Red Sorghum

glanced at the team of men and, with a nod to Second Master Cao, said, ‘A thousand silver dollars requires an appropriate amount of decorum.’
    Second Master Cao returned his nod and followed him through the final gate.
    When he emerged from the house, his shiny face had turned ashen and his long-nailed fingers trembled. He called the bearers over to the wall and said with a gnashing of his teeth, ‘We’ve had it, boys!’
    ‘What’s the problem, Second Master?’ Granddad asked him.
    ‘Men, the coffin’s as wide as the door, and on top of it there’s a bowl filled to the brim with wine. He says he’ll penalise us a hundred silver dollars for every drop we spill!’
    They were speechless. The wails of mourners inside the funeral chamber floated on the air like a song.
    ‘What should we do, Zhan’ao?’ Second Master Cao asked.
    ‘This is no time for the chickenhearted,’ Granddad replied. ‘We’ll carry the thing out even if it’s filled with iron balls.’
    ‘Okay, men,’ Second Master Cao said in a low voice, ‘let’s go. If you get it out, you’re like my own sons. The thousand-dollar fee is all yours. I don’t want any of it!’
    ‘No more of that kind of talk!’ Granddad said with a quick glance at him.
    ‘Then let’s get ready,’ Second Master Cao said. ‘Zhan’ao, Sikui, you two man the cable, one in front and one behind. I want twenty of you other men inside, and as soon as the coffin is off the ground, slip under it and prop it on your backs. The rest of you stay out here and move in rhythm as I beat the gong. And men, Cao the Second is in your debt!’ Second Master Cao, normally the tyrant, bowed deeply this time.
    The head of the Qi household walked up with a retinue of servants and said, ‘Not so fast. We need to search you first.’
    ‘What sort of decorum is that?’ Second Master Cao shot back angrily.
    ‘The decorum of one thousand silver dollars!’ the head of the household replied haughtily.
    The Qi family servants removed the steel hooks the men had hidden in their waistbands and tossed them to the ground.
    Okay! Granddad thought. Anybody can lift a coffin by using steel hooks. A stirring emotion, like that of a fearless man on the way to his execution, surged into his heart. After cinching his pant cuffs and waistband as tight as he could, he took a deep breath and entered the funeral chamber. The mourners – boys and girls – stopped wailing and stared wide-eyed at the bearers, then at the bowl of wine on top of the coffin. The smoky air was nearly suffocating, and the faces of the living were like hideous floating masks. The ebony coffin of the old Hanlin scholar rested on four stools like a huge boat in drydock.
    Granddad uncoiled a thick hempen cable and ran it under the coffin from end to end. The tips were finished with loops of twisted white cotton. The other bearers strung thick, water-soaked cotton ropes under the cable and held on to the ends.
    Second Master Cao raised his gong. The sound split the air.Granddad squatted down at the head of the coffin, the most dangerous, the heaviest, the most glorious spot of all. The thick cotton rope pulled hard against his neck and shoulders, and he realised how heavy the coffin was before he’d even straightened up.
    Second Master Cao banged his gong three more times. A shout of ‘Heave!’ cleaved the air.
    Granddad took a deep breath and held it, sending all his energy and strength down to his knees. He dimly heard Second Master Cao’s command; dazed though he was, he forced the strength concentrated in his knees to burst forth, fantasising that the coffin containing the corpse of the Hanlin scholar had begun to levitate and float atop the curling incense smoke like a ship on the ocean. The fantasy was shattered by the pressure of the brick floor on his buttocks and sharp pains up and down his backbone.
    The enormous coffin remained anchored in place like a tree with deep roots. Second Master Cao nearly fainted when he saw his bearers crumple to the floor like sparrows that had smashed into windows. He knew they were finished. The curtain had come crashing down on this drama! There was the vigorous, energetic Yu Zhan’ao, sitting on the floor like an old woman holding a dead infant. There was no mistaking it now: the drama had ended in complete failure.
    Granddad imagined the mocking laughter of the Hanlin scholar in his tomb of shifting quicksilver.
    ‘Men,’ Second Master Cao said, ‘you have to carry