Shifu, You'll Do Anything For a Laugh

A pointy-eared mongrel watchdog with a missing tail lay on the concrete steps staring at me warily, before narrowing its eyes. A check of wooden signs above a series of doors led me to the office I was looking for. I knocked — three times. Suddenly I heard a rustling behind me, just before I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I looked down, but by then the damned watchdog, which had just bitten me on the calf, had already returned to the step and was sprawled out lazily. It didn't make a sound as it lay there licking its chops; it even flashed me a friendly smile. How could I help but feel a fondness for a dog like that, even though it had just bitten me? You might think I'd hate it, but I didn't hate it. In my view, it was one terrific dog. But why had it bitten me? It was not a random act, so there must have been a reason. In this world, there is no love without reason or cause; nor, for that matter, hatred. Most likely the bite was intended for me to reach a sudden awakening through pain. True danger never comes from the front, always from the rear; true danger is not embodied in a mad dog with bared fangs, but in the sweet smile of, say, a Mona Lisa. I'd have missed that fact if I'd not been forced to think about it; once the thought struck me, I was startled into awareness. Thank you, dog, you with the pointy snout and a face drenched in artistic colors!
    My pant leg felt sticky, and hot. That must have meant blood. Anytime I bled for someone, the person who'd drunk my blood would curse me, “Your blood is rancid! Get the hell out of here!” I wondered if this abandoned child I'd rescued might also curse me for having rancid blood.
    The door, whose green paint had begun to peel and chip, was flung open, and there in front of me stood a dark-skinned mountain of a man. After sizing me up, he demanded, “Who are you looking for?”
    “The Township Head,” I said.
    “That's me. Come in, have a seat. Hey, your leg's bleeding. How'd that happen?” “Your dog bit me.”
    The dark-skinned man's face twisted into anger. “Damn! Would you look at that! I'm sorry. It's all Scarface Su's fault. The People's Compound isn't some landlord's mansion, so why keep a watchdog around? Is that a hint that the People's Government is afraid of the people? Or that we're in favor of having vicious dogs rupture the flesh-and-blood ties with the people?”
    “That doesn't rupture ties,” I said, pointing to my injured leg, “it molds them.”
    By then the blood had dripped from my calf down to the heel of my shoe, and from there to the brick floor, where it was soaked up by a long cigarette butt. I saw the brand name — it was Front Gate, the tobacco strips the color of yellow chrysanthemums.
    “Little Wang!” the dark-skinned man shouted. “Come in here!” The man rushed into the room and stood with his arms at his sides, waiting for instructions. “Take this comrade soldier over to the clinic for treatment,” the dark-skinned man said. “And bring a receipt back for reimbursement. Then go borrow a rifle from Supply Department Head Xia, and shoot that damned dog!”
    I stood up. “Chief, that's not why I'm here to see you,” I said. “I want to report something important. I can take care of the injury to my leg myself, and I'd rather you let the dog live. He's quite a dog, and I'm in his debt.”
    “I don't care. We were going to have to shoot that dog sooner or later anyway! It's a menace! You couldn't know, but it's already bitten twenty people! You're the twenty-first. If we don't put the thing down now, it might really hurt somebody someday. There's enough chaos around here already. We don't need any more.”
    “Please don't kill it, Chief,” I said. “It's got its reasons for biting people.”
    “All right,” the dark-skinned man said with a wave of his hand, “all right. What is it you want to see me about?”
    I fumbled in my pocket for a cigarette, which I handed to him. “I don't smoke,” he said with an emphatic wave.
    Somewhat embarrassed, I lit one for myself and stammered, “Chief, I found an abandoned girl.”
    His eyes lit up like torches; he snorted.
    “It was yesterday, about noon, in the sunflower field east of Three Willows. A girl, wrapped in red satin, along with twenty-one yuan.”
    “Here we go again!” he blurted out, annoyed. “I couldn't just let her die!” I said.
    “Did I say you should have? What I said was, here we go again! Here we go again! You have no idea of the