ‘Have I got that right, Mr Luo Xiaotong?’

    ‘No one's ever been a guest in our house,’ I said. ‘No one's ever deserved it before today.’

    ‘What kind of talk is that?’ Father said with a censorious look in my direction. Then he apologized. ‘Youngsters will say anything. Just ignore him.’

    ‘I see nothing wrong in what he said,’ said Lao Lan. ‘I like boys with a bit of spunk. Xiaotong's future as a man looks bright from what I see of him as a boy.’

    Mother placed a drumstick on Lao Lan's plate. ‘Talk like that gives him a big head, Village Head. Best to avoid it.’

    Lao Lan picked up the drumstick and laid it on my plate, then picked up the second one and laid it on the plate in front of Jiaojiao. She was timidly pressed up against Father, and I saw sadness mixed with affection in his eyes.

    ‘Say thank you.’

    ‘Thank you!’

    ‘What's her name?’ Lao Lan asked Father.

    ‘Jiaojiao,’ Mother answered. ‘She's a good girl, and smart too.’

    Lao Lan kept placing morsels of meat and fish onto Jiaojiao's and my plates.

    ‘Eat up, children,’ he said. ‘Go ahead, eat whatever you like.’

    ‘What about you?’ Mother said. ‘Not to your taste?’

    He picked up a peanut with his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth.

    ‘Do you think I came here for the food?’ he asked as he chewed the peanut.

    ‘We know,’ Mother said. ‘You're the village head, with many honours and awards, someone who's well known at the city and provincial levels. I can't imagine there's any food you haven't tasted. We invited you here to express our regard for you.’

    ‘Pour me another,’ Lao Lan said as he held out his glass.

    ‘Oh, I'm sorry…’

    ‘Him, too,’ he said, pointing to Father's empty glass.

    ‘I am sorry,’ she said as she obeyed his instructions. ‘You're the first guest we've ever had, and I have a lot to learn…’

    Lao Lan held his glass out to Father and said: ‘Lao Luo, there's no need to talk about the past in front of the children. For the future, if you will do me the honour, bottoms up!’

    Father held out his glass with a shaky hand: ‘Like a plucked rooster and a scaled fish, I have nothing to show.’

    ‘Nonsense,’ Lao Lan said as he banged his now-empty glass on the table and looked hard into Father's face. ‘I know who you are—you're Luo Tong!’

POW! 20

    Thousands of fat pigeons flap noisily into the July sky amid strains of rousing music, followed promptly by thousands of colourful balloons. As the pigeons fly over the temple, a dozen or more grey feathers flutter to the ground and merge with the blood-spattered ostrich feathers. The surviving ostriches are huddled under a big tree, which they must assume is a protective umbrella. The carcasses of the three birds that had come to grief at Huang Bao's hands lie in front of the temple and are a disturbing sight. From his spot in front of the temple, as he looks up at the balloons and follows their southern, windblown journey across the sky, Lan Laoda heaves a tortured sigh. An ancient white-haired nun with ruddy cheeks slowly walks out from behind the temple, aided by a pair of much younger nuns, and stops in front of Lan Laoda. In a voice that betrays neither humility nor pride, she asks: ‘For what purpose has the esteemed patron summoned this ancient nun?’ Hands clasped before him, Lan Laoda bows humbly: ‘Reverend Mother, my wife, Shen Yaoyao, has taken up temporary residence in your esteemed nunnery, and I ask the Reverend Mother to watch over her.’ ‘Esteemed patron,’ the ancient nun replies, ‘the woman Yaoyao has already shaved off her hair and taken her vows. Her name in Buddha is Huiming, and I must ask the patron to not disturb her meditations, as per her wish. This ancient nun is but her messenger. In three months she will present the esteemed patron with an important item. Please return in time to receive it.’ Before the nun can say goodbye, Lan Laoda takes out a cheque from his pocket. ‘Reverend Mother, I see that your honourable nunnery is in need of repair, and I humbly