Big Breasts and Wide Hips by Mo Yan
“Uncle — Little Uncle —!”
“Uncle — Little Uncle —!”
Shouts from Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua — one low, the other high — rose from behind the patch of castor plants. I opened my mouth to answer them, only to have it fill up with piss. My assailants hurriedly put away their hoses, pulled up their pants, and vanished into the castor patch.
Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua stood by the footbridge, calling out blindly, like Yunii often did. Their shouts hung above the field for a long time, filling my heart with sadness and stopping up my throat. I struggled to my feet, but before I’d managed to straighten up, I fell on my face. I heard Zaohua call out excitedly, “There he is!”
Together they lifted me up by my arms; I was as unsteady as one of those knock-over dolls. When Zaohua got a good look at my face, her mouth cracked open and — wah — she began to bawl. Sima Liang reached down to feel my backside — I yelped in pain. He looked at his hand, red with blood and green from the mulberry switches. His teeth chattered. “Little Uncle, who did this to you?” “They did …” “Who are they?” “Wu Yunyu, Wei Yangjiao, Ding Jingou, and Guo Qiusheng.” “Let’s go home, Little Uncle,” he said. “Grandma’s worried half to death. You out there, Wu Wei Ding Guo, you four bastards, I want you to listen and listen good. You may be able to hide today, but not tomorrow; you might get past the first of the month, but not the fifteenth. You touch another hair of my little uncle, and they’ll be hoisting a flagpole at your house!”
Sima Liang’s shouts still hung in the air when Wu, Wei, Ding, and Guo jumped out of the field of castor plants, laughing loudly. “Well, I’ll be damned. Where did this runt with all the big talk come from? Isn’t he afraid of losing his tongue?” They picked up their mulberry switches and, like a pack of dogs, charged us. “Zaohua, you take care of Little Uncle,” Sima Liang shouted as he pushed me away and rushed to meet the charge of the attackers, all bigger than him. They were shocked by this fearless, almost suicidal charge, and before they could raise the switches, Sima Liang drove his head into the belly of cruel, foul-mouthed Wei Yangjiao, who bent over double and fell to the ground, where he curled up into a ball, like an injured hedgehog. The other three attackers brought their switches down on Sima Liang, who protected his head with his arms and took off running, with them hot on his heels. Compared to the weakling Shangguan Jintong, the little wolf Sima Liang was a more interesting specimen. They shouted excitedly — the chase was on, the battle was launched on the lethargic grassland. If Sima Liang was a little wolf, Wu, Guo, and Ding were massive and savage but very clumsy mongrels. Wei Yangjiao was a hybrid — half wolf and half mongrel — so he had been Sima Liang’s first target. Knocking him out of commission removed the leader of the pack. Sima ran fast for a while, then slowed down, using a tactic designed to deal with zombies, changing directions often to keep them from catching up to him. Several times they lost their footing when they had to change direction. The knee-high grass parted and closed back up as they passed through it, scaring tiny wild rabbits out of their burrows; one couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, and was squashed under Wu Yunyu’s heavy foot. Sima Liang did more than merely run; every once in a while he turned and charged his pursuers. By zigging and zagging, he’d open up enough distance between them that he could turn and make a lightning attack on one. He picked up a dirt clod and flung it in Ding Jingou’s face; he took a bite out of Wu Yunyu’s neck; and he employed the Cross-eyed Beauty tactic against Guo Qiusheng, grabbing the object hanging between his legs and pulling it hard. All three bullies were wounded, but Sima Liang had received plenty of blows to the head in the process. They were slowing down. Sima Liang retreated to the footbridge. His pursuers formed up ranks; they were gasping for breath, spittle flying like an old bellows, as they cautiously took out after him as a group again — by then, Wei Yangjiao had caught his breath and rejoined his pals. He was like a cat on the prowl. Bending down low, he began to crawl, feeling his way with his hands, his bone-handled knife lying coldly on the ground. “You motherfucker! Bastard son of a restitution corps landlord! I’ll kill you or know the reason why!” He cursed softly as he groped along; the white moths of his crossed eyeballs hopping around like hatching eggs. Seeing her chance, Sha Zaohua bounded over like a leaping deer, picked the knife up off the ground, and held it out to me in both hands. Wei Yangjiao stood up and reached out his hand. “Hand it over, you seed of a traitor!” he growled threateningly. Saying nothing, Zaohua backed into me as she shrank from Wei Yangjiao, never taking her eyes off his callused paws. Several times he lunged forward, but quickly backed off at knifepoint. By then, Sima Liang had retreated all the way to the footbridge. “Wei Yangjiao, you fucking asshole!” Wu Yunyu swore loudly. “Come over here and kill this bastard son of a restitution corps landlord! Get your ass over here!” Wei Yangjiao hissed at Zaohua, “I’ll be back to take care of you!” He tried to pull up a castor plant to use as a weapon, but it was too thick, so he just broke off one of its branches and, waving it in the air, charged the footbridge.
Zaohua stuck close to protect me as we staggered up to the narrow footbridge. Water in the ditch flowed rapidly below, as schools of tiny carp were swept along. Some leaped over the bridge, others landed on it and flopped around angrily, their sleek bodies arching in the air. My crotch felt sticky, and everywhere else I’d been beaten — back, buttocks, calves, neck — felt as if it were on fire. A sweet yet bitter flavor, like rusty iron, filled my heart; with each step I took, my body rocked and a moan escaped between my lips. My arm was draped across Sha Zaohua’s bony shoulder, and although I tried to straighten up to lessen the pressure on her, I couldn’t do it.
Sima Liang was loping down the path to the village. Whenever his pursuers got a bit too close, he sped up, and when they slowed down, so did he. He maintained a distance close enough to keep them interested, but not so close that they could catch him. Mist rose from the fields on both sides of the path, dyed red from the setting sun; frogs filled the ditches with dull croaks. Wei Yangjiao whispered something to Wu Yunyu, after which the three of them split up. Wei and Ding crossed the ditch and ran to opposite ends of the field. Wu and Guo continued the chase, but at a leisurely pace. “Sima Liang,” they shouted, “Sima Liang, a true warrior doesn’t run away. Stay where you are if you’ve got the balls, and let’s do battle.”
“Run, big brother,” Sha Zaohua shouted. “Don’t let them trick you!”
“You little bitch!” said Wu Yunyu, as he turned and shook his fist at her. “I’ll beat the shit out of you!”
Sha Zaohua stepped in front of me and held out the knife. “Come on,” she said bravely. “I’m not afraid of you!”
As Wu pressed up closer, Zaohua kept pushing me back with her rear end. Sima Liang came up and called out, “Scabby head, if you so much as touch her, I swear I’ll poison that stinky bean-curd-peddling old lady of yours!”
“Run, big brother!” Sha Zaohua screamed. “Those two mongrels, Wei and Ding, have circled around behind you.”
Sima Liang stopped in his tracks, not knowing if he should advance or retreat. Maybe he stopped for a reason, since both Wu Yunyu and Guo Qiusheng also stopped. Meanwhile, Wei Yangjiao and Ding Jingou emerged from the field, crossed the ditch, and were crawling along the path. Sima Liang stood there looking very much at ease, wiping his sweaty forehead. That was when I heard Mother’s shouts coming on the wind from the village. Sima Liang jumped down into the ditch and ran down a narrow path dividing the two crops — sorghum and corn. “Okay, men,” Wei Yangjiao shouted excitedly, “let’s get him!” Like a flock of ducks, into the ditch they went, slogging in pursuit of their prey. Leaves of the sorghum and corn stalks hid the path from view, so we had to rely on the rustling sounds and barking shouts to follow their progress. “You wait here for Grandma, Little Uncle, while I go help Brother Liang.” “Zaohua,” I said, “I’m scared.” “Don’t be, Little Uncle. Grandma will be here in a minute. Grandma!” she shouted. “They’re going to kill Brother Lia
Zaohua bravely jumped down into the ditch; the water came up to her chest. She splashed, creating green ripples, and I was worried she might drown. But she climbed up the other side, knife in hand, her skinny legs getting bogged down in the mud. She left her shoes behind as she turned onto the narrow path and disappeared from sight.
Like an old cow protecting its young, Mother ran up, rocking from side to side, and by the time she reached me, she was out of breath. Her hair was like golden threads, her face was coated with a warm yellow sheen. “Mother —” I shouted. Tears gushed from my eyes. I didn’t think I could stand any longer. I stumbled forward and tumbled into Mother’s hot, moist bosom.
“My son,” Mother said through her tears, “who did this to you?”
“Wu Yunyu, and Wei Yangjiao …” I was sobbing.
“That bunch of thugs!” Mother said through clenched teeth. “Where did they go?”
“They’re chasing Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua!” I pointed out the
path.
Clouds of mist poured from the path; a wild animal called out from deep in the mysterious path; from farther away came the sounds of fighting and shrieks from Zaohua.
Mother looked back toward the village, which was already cloaked in heavy mist. Taking me by the hand, she decided to go down into the ditch, where the water was warm as axle grease as it rushed up through my pant legs. Mother’s heavy frame and tiny feet made the going hard in all that mud. But by clinging to weeds on the side, she managed to make it to ground level.
Still holding my hand, she then turned onto the narrow path. We had to walk at a crouch to keep the sharp edges of the leaves from scratching our faces and our eyes. Creepers and wild grass nearly covered the path, the sharp nettles pricking the soles of my feet. I moaned sorrowfully. Having soaked in the water, my wounds hurt like hell, and the only thing that kept me from crumpling to the ground was Mother’s iron grip on my arm. The light was fading, and the strange beasts out in the deep, serene, and seemingly endless croplands around us were stirring. Their eyes were green, their tongues bright red. Snorts emerged from their pointy noses, and I had this vague feeling that I was about to enter Hell; could that person clutching my hand, panting like an ox, and charging ahead single-mindedly really be my mother? Or was it a demon that had taken her form and was leading me down to the depths of Hell? I tried jerking my hand out of the painful grip, but all that accomplished was that she held it tighter than ever.
At last the frightful path opened out into light. To the south the sorghum field, like a boundless dark forest; to the north a wasteland. The sun was about to set, and the crickets on the vacant land raised a chorus of chirps. An abandoned brick kiln welcomed us with its fiery redness. Behind several piles of unfired bricks, Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua were engaged in a fierce guerrilla war with the four bullies. Each side was dug in behind a row of adobe bricks, which they threw at their enemy. Since they were smaller and weaker, Sima Liang and Zaohua were at a disadvantage, barely able to throw the missiles with their skinny arms. Wu Yunyu and his three buddies were flinging so many pieces of broken brick that Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua didn’t dare poke their heads over the top of their pile.
“Stop it right now!” Mother screamed. “You bullying bunch of swine!”
Caught up in the intoxication of battle, the four assailants paid no attention to Mother’s angry outburst. They kept hurling missiles, all the while sneaking around their pile of bricks to outflank Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua. Pulling the girl along with him, Sima darted over to the abandoned kiln. A piece of tile hit Zaohua in the head. She staggered with a yelp of pain and seemed about to fall. The knife was still in her hand. Sima Liang picked up a couple of bricks, jumped into the open, and flung them at the enemy, who quickly took cover. Mother put me down in the sorghum field, hidden from view, spread out her arms, and charged the battlefield, moving as if she were performing a rice-sprout dance. Her shoes stuck in the mud, exposing her pitifully small feet; her heels left holes in the mud from which water seeped.
Sima Liang and Zaohua showed themselves at the end of the wall of bricks. Hand in hand, they half ran, half stumbled in the direction of the kiln. By then the blood-red moon had already climbed quietly into the sky; Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua’s purple shadows spread out across the ground. The four bullies’ shadows stretched out far longer. Zaohua was slowing Sima Liang down, and when they reached the open ground in front of the kiln, a brick hurled by Wei Yangjiao knocked Sima Liang to the ground. Zaohua ran straight at Wei with the knife, but missed when he sidestepped the attack; Wu Yunyu came up and kicked her to the ground.
“Stop right there!” Mother shouted.
Like vultures spreading their wings, the four attackers bared their arms and began kicking Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua, over and over again. She cried out piteously; he didn’t make a sound. They rolled on the ground, trying to avoid the feet of the attackers, who, in the moonlight, seemed caught up in a strange dance.
Mother stumbled and fell, but got stubbornly back to her feet and grabbed the shoulder of Wei Yangjiao and wouldn’t let go. Known for being sinister and cunning, he drove his elbows back into her, catching her on both breasts. With a loud yelp, she backed off, lost her balance, and sat down hard on the ground. I threw myself down on the ground and buried my face in the mud; it seemed to me that black blood was gushing from my eyes.
And still they kicked Sima Liang and Zaohua in an explosion of savage fury. At that moment, a hulking figure with a mass of unkempt hair, an unruly beard, a face covered with soot, and dressed all in black emerged from the kiln. His movements were stiff as he crawled out and got clumsily to his feet; raising a fist that seemed as big as a pile driver, he swung at Wu Yunyu and shattered his collarbone. This onetime hero sat on the ground and cried like a baby. The other three hardy souls stopped dead. “It’s Sima Ku!” Wei Yangjiao shouted in alarm. He turned to run away, but when he heard the angry roar from Sima Ku, like an explosion out of the earth, he and the others froze in their tracks. Sima Ku raised his fist again; this time it crunched into Ding Jingou’s eye. The next punch drove the bile up and out of Guo Qiu-sheng’s mouth. Before the next punch was launched, Wei Yangjiao fell to his knees and began banging his head on the ground, kowtowing and begging for his life: “Spare me, old master, spare me! Those three forced me to join in. They said they’d beat me up if I didn’t, knock the teeth right out of my mouth … please, old master, spare me …” Sima Ku hesitated for just a moment before delivering a kick that sent Wei Yangjiao rolling backward. He scrambled to his feet and ran off like a frightened jackrabbit. It didn’t take long for his barking voice to break the silence over the road leading to the village: “Go catch Sima Ku — the leader of the restoration corps landlords, Sima Ku, is back — go catch him —”
Sima Ku helped Sima Liang and Sha Zaohua to their feet, then did the same for Mother.
Mother’s voice quaked. “Are you human or are you a ghost?”
“Mother-in-law —” Sima Ku sobbed, but didn’t go on.
“Dad, is it really you?” Sima Liang blurted out.
“Son,” Sima Ku replied, “I’m proud of you.”
Sima Ku turned back to Mother. “Who’s left at home?”
“Don’t ask any questions,” Mother said anxiously. “You must get away from here.”
The frantic beating of a gong and crisp rifle fire came from the village.
Sima grabbed hold of Wu Yunyu and said, slowly so there’d be no misunderstanding, “You piece of shit, you tell that bunch of turtles in the village that if anyone lays a hand on any relative of mine, I, Sima Ku, will personally wipe his family off the face of the earth! Do you understand me?”
“I understand,” Wu Yunyu said eagerly. “I understand.”
Sima Ku released his grip and let Wu fall back onto the ground.
“Hurry, go on now!” Mother slapped the ground with her hand to get him moving.
“Be a good boy,” Sima Ku said, “and go with your grandma.”
“Please, Dad, take me with you.”
“Liang,” Mother said, “don’t get in your father’s way. He has to get out of here.”
Sima Ku knelt in front of Mother and kowtowed. “Mother,” he said sorrowfully, “the boy is going to have to stay with you. Since I could never repay the debt I owe you in this lifetime, you’ll have to wait till my next lifetime!”
“I failed the two girls, Feng and Huang,” Mother replied tearfully. “Please don’t hate me.”
“It wasn’t your fault. And I’ve already exacted vengeance.”
“Go on, then, go on. Run fast and fly far. All vengeance does is lead to more of the same.”
Sima Ku got to his feet and ran back into the kiln. He reemerged a moment later wearing a straw rain cape and carrying a machine gun; shiny ammunition clips hung from his belt. In a flash, he vanished into the sorghum field, making the stalks rustle loudly. Mother called out after him: