Pow!

sinews no longer capable of support. His partners’ consoling words are drowned out by his sobs and whimpers. Just then another of them discovers the three headless ostriches, and the thrill nearly throws him off balance. ‘Number One,’ he shouts, jumping in excitement, ‘stop crying, there's meat !’ The injured man stops crying and drops his hand from his nose. All six eyes are riveted to the three ostrich carcasses; the men seem frozen in place. Then the excitement claims them, including the one with the injury—he jumps to his feet. They throw the cat out of their sack—it runs in circles, mewing, a sign that the blow was serious but not fatal—and try to stuff in the dead ostriches; but they're too big, they won't fit. Plan B: forget the sack and drag the ostrich carcasses by the feet, one apiece, like donkeys pulling a wagon onto the highway. I watch them go, following the progress of their elongated silhouettes.

    A pair of electric heaters warmed the eastern wing of Lao Lan's house, the thick tungsten wires burning red behind transparent covers. All those years of scavenging with Mother had taught me a lot, no lesson more valuable than how electric appliances work. I knew that his heater was not energy efficient, that the large amounts of electricity it consumed made it impractical for most people. Lao Lan was wearing a V-necked cable-knit sweater over a white shirt and a red-striped tie in a room that was uncomfortably hot. He'd shaved off his sideburns and had his hair cut short, which combined to draw attention to the mutilated ear. His freshly shaved cheeks had begun to go slack and his eyelids were slightly puffy, but none of that had any effect on my new image of him. A peasant? I hardly think so. No, clearly someone on the government payroll. His attire and demeanour put my father, with his wool tunic, to shame. Nothing in his expression indicated that he was unhappy with us for turning up without an invitation. On the contrary, he politely invited us to sit and even patted me on the head. My rear end settled comfortably into the softness of his black leather sofa, but unnaturally so, as if I was sitting on a cloud. Jiaojiao shifted her little bottom on the leather sofa and giggled. Both Father and Mother respectfully sat on its edge, so respectfully they couldn't possibly have appreciated its comforts. Lao Lan walked over to a cabinet by the wall and brought back a lovely metal box; he opened it, took out pieces of chocolate wrapped in gold foil and handed them to Jiaojiao and me. She took a bite and spat it out: ‘It's medicine!’

    ‘It's not medicine, it's chocolate,’ I corrected her, displaying some of the knowledge I'd acquired while scavenging with Mother. ‘Eat it. It's nutritious and it's packed with calories. All the athletes eat it.’

    The look of approval on Lao Lan's face filled me with pride. But I knew a lot more than that. Scavenging is life's encyclopedia. Picking up junk and sorting it into categories is the same as reading a book of facts. The older I got, the more I grew to appreciate the wealth of knowledge I'd acquired during those years; they constituted my elementary, middle and high school, and yielded endless benefits.

    Jiaojiao refused to eat another bite of chocolate, so Lao Lan returned to the cabinet and brought out a tray of hazelnuts, almonds, pistachios and walnuts, which he set down on a tea table by the sofa. Then he knelt in front of us, picked up a small hammer and cracked open a walnut and a hazelnut, carefully scooping out the meat and laying it in front of my sister.

    ‘You'll spoil them, Village Head,’ complained Mother.

    ‘Yang Yuzhen,’ Lao Lan said, ignoring her comment, ‘you're a lucky woman.’

    ‘Lucky?’ Mother remarked. ‘You can't be lucky with a face like a monkey.’

    Lao Lan looked at Mother. ‘Anyone who can denigrate herself,’ he said with a smile, ‘deserves my respect.’

    ‘Village Head,’ Mother said, blushing, ‘this has been a wonderful New Year's for my family, thanks to you, and we're here to deliver our holiday greetings. Xiaotong, Jiaojiao, get down on your knees and kowtow to his honour.’

    ‘No, no, no…’ Lao Lan jumped to his feet, waving his large hands. ‘Yang Yuzhen, only you could think of such an elaborate courtesy, one I hardly deserve. Have you taken a good look at the children you're bringing up?’ He bent to pat us on the head. ‘You have a true Golden Boy and Jade Girl here.