Shifu, You'll Do Anything For a Laugh

feeling something warm and wet against my padded trousers.
    At least a half-dozen people were standing on the bridge directly overhead, and it seemed to me that their weight was pushing the rock flooring down on top of us. Their thunderous shouts were nearly deafening: “Shall we check out the bodies, Chief?”
    “What the hell for? Their brains are splattered all over the place. If the Jade Emperor himself came down now, he couldn't save them.”
    “Let's go! Old Guo's wife has fermented bean curd and oil fritters waiting for us.”
    They crossed the bridge, heading north, their footsteps sounding like an avalanche. The rock flooring, creaking and shifting, could have come crashing down at any moment. Or so it seemed to me.
    The quiet returned.
    Father nudged me. “Don't stand there like an idiot. Let's do it.”
    I looked around me, but nothing made sense. Even my own father seemed familiar, but I couldn't place him.
    “Huh?” I'm sure that's all I managed to say: “Huh?”
    “Have you forgotten?” Father said. “We're here to get a cure for your grandmother. We have to move fast, before the body snatchers show up.”
    The words were still echoing in my ears when I spotted seven or eight wild dogs, in a variety of colors, dragging their long shadows up off the riverbed in our direction; they were baying at us. All I could think of was how they had turned and fled at the first gunshot, accompanied by their own terrified barks.
    I watched Father kick loose several bricks and fling them at the approaching dogs. They scurried out of the way. Then he took out a carving knife from under his coat and waved it in the air to threaten the dogs. Beautiful silvery arcs of light flashed around Father's dark silhouette. The dogs kept their distance for the time being. Father tightened the cord around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. “Keep an eye out for me,” he said.
    Like an eagle pouncing on its prey, Father dragged the women's bodies away, then rolled Ma Kuisan over so he was facing up. Then he fell to his knees and kowtowed to the body. “Second Master Ma,” he intoned softly, “loyalty and filiality have their limits. I hate to do this to you.”
    I watched Ma Kuisan reach up and wipe his bloody face. “Zhang Qude,” he said with a trace of a smile, “you will not die in bed.”
    Father tried to unbutton Ma Kuisan's leather coat with one hand but was shaking too much to manage. “Hey, Second Son,” I heard him say, “hold the knife for me.”
    I recall reaching out to take the knife from him, but he was already holding it in his mouth as he struggled with the yellow buttons down Ma Kuisan's chest. Round, golden yellow, and as big as mung beans, they were nearly impossible to separate from the cloth loops encircling them. Growing increasingly impatient, Father ripped them loose and jerked the coat open, revealing a white kidskin lining. A satin vestlike garment had the same kind of buttons, so Father ripped them loose, too. After the vest came a red silk stomacher. I heard Father snort angrily. I have to admit that I was surprised when I saw the strangely alluring clothing the fat old man — he was over fifty — wore under his regular clothes. But Father seemed absolutely irate; he ripped the thing off the body and flung it to one side. Now at last, Ma Kuisan's rounded belly and flat chest were out in the open. Father reached out his hand but then jumped to his feet, his face the color of gold. “Second Son,” he said, “tell me if he's got a heartbeat.”
    I recall bending over and laying my hand on his chest. It was no stronger than a rabbit's, but that heart was still beating.
    “Second Master Ma,” my father said, “your brains have spilled out on the ground, and even the Jade Emperor couldn't save you now, so help me be a filial son, won't you?”
    Father took the knife from between his teeth and moved it up and down the chest area, trying to find the right place to cut. I saw him press down, but the skin sprang back undamaged, like a rubber tire. He pressed down again with the same result. Father fell to his knees. “Second Master Ma, I know you didn't deserve to die, but if you've got a bone to pick, it's with Chief Zhang, not me. I'm just trying to be a filial son.”
    Father had pressed down with the knife only twice, but already his forehead was all sweaty, the stubble on his chin white with icy moisture. The damned wild dogs were inching closer and closer to us — their eyes