Big Breasts and Wide Hips by Mo Yan
A detachment of guards came down the lane escorting Sima Ku, Babbitt, and Niandi. Sima Ku’s hands were tied behind his back with rope; Babbitt’s were tied in front of him; Niandi’s were free. When they passed by our house, Sima Ku walked up to the door. A guard blocked his way. Sima Ku spat at him and shouted, “Get out of my way, I’m going in to say good-bye to my family.” Cupping his hands in front of his mouth, Lu Liren trumpeted down the lane, “Commander Sima, there’s no need for that. They’re all right here.” As if he hadn’t heard, Sima hunched his shoulders and, followed by Babbitt and Niandi, forced his way into the yard, where the three of them dawdled a while. Lu Liren kept looking at his watch, as the escort troops on the other side of the river waved a red banner back and forth. The signalman on this side waved his in response.
Finally, Sima Ku and his companions walked out of the yard and made their way up the dike. “Ready the raft!” Lu Liren ordered. A dozen or so soldiers responded by pushing the raft out into the roiling river. It bobbed to the surface and was turned parallel to the bank by the current. The soldiers held tightly to the rope handles to keep it from setting off downriver.
“Commander Sima, Mr. Babbitt,” Lu Liren said, “we’re a benevolent army. Humanity is our guiding principle, which is why I’ve permitted your family to see you off. Please be quick about it.”
Sima Ku, Babbitt, and Niandi walked over to where we were standing. Sima was smiling; Babbitt looked worried. Niandi was in a somber mood, looking like a martyr, unafraid to die. “Sixth Sister,” Lu Liren said softly, “you may stay behind.” But Niandi shook her head, determined to follow her husband.
Mother took the cloth covering off of her basket, and Zaohua handed her a peeled scallion, which she broke in half and stuffed into a flatcake. Then she took a jar of bean paste from her basket and handed it to Sima Liang. “Hold it,” she said. He took it and stood there staring at her. “Don’t stare at me,” she said, “look at your father.” Sima Liang’s gaze flew over to the face of Sima Ku, who looked down at his husky, dark-skinned son. A cloud of worry had settled on his face, something we hardly ever saw. His shoulder twitched. Was he going to reach down to touch his son? Sima Liang’s lips parted. “Dad,” he said softly. Sima Ku’s yellow eyes seemed to spin; he forced back tears and swallowed them. “Don’t forget, son,” he said, “that no member of the Sima family has ever died in bed. I don’t expect you to, either.” “Dad, are they going to shoot you?” Sima Ku gazed at the murky river out of the corner of his eye. “Your father failed because he was too soft, too kind. So don’t you forget that if you’re going to be a bad man, you must kill without mercy, and if you’re going to be a good man, you’ll always have to walk with your head bowed to keep from stepping on ants. The one thing you must never become is a bat, neither bird nor beast. Can you remember that?” Biting his lip, Sima Liang nodded.
Mother handed a scallion-stuffed flatcake to Laidi, who merely stared back at her. “Feed it to him!” Blushing shyly, Laidi had obviously forgotten her mad passion of three days before; the shy look on her face proved that. Mother looked first at her, then at Sima Ku. Her eyes were like a golden thread that drew Laidi and Sima Ku’s gaze together. Their looks spoke volumes. Laidi took off her black robe, under which she was wearing a purple jacket, purple-bordered pants, and purple cloth slippers. Her figure was graceful, her face thin and lovely. Sima Ku had harnessed her passion, but in doing so had created in her a sense of lovesickness. She was still a beautiful woman, well versed in coquettish-ness, an attractive widow. As he stared at her, he said, “Take good care of yourself.” Laidi responded with a strange comment: “You’re a diamond, he’s a piece of rotten wood.” She walked up to him, dipped the scallion-stuffed flatcake into the yellow paste Sima Liang was holding, and twisted it neatly in the air to keep the paste from dripping to the ground. She then held it up to Sima Ku’s mouth. He threw back his head and then lowered it to take a savage bite of the flatcake, which he chewed with difficulty, making loud crunching noises. His cheeks swelled; a pair of large tears seeped from his eyes. He stretched his neck to swallow, sniffled loudly, and said, “Those scallions have a real bite!”
Mother handed me one of the flatcakes and another to Eighth Sister. “Jintong,” she said, “feed it to Sixth Brother-in-law. Yunii, feed yours to Sixth Sister.” As Laidi had done before me, I dipped the cake in the yellow paste and put it up next to Babbitt’s mouth. His twisted lips parted as he bit off a tiny piece. Tears ran from his blue eyes. He bent down, placed his dirty lips on my forehead, and kissed me loudly. Then he walked over to Mother; I thought he was going to hug her, but since his hands were tied, all he could do was bend down and touch his lips to her forehead like a goat nibbling a tree. ‘Til never forget you, Mama,” he said.
Eighth Sister groped her way over to Sima Liang, reached out and dipped her flatcake in the bean paste, with Sima Liang’s help. Holding it up in two hands, she raised her face. Her forehead looked like a crab’s shell, her eyes were two deep, dark wells, her nose was straight and her mouth was wide, with tender lips like rose petals. My eighth sister, whom I’d always taken advantage of, was truly a pitiful little lamb. “Sixth Sister,” she chirped, “Sixth Sister, this is for you.”
As tears filled her eyes, Sixth Sister picked up Eighth Sister. “My poor, ill-fated little sister,” she sobbed.
Sima Ku finished his flatcake.
All this time, Lu Liren was gazing at the river out of the corner of his eye. Now he turned and said, “It’s time to board the raft.”
“Not yet,” Sima Ku said. “I’m still hungry. In olden days, when the court was about to execute a criminal, they made sure he’d eaten his fill first. You people of the 16th Regiment call yourselves a benevolent army, so the least you can do is allow me to fill up on scallion-stuffed flatcakes, especially since our mother-in-law made them with her own hands.”
Lu Liren looked at his watch. “All right,” he said, “go ahead and stuff yourself while we ferry Babbitt across the river.”
The mute and six of his soldiers picked up their wooden spades and jumped gingerly onto the raft, which rocked in the water and twisted to one side as the waterline dipped below the surface and sheets of water spilled over the sides. Two soldiers with loosened leggings leaned back to bring the raft under control. Lu Liren was worried. “Old-timer,” he said to Zunlong, “will it take two more?” “No, have two of the men with oars get off.” “Baldy Han, Pan Yongwang, you two come back.” Holding their wooden spades, they jumped off the raft, which rocked so severely that some of the soldiers nearly fell into the river. The mute, clad only in his underwear, growled, “Strip! Strip! Strip!” After that day, no one ever heard another Gr-ao from him again.
“Okay?” Lu Liren asked Zunlong. “Yes,” he said as he took the spade out of one of the soldier’s hands. “Yours is a benevolent army, and you’ve earned my respect. In the tenth year of the Republic I ferried a senator across the river. If you won’t take offense, I’d be honored to serve you, even as a pack animal.”
“Old man,” Lu Liren said, clearly touched, “that’s what I had in mind, but was too embarrassed to ask. With you at the helm, I know this raft is in good hands. Who’s got liquor?”
An orderly ran up and handed Lu Liren a dented metal canteen. He unscrewed the top and held the canteen up to his nose. “Authentic sorghum liquor,” he said. “Old man, I offer you a drink on behalf of my superiors.” He handed the canteen to Zunlong with both hands. Stirred by this honor, Zunlong rubbed some of the mud off his hands before accepting the canteen and taking ten or more deep swallows before handing it back to Lu Liren. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as a redness moved from his face down to his neck, and from there to his chest. “I’ve drunk your liquor, sir, which links our hearts together.” With a smile, Lu Liren said, “Why stop at our hearts? Our livers are linked, and our lungs, even our intestines.” Tears seemed to spurt from Zunlong’s eyes as he leaped onto the raft, getting an immediate foothold at th
Babbitt looked over at us, saying good-bye with his eyes before turning and jumping onto the raft. This time it rocked heavily, and he swayed with it. Zunlong reached out to steady him from behind with his spade.
Following Babbitt’s lead, Niandi bent down and kissed me clumsily on the forehead, then did the same to Eighth Sister, running her thin fingers through Eighth Sister’s soft, flax-colored hair. “My poor little sister,” she said with a sigh. “I hope the old man above has a good life planned for you.” She then nodded to Mother and the children lined up behind her, and turned to board the raft. “Sixth Sister, there’s no need for you to go,” Lu Liren reminded her, to which she responded mildly, “Fifth Brother-in-law, there’s a popular saying that a steelyard’s sliding weight doesn’t leave its arm, and a good man doesn’t leave his wife. You and Fifth Sister were inseparable, weren’t you?” “I just want what’s best for you,” Lu Liren said. “So Fll do as you wish. You may board the raft.”
Two of his guards picked up Niandi by the arms and placed her on the raft. Babbitt reached out to steady her.
The raft was sitting low and uneven in the water; parts were completely submerged, others were an inch or so above the surface. Zunlong said to Lu Liren, “Commander Lu, it’s best if my guests are seated. That goes for the men with the oars too.” So Lu Liren gave the order: “Sit down, all of you. Mr. Babbitt, for your own safety, please sit down.”
Babbitt sat down on the raft — more accurately, he sat down in the water. Niandi sat down across from him, also in the water.
The mute and five of his soldiers sat down, three on each side of the raft. Zunlong was the only person standing, feet planted firmly at the rear of the raft.
The little red flag continued to wave on the opposite bank. “Send a signal,” Lu Liren said to the signalman, “so they’ll be ready to receive the prisoners.”
The man took out his stubby pistol and fired three flares into the sky above the opposite bank, where the red flag stopped waving and a bunch of little black men began running around on the silvery surface of the river.
Lu Liren looked at his watch. “Launch the raft!”
The two soldiers loosened their grip on the ropes, as Zunlong pushed off with his spade and the soldiers began swishing their spades in the water. The raft eased out into the river and quickly turned sideways as the current dragged it downriver. As if flying a kite, the two soldiers on the dike fed out as much of the ropes as they could.
On the opposite bank the men stared anxiously at the raft. Lu Liren took off his glasses and gave them a quick wipe with his sleeve; he had a faraway look in his eyes, which were circled with white rims, like one of those birds that feed on loaches. He draped the cords that served as shafts for his eyeglasses over his ears, which had already been rubbed raw. Out on the river, the raft turned sideways; lacking experience in raft navigation, the soldiers wielded their spades this way and that, sending murky water splashing onto the raft and soaking the clothing of everybody aboard. Babbitt, his hands still bound, cried out fearfully; Sixth Sister held on to him for dear life. From where he stood at the rear, Zunlong shouted, “Easy there, men, easy. Stop flailing like that, work together, that’s the key!” Lu Liren fired a couple of shots in the air, and the soldiers’ heads jerked up. “Follow Zunlong’s cadence, work together!” Zunlong said. “Easy there, men, on my count: one-two, one-two, one-two, nice and easy, one-two
The raft eased out into the middle of the river and spurted downstream. Babbitt and Sixth Sister let the waves wash over them. The two soldiers holding the ropes shouted, “Commander, there’s no more rope to let out!” By then, the raft was a good hundred yards downstream, and the rope was taut as a wire. The soldiers wrapped the ends around their arms; the ropes bit deeply into their flesh. They were leaning so far backward they were nearly lying down, and their heels began to slip in the mud; they were suddenly in danger of being dragged down into the water. They screamed as the raft began to tip to one side. “Hurry up, start running!” Lu Liren shouted. “Run, I said, you bastards!” Stumbling at first, the two soldiers took off running, as the men at the foot of the dike scrambled to get out of the way. A bit of slack opened up, and the raft recommenced its rapid descent downstream. Zunlong kept shouting his cadence, as the soldiers on the sides bent at the waist and rowed with all their might, their movements gradually coming together, so that as the raft continued downstream, it also moved closer to the opposite bank.
A moment earlier, when the raft was in danger of tipping over, and all eyes were on the river, Sima Liang had put down his bowl and said softly, “Dad, turn around.” Sima Ku, who was still chewing his flatcake, turned to face the river. Sima Liang ran up behind him, took out a little bone-handled knife — the one Babbitt had given to me — and began cutting the rope that bound his father’s hands, concentrating on the part closest to his body, and not all the way through. While he worked on the rope, Mother prayed loudly, “Dear Lord, show us Thy mercy and see my daughter and son-in-law safely across the river, dear merciful Lord.” I heard Sima Liang whisper, “You can break the rope now, Dad.” He then turned, quickly slipped the knife back into his pocket, and picked the bowl up again. Laidi continued feeding Sima Ku. Meanwhile, the raft, which was now several hundred yards downstream, eased up to the opposite bank.
Lu Liren walked over and glanced scornfully at Sima Ku. “You’ve got quite an appetite.”
Sima Ku muttered as he chewed, “My mother-in-law made them with her own hands and my sister-in-law is feeding me, so why wouldn’t I eat? I’ll never have another chance to eat this much food and in this manner again. How about some paste?”
Laidi squeezed the tip of the scallion out beyond the edge of the flatcake and dipped it in the bowl of paste Sima Liang was holding, then held it up to Sima Ku’s mouth. He took an exaggerated bite and chewed hungrily.
Lu Liren shook his head scornfully and walked over to where we were standing. Mother picked up Shengli and held her in his arms. The baby cried and fought to get free; Lu Liren backed up awkwardly. “Brother Sima,” he said, “I envy you, but I can’t be like you.”
Sima Ku swallowed the food in his mouth. “That’s an insult, Commander Lu. You’re the victor, which makes you king. You’re the cleaver and I’m the meat. You can slice me up or chop me to pieces, and still you mock me.”
“I’m not mocking you,” Lu Liren said. “The truth is, when you get to headquarters, you’ll have a chance to atone for your crimes. But if resistance is all you can manage, I’m afraid you won’t like the outcome.”
“I’ve lived a good life, with plenty of good food and good times, and I’m ready to die. But I’ll have to leave my children in your hands.”
“You can rest easy on that score,” Lu Liren said. “If not for the war, you and I would be proper relatives.”
“You’re an intellectual,” Sima Ku said, “and what you say sounds almost sacred. But being relatives like that can only come from sleeping with certain women.” He laughed, yet I noticed that his arms didn’t move.
The soldiers holding the ropes returned. On the opposite bank, the oarsmen-soldiers and the prisoner escorts were hauling the raft back upstream. After they’d gone some distance, they began rowing back toward us. This time they made good speed, now that they’d had practice, and were better coordinated with the two soldiers on this side. They sped across the river.
“Brother Sima,” Lu Liren said, “mealtime’s almost over.”
Sima Ku belched. “That’s enough for me. Thanks, Mother-in-law. You too, Sister-in-law an
Little Uncle, grow up good and strong. You were your second sister’s favorite. She often said that Jintong is going to be someone special someday, so show us she was right.”
My nose began to ache out of sadness.
The raft nudged up to the bank; the head of the prisoner escort team, a confident-looking man, was seated in the middle. He jumped ashore and saluted Lu Liren, who returned the salute. They shook hands like old friends.
“Old Lu,” the man said, “you fought well. Commander Yu is delighted, and Commissar Song knows all about it.” He took a letter out of the leather pouch at his belt and handed it to Lu Liren, who took it and tossed a silver pistol into the man’s pouch. “Here’s a war trophy for little Lan.” “I thank you for her,” the man said. Lu Liren then said, “Hand it over.” The man froze. “Hand what over?” “The receipt for the prisoners.” The man fished around in his pouch for pen and paper and wrote out a hurried receipt, which he handed to Lu. “You’re very meticulous,” he said. Lu Liren laughed. “No matter how clever the trickster monkey is, he can’t outwit the Buddha.” “Then I must be the trickster monkey,” the man said. “No, I am,” Lu replied. They slapped hands and laughed. Then the man said softly, “Old Lu, I hear you got your hands on a movie projector. Headquarters knows about that too.” “You folks have long ears,” Lu said. “When you go back, tell your superiors we’ll send it over with a projectionist once the flood-waters subside.”