Red Sorghum

attitude frustrated him. He led them quickly to each of the sandal makers’ cellars. Whoever Pickle was, he was sure in one now. Pocky Cheng looked off into the distance towards his house, where green smoke curled into the sky from the solitary kitchen chimney. It was the most intense longing for home he’d ever known. As soon as he was finished he’d go there, change into clean pants, and have his wife rub some lime into the bayonet wound on his chest. The great woodwind player of Northeast Gaomi Township had never been in such a mess. Oh, how he longed for his lovely wife, who had grumbled about his pocked face at first, but, resigned at last, had decided that if you marry a chicken you share the coop; marry a dog and you share the kennel.

4
    EARLY-MORNING GUNFIRE beyond the village startled Second Grandma out of a dream in which she was fighting Grandmatooth and nail. She sat up, her heart thumping wildly, and, try as she might, she couldn’t decide if the noise had just been part of the dream. The window was coated with pale morning sunlight; a grotesque pattern of frost had formed on the pane. Shuddering from the cold, she tilted her head so she could see her daughter, my aunt, who was lying beside her, snoring peacefully. The sweet, even breathing of the five-year-old girl soothed Second Grandma’s fears. Maybe it was only Old Geng shooting at wild game, a mountain lion or something, she consoled herself. She had no way of knowing how accurate her prediction was, nor could she have known that while she was sliding back under the covers the tips of Japanese bayonets were jabbing Old Geng’s ribs.
    Little Auntie rolled over and nestled up against Second Grandma, who wrapped her arms around her until she could feel the little girl’s warm breath against her chest. Eight years had passed since Grandma had kicked her out of the house. During that time, Granddad had been tricked into going to the Jinan police station, where he nearly lost his life. But he managed to escape and make his way home, where Grandma had taken Father to live with Black Eye, the leader of the Iron Society.
    When Granddad fought Black Eye to a standstill at the Salty Water River, he touched Grandma so deeply she followed him home, where they ran the distillery with renewed vitality. Granddad put his rifle away, bringing his bandit days to an end, and began life as a wealthy peasant, at least for the next few years. They were troubling years, thanks to the rivalry between Grandma and Second Grandma. In the end, they reached a ‘tripartite agreement’ in which Granddad would spend ten days with Grandma, then ten days with Second Grandma – ten days was the absolute limit. He stuck to his bargain, since neither woman was an economy lantern, someone to be taken lightly.
    Second Grandma was enjoying the sweetness of her sorrows as she hugged Little Auntie. She was three months pregnant. A period of increased tenderness, pregnancy is a time of weakness during which women need attention and protection, andSecond Grandma was no exception. Counting the days on her fingers, she longed for Granddad. He would be there tomorrow.
    Another crisp gunshot sounded outside the village, andSecond Grandma scrambled out of bed. She, too, had heard rumours that the Japanese would be coming to sack the village, and she was unable to drive away the dark premonition of impending doom. She’d willingly go home with Granddad, even if it meant putting up with Grandma’s abuse, for it couldn’t be worse than living in Saltwater Gap in constant dread. But Granddad had flatly refused, most likely, I believe, because by then he was cowed by the irreconcilable differences between the two women. He would come to regret this decision, for on the following morning he stood in a yard bathed by the warm rays of the late-October sun and gazed upon the tragic consequences of his mistake.
    Little Auntie, awake by now, let out an affected yawn, her eyes shining like small bronze buttons; then she sighed, just as if she were a grown-up. That frightened Second Grandma, whose power of speech momentarily deserted her.
    ‘Help me get dressed, Mommy,’ Little Auntie said.
    As Second Grandma picked up Little Auntie’s padded red jacket, she looked with unconcealed surprise at her daughter, who didn’t have to be coaxed out of bed for a change. There were wrinkles on her face, her eyebrows sagged, and her mouth was drooping – suddenly she looked like a little old woman.