The Garlic Ballads

You’ll kill your own mother.”
    “Fuck your ancestors, Gao Ma!” Fourth Uncle growled. “I’d kill my daughter before I’d let her marry you!”
    Gao Ma wiped some blood off his eyebrows. “You can hit me all you want, Fourth Uncle,” he said. “But if you raise a finger against Jinju, I’ll report you to the authorities.” Fourth Uncle picked up his heavy bronze pipe and hit Jinju hard on the head. With a feeble “Oh” she crumpled to the ground.
    “Go report that!” Fourth Uncle said.
    As Gao Ma bent down to help her up, Fang Yixiang clubbed him with a stool.
    When Gao Ma regained consciousness, he was lying in the lane with a large shape standing over him. It was the chestnut colt. A few stars poked pitifully through the cloud cover. The parakeets in Gao Zhileng’s yard shrieked. By lifting one of his arms slowly, he touched the satiny neck of the colt, which nuzzled the back of his hand as its bell tinkled crisply.
    The day after the beating, Gao Ma went to the township government compound to see the deputy administrator, who, drunk as a lord, sat on a beat-up sofa, slurping tea. Instead of greeting Gao Ma, he glared at him bleary-eyed.
    “Deputy Yang,” Gao Ma said, “Fang Yunqiu is violating the Marriage Law by forcing his daughter to marry Liu Shengli. When she protested, he bloodied her head.”
    The deputy laid his glass on the table beside the sofa. “What’s she to you?” he asked snidely.
    “She’s the woman I’m going to marry,” Gao Ma said after hesitating for a moment.
    “As I hear it, she’s the woman Liu Shengli is going to marry.”
    “Against her will.”
    “That’s none of your business. I’ll look into the matter when
she
comes to see me, but not before.”
    “Her father won’t let her out of the house.”
    “Out, out, out!” The deputy waved him off as if shooing away a housefly “I’ve got better things to do than argue with you.”
    Before Gao Ma could protest, a hunched-over, middle-aged man walked into the room. His wan complexion contrasted sharply with his purple lips; he looked like a man at death’s door. Gao Ma stepped aside and watched him take a bottle of liquor and some canned fish out of a black imitation-leather bag and set them on the table. “Eighth Uncle,” he said, “what’s this I hear about an incident involving the Fang family?”
    Not deigning to respond to his nephew’s comment, the deputy got off his sofa and touched Gao Ma’s head. “What happened here?” he asked playfully.
    The skin around the wound grew taut, and shooting pains nearly made Gao Ma cry out. There was a ringing in his ears. In a shrill, tinny voice, he said, “I fell … banged my head.”
    “Because somebody hit you?” the deputy asked with a knowing smile.
    “No.”
    ‘ “The Fang boys are a couple of useless turds,” the deputy continued, no longer smiling. “If it had been me,” he said spitefully, “I’d have broken your damned legs and let you crawl home!”
    The deputy sprayed Gao Ma with spittle, which he wiped off with his sleeve as the man shoved him out the door and slammed it shut after him. Gao Ma hopped awkwardly on the cement steps, trying to keep his balance, so lightheaded he had to lean against the wall to keep the world from spinning. When the faintness finally eased up a bit, he gazed at the green gate; like the opening of a crack in a paste head, his consciousness returned slowly. Something warm and wet slithered into his nasal cavities, then continued down his face. He tried but couldn’t hold it back; whatever it was spurted out of his nostrils and entered his mouth. It had a salty, rank taste; and when he lowered his head, he watched the bright red liquid drip onto the pale cement steps.

4.

    Gao Ma lay dazed on his kang, with no idea how long he had been there or how he had gotten home from the township compound; in fact, all he could recall was fresh blood dripping silently from his nose onto the steps.
    Little red pearl drops splashing like fragile cherries—shattering, splashing … The sight of those fracturing red pearls comforted Gao Ma. They linked into a string; all the heat in his body was concentrated in one spot, gushing out through his nostrils until a pool of blood formed on the steps. The tip of his tongue, already familiar with the cloying taste, touched his chilled lips, and another crack opened up in his brain; the chestnut colt stood in the township compound before the green gate, where yellow