Introduction
Introduction
No writer in recent memory has contributed more to the imagination of historical space inChina or a reevaluation of Chinese society, past and present, than Mo Yan, whose RedSorghum changed the literary landscape when it was published in 1987, 1 and was the firstChinese film to reap critical and box-office rewards in the West. 2 In the process of probingChina’s myths, official and popular, and some of the darker corners of Chinese society, MoYan has become the most controversial writer in China; loved by readers in many countries,he is the bane of China’s official establishment, which has stopped the sale of more than oneof his novels, only to relent when they are acclaimed outside the countryBorn in 1955 into a peasant family in northern China, where a hardscrabble existence wasthe norm, Mo Yan received little formal schooling before being sent out into the fields to tendlivestock and then into factories during the disastrous decade of the Cultural Revolution(1966-1976). His hometown, in quasi-fictional Northeast Gaomi County, is the setting forvirtually all his novels; the stories he heard as a child from his grandfather and other relativesstoked his fertile imagination, and have found an outlet in a series of big, lusty, and alwayscontroversial novels, the earliest of which, in a delicious quirk of irony, were written whileMo Yan was serving as an officer in the People’s Liberation Army.
Mo Yan styles himself as a writer of realist, often historical fiction, which is certainly true,as far as it goes. Like the Latin American creators of magic realism (whose works Mo Yanhas read and enjoyed, but, he insists, have exerted no influence on his own writing), hestretches the boundaries of “realism” and “historicism” in new, and frequently maligned,directions. Official histories and recorded “facts” are of little interest to this writer, whoroutinely blends folk beliefs, bizarre animal imagery, and a variety of imaginative narrativetechniques with historical realities — national and local, official and popular — to createunique and uniquely satisfying literature, writing of such universally engaging themes andvisceral imagery that it easily crosses national borders.
Following the success of Red Sorghum, a fictional autobiography of three generations ofGaomi Township freedom fighters during the War of Resistance against Japan (1937-1945),Mo Yan wrote (in less than a month) a political, if not polemical, novel in the wake of a 1987incident that pitted impoverished garlic farmers against the mendacity of corrupt officials.
And yet the unmistakable rage that permeates the pages of The Garlic Ballads (1988; 1995) istempered by traces of satire, which will blossom in later works, and a lacerating parody ofofficial discourse. Viewed by the government as likely to stir up emotions during the vastpopular demonstrations in 1989 that led to the Tiananmen massacre, the novel was pulledfrom the shelves for several months. That the peasant uprising was crushed, both in the realworld and in Mo Yan’s novel, surely gave the leaders of China little comfort as they facedstudents, workers, and ordinary citizens in the square where a million frenzied citizens oncehailed the vision of Chairman Mao.
Mo Yan’s next offering was Thirteen Steps (1989), a heavily sardonic novel whose insane,caged protagonist begs for chalk from his listeners to write out a series of bizarre tales andmiraculous happenings; in the process, the reader is caught up in the role of mediator. Innarrative terms, it is a tour de force, a tortuous journey into the mind of contemporary China.
In a speech given at Denver’s The Tattered Cover bookstore in 2000, Mo Yan made thefollowing claim: U I can boast that while many contemporary Chinese writers can producegood books of their own, no one but me could write a novel like The Republic of Wine”
(1992; 2000). 3 Compared by critics to the likes of Lawrence Stern’s Tristram Shandy, 4 thisSwiftian satire chronicles the adventures of a government detective who is sent out toinvestigate claims that residents of a certain provincial city are raising children for food, inorder to satisfy the jaded palates of local officials. The narrative, interrupted by increasinglyoutlandish short stories by one of the novel’s least sympathetic characters, graduallyincorporates “Mo Yan” into its unfolding drama, until all the disparate story lines merge in adarkly carnivalesque ending. Indeed, no other contemporary novelist could have written thissatirical masterpiece, and few could have gotten away with such blatant attacks on China’slove affair with exotic foods and predilection for excessive consumption, not to mentionegregious exploitation of the peasantry.
As the new millennium approached, Mo Yan once again undertook to inscribe hisidiosyncratic interpretation of China’s modern history, this time incorporating nearly all of thetwentieth century, a bloody century in China by any standard. Had he been a writer of lesserrenown, one bereft of the standing, talent, and international visibility that served as aprotective shield, he might well not have been able to withstand the withering criticism thatfollowed the 1996 publication of his biggest novel to date (nearly a half million words in theoriginal version, a “book as thick as a brick,” in his own words), Big Breasts and Wide Hips.
This novel, with its eroticism and, in the eyes of some, inaccurate portrayal of modernChina’s political landscape, would have sparked considerable controversy had it simplyappeared in the bookstores. But when, after its serialized publication (1995) in a major literarymagazine, Dajia, it was awarded the first Dajia Prize of 100,000 renminbi (roughly $12,000),the outcry from conservative critics was immediate and shrill. The judges for thisnongovernmental prize had the following to say about a novel that its supporters have called a“somber historical epic”:
Big Breasts and Wide Hips is a sumptuous literary feast with a simple, straightforward title. In it, withundaunted perseverance and passion, Mo Yan has narrated the historical evolution of Chinese society in awork that covers nearly the entire twentieth century…. It is a literary masterpiece in the author’s distinctivestyle.
The judges took note of the author’s skillful alternation of first-and third-person narrationand his use of flashback and other deft writing techniques. As for the arresting title, Mo Yanwrote in a 1995 essay that the “creative urge came from his deep admiration for his motherand … the inspiration [for] the title was derived from his experience of seeing an ancientstone sculpture of a female figure with protruding breasts and buttocks.” 5 That did not still hiscritics, for whom concerns over his evocation of the female anatomy were of lesserconsequence than his treatment of China’s modern history.
While the novel opens on the eve of the Sino-Japanese War (1936), with the birth of thecentral male character, Shangguan Jintong, and his twin sister, the narration actually begins intime (chapter 2) at the turn of the century, in the wake of the failed Boxer Rebellion, in whichtroops from eight foreign nations crushed an indigenous, anti-foreign rebellion and solidifiedtheir presence in China. As in Mo Yan’s earlier novel, Red Sorghum, the central, and in manyways defining, events occur during the eight years of war with Japan, all on Chinese soil. ForMo Yan, the earlier decades, while not peaceful by any means, are notable for personal, ratherthan national, events. It is the time of Mother’s childhood, marriage, and the birth of her firstseven children — all daughters and all by men other than her sterile husband. The nationalimplications become clear when Mother’s only son, Jintong, arrives, the offspring of SwedishMalory, the alien “Other.”
The bulk of the novel then takes the reader through six turbulent decades, from the Sino-Japanese War, in which two defending factions (Mao’s Communists and Chiang Kai-shek’sNationalists) fought one another almost as much as they fought, and usually succumbed to,the Japanese. It is here that Mo Yan has particularly angered his critics, in that he has createdheroes and turncoats that defy conventional views, resulting in a “sycophantic, shamelesswork that turns history upside down, fabricates lies, and glorifies the Japanese fascists and theLandlord Restoration Corps [groups of landed individuals who went over to Nationalist-controlled areas after the War when their land was redistributed by the Communists],” in thewords of one critic. Of the several male figures in the novel, excluding the foreigner, whose“potency” cannot save him and stigmatizes his offspring, one is a patriot-turned-collaborator,another is a leader of Nationalist forces, and two are Communists (a commander and asoldier); all marry one or more of Mother’s daughters, but only one, the Nationalist, earnsMother’s praise: “He’s a bastard,” she says, “but he’s also a man worthy of the name. In dayspast, a man like that would come around once every eight or ten years. I’m afraid we’ve seenthe last of his kind.”
Big Breasts and Wide Hips is, of course, fiction, and while it deals with historical events(selectively, to be sure), it is a work that probes and reveals broader aspects of society andhumanity, those that transcend or refute specific occurrences or canonized politicalinterpretations of history. Following Japan’s defeat in Asia in 1945, China slipped into abloody civil war between Mao’s and Chiang’s forces, ending in 1949 with a Communistvictory and the creation of the People’s Republic of China. Unfortunately for the Shangguanfamily, as for citizens throughout the country, peace and stability proved to be as elusive in“New China” as in the old. The first seventeen years of the People’s Republic witnessed abloody involvement in the Korean War (1950-53), a period of savage instances of score-settling and political realignments, the disastrous “Great Leap Forward,” which led to threeyears of famine that claimed millions of lives, and the Cultural Revolution. In defiance ofmore standard historical fiction in China, which tends to foreground major historical events,in Mo Yan’s novel they are mere backdrops to the lives of Jintong, his surviving sisters, hisnieces and nephews, and, of course, Mother. It is here that the significance of ShangguanJintong’s oedipal tendencies and impotence become apparent. 6 In a relentlessly unflatteringportrait of his male protagonist, Mo Yan draws attention to what he sees as a regression of thehuman species and a dilution of the Chinese character (echoing sentiments first encounteredin Red Sorghum); in other words, a failed patriarchy. Ultimately, it is the strength of characterof (most, but not all) the women that lends hope to the author’s gloomy vision.
In the post-Mao years (Mao died in 1976), Jintong’s deterioration occurs in the context ofnational reforms and an economic boom. Weaned of the breast, finally, he represents, to someat least, a “manifestation of Chinese intellectuals’ anxiety over the country’s potency in themodern world.” 7 Whatever he may symbolize, he remains a member of one of the mostintriguing casts of characters in fiction, in a novel about which Mo Yan himself has said: “Ifyou like, you can skip my other novels [I wouldn’t recommend it — tr.], but you must readBig Breasts and Wide Hips. In it I wrote about history, war, politics, hunger, religion, love,and sex.” 8
Big Breasts and Wide Hips was first published in book form by Writers Publishing House(1996); a Taiwan edition (Hong-fan) appeared later the same year. A shortened edition wasthen published by China Workers Publishing House in 2003. The current translation wasundertaken from a further shortened, computer-generated manuscript supplied by the author.
Some changes and rearrangements were effected during the translation and editing process, allwith the approval of the author. As translator, I have been uncommonly fortunate to havebeen aided along the way by the author, by my frequent co-translator, Sylvia Li-chun Lin, 9and by our publisher and editor, Dick Seaver.
自序
自序
1995年初春，在故乡一间小屋里，当我在稿纸上写下“此书献给母亲在天之灵”时，我的眼睛里已经饱含泪水。我知道这样写会被某些人耻笑甚至是辱骂，那就请吧。
我心里想，此书不仅是献给我的母亲的，也是献给天下母亲的。我知道这样写更会被某些人耻笑甚至是辱骂，那就请吧。书中的母亲，因为封建道德的压迫做了很多违背封建道德的事，政治上也不正确，但她的爱犹如澎湃的大海与广阔的大地。尽管这样一个母亲与以往小说中的母亲形象差别甚大，但我认为，这样的母亲依然是伟大的，甚至，是更具代表性的、超越了某些畛域的伟大母亲。
书中的另一个重要人物，母亲与传教士所生混血儿上官金童，是一个“恋乳癖”，他身高体健，仪表堂堂，但性格懦弱，是一个一辈子离不开母亲乳房的精神侏儒。这样的人物注定了是要被误读和争议的。十几年来，我听到和看到了许多对这个人物的解读，我认为读者的看法都是正确的。文学的魅力之一，也许就是可以被误读。当然，作为著者，我比较同意把上官金童看成当代中国某类知识分子的化身。我毫不避讳地承认，上官金童是我的精神写照，而一位我敬佩的哲学家也曾说过：中国当代知识分子灵魂深处，似乎都藏着一个小小的上官金童。
十五年弹指过去，重校此书，自然有诸多感慨。尽管有许多粗疏草率之处，但我不得不承认，我已经写不出这样的书了。这次再版，除了对一些累赘重复之处略作整饬外，基本上保持了原貌。有友人建议我将书名改为《金童玉女》，说这样也许更能被大众所接受。但既然已经《丰乳肥臀》了十五年，就没有必要再改了吧？何况，这“丰乳肥臀”原本就不是洪水猛兽，当今之世，谁还能被这样一个书名吓退呢？
二〇〇九年十一月二十八日
主要人物表
母亲——上官鲁氏。乳名璇儿。自幼丧母，随姑父于大巴掌和姑姑长大，嫁给铁匠儿子上官寿喜。晚年信仰基督教，寿九五而终。
大姐——上官来弟。母亲与姑父于大巴掌所生。先嫁沙月亮，生女沙枣花。解放后嫁给残疾军人孙不言。后来爱上了从日本归来的鸟儿韩，生子鹦鹉韩。在搏斗中打死孙不言，被处决。
二姐——上官招弟。生父亦为于大巴掌。嫁给抗日别动大队的司令司马库，生女司马凤、司马凰。在与独立纵队十七团的交战中，中弹身亡，不久，一对女儿也被那位倡导极“左”土改政策的大人物密令处死。
三姐——上官领弟。人称“鸟仙”。生父为一个赊小鸭的（土匪密探）。她深爱鸟儿韩，韩被日寇抓了劳工后，神经错乱，设立鸟仙神坛禳解。后嫁给爆炸大队战士孙不言，因练习飞翔摔死在悬崖下。生子大哑、二哑，俱被飞机炸弹炸死。
四姐——上官想弟。生父乃一个走街串巷的江湖郎中。在生活最困难的时候，为了救全家，她自卖自身进了妓院。后流落他乡，音信全无。“文革”中被遣返还乡，多年积攒的财物被洗劫，并遭受残酷批斗，后旧病复发而死。
五姐——上官盼弟。生父乃杀狗人高大膘子。少年时自愿参加爆炸大队，后嫁给爆炸大队政委鲁立人，生女鲁胜利。曾经当过卫生队长、区长、农场畜牧队长。改名马瑞莲。“文革”中自杀身亡。
六姐——上官念弟。生父乃天齐庙智通和尚。爱上了被日机击落后为司马库的部队收容的美国飞行员巴比特，结婚后的第三天即与巴比特一起被鲁立人领导的独纵十七团俘虏。逃亡后被一寡妇诱至山洞与巴比特同归于尽。
七姐——上官求弟。母亲被四个败兵强暴所生。早年被卖给罗斯托夫伯爵夫人做养女。
后改名乔其莎，毕业于省医学院，被打成“右派”，到农场劳动改造。因饥饿，暴食生豆饼胀死。
八姐——上官玉女。与金童为双胞胎，生父乃瑞典籍传教士马洛亚。生而失明。三年困难时期，因不忍心拖累母亲，投河自尽。
我——上官金童。母亲唯一的儿子。患有恋乳症。一生嗜乳，以致精神错乱。中学毕业后去农场劳动。后因“奸尸罪”被判刑十五年。改革开放后刑满还乡，曾在外甥鹦鹉韩夫妇开办的“东方鸟类中心”任公关部经理，后在司马粮投资的“独角兽乳罩大世界”任董事长，因被炒、被骗而失败，终至穷愁潦倒，一事无成。
上官寿喜——鲁璇儿的丈夫，因无生殖能力，迫使鲁璇儿借种生子。后为日寇所杀。
上官福禄——铁匠，上官寿喜之父。后为日寇所杀。
上官吕氏——上官福禄之妻。上官家的当家人。专横凶悍，晚年痴呆，因欲加害玉女被母亲失手打死。
司马亭——大栏镇首富，“福生堂”大掌柜。当过镇长、维持会长。后随担架队参加淮海战役，立过大功。
司马库——司马亭之弟，“福生堂”二掌柜，上官招弟之夫。抗日别动大队司令，还乡团大队长。被捕后逃脱，后自首，被公审枪毙。
司马粮——司马库与三姨太之子。司马家遭难后，由母亲将其抚养成人。后出走，流落他乡，成为南韩巨商。改革开放后回乡投资建设，花天酒地，惹是生非，后逃匿。
沙月亮——上官来弟的丈夫。抗战时期为黑驴鸟枪队队长。后投降日寇，任伪渤海警备司令，“皇协军”旅长。被爆炸大队击败后自杀。
沙枣花——沙月亮与上官来弟之女。出生后即由母亲抚养，与金童、司马粮等一起长大，与司马粮感情很深，后流落江湖，成为神偷。司马粮还乡后，因求婚不成而跳楼殉情。
鸟儿韩——上官领弟的意中人，懂鸟语，善捕鸟，通武术，是使用弹弓的高手。被日寇掳至日本国做劳工，后逃至深山，穴居十五年始归国还乡。在上官家居住期间，与被孙不言虐待的大姐上官来弟发生了恋情。因来弟失手打死孙不言，他作为同案犯被判刑，押赴青海劳改途中，跳车身亡。
马洛亚——瑞典传教士。因战乱频仍而滞留在高密东北乡，主持大栏镇基督教堂的教务，能说流利的汉语，与当地老百姓相处融洽。与上官鲁氏发生恋情，乃上官金童与上官玉女的生身父亲。后因不堪黑驴鸟枪队的凌辱从钟楼上跳下身亡。
鹦鹉韩——鸟儿韩与上官来弟之子。其父母双亡后，由母亲抚养成人。改革开放后，与其妻耿莲莲合办“东方鸟类中心”，骗取银行巨款，挥霍浪费，穷奢极欲，后被判刑。
鲁立人——即蒋立人。后又改名李杜。先后担任过抗日爆炸大队政委、独立纵队十七团政委、高东县县长、副县长、农场场长，在三年困难时期因心脏病发作而死。
鲁胜利——鲁立人与上官盼弟之女。幼时曾经由母亲抚养，后被其父母接回县城读书。
改革开放后，担任过工商银行大栏市分行行长、大栏市市长。因贪污受贿被判死刑。
孙不言——上官家邻居孙大姑之长孙，生来即哑。曾经与上官来弟订婚。上官来弟与沙月亮私奔后，他参加了八路军爆炸大队。后与鸟仙上官领弟结婚。解放后他参加了抗美援朝，荣立大功，身体残疾。在政府的帮助下，与孀居在家的上官来弟结婚。当他发现了上官来弟与鸟儿韩的恋情后，愤而搏斗，被上官来弟打中要害死亡。
纪琼枝——上官金童的启蒙老师。一九五七年被错划成“右派”。改革开放后，曾任大栏市首任市长，是铁骨铮铮的共产党人。
Chapter One 1
Chapter One
1
From where he lay quietly on the brick-and-tamped-earth sleeping platform, his kang, PastorMalory saw a bright red beam of light shining down on the Virgin Mary’s pink breast and onthe pudgy face of the bare-bottomed Blessed Infant in her arms. Water from last summer’srains had left yellow stains on the oil tableau, investing the Virgin Mary and Blessed Infantwith a vacant look. A long-legged spider hung from a silvery thread in the bright window,swaying in a light breeze. “Morning spiders bring happiness, evening spiders promisewealth.” That’s what the pale yet beautiful woman had said one day when she saw one of theeight-legged creatures. But what happiness am I entitled to? All those heavenly breasts andbuttocks in his dream flashed through his head. He heard the rumble of carts outside and thecries of red-crowned cranes from the distant marsh, plus the angry bleats of his milk goat.
Sparrows banged noisily into the paper window covering. Magpies, the so-called happinessbirds, chattered in poplar trees outside. By the look of things, happiness could well be in theair today. Then suddenly his head cleared, and the beautiful woman with the astonishingly bigbelly made a violent appearance, haloed in blinding light. Her nervous lips quivered, as if shewere about to say something. She was in her eleventh month, so today must be the day. In aflash Pastor Malory understood the significance of the spider and magpies. He sat up and gotdown off the kang.
After picking up a black earthenware jug, he walked out to the street behind the church,where he saw Shangguan Lü, wife of Shangguan Fulu, the blacksmith, bent over to sweep thestreet in front of the shop. His heart skipped a beat, his lips quivered. “Dear Lord,” hemuttered, “almighty God …” He crossed himself with a stiff finger and backed slowly into acorner to silently observe the tall, heavyset Shangguan Lü?as she silently and single-mindedlyswept the dew-soaked dust into her dustpan, carefully picking out pieces of trash and tossingthem aside. Her movements were clumsy but vigorous; her broom, woven from golden millettassels, was like a toy in her hand. After filling the dustpan and tamping down the dust, shestraightened up.
Just as Shangguan Lü reached the head of her lane, she heard a commotion behind her andturned to see what it was. Some women came running through the black gate of FelicityManor, home of the town’s leading gentry family. They were dressed in rags, their facessmeared with soot. Why are these women, who normally dress in silks and satins, and arenever seen without rouge and lipstick, dressed like that? Just then, a wagon master known toall as “Old Titmouse” emerged from the compound across the way on his new wagon, with itsdark green canopy and rubber tires. The women clambered aboard even before it came to acomplete stop. The wagon master jumped down and sat on one of the still damp stone lions tosilently smoke his pipe. Sima Ting, steward of Felicity Manor, strode out from the compoundwith his fowling piece, his movements as quick and nimble as a young man. Jumping to hisfeet, the wagon master glanced at the steward, who snatched the pipe out of his hand, tookseveral noisy puffs, then looked up at the early-morning rosy sky and yawned grandly. “Timeto go,” he said. “Wait for me at the Black Water River Bridge. I’ll be along shortly.”
With the reins in one hand and his whip in the other, the wagon master turned the wagonaround. The women in the bed behind him shouted and chattered. The whip snapped in theair, and the horses trotted off. Brass bells around the horses’ necks sang out crisply, the wagonwheels crunched on the dirt road, and clouds of dust rose in the wagon’s wake.
After taking a piss in the middle of the road, Sima Ting shouted out at the now distantwagon, then cradled his fowling piece and climbed the watchtower, a thirty-foot platformsupported by ninety-nine thick logs and topped by a red flag that hung limply in the dampmorning air. Shangguan Lü watched him as he gazed off to the northwest. With his long neckand pointy mouth, he looked a little like a goose at a watering trough.
A cloud of feathery mist rolled through the sky and swallowed up Sima Ting, then spat himback out. Bloody hues of sunrise dyed his face red. To Shangguan Lü, the face seemedcovered by a dazzling layer of sticky syrup. By the time he raised the fowling piece over hishead, his face was red as a cockscomb. She heard a faint metallic click. It was the triggersending the firing pin forward. Resting the butt of the piece against his shoulder, he stoodwaiting solemnly. So did Shangguan Lü, as the heavy dustpan numbed her hands, and herneck was sore from cocking it at such a rakish angle. Sima Ting lowered his fowling pieceand puckered like a pouting little boy. She heard him curse the gun: “You little bastard, howdare you not fire!” He raised it again and pulled the trigger. Crack! Flames followed the crispsound out of the barrel, simultaneously darkening the sun’s rays and lighting up his red face.
Then an explosion shattered the silence hanging over the village; sunlight filled the sky withbrilliant colors as if a fairy standing on the tip of a cloud were showering the land below withradiant flower petals. Shangguan Lü’s heart raced from excitement. Though only ablacksmith’s wife, she was much better with a hammer and anvil than her husband could everhope to be. The mere sight of steel and fire sent blood running hot through her veins. Themuscles of her arms rippled like knotted horsewhips. Black steel striking against red, sparksflying, a sweat- soaked shirt, rivulets of salty water flowing down the valley betweenpendulous breasts, the biting smell of steel and blood filling the space between heaven andearth. She watched Sima Ting jerk backward on his perch, the damp morning air around himsoaked with the smell of gunpowder. As he circled the tiny platform, he broadcast a warningto all of Northeast Gaomi Township:
“All you elders, fellow townsmen, the Japs are coming!”
第一章 第一节
第一章
第一节
马洛亚牧师提着一只黑色的瓦罐上了教堂后边的大街，一眼便看到，铁匠上官福禄的妻子上官吕氏弯着腰，手执一把扫炕笤帚，正在大街上扫土。他的心急剧地跳起来，嘴唇哆嗦着，低语道：“上帝，万能的主，上帝……”他用僵硬的手指在胸前画了个“十”字，便慢慢地退到墙角，默默地观察着高大肥胖的上官吕氏。她悄悄地、专注地把被夜露潮湿了的浮土扫起来，并仔细地把浮土中的杂物拣出扔掉。这个肥大的妇人动作笨拙，但异常有力，那把金黄色的、用黍子穗扎成的笤帚在她的手中像个玩具。她把土盛到簸箕里，用大手按结实，然后端着簸箕站起来。
上官吕氏端着尘土刚刚拐进自家的胡同口儿，就听到身后一阵喧闹。她回头看到，本镇首富福生堂的黑漆大门洞开，一群女人涌出来。她们都穿着破衣烂衫，脸上涂抹着锅底灰。
往常里穿绸披缎、涂脂抹粉的福生堂女眷，为何打扮成这副模样？从福生堂大门对面的套院里，那个外号“老山雀”的车夫，赶出来一辆崭新的、罩着青布幔子的胶皮轱辘大车。车还没停稳，女人们便争先恐后地往上挤。车夫蹲在被露水打湿的石狮子前，默默地抽着烟。福生堂大掌柜司马亭提着一杆长筒鸟枪，从大门口一跃而出。他的动作矫健、轻捷，像个小伙子似的。车夫慌忙站起，望着大掌柜。司马亭从车夫手中夺过烟斗，很响地抽了几口，然后他仰望着黎明时分玫瑰色的天空打了一个哈欠，说：“发车，停在墨水河桥头等着，我随后就到。”
车夫一手抓着缰绳，一手摇晃着鞭子，拢着马，调转了车头。女眷们挤在车上，叽叽喳喳地嚷叫着。车夫打了一个响鞭，马便小跑起来。马脖子下悬着的铜铃叮叮当当脆响着，车轮滚滚，卷起一路灰。
司马亭在街中央大大咧咧地撒了一泡尿，对着远去的马车吼了一嗓子，然后，抱着鸟枪，爬上街边的瞭望塔。塔高三丈，用了九十九根粗大圆木搭成。塔顶是个小小的平台，台上插着一面红旗。清晨无风，湿漉漉的旗帜垂头丧气。上官吕氏看到司马亭站在平台上，探着头往西北方向张望。他脖子长长，嘴巴翘翘，仿佛一只正在喝水的鹅。一团毛茸茸的白雾滚过来，吞没了司马亭，吐出了司马亭。血红的霞光染红了司马亭的脸。上官吕氏感到司马亭脸上蒙了一层糖稀，亮晶晶，黏腻腻，耀眼。他双手举枪，高过头顶，脸红得像鸡冠子。
上官吕氏听到一声细微的响，那是枪机撞击引火帽的声音。他举着枪，庄严地等待着，良久，良久。上官吕氏也在等待，尽管沉重的土簸箕坠得双手酸麻，尽管歪着脖子十分别扭。
司马亭落下枪，嘴唇噘着，好像一个赌气的男孩。她听到他骂了一声。这孙子！敢不响！然后他又举起枪，击发，啪嗒一声细响后，一道火光蹿出枪口，黯淡了霞光，照白了他的红脸。一声尖厉的响，撕破了村庄的宁静，顿时霞光满天，五彩缤纷，仿佛有仙女站在云端，让鲜艳的花瓣纷纷扬扬。上官吕氏心情激动。她是铁匠的妻子，但实际上她打铁的技术比丈夫强许多，只要是看到铁与火，就血热。热血沸腾，冲刷血管子。肌肉暴突，一根根，宛如出鞘的牛鞭，黑铁砸红铁，花朵四射，汗流浃背，在奶沟里汇成溪，铁血腥味弥漫在天地之间。她看到司马亭在高高的塔台上蹦了一下。清晨的潮湿空气里，弥漫着硝烟和硝烟的味道。司马亭拖着长腔扬着高调转着圈儿对整个高密东北乡发出警告：
“父老乡亲们，日本鬼子就要来了！”
Chapter One 2
2Shangguan Lü emptied her dustpan onto the exposed surface of the kang, whose grass matand bedding had been rolled up and put to one side, then cast a worried look at her daughter-in-law, Shangguan Lu, who moaned as she gripped the edge of the kang. After tamping thedirt down with both hands, she said softly to her daughter-in-law, “You can climb back upnow.”
Shangguan Lu trembled under the gentle gaze of her mother-in-law. As she stared sadly atthe older woman’s kind face, her ashen lips quivered, as if she wanted to say something.
“The devil’s gotten back into that old bastard Sima, firing his gun so early in the morning!”
Shangguan Lü announced.
“Mother …” Shangguan Lu said.
Clapping her hands to loosen the dirt, Shangguan Lü muttered softly, “My good daughter-in-law, try your best! If this one’s a girl, too, I’d be a fool to keep defending you.”
Tears trickled from Shangguan Lu’s eyes as she bit down on her lip; holding up hersagging belly, she climbed back onto the dirt-covered kang.
“You’ve been down this road before,” Shangguan Lü said as she laid a roll of white cottonand a pair of scissors on the kang. “Go ahead and have your baby.” Then, with an impatientfrown, she said, “Your father-in-law and Laidi’s daddy are in the barn tending to the blackdonkey. This will be her first foal, so I should be out there giving them a hand.”
Shangguan Lu nodded. Another explosion flew in on the wind, setting off a round ofbarking by frightened dogs. Sima Ting’s booming voice came in fits: “Fellow townsmen, fleefor your lives, don’t wait another minute …” She felt the baby inside her kick, as if inresponse to Sima Ting’s shouts, the stabbing pains forcing drops of rancid sweat out of everypore in her body. She clenched her teeth to keep the scream inside her from bursting out.
Through the mist of tears she saw the lush black hair of her mother-in-law as she knelt at thealtar and placed three sandalwood joss sticks in Guanyin’s burner. Fragrant smoke curled upand quickly filled the room.
“Merciful Bodhisattva Guanyin, who succors the downtrodden and the distressed, protectand take pity on me, deliver a son to this family…” Pressing down on her arched, swollenbelly with both hands, cold to the touch, Shangguan Lu gazed up at the enigmatic, glossy faceof the ceramic Guanyin in her altar, and said a silent prayer as fresh tears began to flow.
Removing her wet trousers and rolling up the shirt to expose her belly and her breasts, shegripped the edge of the kang. In between contractions she ran her fingers through her mattedhair and leaned against the rolled-up grass mat and millet stalks.
The chipped quicksilver surface of a mirror in the window lattice reflected her profile:
sweat- soaked hair, long, slanted, lusterless eyes, a pale high- bridged nose, and full butchapped lips that never stopped quaking. Moisture-laden sunbeams streamed in through thewindow and fell on her belly. Its twisting, swollen blue veins and white, pitted skin lookedhideous to her; mixed feelings, dark and light, like the clear blue of a summer sky inNortheast Gaomi with dark rain clouds rolling past, gripped her. She could hardly bear to lookat that enormous, strangely taut belly.
She had once dreamed that her fetus was actually a chunk of cold steel. Another time she’ddreamed that it was a large, warty toad. She could bear the thought of a chunk of steel, but theimage of the toad made her shudder. “Lord in Heaven, protect me … Worthy Ancestors,protect me … gods and demons everywhere, protect me, spare me, let me deliver a healthybaby boy … my very own son, come to Mother … Father of Heaven, Mother of Earth, yellowspirits and fox fairies, help me, please …” And so she prayed and pleaded, assaulted bywrenching contractions. As she clung to the mat beneath her, her muscles twitched andjumped, her eyes bulged. Mixed in with the wash of red light were white-hot threads thattwisted and curled and shrank in front of her like silver melting in a furnace. In the end,willpower alone could not keep the scream from bursting through her lips; it flew through thewindow lattice and bounced up and down the streets and byways, where it met Sima Ting’sshout and entwined with it, a braid of sound that snaked through the hairy ears of the tall,husky, stooped-over Swedish pastor Malory, with his large head and scraggly red hair. Hestopped on his way up the rotting boards of the steeple stairs. His deep blue ovine eyes,always moist and teary, and capable of moving you to the depths of your soul, suddenlyemitted dancing sparks of startled glee. Crossing himself with his pudgy red fingers, heuttered in a thick Gaomi accent: “Almighty God …” He began climbing again, and when hereached the top, he rang a rusty bronze bell. The desolate sound spread through the mist-enshrouded, rosy dawn.
At the precise moment when the first peal of the bell rang out, and the shouted warning of aJap attack hung in the air, a flood of amniotic fluid gushed from between the legs ofShangguan Lu. The muttony smell of a milk goat rose in the air, as did the sometimespungent, sometimes subtle aroma of locust blossoms. The scene of making love with PastorMalory beneath the locust tree last year flashed before her eyes with remarkable clarity, butbefore she gained any pleasure from the recollection, her mother-in-law ran into the roomwith blood-spattered hands, throwing fear into her, as she saw green sparks dancing off thosehands.
“Has the baby come yet?” her mother-in-law asked, nearly shouting.
She shook her head, feeling ashamed.
Her mother-in-law’s head quaked brilliantly in the sunlight, and she noted with amazementthat the older woman’s hair had turned gray.
“I thought you’d have had it by now.” Shangguan Lü reached out to touch her belly. Thosehands — large knuckles, hard nails, rough skin, covered with blood — made her cringe; butshe lacked the strength to move away from them as they settled unceremoniously onto herswollen belly, making her heart skip a beat and sending an icy current racing through herguts. Screams emerged unchecked, from terror, not pain. The hands probed and pressed and,finally, thumped, like testing a melon for ripeness. At last, they fell away and hung in thesun’s rays, heavy, despondent, as if she’d come away with an unripe melon. Her mother-in-law floated ethereally before her eyes, except for those hands, which were solid, awesome,autonomous, free to roam where they pleased. Her mother-in-law’s voice seemed to comefrom far away, from the depths of a pond, carried on the stench of mud and the bubbles of acrab: “… a melon falls to the ground when it’s time, and nothing will stop it… you have totough it out, za-za hu-hu … want people to mock you? Doesn’t it bother you that your sevenprecious daughters will laugh at you …” She watched one of those hands descend weaklyand, disgustingly, thump her belly again, producing soft hollow thuds, like a wet goatskindrum. “All you young women are spoiled. When your husband came into this world, I wassewing shoe soles the whole time …”
Finally, the thumping stopped and the hand pulled back into the shadows, where its hazyoutline looked like the claws of a wild beast. Her mother-in-law’s voice glimmered in thedarkness, the redolence of locust flowers wafted over. “Look at that belly, it’s huge, and it’scovered with strange markings. It must be a boy. That’s your good fortune, and mine, and thewhole Shangguan family, for that matter. Bodhisattva, be here with her, Lord in Heaven,come to her side. Without a son, you’ll be no better than a slave as long as you live, but withone, you’ll be the mistress. Believe me or not, it’s up to you. Actually, it isn’t…”
“I believe, Mother, I believe you!” Shangguan Lu said reverently. Her gaze fell on the darkstains on the wall, grief filling her heart as memories of what had happened three years beforesurfaced. She had just delivered her seventh daughter, Shangguan Qiudi, driving her husband,Shangguan Shouxi, into such a blind rage that he’d flung a hammer at her, hitting her squarelyin the head and staining the wall with her blood.
Her mother-in-law laid a basket upside down next to her. Her voice burned through thedarkness like the flames of a wildfire: “Say this, ‘The child in my belly is a princely little boy’
Say it!” The basket was filled with peanuts. The woman’s face was suffused with a somberkindness; she was part deity, part loving parent, and Shangguan Lu was moved to tears.
“The child I’m carrying is a princely little boy. I’m carrying a prince … my own son …”
Her mother-in-law thrust some peanuts into her hand and told her to say, “Peanuts peanutspeanuts, boys and girls, the balance of yin and yang.”
Gratefully wrapping her hand around the peanuts, she repeated the mantra: “Peanutspeanuts peanuts, boys and girls, the balance of yin and yang.”
Shangguan Lü bent down, her tears falling unchecked. “Bodhi-sattva, be with her, Lord inHeaven, come to her side. Great joy will soon befall the Shangguan family! Laidi’s mother,lie here and shuck peanuts until it’s time. Our donkey’s about to foal. It’s her first, so I cannotstay with you.”
“You go on, Mother,” Shangguan Lu said emotionally. “Lord in Heaven, keep theShangguan family’s black donkey safe, let her foal without incident…”
With a sigh, Shangguan Lü reeled out the door.
第一章 第二节
第二节
上官吕氏把簸箕里的尘土倒在揭了席、卷了草的土炕上，忧心忡忡地扫了一眼手扶着炕沿低声呻吟的儿媳上官鲁氏。她伸出双手，把尘土摊平，轻声对儿媳说：“上去吧。”
在她的温柔目光注视下，上官鲁氏浑身颤抖。她可怜巴巴地看着婆婆慈祥的面孔，苍白的嘴唇哆嗦着，好像要说什么话。
上官吕氏大声道：“嗨，清晨放枪，大司马又犯了魔怔！”
上官鲁氏道：“娘……”
上官吕氏拍打着手上的尘土，轻声嘟哝着：“你呀，我的好儿媳妇，争口气吧！要是再生个女孩，我也没脸护着你了！”
两行清泪，从上官鲁氏眼窝里涌出。她紧咬着下唇，使出全身的力气，提起沉重的肚腹，爬到土坯裸露的炕上。
“轻车熟路，自己慢慢生吧，”上官吕氏把一卷白布、一把剪刀放在炕上，蹙着眉头，不耐烦地说，“你公公和来弟她爹在西厢房里给黑驴接生，它是初生头养，我得去照应着。”
上官鲁氏点了点头。她听到高高的空中又传来一声枪响，几条狗怯怯地叫着，司马亭的喊叫断断续续传来：“乡亲们，快跑吧，跑晚了就没命啦……”好像是呼应司马亭的喊叫，她感到腹中一阵拳打脚踢，剧烈的痛楚碌碡般滚动，汗水从每一个毛孔里渗出，散发着淡淡的鱼腥。她紧咬牙关，为了不使那号叫冲口而出。透过朦胧的泪水，她看到满头黑发的婆婆跪在堂屋的神龛前，在观音菩萨的香炉里插上了三炷紫红色的檀香，香烟袅袅上升，香气弥漫全室。
大慈大悲、救苦救难的观音菩萨，保佑我吧，可怜我吧，送给我个男孩吧……上官鲁氏双手按着高高隆起的、凉森森的肚皮，望着端坐在神龛中的白瓷观音那神秘的光滑面容，默默地祝祷着，泪水又一次溢出眼眶。她脱下湿了一片的裤子，将褂子尽量地卷上去，袒露出腹部和乳房。她手撑土炕，把身体端正地放在婆婆扫来的浮土里。在阵痛的间隙里，她把凌乱的头发用手指梳理了一下，将腰背倚在卷起的炕席和麦秸上。
窗棂上镶着一块水银斑驳的破镜子，映出脸的侧面：被汗水濡湿的鬓发，细长的、黯淡无光的眼睛，高耸的白鼻梁，不停地抖动着的嘴唇枯燥的阔嘴。一缕潮漉漉的阳光透过窗棂，斜射在她的肚皮上。那上边暴露着弯弯曲曲的蓝色血管和一大片凹凸不平的白色花纹，显得狰狞而恐怖。她注视着自己的肚子，心中交替出现灰暗和明亮，宛若盛夏季节里高密东北乡时而乌云翻滚时而湛蓝透明的天空。她几乎不敢俯视大得出奇、坚硬得出奇的肚皮。有一次她梦到自己怀了一块冷冰冰的铁。有一次她梦到自己怀了一只遍体斑点的癞蛤蟆。铁的形象还让她勉强可以忍受，但那癞蛤蟆的形象每一次在脑海里闪现，她都要浑身暴起鸡皮疙瘩。菩萨保佑……祖宗保佑……所有的神、所有的鬼，你们都保佑我、饶恕我吧，让我生个全毛全翅的男孩吧……我的亲亲的儿子，你出来吧……天公地母、黄仙狐精，帮助我吧……就这样祝祷着，祈求着，迎接来一阵又一阵撕肝裂肺般的剧痛。她的双手抓住身后的炕席，身上的每一块肌肉都在震颤、抽搐。她双目圆睁，眼前红光一片，红光中有一些白炽的网络在迅速地卷曲和收缩，好像银丝在炉火中熔化。一声终于忍不住的号叫从她的嘴巴里冲出来，飞出窗棂，起起伏伏地逍遥在大街小巷，与司马亭的喊叫交织在一起，拧成一股绳，宛若一条蛇，钻进那个身材高大、哈着腰、垂着红毛大脑袋、耳朵眼里生出两撮白毛的瑞典籍牧师马洛亚的耳朵。
在通往钟楼的腐朽的木板楼梯上，马洛亚牧师怔了一下，湛蓝色的、迷途羔羊一般的永远是泪汪汪的、永远是令人动心的和蔼眼睛里跳跃着似乎是惊喜的光芒。他伸出一根通红的粗大手指，在胸脯上画了一个十字，嘴里吐出一句完全高密东北乡化了的土腔洋词：“万能的主啊……”他继续往上爬，爬到顶端，撞响了那口原先悬挂在寺院里的绿锈斑斑的铜钟。
苍凉的钟声扩散在雾气缭绕的玫瑰色清晨里。伴随着第一声钟鸣，伴随着日本鬼子即将进村的警告，一股汹涌的羊水，从上官鲁氏的双腿间流出来。她嗅到了一股奶山羊的膻味，还嗅到了时而浓烈时而淡雅的槐花的香味，去年与马洛亚在槐树林中欢爱的情景突然异常清晰地再现眼前，但不容她回到那情景中流连，婆婆上官吕氏高举着两只血迹斑斑的手，跑进了房间。她恐怖地看到，婆婆的血手上，闪烁着绿色的火星儿。
“生了吗？”她听到婆婆大声地问。
她有些羞愧地摇摇头。
婆婆的头颅在阳光中辉煌地颤抖着，她惊奇地发现，婆婆的头发突然花白了。
“我还以为生出来了呢。”婆婆说。
婆婆的双手对着自己的肚皮伸过来。那双手骨节粗大、指甲坚硬，连手背上都布满胼胝般的硬皮。她感到恐惧，想躲避这个打铁女人沾满驴血的双手，但她没有力量。婆婆的双手毫不客气地按在她的肚皮上，她感到自己的心跳都要停了，冰凉的感觉透彻了五脏六腑。她不可遏止地发出了连串的号叫，不是因为疼痛，而是因为恐怖。婆婆的手粗鲁地摸索着，挤压着她的肚皮，最后，像测试西瓜的成熟程度一样“啪啪”地拍打了几下，仿佛买了一个生瓜，表现出烦恼和懊丧。那双手终于离去，垂在阳光里，沉甸甸的，萎靡不振。在她的眼里，婆婆是个轻飘飘的大影子，只有那两只手是真实的，是威严的，是随心所欲、为所欲为的。她听到婆婆的声音从很远的地方传来，从很深的水塘里、伴随着淤泥的味道和螃蟹的泡沫传来：
“……瓜熟自落……到了时辰，拦也拦不住……忍着点，咋咋呼呼……不怕别人笑话，难道不怕你那七个宝贝女儿笑话……”
她看到那两只手中的一只，又一次软弱无力地落下来，厌烦地敲着自己凸起的肚皮，仿佛敲着一面受潮的羊皮鼓，发出沉闷的声响。
“现如今的女人越变越娇气，我生她爹那阵子，一边生，一边纳鞋底子……”
那只手总算停止了敲击，缩回，潜藏到暗影里，恍惚如野兽的脚爪。婆婆的声音在黑暗中闪烁着，槐花的香气阵阵袭来。
“看你这肚子，大得出奇，花纹也特别，像个男胎。这是你的福气，我的福气，上官家的福气。菩萨显灵，天主保佑，没有儿子，你一辈子都是奴；有了儿子，你立马就是主。我说的话你信不信？信不信由你，其实也由不得你……”
“娘啊，我信，我信啊！”上官鲁氏虔诚地念叨着，她的眼睛看到对面墙壁上那片暗褐色的污迹，心里涌起无限酸楚。那是三年前，生完第七个女儿上官求弟后，丈夫上官寿喜怒火万丈，扔过一根木棒槌，打破她的头，血溅墙壁留下的污迹。婆婆端过一个笸箩，放在她身侧。婆婆的声音像火焰在暗夜里燃烧，放射着美丽的光芒：
“你跟着我说，‘我肚里的孩子是千金贵子’，快说！”笸箩里盛着带壳的花生。婆婆慈祥的脸，庄严的声音，一半是天神，一半是亲娘，上官鲁氏感动万分，哭着说：“我肚里怀着千金贵子，我肚里怀着贵子……我的儿子……”婆婆把几颗花生塞到她手里，教她说：
“花生花生花花生，有男有女阴阳平。”她接过花生，感激地重复着婆婆的话：“花生花生花花生，有男有女阴阳平。”
上官吕氏探过头来，泪眼婆娑地说：“菩萨显灵，天主保佑，上官家双喜临门！来弟她娘，你剥着花生等时辰吧，咱家的黑驴要生小骡子，它是头胎生养，我顾不上你了。”
上官鲁氏感动地说：“娘，您快去吧。天主保佑咱家的黑驴头胎顺产……”
上官吕氏叹息一声，摇摇晃晃地走出屋子。
Chapter One 3
3The dim light of a filthy bean-oil lamp on a millstone in the barn flickered uneasily, wisps ofblack smoke curling from the tip of its flame. The smell of lamp oil merged with the stink ofdonkey droppings and urine. The air was foul. The black animal lay on the ground betweenthe millstone and a dark green stone trough. All Shangguan Lü could see when she walked inwas the flickering light of the lamp, but she heard the anxious voice of Shangguan Fulu:
“What did she have?”
She turned toward the sound and curled her lip, then crossed the room, past the donkey andShangguan Shouxi, who was massaging the animal’s belly; she walked over to the windowand ripped away the paper covering. A dozen rays of golden sunlight lit up the far wall. Shethen went to the millstone and blew out the lamp, releasing the smell of burned oil to snuff outthe other rank odors. Shangguan Shouxi’s dark oily face took on a golden sheen; his tinyblack eyes sparkled like burning coals. “Mother,” he said fearfully, “let’s leave. Everybody atFelicity Manor has fled, the Japanese will be here soon …”
Shangguan Lü stared at her son with a look that said, Why can’t you be a man? Avoidingher eyes, he lowered his sweaty face.
“Who told you they’re coming?” Shangguan Lü demanded angrily.
“The steward at Felicity Manor has been firing his gun and sounding the alarm,”
Shangguan Shouxi muttered as he wiped his sweaty face with an arm covered with donkeyhairs. It was puny alongside the muscular arm of his mother. His lips, which had beenquivering like a baby at the tit, grew steady, as his head jerked up. Pricking up his tiny ears tolisten for sounds, he said, “Mother, Father, do you hear that?”
The hoarse voice of Sima Ting drifted lazily into the barn. “Elders, mothers, uncles, aunts— brothers, sisters-in-law — brothers and sisters — run for your lives, flee while you can,hide in the fields till the danger passes — the Japanese are on their way — this is not a falsealarm, it’s real. Fellow villagers, don’t waste another minute, run, don’t trade your lives for afew broken-down shacks. While you live, the mountains stay green, while you live, the worldkeeps turning — fellow villagers, run while you can, do not wait until it’s too late …”
Shangguan Shouxi jumped to his feet. “Did you hear that, Mother? Let’s go!”
“Go? Go where?” Shangguan Lü said unhappily. “Of course the people at Felicity Manorhave run off. But why should we join them? We are blacksmiths and farmers. We owe notariff to the emperor or taxes to the nation. We are loyal citizens, whoever is in charge. TheJapanese are human, too, aren’t they? They’ve occupied the Northeast, but where would theybe without common folk to till the fields and pay the rent? You’re his father, the head of thefamily, tell me, am I right?”
Shangguan Fulu’s lips parted to reveal two rows of strong, yellow teeth. It was hard to tellif he was smiling or frowning.
“I asked you a question!” she shouted angrily. “What do you gain by showing me thoseyellow teeth? I can’t get a fart out of you, even with a stone roller!”
With a long face, Shangguan Fulu said, “Why ask me? If you say leave, we leave, if yousay stay, we stay.”
Shangguan Lü sighed. “If the signs are good, we’ll be all right. If not, there’s nothing wecan do about it. So get to work and push down on her belly!”
Opening and closing his mouth to build up his courage, Shangguan Shouxi asked loudly,but without much confidence, “Has the baby come?”
“Any man worth his salt focuses on what he’s doing,” Shangguan Lü said. “You take careof the donkey, and leave women’s business to me.”
“She’s my wife,” Shangguan Shouxi muttered. “No one says she isn’t.”
“My guess is this time it’s a boy,” Shangguan Shouxi said as he pressed down on thedonkey’s belly. “I’ve never seen her that big before.”
“You’re worthless …” Shangguan Lü was losing spirit. “Protect us, Bodhisattva.”
Shangguan Shouxi wanted to say more, but his mother’s sad face sealed his lips.
“You two keep at it here,” Shangguan Fulu said, “while I go see what’s going on outthere.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Shangguan Lü demanded as she grabbed herhusband’s shoulders and dragged him back to where the donkey lay. “What’s going on outthere is none of your business! Just keep massaging the donkey’s belly. The sooner she foals,the better. Dear Bodhisattva, Lord in Heaven. The Shangguan ancestors were men of iron andsteel, so how did I wind up with two such worthless specimens?”
Shangguan Fulu bent over, reached out with hands that were as dainty as his son’s, andpressed down on the donkey’s twitching belly. The donkey lay between him and his son;pressing down one after the other, they seemed to be on opposite ends of a teeter-totter. Upand down they went, massaging the animal’s hide. Weak father, weak son, accomplishinglittle with their soft hands — limp wicks, fluffy cotton, always careless and given to cuttingcorners. Standing behind them, Shangguan Lü could only shake her head in frustration, beforereaching out, grabbing her husband by the neck, and jerking him to his feet. “Go on,” shedemanded, “out of my way!” She sent her husband, a blacksmith hardly worthy of the name,reeling into the corner, where he sprawled atop a sack of hay. “And you, get up!” she orderedher son. “You’re just underfoot. You never eat less than your share, and you’re never aroundwhen there’s work to be done. Lord in Heaven, what did I do to deserve this?”
Shangguan Shouxi jumped to his feet as if his life had been spared and ran over to join hisfather in the corner. Their dark little eyes rolled in their sockets, their expressions were amixture of cunning and stupidity. The silence in the barn was broken once again by the shoutsof Sima Ting, setting father and son squirming, as if their bowels or bladders were about tobetray them.
Shangguan Lü knelt on the ground in front of the donkey’s belly, oblivious of the filth, alook of solemn concentration on her face. Rolling up her sleeves, she rubbed her handstogether, creating a grating noise like scraping the soles of two shoes together. Laying hercheek against the animal’s belly, she listened attentively with her eyes narrowed. Then shestroked the donkey’s face. “Donkey,” she said, “go on, get it over with. It’s the curse of allfemales.” Then she straddled the donkey’s neck, bent over, and laid her hands on its belly. Asif planing a board, she pushed down and out. A pitiful bray tore from the donkey’s mouth andits legs shot out stiffly, four hooves quaking violently, as if beating a violent tattoo on fourdrums, the jagged rhythm bouncing off the walls. It raised its head, left it suspended in the airfor a moment, then brought it crashing back to earth with a moist, sticky thud. “Donkey,endure it a while longer,” she murmured. “Who made us female in the first place? Clenchyour teeth, push … push harder …” Holding her hands up to her chest to draw strength intothem, she took a deep breath, held it, and pushed down slowly, firmly.
The donkey struggled, yellow liquid shot out of its nostrils as its head jerked around andbanged on the ground. Down at the other end, amniotic fluid and wet, sticky feces sprayed thearea. In their horror, father and son covered their eyes.
“Fellow villagers, the Jap horse soldiers have already set out from the county seat. I’veheard eyewitness accounts, this is not a false alarm, run for your lives before it’s too late …”
Sima Ting’s shouts entered their ears with remarkable clarity.
Shangguan Fulu and his son opened their eyes and saw Shangguan Lü sitting beside thedonkey’s head, her own head lowered as she gasped for breath. Her white shirt was soakedwith sweat, throwing her solid, hard shoulder blades into prominent relief. Fresh blood pooledbetween the donkey’s legs as the spindly leg of its foal poked out from the birth canal; itlooked unreal, as if someone had stuck it up there as a prank.
Once again, Shangguan Lü laid her twitching cheek against the donkey’s belly and listened.
To Shangguan Shouxi, his mother’s face looked like an overripe apricot, a serene goldencolor. Sima Ting’s persistent shouts floated in the air, like a fly in pursuit of rotting meat,sticking first to the wall, then buzzing over to the donkey’s hide. Pangs of fear struckShangguan Shouxi’s heart and made his skin crawl; a sense of impending doom wracked him.
He lacked the courage to run out of the barn, for a vague sense of foreboding told him that theminute he stepped out the door, he’d fall into the hands of Jap soldiers — those squat littlemen with short, stubby limbs, noses like cloves of garlic, and bulging eyes, who ate humanhearts and livers and drank their victims’ blood. They’d kill and eat him, leaving nothingbehind, not even bone scraps. And at this very moment, he knew, they were massing innearby lanes to get their hands on local women and children, all the while bucking andkicking and snorting like wild horses. He turned to look at his father in hopes of gainingsolace. What he saw was an ashen-faced Shangguan Fulu, a blacksmith who was a disgrace tothe trade, sitting on a sack of hay, arms wrapped around his knees as he rocked back andforth, his back and head banging against the wall. Shangguan Shouxi’s nose began to ache, hewasn’t sure why, and tears flowed from his eyes.
With a cough, Shangguan Lü slowly raised her head. Stroking the donkey’s face, shesighed. “Donkey, oh donkey,” she said, “what have you done? How could you push its leg outlike that? Don’t you know the head has to come out first?” Water spilled from the animal’slackluster eyes. She dried them with her hand, blew her nose loudly, then turned to her son.
“Go get Third Master Fan. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to buy two bottles of liquor and apig’s head for him, but we’ll just have to spend the money. Go get him!”
Shangguan Shouxi shrank up against the wall in terror, his eyes glued to the door, whichled to the lanes outside. “The l-lanes are f-filled with J-Japanese,” he stammered, “all those J-Japanese …”
Enraged, Shangguan Lü stood up, stormed over to the door, and jerked it open, letting in anearly-summer southwest wind that carried the pungent smell of ripe wheat. The lane was still,absolutely quiet. A cluster of butterflies, looking somehow unreal, flitted past, etching apicture of colorful wings on Shangguan Shouxi’s heart; he was sure it was a bad omen.
第一章 第三节
第三节
西厢房的石磨台上，点着一盏遍体污垢的豆油灯，昏黄的灯火不安地抖动着，尖尖的火苗上，挑着一缕盘旋上升的黑烟。燃烧豆油的香气与驴粪驴尿的气味混合在一起。厢房里空气污浊。石磨的一侧，紧靠着青石驴槽。上官家临产的黑驴，侧卧在石磨与驴槽之间。上官吕氏走进厢房，眼睛只能看到豆油灯火。黑暗中传来上官福禄焦灼的问话：“他娘，生了个啥？”
上官吕氏对着丈夫的方向撇了撇嘴，没回答。她越过地上的黑驴和跪在黑驴身侧按摩驴肚皮的上官寿喜，走到窗户前，赌气般地把那张糊窗的黑纸扯了下来。十几条长方形的金色阳光突然间照亮了半边墙壁。她转身至石磨前，吹熄了磨石上的油灯。燃烧豆油的香气迅速弥漫，压住了厢房里的腥臊气。上官寿喜黑油油的小脸被一道阳光照耀得金光闪闪，两只漆黑的小眼睛闪烁着，宛若两粒炭火。他怯生生地望着母亲，低声道：“娘，咱也跑吧，福生堂的人都跑了，日本人就要来了……”
上官吕氏用恨铁不成钢的目光直盯着儿子，逼得他目光躲躲闪闪，沁满汗珠的小脸低垂下去。
“谁告诉你日本人要来？”上官吕氏恶狠狠地质问儿子。
“福生堂大掌柜的又放枪又吆喝……”上官寿喜抬起一条胳膊，用沾满驴毛的手背揩着脸上的汗水，低声嘟囔着。与上官吕氏粗大肥厚的手掌相比较，上官寿喜的手显得又小又单薄。他的嘴唇突然停止了翕动，昂起头，竖起那两只精巧玲珑的小耳朵，谛听着，他说：“娘，爹，你们听！”
司马亭沙哑的嗓音悠悠地飘进厢房：“大爷大娘们——大叔大婶们——大哥大嫂子们——大兄弟大姊妹们——快跑吧，逃难吧，到东南荒地里庄稼棵子里避避风头吧——日本人就要来了——我有可靠情报，并非虚谎，乡亲们，别犹豫了，跑吧，别舍不得那几间破屋啊，人在青山在呐，有人有世界哪——乡亲们，跑吧，晚了可就来不及了——”
上官寿喜跳起来，惊恐地说：“娘，听到了吧？咱家也跑吧……”“跑，跑到哪里去？！”上官吕氏不满地说，“福生堂当然要跑，我们跑什么？上官家打铁种地为生，一不欠皇粮，二不欠国税，谁当官，咱都为民。日本人不也是人吗？日本人占了东北乡，还不是要依靠咱老百姓给他们种地交租子？他爹，你是一家之主，我说得对不对？”
上官福禄咧着嘴，龇出两排结实的黄牙齿，脸上的表情哭笑难分。
上官吕氏怒道：“我问你哪，龇牙咧嘴干什么？碌碡压不出个屁来！”
上官福禄哭丧着脸说：“我知道个啥？你说跑咱就跑，你说不跑咱就不跑呗！”
上官吕氏叹息一声，道：“是福不是祸，是祸躲不过。还愣着干什么？快给它按肚皮！”
上官寿喜翕动着嘴唇，鼓足了勇气，用底气不足的高声问道：“她生了没有？”
“男子汉大丈夫，一心不可二用，你只管驴，妇人的事，不用你操心。”上官吕氏说。
“她是我老婆嘛……”上官寿喜喃喃着。
“没人说她不是你的老婆。”上官吕氏说。
“我猜她这一次怀的是男孩，”上官寿喜按着驴肚子，道，“她肚子大得吓人。”
“你呀，无能的东西……”上官吕氏沮丧地说，“菩萨保佑吧。”上官寿喜还想说话，但被母亲哀怨的目光封住了嘴。
上官福禄道：“你们在这忙着，我上街探看动静。”
“你给我回来！”上官吕氏一把抓住丈夫的肩头，把他拖到驴前，怒道：“街上有什么动静你看？按摩驴肚皮，帮它快点生！菩萨啊，天主啊，上官家的老祖宗都是咬铁嚼钢的汉子，怎么养出了这样一些窝囊子孙！”
上官福禄在驴前弯下腰，伸出那两只与他儿子同样秀气的小手，按在黑驴抽搐的肚皮上。他的身体与儿子的身体隔驴相对。父子二人对面相觑，都咧嘴，都龇牙，活脱脱一对难兄难弟。他们父起子伏，父伏子起，宛如踩在一条跷跷板两端的两个孩童。随着身体的起伏，他们的手在驴肚皮上浮皮潦草地揉动着。父子俩都没有力气，轻飘飘，软绵绵，灯芯草，败棉絮，漫不经心，偷工减料。站在他们身后的上官吕氏懊丧地摇摇头，伸出铁钳般的大手，捏住丈夫的脖子，把他拎起来，叱几声：“去去，到一边去！”然后，轻轻一推，欺世盗名的打铁匠上官福禄便踉踉跄跄地扑向墙角，趴在一麻袋草料上。“起来！”上官吕氏呵斥儿子，“别在这儿碍手碍脚，饭不少吃，水不少喝，干活稀松！天老爷，我好苦的命哟！”上官寿喜如同遇了大赦般跳起来，到墙角上与父亲会合。父子二人黑色的眼睛油滑地眨动着，脸上的表情既像狡诈又像木讷。这时，司马亭的喊叫声又一次涌进厢房，父子二人的身体都不安地绞动起来，仿佛屎逼，好像尿急。
上官吕氏双膝跪在驴腹前，全然不避地上的污秽。庄严的表情笼罩着她的脸。她挽起袖子，搓搓大手。她搓手的声音粗糙刺耳，宛若搓着两只鞋底。她把半边脸贴在驴的肚皮上，眯着眼睛谛听着。继而，她抚摸着驴脸，动情地说：“驴啊，驴，豁出来吧，咱们做女子的，都脱不了这一难！”然后，她跨着驴脖子，弓着腰，双手平放在驴腹上，像推刨子一样，用力往前推去。驴发出哀鸣，四条蜷曲的腿猛地弹开，四只蹄子哆嗦着，好像在迅速地敲击着四面无形的大鼓，杂乱无章的鼓声在上官家的厢房里回响。驴的脖子弯曲着扬起来，滞留在空中，然后沉重地甩下去，发出潮湿而黏腻的肉响，“驴啊，忍着点吧，谁让咱做了女的呢？咬紧牙关，使劲儿……使劲儿啊，驴……”她低声念叨着，把双手收到胸前，蓄积起力量，屏住呼吸，缓缓地、坚决地向前推压。驴挣扎着，鼻孔里喷出黄色的液体，驴头甩得呱呱唧唧，后边，羊水和粪便稀里糊涂迸溅而出。上官父子惊恐地捂住了眼睛。
“乡亲们，日本鬼子的马队已经从县城出发了，我有确切情报，不是胡吹海嗙，跑吧，再不跑就来不及了……”司马亭忠诚的喊叫声格外清晰地传入他们的耳朵。
上官父子睁开眼睛，看到上官吕氏坐在驴头边，低着头呼呼哧哧喘息。汗水溻湿了她的白布褂子，显出了她的僵硬、凸出的肩胛骨形状。黑驴臀后，汪着一摊殷红的血，一条细弱纤巧的骡腿，从驴的产道里直伸出来。这条骡腿显得格外虚假，好像是人恶作剧，故意戳到里边去的。
上官吕氏把剧烈抽搐着的半边脸再次贴到驴腹上，久久地谛听着。上官寿喜看到母亲的脸色像熟透了的杏子一样，呈现出安详的金黄颜色。司马亭孜孜不倦的吼叫飘来飘去，宛若追腥逐臭的苍蝇，粘在墙壁上，又飞到驴身上。他感到一阵阵心惊肉跳，好像大祸要临头。
他想逃离厢房，但没有胆量。他朦胧地感觉到，只要一出家门，必将落到那些据说是个头矮小、四肢粗短、蒜头鼻子、铃铛眼睛、吃人心肝喝人鲜血的小日本鬼子手中，被他们吃掉，连骨头渣子也不剩。而现在，他们一定在胡同里成群结队地奔跑着，追逐着妇女和儿童，还像撒欢的马驹一样尥蹶子、喷响鼻。为了寻求安慰和信心，他侧目寻找父亲。他看到伪冒假劣的打铁匠上官福禄满脸土色，双手抓着膝盖坐在墙角的麻袋上，身体前仰后合，脊背和后脑持续不断地撞击着墙壁形成的夹角。上官寿喜的鼻子一阵莫名其妙的酸楚，两行浊泪，咕嘟嘟冒了出来。
上官吕氏咳嗽着，慢慢地把头抬起来。她抚摸着驴脸，叹道：
“驴啊驴，你这是咋啦？怎么能先往外生腿呢？你好糊涂，生孩子，应该先生出头来……”驴的失去了光彩的眼睛里涌出泪水。她用手擦去驴眼睑上的泪，响亮地擤了擤鼻涕，然后转过身，对儿子说：“去叫你樊三大爷吧。我原想省下这两瓶酒一个猪头，嗨，该花的省不下，叫去吧！”
上官寿喜往墙角上退缩着，双眼惊恐地望着通向胡同的大门，咧着嘴，嗫嚅着：“胡同里净是日本人，净是日本人……”
上官吕氏怒冲冲地站起来，走过穿堂，拉开大门。带着成熟小麦焦香的初夏的西南风猛地灌了进来。胡同里静悄悄的，一个人影也没有，只有一群看上去十分虚假的黑色蝴蝶像纸灰一样飞舞着。上官寿喜的脑海里留下了一片片旋转得令人头晕眼花的黑色的不吉利的印象。
Chapter One 4
4
The local veterinarian and master archer, Third Master Fan, lived at the eastern end of town,on the edge of a pasture that ran all the way to Black Water River. The Flood Dragonriverbank wound directly behind his house. At his mother’s insistence, Shangguan Shouxiwalked out of the house, but on rubbery legs. He saw that the sun was a blazing ball of whiteabove the treetops, and that the dozen or so stained glass windows in the church steeple shonebrilliantly. The Felicity Manor steward, Sima Ting, was hopping around atop the watchtower,which was roughly the same height as the steeple. He was still shouting his warning that theJapanese were on their way, but his voice had grown hoarse and raspy. A few idlers weregaping up at him with their arms crossed. Shangguan Shouxi stood in the middle of the lane,trying to decide on the best way to go to Third Master Fan’s place.
Two routes were available to him, one straight through town, the other along the riverbank.
The drawback of the riverbank route was the likelihood of startling the Sun family’s big blackdogs. The Suns lived in a ramshackle compound at the northern end of the lane, encircled by alow, crumbling wall that was a favorite perch for chickens. The head of the family, AuntySun, had a brood of five grandsons, all mutes. The parents seemed not to have ever existed.
The five of them were forever playing on the wall, in which they’d created breaches, likesaddles, so they could ride imaginary horses. Holding clubs or slingshots or rifles carved fromsticks, they glared at passersby, human and animal, the whites of their eyes truly menacing.
People got off relatively easy, but not the animals; it made no difference if it was a stray calfor a raccoon, a goose, a duck, a chicken, or a dog, the minute they spotted it, they took outafter it, along with their big black dogs, converting the village into their private huntingground.
The year before, they had chased down a Felicity Manor donkey that had broken free of itshalter; after killing it, they’d skinned and butchered it out in the open. People stood bywatching, waiting to see how the folks at Felicity Manor, a powerful and rich family in whichthe uncle was a regimental commander who kept a company of armed bodyguards, woulddeal with someone openly slaughtering one of its donkeys. When the steward stamped hisfoot, half the county quaked. Now here were all these wild kids, slaughtering a Felicity Manordonkey in broad daylight, which was hardly less than asking to be slaughtered themselves.
Imagine the people’s surprise when the assistant steward, Sima Ku — a marksman with alarge red birthmark on his face — handed a silver dollar to each of the mutes instead ofdrawing his pistol. From that day on, they were incorrigible tyrants, and any animal thatencountered them could only curse its parents for not giving it wings.
While the boys were in their saddles, their five jet black dogs, which could have beenscooped out of a pond of ink, sprawled lazily at the base of the wall, eyes closed to mere slits,seemingly dreaming peaceful dreams. The five mutes and their dogs had a particular dislikefor Shangguan Shouxi, who lived in the same lane, although he could not recall where orwhen he had managed to offend these ten fearsome demons. But whenever he came acrossthem, he was in for a bad time. He would flash them a smile, but that never kept the dogsfrom flying at him like five black arrows, and even though the attacks stopped short ofphysical contact, and he was never bitten, he’d be so rattled his heart would nearly stop. Themere thought of it made him shudder.
Or he could head south, across the town’s main street, and get to Third Master Fan’s thatway. But that meant he would have to pass by the church, and at this hour, the tall, heavyset,redheaded, blue-eyed Pastor Malory would be squatting beneath the prickly ash tree, with itspungent aroma, milking his old goat, the one with the scraggly chin whiskers, squeezing herred, swollen teats with large, soft, hairy hands, and sending milk so white it seemed almostblue splashing into a rusty enamel bowl. Swarms of redheaded flies always buzzed aroundPastor Malory and his goat. The pungency of the prickly ash, the muttony smell of the goat,and the man’s rank body odor blended into a foul miasma that swelled in the sunlit air andpolluted half the block. Nothing bothered Shangguan Shouxi more than the prospect of PastorMalory looking up from behind his goat, both of them stinking to high heaven, and castingone of those ambiguous glances his way, even though the hint of a compassionate smileshowed that it was given in friendship. When he smiled, Pastor Malory displayed teeth aswhite as those of a horse. He was forever dragging his dirty finger back and forth across hischest — Amen! And every time that happened, Shangguan Shouxi’s stomach lurched amid aflood of mixed feelings, until he turned tail and ran like a whipped dog. He avoided thevicious dogs at the mutes’ house out of fear; he avoided Pastor Malory and his milk goat outof disgust. What irritated him most was that his wife, Shangguan Lu, had special feelings forthis redheaded devil. She was his devout follower, he was her god.
After wrestling with his thoughts for a long moment, Shangguan Shouxi decided to take thenorth and east route, even though the watchtower, with Sima Ting standing on its perch, andthe scene below had him in its thrall. Everything seemed normal down here, except, of course,for the steward, who was acting like a monkey. No longer petrified by the prospect ofencountering Jap devils, he had to admire his mother’s ability to size up a situation. But justto be on the safe side, he bent down and picked up a couple of bricks. He heard the braying ofa little donkey somewhere and a mother calling to her children.
As he walked past the Sun compound, he was relieved to see that the wall was deserted: nomutes saddled in the breaches, no chickens perched on top, and, most importantly, no dogssprawled lazily at the base. A low wall to begin with, the breaches brought it even closer tothe ground, and that gave him an unobstructed view of the yard, where a slaughtering was inprogress. The victims were the family’s proud but lonely chickens; the butcher was AuntySun, a woman of ample martial talents. People said that when she was young, she was arenowned bandit who could leap over eaves and walk on walls. But when she fell afoul of thelaw, she had no choice but to marry a stove repairman named Sun.
Shangguan Shouxi counted the corpses of seven chickens, glossy white, with splotches ofblood here and there the only traces of their death struggles. An eighth chicken, its throat cut,flew out of Aunty Sun’s hand and thudded to the ground, where it tucked in its neck, flappedits wings, and ran around in circles. The five mutes, stripped to the waist, hunkered downbeneath the house eaves, staring blankly at the struggling chicken one minute and at the razor-sharp knife in their grandmother’s hand the next. Their expressions and movements werealarmingly identical; even the shifting of their eyes seemed orchestrated. For all her renown inthe village, Aunty Sun had been reduced to a skinny, wrinkled old woman, although her faceand her expression, her figure and her bearing, carried evocative remnants of her former self.
The five dogs sat in a huddle, heads raised, blank, mysterious looks in their eyes, bleak gazesthat defied attempts to guess what they meant.
Shangguan Shouxi was so mesmerized by the scene in the Suns’ yard that he stopped towatch, his mind purged of anxieties and, more significantly, his mother’s orders. He was nowa forty-two-year-old shrimp of a man leaning up against a wall, a rapt audience of one.
Feeling the icy glare of Aunty Sun sweep past him like a knife, yielding as water and sharp asthe wind, he felt scalped. The mutes and their dogs also turned to look at him. Evil, restlessglares emerged from the eyes of the mutes; the dogs cocked their heads, bared their fangs, andgrowled as the hair on the back of their necks stood up. Five dogs, like arrows on a taut string,ready to fly. Time to get moving, he was thinking, when he heard Aunty Sun coughthreateningly. The mutes abruptly lowered their heads, swollen from excitement, and all fivedogs hit the ground obediently, legs splayed in front of them.
“Worthy nephew Shangguan, what’s your mother up to?” Aunty Sun asked calmly.
He was stuck for a good answer; there was so much he wanted to say, and not a wordwould come out. As his face reddened, he just stammered, like a thief caught in the act.
Aunty Sun smiled. Reaching down, she pinned a black-and-red rooster by the neck andstroked its silky feathers. The rooster cackled nervously, while she plucked the stubborn tailfeathers and stuffed them into a woven rush sack. The rooster fought like a demon, madlyclawing the muddy ground with its talons.
“Do your daughters know how to kick shuttlecocks? The best ones are made from the tailfeathers of a live rooster. Ai, when I think back…”
She stopped in midsentence and glared at him as she sank into the oblivion of reverie. Hergaze seemed to bounce off the wall then bore through it. Shangguan Shouxi’s eyeballs didn’tflicker, and he held his breath, fearfully. Finally, Aunty Sun seemed to deflate in front of hiseyes, like a punctured ball; her eyes went from blazing to mournfully gentle. She steppeddown on the rooster’s legs, wrapped her left hand around the base of its wings, and pinchedits neck. Unable to move, it gave up the struggle. Then, with her right hand, she beganplucking the fine throat feathers until its reddish purple skin showed. Finally, after flicking therooster’s throat with her index finger, she picked up the shiny knife, shaped like a willow leaf,made a single swipe, and the throat opened up, releasing a torrent of inky red blood, largedrops pushing smaller ones ahead of them. Aunty Sun slowly got to her feet, still holding thebleeding rooster, and looked around wistfully. She squinted in the bright sunlight. ShangguanShouxi felt lightheaded. The smell of poplars was heavy in the air. Scat! He heard AuntySun’s voice and watched as the black rooster tumbled through the air and thudded to theground in the middle of the yard. With a sigh, he let his hands drop from the wall.
Suddenly, he remembered that he was supposed to be getting Third Master Fan to help withthe donkey. But as he was turning to leave, the rooster, bloody but fighting to stay alive,struggled miraculously to its feet, propped up by its wings. Shorn of feathers, its tail stood upin all its strange, hideous nakedness, frightening Shangguan Shouxi. Blood still streamedfrom its open throat, but the head and comb, bled dry, were turning a deathly white. Yet itkept fighting to hold it up. Struggle! It held its head high, but then it sagged and hung limply.
Again it rose in the air, then drooped, and rose one more time, this time, it seemed, to stay. Itshook from side to side, as the rooster sat down, blood and foamy bubbles seeping from itsbeak and then from the opening in its neck. Its eyes glittered like gold nuggets. Distressed bythe sight, Aunty Sun wiped her hands with straw and seemed to be chewing on something,even though her mouth was empty. She spat out a mouthful of saliva and yelled at the fivedogs, “Go!”
Shangguan Shouxi fell flat on his backside.
When he pulled himself back to his feet, black feathers were flying all over the yard; thearrogant rooster was being torn apart, splattering the ground with raw meat and fresh blood.
Like a pack of wolves, the dogs fought over the entrails. The mutes clapped their hands andlaughed —guh-guh. Aunty Sun sat on the doorstep holding a long pipe, smoking like awoman deep in thought.
第一章 第四节
第四节
兽医兼“弓子手”樊三大爷的家坐落在村子的东头，紧挨着那片向东南方向一直延伸到墨水河边的荒草甸子。在他家院子的后边，是蜿蜒百里的蛟龙河高高的河堤。上官寿喜在母亲的逼迫下，软着腿走出家门。他看到超越了林梢的太阳已变成灼目白球，教堂钟楼上那十几片花玻璃光彩夺目，与钟楼同高的瞭望塔上，上蹿下跳着福生堂大掌柜司马亭。他还在用嘶哑的声音吼叫着，传播着日本人即将进村的警报。街上，有一些抱着膀子的闲人仰着脸望他。上官寿喜站在胡同中央，为选择去樊三家的路线犹豫。去樊三家有两条路，一条走大街，一条走河堤。走河堤他怕惊动了孙家那一群黑狗。孙家的破旧院落坐落在胡同北头。院墙低矮，墙头上有几个光溜溜的豁口。没豁口的地方，经常蹲着一群鸡。孙家的家长是孙大姑，率领着五个哑巴孙子，哑巴们的父母好像从来就没存在过。五个哑巴在墙头上爬来爬去，爬出五个豁口，呈马鞍形状。他们一个挨一个骑在豁口上，好像骑着骏马。他们手持棍棒、弹弓或是木棍刮削成的刀枪，瞪着眼白很多的眼睛，阴沉沉地盯着每一个从胡同里经过的人或是别的动物。他们对人比较客气，对动物绝不客气，不论是牛犊还是狸猫，是鹅鸭还是鸡犬，只要发现，便率着他们的狗，穷追不舍，把偌大的村庄变成猎场。去年，他们合伙追杀了福生堂一匹脱缰的大骡子，在喧闹的大街上剥皮剜肉。人人都等着看好戏：福生堂家大业大，有在外当团长的叔伯，有在城当警官的表亲，家里养着狐假虎威的短枪队。福生堂掌柜的在大街上跺跺脚，半个县都哆嗦。公然屠杀他家的骡子，跟找死有什么两样？但福生堂的二掌柜司马库——他枪法奇准，脸上有一块巴掌大的红痣——非但没有掏枪，反而掏出五块大洋钱，赏给了哑巴五兄弟。从此哑巴们更是恣意妄为，村里的牲畜们见了他们，都只恨爷娘少生了两只翅膀。当他们骑墙扬威时，那五条像从墨池里捞上来一样遍体没有一根杂毛的黑狗，总是慵懒地卧在墙根，眯缝着眼睛，仿佛在做梦。孙家的哑巴们和哑巴们的狗对同住一条胡同的上官寿喜抱着深深的成见，他想不清楚何时何地如何得罪了这十个可怕的精灵。只要他碰到人骑墙头、狗卧墙根的阵势，坏运气便要临头。尽管他每次都对着哑巴们微笑，但依然难以避免五条箭一般扑上来的黑狗们的袭击。虽然这袭击仅仅是恫吓，并不咬破他的皮肉，但还是令他心惊胆战，想起来便不寒而栗。
他欲往南，经由横贯村镇的车马大道去樊三家，但走大街必走教堂门前，身高体胖、红头发蓝眼睛的马洛亚牧师在这个时辰，必定是蹲在大门外的那株遍体硬刺、散发着辛辣气息的花椒树下，弯着腰，用通红的、生着细软黄毛的大手，挤着那只下巴上生有三绺胡须的老山羊的红肿的奶头，让白得发蓝的奶汁，响亮地射进那个已露出锈铁的搪瓷盆子里。成群结队的红头绿苍蝇，围绕着马洛亚和他的奶山羊，嗡嗡地飞舞着。花椒树的辣味、奶山羊的膻气、马洛亚的臊味，混成恶浊的气味团膨胀在艳阳天下，毒害了半条街。上官寿喜最难忍受的是马洛亚那从奶山羊腚后抬起头来，那含混暧昧的一瞥，尽管他的脸上是表示友好的、悲天悯人的微笑。因为微笑，马洛亚嘴唇上搐，露出马一样的洁白牙齿。粗大的脏手指画着毛茸茸的胸脯，阿门！上官寿喜每逢此时便翻肠搅胃，百感交集，夹着尾巴的狗一样逃跑。躲避哑巴家的恶狗，是因为恐惧；躲避马洛亚和他的奶羊，则是因为厌恶。更令他厌恶的，是自己的妻子上官鲁氏，竟对这个红毛鬼子有着一种特别亲近的感情，她是他虔诚的信徒，他是她的上帝。
经过反复斟酌，上官寿喜决定北上东行去请樊三爷，尽管瞭望塔上的司马亭和瞭望塔下的热闹对他极有诱惑。除了塔上多了一个耍猴一样的福生堂大掌柜，村里一切正常，于是，对于小日本鬼子的恐怖消失了，他佩服母亲的判断力。为了对付那五条恶狗，他拣了两块砖头握在手里。他听到大街上有毛驴高亢嘹亮的鸣叫声，还有女人呼唤孩子的叫声。
路经孙家的院墙时，他庆幸地看到，孙家光秃秃的墙头上空前寂寞，既没有哑巴骑在豁口上，也没有鸡蹲在墙头上，狗也没卧在墙边做梦。孙家的院墙本来很矮，爬出豁口后更矮，他的目光越过院墙，轻松地看到，孙家的院子里，正在进行着一场大屠杀。被屠杀者是孙家那群孤独高傲的鸡，屠杀者是孙家的老奶奶，一个极有功夫的女人，人称孙大姑。传说孙大姑年轻时能飞檐走壁，是江湖上有名的女响马，只因犯了大案，才下嫁给孙小炉匠。他看到院子里已躺着七只鸡的尸首。光滑的、发白的地面上，涂抹着一圈圈的鸡血，那是鸡垂死挣扎时留下的痕迹。又一只被割断了喉管的鸡从孙大姑手里掷出来。鸡跌在地上，窝着脖子，扑棱着翅膀，蹬着腿，团团地旋转。五个哑巴，都赤着臂膊，蹲在屋檐下，瞪着直呆呆的眼睛，时而看看挣扎着转圈的鸡，时而看看他们手持利刃的奶奶。他们的神情、动作都惊人地一致，连眼神的转移，都仿佛遵循着统一的号令。在乡里享有盛名的孙大姑，其实是个瘦骨伶仃、面容清癯的老人。她的面孔、神情、身段、做派，传递着往昔的信息，让人去猜想她的当年英姿。那五条黑狗，团簇在一起，昂着头坐着，狗眼里流露出茫然无边的神秘又荒凉的情绪，谁也猜不透它们在思想什么。孙家院内的情景，像一台魅力无穷的好戏，留住了上官寿喜的目光和脚步，使他忘掉了千头万绪的烦恼，更忘掉了母亲的命令。这个四十二岁的小个子男人，俯在孙家的墙头上，专注地观看。他感到孙大姑的目光横扫过来，冷冰冰的，宛若一柄柔软如水、锋利如风的宝刀，几乎削掉了自己的头颅。哑巴们和他们的狗也转过脸转过眼睛。哑巴们眼里放射着几近邪恶的、兴奋不安的光彩。狗们歪着头，龇出锐利的白牙，喉咙里滚动着低沉的咆哮，脖子上的硬毛根根直立起来。五条狗，犹如五支弦上的箭，随时都会射过来。他正要逃跑，就听到孙大姑威严地咳嗽了一声，哑巴们兴奋膨胀的头颅猝然萎靡不振地垂了下去，五条狗也恭顺地伸平前爪，趴了下去。他听到孙大姑悠然地问：
“上官大侄子，你娘在家忙什么呢？”
他一时不知应该如何回答孙大姑的询问，仿佛有千言万语涌到口边，却连一句话也说不出口。他满脸窘态，支支吾吾，像被人当场捏住手脖子的小偷。
孙大姑平淡地笑笑，没说什么。她一把拽住那只生着黑红尾羽的大公鸡，轻轻地抚摸着它绸缎般光滑的羽毛。公鸡惊恐不安地咯咯着。她撕下公鸡尾巴上富有弹性的翎毛，塞到一个蒲草编成的袋子里。公鸡疯狂地挣扎着，坚硬的趾爪刨起了一团团泥土。孙大姑道：
“你家的闺女们会不会踢毽子？从活公鸡身上拔下的羽毛做成的毽子才好踢，嗨，想当年……”
她盯了上官寿喜一眼，突然煞住了话头，陷入一种痴迷的沉思状态。她的眼睛仿佛盯着土墙，又仿佛穿透了土墙。上官寿喜不错眼珠地看着她，大气不敢出一口。终于，孙大姑皮球般泄了气，精光灼灼的眼神变得温柔悲凉。她踩住大公鸡的双腿，左手虎口卡住公鸡的翅根，食指和拇指捏住了公鸡的脖子。公鸡一动不动，失去了挣扎的能力。她伸出右手的食指和拇指，撕掉了公鸡绷紧的脖子上的细毛羽，裸露出一段紫色的鸡皮。她屈起右手中指，弹了弹鸡的喉咙。然后，她捏起那把耀眼的柳叶般的小刀，轻轻地一抹，鸡的喉咙便豁然开朗，一股黑色的血淅淅沥沥地、大珠追小珠地跳出来……孙大姑提着滴血的公鸡，慢腾腾地站起来。她四处张望着，仿佛在寻找什么东西。明亮的阳光使她眯着眼睛。上官寿喜头昏目眩。槐花香气浓郁。去吧！他听到孙大姑说。那只黑糊糊的大公鸡在空中翻着筋斗飞行，最后，沉重地跌在院子中央。他长长地舒了一口气，把住墙头的双手慢慢松开。这时，他猛然想起去请樊三给黑驴接生的事。就在他抽身欲去的瞬间，奇迹般地，那只公鸡竟用两只翅膀支撑着身体，宁死不屈地站了起来。它失去了高扬的尾羽，翘着光秃秃的尾巴根子，丑陋古怪，令上官寿喜内心惊骇。鸡脖子皮开肉绽，鲜血淋漓，支持不住生着原先血红现在变苍白了的大冠子的头。它在努力昂头。努力啊！它的头昂起昂起猛然垂下，沉甸甸地悬挂着。它的头昂起昂起落下落下终于昂起。公鸡昂着摇摇晃晃的头，屁股坐在地上，血和泡沫从它坚硬的嘴巴和脖子上的刀口里咕噜噜冒出来。它的金黄眼珠子宛如两颗金色的星星。孙大姑有些惶惶不安，用一把乱草擦着双手，嘴巴咀嚼着什么似的其实什么也没有咀嚼。突然，她吐出一口唾沫，对着五条狗吼了一声：
“去！”
上官寿喜一屁股坐在地上。
当他手扶着墙壁立起时，孙家院内已是黑羽翻飞，那只骄傲的公鸡已被撕扯得四分五裂，血肉涂地。狗像狼一样，争夺着公鸡的肚肠。哑巴们拍着巴掌，嗬嗬地傻笑。孙大姑坐在门槛上，端着长杆烟锅子，若有所思地抽烟。
Chapter One 5
5
The seven daughters of the Shangguan family — Laidi (Brother Coming), Zhaodi (BrotherHailed), Lingdi (Brother Ushered), Xiangdi (Brother Desired), Pandi (Brother Anticipated),Niandi (Brother Wanted), and Qiudi (Brother Sought) — drawn by a subtle fragrance, cameout of the side room to the east and huddled under Shangguan Lu’s window. Seven littleheads, pieces of straw stuck in their hair, crowded up to see what was happening inside. Theysaw their mother sitting on the kang leisurely shucking peanuts, as if nothing were amiss. Butthe fragrance continued to seep through their mother’s window. Eighteen-year-old Laidi, firstto comprehend what Mother was doing, could see the sweaty hair and bloody lips, and notedthe frightening spasms of her swollen belly and the flies flitting around the room. The peanutswere being crushed into crumbs.
Laidi’s voice cracked as she cried out, “Mother!” Her six younger sisters followed her lead.
Tears washed all seven girls’ cheeks. The youngest, Qiudi, cried pitifully; her little legs,covered with bedbug and mosquito bites, began to churn, and she broke for the door. ButLaidi ran over and swept her up in her arms. Still bawling, the little girl pummeled her sister’sface.
“I want Mommy, I want my Mommy …”
Laidi’s nose began to ache, and there was a lump in her throat. Hot tears streamed downher face. “Don’t cry, Qiudi,” she coaxed her little sister as she patted her on the back, “don’tcry. Mommy’s going to give us a baby brother, a fair-skinned, roly-poly baby brother.”
Shangguan Lu’s moans emerged from the room. “Laidi,” she said weakly, “take yoursisters away. They’re too small to understand what’s going on. You should know better.”
Then a shriek of pain tore from her mouth, and the remaining five girls crowded up to thewindow again.
“Mommy,” fourteen-year-old Lingdi cried out, “Mommy …”
Laidi put her sister down and ran to the door on feet that had been bound briefly thenliberated. She tripped on the doorsill’s rotting boards and crashed into the bellows, smashing alarge dark green ceramic bowl filled with chicken feed. When she clambered to her feet, shespotted her grandmother, who was kneeling at the Guanyin altar, where incense smoke wascurling into the air.
Quaking from head to toe, she righted the bellows, then bent down to pick up the pieces ofthe broken bowl, as if by somehow putting it back together she could lessen the severity ofher blunder. Her grandmother stood up quickly, like an overfed horse, swaying from side toside, her head shaking crazily, as a string of strange sounds spilled from her mouth. Shrinkinginto herself and holding her head in her hands, Laidi braced for the anticipated blow. Butinstead of hitting her, her grandmother pinched her thin, pale earlobe and pulled her up, thenpropelled her toward the door. With a screech, she stumbled into the yard and fell on the brickpath. From there she watched her grandmother bend down to scrutinize the broken bowl, herposture now resembling a cow drinking from a river. After what seemed like a very long time,she straightened up, holding some of the pieces in her hand and tapping them with her fingerto produce a pleasantly crisp sound. Her wrinkled face had a pinched quality; the corners ofher mouth turned down, where they merged with two deep creases running straight to herchin, making it seem as if it had been added to her face as an afterthought.
Kneeling on the path, Laidi sobbed, “Grandma, you can come beat me to death.”
“Beat you to death?” Shangguan Lü said sorrowfully. “Will that make this bowl wholeagain? It comes from the Yongle reign of the Ming dynasty, and was part of your great-grandmother’s dowry. It was worth the price of a new donkey!”
Her face ashen, Laidi begged her grandmother for forgiveness.
“It’s time for you to get married!” Shangguan Lü sighed. “Instead of getting up early to doyour chores, you’re out here causing a scene. Your mother doesn’t even have the good fortuneto die!”
Laidi buried her face in her hands and wailed.
“Do you expect me to thank you for smashing one of our best utensils?” Shangguan Lücomplained. “Now quit pestering me, and take those fine sisters of yours, who aren’t good foranything but stuffing their faces, down to Flood Dragon River to catch some shrimp. Anddon’t come home until you’ve got a basketful!”
Laidi clambered to her feet, scooped up her baby sister Qiudi, and ran outside.
After shooing Niandi and the other girls out the door like a brood of chickens, ShangguanLü picked up a willow shrimping basket and flung it to Lingdi. Holding Qiudi in one arm,Laidi reached out with her free hand and took the hand of Niandi, who took the hand ofXiangdi, who took the hand of Pandi. Lingdi, shrimping basket in one hand, took Pandi’s freehand with her own, and the seven sisters, tugging and being tugged, crying and sniffling,walked down the sundrenched, windswept lane, heading for Flood Dragon River.
As they passed by Aunty Sun’s yard, they noticed a heavy fragrance hanging in the air andsaw white smoke billowing out of the chimney. The five mutes were carrying kindling intothe house, like a column of ants; the black dogs, tongues lolling, kept guard at the door,expectantly.
When the girls climbed the bank of the Flood Dragon River, they had a clear view of thecompound. The five mutes spotted them. The oldest boy curled his upper lip, with its greasymustache, and smiled at Laidi, whose cheeks suddenly burned. She recalled the time whenshe’d gone to the river to fetch water, and the mute had tossed a cucumber into her bucket. Hehad grinned at her, like a sly fox, but with no sinister intent, and her heart had leapt, for thefirst time in her life. With blood rushing to her cheeks, she’d gazed down at the glassy surfaceof the water and seen how flushed her face had become. Afterwards, she’d eaten thecucumber, and the taste had lingered long after it was gone. She looked up at the colorfulchurch steeple and the watch-tower. A man at the top was dancing around like a goldenmonkey and shouting:
“Fellow villagers, the Japanese horse soldiers have already set out from the city!”
People gathered below the tower and gazed up at the platform, where the man grabbed therailing from time to time and looked down, as if answering their unasked questions. Thenhe’d straighten up again, make another turn around the platform, cupping his hands like amegaphone to warn one and all that the Japanese would soon be entering the village.
Suddenly, the rumble of a horse-drawn wagon emerged from the main street. Where it hadcome from was a mystery; it was as if it had simply dropped from the sky or risen out of theground. Three fine horses were pulling the large, rubber-wheeled wagon, the clip-clopping oftwelve hooves racing along, leaving clouds of yellow dust in their wake. One of the horseswas apricot yellow, one date red, the other the green of fresh leeks. Fat, sleek, and fascinating,they seemed made of wax. A dark-skinned little man stood spread-legged on the shafts behindthe lead horse, and from a distance, it looked as if he were straddling the horse itself. His red-tasseled whip danced in the air — pa pa pa — as he sang out, haw haw haw. Withoutwarning, he jerked the reins, the horses whinnied as they stiffened their legs, and the wagonskidded to a halt. Clouds of dust that had followed them quickly swallowed up the wagon, thehorse, and the driver. Once the dust had settled, Laidi saw the Felicity Manor servants run outwith baskets of liquor and bales of straw, which they loaded onto the wagon. One burlyfellow stood on the steps of the Felicity Manor gateway, shouting at the top of his lungs. Oneof the baskets fell to the ground with a thud, the pig-bladder stopper fell out, and the fineliquor began to spread on the ground. When a pair of servants rushed over to pick up thebasket, the man in the gateway jumped down off the step, swirled his glossy whip in the air,and brought the tip down on their backs. They covered their heads and hunkered down in themiddle of the street to take the whipping they deserved. The whip danced like a snake coilingin the sun. The smell of liquor rose in the air. The wilderness was vast and still, wheat in thefields bent before the wind, waves of gold. On the watchtower the man shouted, “Run, run foryour lives …”
People emerged from their houses, like ants scurrying around aimlessly. Some walked,others ran, and still others stood frozen to a spot; some headed east, others headed west, andstill others went in circles, looking first in one direction, then another. The aroma driftingacross the Sun compound was heavier than ever, as a cloud of opaque steam rolled outthrough the front door. The mutes were nowhere to be seen, and silence spread throughout theyard, broken only by an occasional chicken bone sailing out the door, where it was foughtover by the five black dogs. The victor would take its prize over to the wall, to huddle in thecorner and gnaw on it, while the losers glared red-eyed into the house and growled softly.
Lingdi tugged at her sister. “Let’s go home, okay?”
Laidi shook her head. “No, we’re going down to the river to catch shrimp. Mommy willneed shrimp soup after our baby brother is born.”
So they walked single file down to the river’s edge, where the placid surface reflected thedelicate faces of the Shangguan girls. They all had their mother’s high nose and fair, fullearlobes. Laidi took a mahogany comb out of a pocket and combed each of her sisters’ hair;pieces of straw and dust fluttered to the ground. They grimaced and complained when thecomb pulled through the tangles. Finished with her sisters, Laidi then ran the comb throughher own hair and twisted it into a single braid, which she tossed over her back; the tip fell toher rounded hip. After putting away the comb, she rolled up her pant legs, revealing a pair offair, shapely calves. Then she took off her blue satin shoes, with their red embroideredflowers; her sisters all stared at her bare feet, which had been partially crippled from thebindings. “What are you gawking at?” she demanded angrily. “If we don’t bring home lots ofshrimp, the old witch will never forgive us!”
Her sisters hurriedly took off their shoes and rolled up their pant legs; Qiudi, the youngest,stripped naked. Laidi stood on the muddy bank looking down at water grasses swaying gentlyat the bottom of the slow-flowing river. Fish frolicked there, while swallows skimmed thesurface of the water. She stepped into the river and shouted, “Qiudi, you stay up there to catchthe shrimp. The rest of you, into the water.”
Giggling and squealing, the girls stepped into the river.
As her heels, accentuated by the bindings she’d worn as a little girl, sank into the mud, andthe underwater grasses gently stroked her calves, Laidi experienced an indescribablesensation. Bending over at the waist, she carefully dug her fingers into the mud around theroots of the grasses, since that was the best place to find shrimp. Without warning, somethingleaped up between her fingers, sending shivers of delight through her. A nearly transparent,coiled freshwater shrimp the thickness of her finger, each of its feelers a work of art, laysquirming in her hand. She flung it up onto the riverbank. With a whoop of joy, Qiudi ranover and scooped it up.
“First Sister, I got one, too!”
“I got one, First Sister!”
“So did I!”
The task of retrieving all the shrimp was too much for two-year-old Qiudi, who stumbledand fell, then sat on the dike and bawled. Several of the shrimp were able to spring back intothe river and disappear in the water. So Laidi went up and took her sister down to the water’sedge, where she washed her muddy backside. Each splash of water on bare skin resulted in aspasm and a shriek mixed with a string of meaningless foul words. With a swat on her sister’sbottom, Laidi let go of the younger girl, who nearly flew to the top of the dike, where shepicked a stick out of some shrubbery, pointed it at her big sister, and cursed like a shrewishold woman. Laidi laughed.
By then, her sisters had made their way upriver. Dozens of shrimp leaped and squirmed onthe sunlit bank. “Scoop them up, First Sister!” Qiudi shouted.
She began putting them into the basket. “I'll get you when we get home, you little imp!”
Then she bent down, a smile on her face, and continued scooping up the shrimp, enough towipe her mind clear of worries. She opened her mouth, and out came a little song — where ithad come from, she didn’t know: “Mommy, Mommy, you are so mean, marrying me to an oilvendor, sight unseen …”
She quickly caught up with her sisters, who stood shoulder to shoulder in the shallows,their rumps sticking up in the air, chins nearly touching the water. They moved ahead slowly,hands buried in the water, opening and closing, opening and closing. Yellow leaves that hadsnapped off the plants floated in the muddy water they left in their wake. Each time one ofthem stood up meant another shrimp caught. Lingdi, then Pandi, then Xiangdi, one afteranother they straightened up and tossed shrimp in the direction of their big sister, who ranaround, scooping them up, while Qiudi tried to keep up.
Before they realized it, they had nearly reached the arched footbridge spanning the river.
“Come out of there,” Laidi shouted, “all of you. The basket’s full, we’re going home.”
Reluctantly, the girls waded out of the water and stood on the dike, hands bleached by thewater, calves coated with purplish mud. “How come there are so many shrimp in the rivertoday, Sis?” “Has Mommy already given us a baby brother, Sis?” “What do the Japs looklike, Sis?” “Do they really eat children, Sis?” “How come the mutes killed all their chickens,Sis?” “How come Grandma’s always yelling at us, Sis?” “I dreamed there was a big, fat loachin Mommy’s belly, Sis …” One question after another, and not a single response from Laidi,whose eyes were fixed on the bridge, its stones glittering in the sunlight. The rubber-wheeledwagon, with its three horses, had driven up and stopped at the bridgehead.
When the squat wagon master flicked the reins, the horses stepped restlessly onto thebridge flooring. Sparks and a loud clatter rose from the stones. Some men were standingnearby; they were stripped to the waist, wide leather belts cinching up their trousers, brassbelt buckles glinting in the sun. Laidi knew the men: they were Felicity Manor servants.
Several of them jumped up onto the wagon and tossed down the rice straw, then unloaded theliquor baskets, twenty altogether. The wagon master tugged on the reins to back the shafthorse over to a vacant piece of ground beside the bridgehead, just as the assistant steward,Sima Ku, rode out of the village on a black German-made bicycle, the first ever seen inNortheast Gaomi Township. Laidi’s granddad, Shangguan Fulu, who could never keep hishands to himself, had once reached out, when he thought no one was looking, to fondle thehandlebar; but that had been back in the spring. Blue flames nearly shot out of Sima Ku’sangry eyes. He was wearing a long silk robe over white imported cotton trousers, tied at theankles with blue bands and black tassels, and white-soled rubber shoes. His trouser legsbillowed, as if pumped full of air; the hem of his robe was tucked into a belt woven of whitesilk tied at the front, with one long end and one short one. A narrow leather belt over his leftshoulder crossed his chest like a sash, and was connected to a leather pouch with a piece offlaming red silk. The German bicycle bell rang out, heralding his arrival, as if on the wind. Hejumped off the bicycle and removed his wide-brimmed straw hat to fan himself; the red moleon his face looked like a hot cinder. “Get moving!” he ordered the servants. “Pile the straw onthe bridge and soak it with liquor. We’ll incinerate those fucking dogs!”
The servants busily carried the straw onto the bridge until it stood waist high. White mothscarried along with the straw flitted around the area; some fell into the water and wound up inthe bellies of fish, others were snapped up by swallows.
“Douse the straw with the liquor!” Sima Ku ordered.
The servants picked up the baskets and, struggling mightily, carried them up onto thebridge. After pulling out the stoppers, they poured the liquor onto the straw, beautiful, high-octane liquor whose fragrance intoxicated an entire section of river. The straw rustled.
Rivulets of liquor spread across the bridge and down to the stone facing, where it puddledbefore showering into the river, becoming a cascade by the time all twelve baskets wereempty, and washing the stone facing clean. The straw changed color, a transparent sheet ofliquor falling into the water below, and before long, little white fish were popping up on thesurface. Laidi’s sisters wanted to wade out into the river and scoop up the drunken fish, butshe stopped them: “Stay away from there! We’re going home!”
But they were mesmerized by the activity on the bridge. In fact, Laidi was as curious asthey were, and even as she tried to drag her sisters away, her gaze kept returning to the bridge,where Sima Ku stood, smugly clapping his hands; his eyes lit up and a smile creased his face.
“Who else could have devised such a brilliant strategy?” he crowed to the servants. “No onebut me, damn it! Come on, you little Nips, get a taste of my might!”
The servants roared in response. “Second Steward, shall we light it now?” one asked.
“No, not until they arrive.”
The servants escorted Sima Ku over to the bridgehead and the Felicity Manor wagonheaded back to the village. The only sound was of liquor dripping into the river.
Shrimp basket in hand, Laidi led her sisters to the top of the dike, parting the shrubbery thatgrew on the slope on her way up. Suddenly, a skinny, black face materialized in the brush infront of her. With a shriek, she dropped the basket, which bounced on the springy shrubberyand rolled all the way down to the edge of the water, spilling the shrimp, a shimmering,squirming mass. Lingdi ran down to pick up the basket, while her sisters went after theshrimp. As Laidi retreated toward the river, she kept her eyes fixed on that black face, onwhich an apologetic smile appeared, exposing two rows of teeth that shone like pearls. “Don’tbe afraid, little sister,” she heard him say softly. “We’re guerrilla fighters. Don’t scream. Justget away from here as fast as you can.”
Looking around, she spotted dozens of men in green clothing hiding in the shrubs, hardlooks in their staring eyes; some were armed with rifles, others held grenades, and others stillcarried rusty swords. The man behind the dirty, smiling face held a steel blue pistol in hisright hand and a shiny, ticking object in his left. It wasn’t until much later that she learned thatthe object was a pocket-sized timepiece; by that time, she was already sharing her bed withthe dark-faced man.
第一章 第五节
第五节
上官家的七个女儿——来弟、招弟、领弟、想弟、盼弟、念弟、求弟——被一股淡淡的香气吸引着，从她们栖身的东厢房里钻出来，齐集在上官鲁氏的窗前。七颗头发蓬乱、沾着草屑的脑袋挤在一起，往窗里张望着。她们看到，母亲仰坐在土炕上，悠闲地剥着花生，好像什么事情也没有发生。但那股淡淡的香气，却分明是从母亲的窗户溢出的。已经十八岁的来弟最先明白了母亲在干什么。她看到了母亲汗湿的头发和流血的下唇，看到了母亲可怕地抽搐着的肚皮和满室飞动的苍蝇。母亲剥花生的手扭动着，把一颗颗花生捏得粉碎。上官来弟哽咽着叫了一声娘。她的六个妹妹跟随着她叫起娘来。泪水挂满了七个女孩的面颊。最小的上官求弟，大声哭叫着，挪动着两条被跳蚤和蚊虫叮咬得斑斑点点的小腿，笨拙地向屋子里跑去。上官来弟追上去，拉住了小妹，并顺势把她抱在怀里。求弟哭喊着，抡起拳头，擂着姐姐的脸。
“我要娘……我要找娘……”上官求弟哭叫。
上官来弟感到鼻酸喉堵，眼泪热辣辣地涌出。她拍打着妹妹的背，哄道：“求弟不哭，求弟不哭，娘给我们生小弟弟，娘给我们生一个白白胖胖的小弟弟……”
屋里传出上官鲁氏微弱的呻吟和断断续续的话语：“来弟呀……带着妹妹们离开……她们小，不懂事，难道你也不懂事……”
屋里哗啦一声响，上官鲁氏一声哀号。五个妹妹挤在窗前，十四岁的上官领弟大声哭喊着：“娘，娘呀……”
上官来弟放下妹妹，飞起两只缠过、后又解放了的小脚，往屋里跑去。腐烂的门槛绊了她一个趔趄，身体前扑，倒在风箱上。风箱歪倒，把一只盛着鸡食的青瓷钵盂砸碎。她慌忙爬起来，看到高大的祖母跪在被香烟缭绕着的观音像前。
她浑身打着哆嗦，扶正风箱，然后，胡乱地拼凑着青瓷碎片。好像用这种方式就能让破碎的钵盂复原或是可以减轻自己的罪过。祖母从地上猛地站起来，像一匹肥胖的老马，身体摇晃，脑袋乱颤，嘴里发出一连串奇怪的声音。上官来弟本能地缩紧身体，双手捂住脑袋，等待着祖母的打击。祖母没有打她，只是拧住了她单薄白皙的大耳朵，把她拎起来，轻轻往外一甩。她尖声号叫着，跌在院子当中的青砖甬道上。
她看到祖母弯下腰去，观察着地上的青瓷碎片，宛若牛在汲河中的水。好久，祖母捏着几块瓷片直了腰，轻轻地敲着瓷片，发出清脆悦耳的响声。祖母脸上的皱纹密集而深刻，两个嘴角下垂，与两条直通向下巴的粗大皱纹联结在一起，显得那下巴像是后来安装到脸上去的一个部分。
上官来弟就势跪在甬路上，哭着说：“奶奶，您打死我吧。”
“打死你？”上官吕氏满面哀愁地说，“打死你这钵盂就能囫囵起来吗？这是明朝永乐年间的瓷器，是你们老祖奶奶的陪嫁，值一匹骡子钱！”
上官来弟的脸色灰白，乞求着奶奶的宽恕。
“你也是该找婆家的人了！”上官吕氏叹道，“一大清早，活也不干，闹什么妖魔？你娘是贱命，死不了。”上官来弟掩面啼哭。
“砸了家什，还有了功劳？”上官吕氏不满地说，“别在这儿烦我，带着你这些吃白食的好妹妹，到蛟龙河里摸虾子去。摸不满虾篓，别给我回来！”
上官来弟慌忙爬起来，抱起小妹求弟，跑出了家门。
上官吕氏像轰赶鸡群一样把念弟等赶出家门，并把一只细柳条编成的高脖子虾篓扔到上官领弟怀里。
上官来弟左手抱着上官求弟，右手牵着上官念弟，上官念弟扯着上官想弟，上官想弟拖着上官盼弟，上官领弟一手牵着上官盼弟，一手提着柳条虾篓。上官家的七个女儿你拉我扯，哭哭啼啼，沿着阳光明媚、西风浩荡的胡同，往蛟龙河大堤进发。
路过孙大姑家的院子时，她们嗅到一股浓烈的鲜美味道。她们看到，孙家房顶的烟囱里，冒着滚滚白烟。五个哑巴，蚂蚁一样，往屋子里搬运柴草，黑狗们蹲在门旁，伸着鲜红的舌头，好像在等待着什么。
她们爬上了高高的蛟龙河大堤，孙家院子里的情景尽入眼底。五个搬运柴草的哑巴发现了上官家的女儿们。那个最大的哑巴，卷起生着一层黑油油小胡子的上唇，对着上官来弟微笑。上官来弟脸上发烧。她想起不久前去河里挑水，哑巴把一根黄瓜扔进自己水桶里的情景。哑巴脸上的微笑暧昧油滑但没有恶意，她的心第一次异样跳动，血液涌上脸，面对着平静如镜的河水，她看到自己满脸赤红。后来她吃了那根鲜嫩的黄瓜，黄瓜的味道久久难忘。
她把目光抬起，看到了教堂的彩色钟楼和圆木搭成的瞭望塔。一个金猴样活泼的男人在塔顶上跳跃着，喊叫着：
“乡亲们，日本人的马队已经出了城！”
塔下聚集着一群人，都仰着脸往塔顶张望。塔顶的人不时弯下腰，垂着头，手扶着栏杆，似乎在回答塔下人的询问。回答完毕，他又直起腰，转着圈，双手罩在嘴边成喇叭状，向着四面八方，播送日本人即将进村的警报。
横贯村庄的大街上，突然疾驰来一辆马车。不知道马车来自何方，仿佛从天上掉下来的，好像从地下拱出来的。三匹骏马拉着一辆胶皮轱辘大车，十二只马蹄鼓点般翻动，马蹄声扑扑通通，尘土飞扬，犹如一股股黄烟。一匹马杏黄。一匹马枣红。一匹马葱绿。三匹马胖嘟嘟的，像蜡塑的一样。马身上油光闪闪，彩色迷人。一个黑色的小男人，叉开腿站在辕马后的车杆上，远远地看去他仿佛坐在辕马的臀上。小男人挥舞着红缨大鞭子，嘴巴里驾驾驾，鞭声叭叭叭。突然间他猛勒马缰，马咴咴叫着直立、车刹住，汹涌的黄烟潮水般往前冲，把马车、马、车夫全部遮没了。待黄烟消散后，她看到福生堂的伙计们把一篓篓的酒和一捆捆的谷草搬到马车上。一个大个子男人站在福生堂大门口的石阶上，高声大嗓地吆喝着什么。一个篓子掉在地上，沉闷一声响，封篓口的猪尿脬破碎，明亮的酒液涌流。几个伙计扑上去扶篓。大个子男人从石阶上跳下来，挥舞着手中一根闪闪发光的鞭子，抽打着那几个伙计。那几个伙计用手捂着头蹲在地上，承受着鞭打。鞭子舒卷自如。如同一条飞舞在阳光里的蛇，酒香顺风飘来。原野坦荡，麦浪翻滚，一片片风起潮涌的金黄。塔顶上的男人喊叫：
“跑吧，跑吧，跑晚了就没命啦……”
好多人走出家门，像忙忙碌碌又像无所事事的蚂蚁。有的走，有的跑，有的站着不动。
有的往东，有的往西，有的原地转圈，东张西望。这时，孙家院内的香味更浓了，一帘白色的蒸气从她家门口翻卷上来。哑巴们销声匿迹，院子里静悄悄的。只有一块块白色的骨头从屋里飞出来，引起五条黑狗的疯狂争夺。抢到骨头的狗跑到墙边，头抵着墙角，嘎嘎嘣嘣地咀嚼着。抢不到骨头的狗红着眼盯着屋内，低沉地呜咽着。
上官领弟扯扯上官来弟，道：“姐姐，我们回家吧。”
上官来弟摇摇头，说：“不，我们下河摸虾去，娘生完了弟弟，要喝我们的虾汤。”
她们互相搀扶着下了河堤，一字儿排开，面对着河水。水面上映出了上官家女儿们的清秀面容，她们都生着高挺的长鼻梁和洁白丰满的大耳朵，这也是她们的母亲上官鲁氏最鲜明的特征。上官来弟从怀里掏出了一把桃木梳子，逐个地梳理着妹妹们的头发，麦秸屑儿和灰土纷纷落下。她们被梳理时都咧嘴皱眉乱叫唤。她最后梳理了自己的头发，编成一条粗壮的大辫子，甩到背后，辫梢齐着她翘起的屁股。她掖好木梳，挽起裤腿，露出了白皙的、线条流畅的小腿。然后她脱了那双绣着红花的蓝缎子鞋，天足的妹妹们看着她的半残废的脚。她突然发了脾气，吼道：
“看什么？看什么？摸不到虾子，老东西饶不了你们！”
妹妹们迅速脱鞋挽裤，最小的上官求弟脱了个光屁股。上官来弟站在蒙着一层淤泥的河滩上，看着缓缓流淌的河水和水底轻柔、温顺地摆动着的水草。鱼儿在草间嬉戏。燕子紧贴着水面飞翔。她下了河，大声说：
“求弟在上边捡虾，别人都下来。”
妹妹们嘻嘻哈哈下了河。
她感到因为缠脚格外发达了的脚后跟直劲儿往淤泥中陷，滑腻的水草叶子轻拂着她的腿，使她的心里荡漾起一种难以言传的滋味。她弯下腰，伸出双手，小心翼翼地摸索着。水草的根部、没淤平的脚窝，都是虾子喜欢栖身之地。一个小东西突然蹦跳在她的双手中，她心中一阵狂喜。一只透明的、弯曲的、指头般长的河虾捏在她手指间。虾子生动极了，每一根须子都是美丽的。她把它扔到河滩上。上官求弟欢快地叫着扑上去捡虾。
“姐呀，我也摸到了一只！”
“姐呀，我摸到了！”
“我摸到了！”
……
两岁的上官求弟承担不了繁重的捡虾任务。她跌倒了，坐在河滩上哭。几只虾子弹跳有力，重归河流，随即无影无踪。
上官来弟上去，扶起小妹，把她拖到河边，用手掌撩着水，洗她屁股上的泥巴。她每撩一下水，求弟的身子便往上耸一下，嘴里发出一声尖叫，尖叫声里还夹杂着一些缺头少尾的骂人脏话。来弟在求弟屁股上扇了一巴掌，便松开了她。求弟飞快地挪到堤半坡上，手抓着灌木枝条，像一个撒泼的老女人一样，斜着眼，大声骂着脏话，来弟忍不住笑了。
妹妹们已经摸到河的上游去了。明光光的滩涂上几十只虾子蹦跳着。一个妹妹喊她：“大姐，快捡呀！”她提着虾篓，对求弟说：“小浑蛋，回家再跟你算账！”然后，便愉快地捡虾，连续不断的收获使她忘掉了一切烦恼，一支连她自己也不知道从哪里学会的小曲脱口哼出：
“娘啊娘，狠心肠，把我嫁给卖油郎……”
来弟很快便追上了妹妹们。她们沿着河水的边缘，并着肩膀，弯着腰，高高地撅着屁股，下巴几乎触着水面，双臂分开，合拢，分开，合拢，搜索着前进。她们身后，河水变得浑浊，有一些鹅黄色的水草叶子被绊断，漂浮在水面上。每当她们直起腰时，便一定是摸到虾子了。一会儿领弟，一会儿盼弟，一会儿想弟……五个妹妹几乎是不间断地把虾子掷到河滩上。来弟跑来跑去捡虾，求弟也尾随上来。
她们在不知不觉中，靠近了那座横跨蛟龙河的拱形石桥。上官来弟招呼妹妹们：
“上来吧，都上来，虾篓满了，该回家了。”
妹妹们恋恋不舍地上了岸，站在河滩上。她们的手都泡得发了白，小腿上沾满紫色的淤泥。大姐，今天河里虾子咋会这么多？大姐，娘把小弟弟给我们生出来了吧？大姐，日本鬼子是个啥样？他们真的吃小孩吗？大姐，哑巴家为什么把鸡杀了？大姐，奶奶为什么老是骂我们？大姐，我梦到娘肚子里有一条大泥鳅……妹妹们向来弟轮番提问，她一个问题也没有回答。她的眼睛盯着石桥。石桥闪烁着青紫色的光辉。那辆三匹马拉着的胶皮轱辘大车从村子里驰出，停在桥头上。
小个子车夫拢住马。马烦躁不安地用前蹄敲击着桥石，声音清脆，桥石上溅出火星。几个男人都赤着膊，拦腰扎着宽阔的牛皮腰带，腰带的铜环扣像金子一样耀眼。上官来弟认识他们。他们是福生堂护院的家丁。家丁们跳上车，先把车上的谷草扔下来，接着把酒篓子搬下来。一共搬下十二篓酒。车夫揽着马头，让辕马后坐，使大车倒退，退到桥头旁边的空地上。这时，她看到，福生堂的二掌柜司马库，骑着一辆漆黑的自行车从村中蹿出来。这是高密东北乡开天辟地之后的第一辆自行车，德国制造，世界有名的丽人牌。爷爷上官福禄手贱，趁人不注意，摸了一下车把，那是去年春天的事，惹得二掌柜黄眼珠子冒蓝光。他身穿柞蚕丝绸长袍，白洋布裤子，脚脖子上扎着黑穗蓝带子，脚穿白底胶皮鞋。他的两个肥大的裤腿膨胀着，好像里边充满了气体。他的袍角撩起，掖在腰带里。腰带是白丝线织成，垂着一长一短两穗流苏。左肩右斜一条窄窄的棕色皮带，皮带联结着皮盒子，皮盒子口上，露出一角火苗一样的红绸。德国丽人牌自行车铃声如爆豆，司马库风一样驰来。他跳下车子，摘下翻檐草帽扇着风，脸上的红痣好像一块赤炭。他大声命令家丁：
“快点，把谷草堆在桥上，倒上酒，点火烧这些狗日的！”
家丁们忙忙急急，抱谷草到桥上。一会儿工夫桥上谷草堆了半人高。寄生在谷草中的小白蛾子扑扑棱棱地飞出来，有的跌落在河水中，进了鱼腹，有的进了燕子的口。
“往草上倒酒！”司马库大声喊着。
家丁们抬着酒篓，侧歪着身体上桥。他们拔开猪尿脬，把酒篓抬起来倾倒，清凉美酒咕嘟嘟流出，香气醉了一条河。谷草刷刷地响着。很多酒液在桥上流，流到桥石边沿，汇集起来，急雨般落在河水中。桥下哗啦啦一片水响。十二篓酒浇完，整座石桥像用酒洗了一遍。
枯黄的谷草变了颜色。桥的边沿上，悬挂着一道酒的透明帘幕。一袋烟工夫，河里便漂起一层白花花的醉鱼。上官来弟的妹妹们要下河捞鱼。上官来弟低声呵斥她们：
“别下，跟我回家！”
桥上的奇景吸引着妹妹们，她们站着不动。其实桥上的奇景也吸引着上官来弟，她拖拉着妹妹们往回走，眼睛却始终没离开桥。
司马库得意洋洋地在桥上站着，啪啪地拍着巴掌，双眼放金光，满脸都是笑容。他对着家丁们炫耀：
“这条巧计，只有我才能想出来！妈的，只有我才能想得出来。小日本，快快来，让你们尝尝我的厉害。”
家丁们随声应和着。一个家丁大声问：“二爷，现在就点火吗？”司马库道：“不，等他们来了再点。”
家丁簇拥着司马库往桥头走去。
福生堂的马车也回了村。
桥上恢复了宁静，只有酒液落水的声音。
上官来弟提着虾篓，带着妹妹们，分拨开河堤漫坡上生长着的茂盛灌木，往堤顶爬去。
突然，她看到一张黑瘦的脸，掩映在灌木枝条间。她惊叫一声，手中的虾篓落在弹性丰富的枝条上，跳动着，滚到河水边。虾子流出篓，一片亮点在滩涂上跳跃。上官领弟去追赶虾篓，几个妹妹去捕捉虾子。她胆怯地往河边倒退，眼睛不敢离开那张黑脸。黑脸上绽开一朵抱歉的笑容，两排亮晶晶的牙齿，闪烁着珠贝般的光芒。她听到那人低声说：
“大妹子，别害怕，我们是游击队。别出声，快点离开这儿。”
这时，她才看清楚，河堤灌木丛中，蹲着几十个穿绿衣的人。他们都板着脸，瞪着眼，有的搂着长枪，有的捧着炸弹，有的拄着红锈斑斑的大刀。面前这个面带笑容、黑脸白牙的男人，右手握着一支蓝色的小枪，左手托着一个噼噼作响的亮晶晶的东西。后来她才知道，那是一块用来度量时间的怀表。而这个黑脸男人，最终钻进了她的被窝。
Chapter One 6
6
Third Master Fan, drunk as a lord, walked grumbling into the Shangguan house. “TheJapanese are on their way. Bad timing by this donkey of yours. But what can I say, since itwas my horse that impregnated her? Whoever hangs the bell on the tiger’s neck must take itoff. Shangguan Shouxi, I see you’ve got enough face to pull this off, oh shit, what face do youhave? I’m only here because of your mother. She and I… ha ha … she made a hoof-scraperfor my horses …” Shangguan Shouxi, his face covered with sweat, followed Third MasterFan in the door.
“Fan Three!” Shangguan Lü cried out. “You bastard, the local god makes a rareappearance!”
Feigning sobriety, Third Master Fan announced, “Fan Three has arrived.” But the sight ofthe donkey lying on the floor turned him from completely drunk to half sober. “My god,would you look at that! Why didn’t you send for me earlier?” He tossed his leather saddlebagto the floor, bent down to stroke the donkey’s ears, and patted its belly. Then he went aroundto the animal’s rear, where he tugged on the leg protruding from the birth canal. Straighteningup, he shook his head sadly, and said, “I’m too late, it’s a lost cause. Last year, when your sonbrought the donkey over for mating, I told him the donkey was too scrawny, and that youshould mate it with one of its own. But he insisted on mating it with a horse. That horse ofmine is a thoroughbred Japanese stallion. His hoof is bigger than your donkey’s head, andwhen he mounted your animal, she nearly crumpled under the weight. Like a rooster and ahouse sparrow. But he’s a good stud horse, so he just closed his eyes and humped away. Ifit’d been another horse, shit! See, the foal won’t come out. Your donkey isn’t made to have amule. All she’s good for is producing donkeys, a scrawny donkey …”
“Are you finished, Fan Three?” Shangguan Lü interrupted his monologue angrily.
“Finished, yes, I’ve said what I wanted to say.” He picked up his leather bag, flung it overhis shoulder, and, returning from half sober to completely drunk, stumbled toward the door.
Shangguan Lü grabbed him by the arm. “You’re leaving?” she said.
Fan Three smiled grimly. “Old sister-in-law,” he said, “haven’t you been listening to theFelicity Manor steward? The village is almost deserted. Who’s more important, that donkeyor me?”
“Three, you’re afraid I won’t make it worth your while, is that it? Well, you’ll get your twobottles of fine liquor and a fat pig’s head. And don’t forget, in this family, what I say goes.”
Fan Three glanced at father and son. “I’m well aware of that,” he said with a smile.
“You’re probably the only old woman anywhere in this country who’s a true blacksmith. Thestrength in that bare back of yours …” A strange smile creased his face.
“Up your mother’s ass!” Shangguan Lü cursed as she thumped him on the back. “Don’t go,Three. We’re talking about not just one, but two lives here. That stud horse is your son, whichmakes this donkey your daughter-in-law, and the mule in her belly your grandson. Do whatyou can. If the mule lives, I’ll thank you and reward you. If it dies, I’ll blame my own meagerfate, not you.”
“You’ve gone and made these four-legged creatures my family,” Fan Three said unhappily,“so what can I say? I’ll see if I can bring this half-dead donkey back to the land of the living.”
“That’s right, why listen to the ravings of that crazy Sima? What would the Japanese wantwith a backwater village like ours? Besides, by doing this, you’ll be storing up virtues, andthe ghosts always steer clear of the virtuous.”
Fan Three opened his bag and took out a bottle filled with an oily green liquid. “This is asecret family tonic, handed down for generations. It works miraculously on breech births andother obstetric irregularities in animals. If this doesn’t do it, even the magical Monkeycouldn’t bring that animal into the world. Sir,” he summoned Shangguan Shouxi, “come overhere and lend a hand.”
“I’ll do it,” Shangguan Lü said. “He’s a clumsy oaf.”
Fan Three said, “The Shangguan hen goes and blames the rooster for not laying eggs.”
“If you have to insult someone, Third Younger Brother,” Shangguan Fulu said, “do it to myface, and don’t beat around the bush.”
“Is that anger I hear?” Fan Three asked.
“This is no time to bicker,” Shangguan Lü said. “What shall I do?”
“Raise the donkey’s head,” he said. “I’m going to give it the tonic.”
Shangguan Lü spread her legs, mustered her strength, and picked up the donkey’s head.
The animal stirred; bursts of air snorted from its nostrils.
“Higher!” Fan Three said.
She strained to lift it higher; bursts of air were now snorting from her nostrils, too.
“Are you two dead or alive?” Fan Three complained.
The two Shangguan men rushed up to help, and nearly tripped over the donkey’s legs.
Shangguan Lü rolled her eyes; Fan Three shook his head. Finally, they got the donkey’s headup high enough. It curled its lips back and showed its teeth. Fan Three stuck a funnel made ofan ox horn into the animal’s mouth and emptied the contents of the bottle into it. “That’ll doit,” Fan said. “You can lower its head.”
As Shangguan Lü tried to catch her breath, Fan Three took out his pipe, filled it, andhunkered down to smoke. Two streams of white smoke quickly exited through his nostrils.
“The Japanese took the county town and murdered the county chief, Zhang Weihan, thenraped all the women in his family.”
“Did you hear that from the Simas?” Shangguan Lü asked him.
“No, my sworn brother told me. He lives near Eastgate in the county seat.”
Shangguan Lü said, “The truth never travels more than ten li.”
“Sima Ku took the family servants to set fires on the bridge,” Shangguan Shouxi said.
“That’s more than a rumor.”
Shangguan Lü looked at her son angrily. “I never hear an encouraging, proper sentencefrom that mouth of yours, and you never tire of spouting nonsense and rumors. Fancy you, aman and the father of a large brood of children, and I can’t tell if that thing on your shouldersis a head or an empty gourd. Haven’t any of you considered the fact that Japanese havemothers and fathers, just like everybody else? There’s no bad blood between them and uscommon folk, so what are they going to do with us? Run off? Do you think you can outrun abullet? Hide out? Until when?”
In response to her chiding, the Shangguan men could only bow their heads and hold theirtongues. But Fan Three knocked the ashes from his pipe and tried to save the situation. “In thelong run, our sister here sees things more clearly than we do. I feel better after what she said.
She’s right. Go where? Hide where? I might be able to run and hide, but what about mydonkey and my stud horse. They’re like a couple of mountains, and where can you hide amountain? You might stay hidden past the first of the month, but you’ll never make it throughthe fifteenth. Up their mother, I say. Let’s get that baby mule out of there, and then figure outwhat to do next.”
“That’s the attitude!” Shangguan Lü said happily.
Fan took off his jacket, cinched up his belt, and cleared his throat, like a martial arts masterabout to take on an opponent. Shangguan Lü nodded approvingly. “That’s what I like to see,Three. A man leaves behind his good name, a wild goose leaves behind its call. If you bringthis mule into the world, I’ll give you an extra bottle of liquor and beat a drum to sing yourpraises.”
“That’s pure shit,” Fan said. “Whose idea was it to make your donkey pregnant by my studhorse, anyway? This is what’s called doing the sowing and the harvesting.” He circled thedonkey, tugged at the mule’s leg, and muttered, “Donkey, my little in-law, you’re standing atthe gate of Hell, and you’re going to have to tough it out. My reputation hangs in the balance.
Gentlemen,” he said as he patted the donkey’s head, “get a rope and a stout carrying pole. Shecan’t get it done lying there. We need to get her to her feet.”
The Shangguan men looked over at Shangguan Lü, who said, “Do as he says.” Once fatherand son had done as they were told, Fan ran the rope under the donkey just behind its frontlegs, then tied a knot, and had Shangguan Fulu stick the pole through the hole made by therope.
“Stand over there,” he ordered Shangguan Shouxi.
“Bend down and lift the pole with your shoulders!”
The Shangguan men began lifting the pole, which dug deeply into their shoulders.
“That’s it,” Fan said. “Now there’s no hurry. Straighten up when I tell you, and put someshoulder into it. You’ll only get one chance. This animal can’t take much more suffering.
Sister-in-law, your spot is behind the donkey. It’s up to you to keep the foal from dropping tothe ground.” He went around to the donkey’s rear, where he rubbed his hands, took the lampfrom the millstone, poured oil over his palms and rubbed them together, and then blew onthem. When he tried sticking one of his hands up the birth canal, the little leg flailed wildly.
By this time, his entire arm was inside the animal, up to the shoulder, his cheek pressed upagainst the mule’s purple hoof. Shangguan Lü’s eyes were glued to him; her lips werequivering. “Okay, gentlemen,” Fan said in a muffled voice, “on the count of three, lift with allyour might. It’s life or death, so don’t cave in on me. All right?” His chin rested against theanimal’s rump; his hand appeared to be grasping something deep inside. “One — two —three!” With a loud grunt, the Shangguan men made a rare display of mettle, straining undertheir load. Taking a cue from the effort around her, the donkey rolled over, tucked her frontlegs under her, and raised her head. Her rear legs shifted and curled up beneath her. Fan Threerolled with the donkey, until he was nearly lying facedown on the ground. His headdisappeared from view, but his shouts continued: “Lift! Keep lifting!” The two men struggledup onto the balls of their feet, while Shangguan Lü slid beneath the donkey and pressed herback against its belly. With a loud bray, it planted its feet and stood up, and at that moment, alarge, slippery object slid out from the birth canal, along with a great deal of blood and asticky fluid, right into Fan Three’s arms, and from there to the ground.
Fan quickly cleared the little mule’s mouth of the fluid, cut the umbilical cord with hisknife, and tied off the end, then carried the animal over to a clean spot on the floor, where hewiped down its body with a rag. With tears in her eyes, Shangguan Lü muttered over andover, “Thanks to heaven and earth, and to Fan Three.”
The baby mule staggered unsteadily to its feet, but quickly fell back down. Its hide wassatiny smooth, its mouth the purplish red of a rose petal. Fan Three helped it to its feet. “Goodgirl,” he said. “A chip off the old block. The horse is my son and you, little one, you’re mygranddaughter. Sister-in-law, bring some watery rice for my donkey daughter, returned fromthe dead.”
第一章 第六节
第六节
醉醺醺的樊三不满地嘟哝着走进上官家大门。
“日本人就要来了，你家的驴真会挑时辰！怎么说呢，你家的驴，是我家的种马日的，解铃还得系铃人。上官寿喜，你的面子不小哇，屁，你有什么面子？我全看着你娘的面子。你娘跟我……哈哈……她给我打过切马蹄的铲子……”
上官寿喜一脸汗水，跟在满嘴胡言乱语的樊三身后。
“樊三！”上官吕氏吼一声，“你个杂种，尊神难请啊！”
樊三抖抖精神说：“樊三到！”
看到倒在地上、奄奄一息的产驴，他的酒意便去了一半。“啊呀，都成这模样了！为什么早不叫我？”他扔下肩上的牛皮兜子，弯下腰去，摸摸驴耳朵，拍拍驴肚皮，又转到驴后，拽拽那条从产道里伸出来的骡腿。他直起腰，沮丧地摇着头，说：“晚了，完了。去年你儿子牵驴来配种时，我就对他说，你家这头蚂蚱驴，最好用驴配，他不听我劝，非要用马配。我那匹大种马，十足纯种东洋马，一个马蹄，大过你家驴头。我家的种马一跨上去，你家的驴就瘫了，简直是大公鸡踩麻雀。也就是我的种马，调教得好，闭着眼日你家的蚂蚱驴，要是换了别人家的马，哼，怎么着？难产了吧？生骡子的驴不是你家这驴，你家的驴只能生驴，生蚂蚱驴……”
“樊三！”上官吕氏打断他的话，恼怒地说，“你还有完没有？”
“完了，说完了。”他抓起牛皮兜子，抡上肩头，恢复醉态，歪歪斜斜，欲往外走。
上官吕氏扯住他的胳膊，说：“老三，就这样走了？”
樊三冷笑道：“老嫂子，没听到福生堂大掌柜的吆喝？村里人都快跑光了，驴要紧还是我要紧？”
上官吕氏道：“老三，怕我亏了你是不是？两壶好酒一个肥猪头，亏不了你，这个家，我做主。”
樊三看看上官父子，笑道：“这我知道，你是铁匠家掌钳的，光着脊梁抡大锤的老娘们，全中国就你一个，那劲头儿……”他怪模怪样地笑起来。
上官吕氏拍他一掌，道：“放你娘的臊，三，别走，怎么说也是两条性命，种马是你的儿，这驴就是你的儿媳妇，肚里的小骡，就是你孙子。拿出你的真本事来，活了，谢你，赏你；死了，不怨你，怨我福薄担不上。”
樊三为难地说：“你都给我认了驴马亲家了，还叫我说啥？试试吧，死驴当成活驴医。”
“这就对了。三，别听司马家大疯子胡吣，日本人来干啥？再说，你这是积德行善。鬼都绕着善人走。”上官吕氏说。
樊三解开牛皮兜子，摸出一瓶绿油油的东西，道：“这是我家祖传秘方配成的神药，专治牲畜横生竖产，灌上这药，再生不下来，孙悟空来了也没治了。爷们，”他招呼上官寿喜，“过来帮个手。”
上官吕氏道：“我来帮你，他笨手笨脚。”
樊三道：“上官家母鸡打鸣公鸡不下蛋。”
上官福禄道：“三弟，要骂就直着骂，别拐弯抹角。”
樊三道：“生气啦？”
上官吕氏道：“别磨牙啦，说，怎么着弄？”
樊三道：“把驴头搬起来，我要给它灌药！”
上官吕氏叉开腿，憋足劲，抱着驴脖子，把驴头抬起来。驴头摆动，驴鼻孔里喷出粗气。
“再抬高点！”樊三大声说。
上官吕氏又用劲，鼻孔里喷出粗气。
樊三不满地说：“你们爷儿俩，是死人吗？”
上官父子上来帮忙，差点踩着驴腿。吕氏翻白眼，樊三摇头。终于把驴头高高抬起。驴翻着肥厚的唇，龇出长牙。樊三把一只用牛角磨成的漏斗插进驴嘴，将那瓶绿油油的液体灌了进去。
上官吕氏喘粗气。
樊三摸出烟袋，装了一锅烟，蹲下，划着洋火，点烟。深吸一口，两道白烟从他的鼻孔里喷出。他说：
“日本人占了县城，把张唯汉县长杀了，把张唯汉县长的家眷奸了。”
上官吕氏问：“又是司马家传出来的消息？”
樊三道：“不是，是我的拜把子兄弟说的，他家住在县城东门外。”
上官吕氏道：“十里路没真信儿。”
上官寿喜道：“司马库带家丁到桥头上布火阵了，看样子不会假。”
上官吕氏愤怒地看着儿子，道：“正儿八经的话你一句也听不到，歪门邪道的话你一句也落不下。亏你还是个男人，是一大群孩子的爹，你脖子上挑着的是颗葫芦还是个脑袋？你们也不想想，日本人不是爹生娘养的？他们跟咱这些老百姓无仇无怨，能怎么样咱？跑得再快能跑过枪子儿？藏，藏到哪天是个头？”
在她的教训下，上官父子低着头不敢吭气。樊三磕掉烟锅里的灰，解嘲地干咳几声，说：“还是老嫂子目光远大，看事透彻。您这么一说，我这心里也踏实了不少。是啊，往哪儿跑？往哪儿藏？人能跑能藏，可我那匹大叫驴、那匹大种马，都像大山一样，如何藏得住？
躲过了初一躲不过十五，去他娘的，不管它，咱先把这小骡折腾出来再说。”
上官吕氏欣慰地说：“这就对了！”
樊三脱掉褂子，紧紧腰带，清清嗓子，像即将登台打擂的武师一样。上官吕氏满意地频频点头，嘴里唠叨着：“三，这就对了，这就对了，老三。人过留名，雁过留声。接下骡子，我多给你一瓶酒，敲着锣鼓给你扬名去。”
樊三道：“都是屁话，老嫂子，谁让你家的驴怀着我家的种呢？这叫包种包收，一包到底。”他围着驴转了一圈。扯扯那条小骡腿，咕哝着：“驴亲家，这是一道鬼门关，你也赌口气，给三爷我长长脸。”他拍拍驴头，说，“爷儿们，找绳子，找杠子，把它抬起来，让它站立，躺着是生不出来的。”
上官父子望着上官吕氏。
上官吕氏说：“照你三爷说的办。”
上官父子拿来绳子和杠子。樊三接过绳子，从驴的前腿后穿过去，在上边打了一个结，用手提着，说：“穿杠子进来。”
上官福禄把杠子穿进绳扣。
“你到那边去。”樊三命令上官寿喜。
樊三说：“弓腰，杠子上肩！”
上官父子对着面，弓着腰，杠子压在肩头。
“好，”樊三说，“就这样，别急，我让你们起，你们就起，把吃奶的劲儿给我使出来，成败就这一下子。这驴，经不起折腾了。大嫂子，你到驴后帮我接应着，别把小牲口跌坏。”
他转到驴后，搓搓手掌，端起磨台上的豆油灯盏，将一盏油全倒在手掌上，搓匀，吹一口气。然后，他试探着把一只手伸进驴的产道，驴蹄子乱弹。他的一只胳膊都伸了进去，他的脖子紧贴着那只紫色的小骡蹄子。上官吕氏不转眼珠地盯着他，嘴唇索索抖颤。
“好，”樊三瓮声瓮气地说，“爷儿们，我喊一二三，喊三时猛劲儿起，别孬种，要命的时刻塌了腰。好，”他的下巴几乎触在驴腚上，深深地伸进驴的产道里的手，似乎抓住了什么，“一——二——三哪！”
上官父子嗬嗨一声吼，表现出难得的阳刚，猛地挺直了腰，借着这股劲儿，黑驴身体侧转，两条前腿收回，脖子昂起，两条后腿也侧转过来，蜷曲在身下。樊三的身体随着驴转，几乎趴在了地上。看不到他的脸，只听到他喊：“起呀，起！”
上官父子踮起脚尖，猛往上挣。上官吕氏钻到驴腹下，用背顶着驴腹。驴吼叫一声，站了起来。与此同时，一个巨大的光溜溜的东西，伴随着血和黏稠的液体，从驴的产道里钻出来，先落在樊三的怀里，然后滑落在地。
樊三掏出小骡驹嘴里的黏液，用刀子切断脐带，挽了一个疙瘩，把它抱到干净的地方。
讨了一块干布，揩着它身上的黏液。上官吕氏眼含泪水，嘴里念叨着：“谢天谢地谢樊三，谢天谢地谢樊三……”小骡驹抖抖颤颤站起来，随即跌倒。它的毛光滑如绸，嘴唇紫红，宛若玫瑰花瓣。樊三扶起它，道：“好样的，果然是我家的种，马是我的儿，小家伙，你就是我孙子，我是你爷爷。老嫂子，熬点米汤，喂喂我的驴儿媳吧，它捡了一条命。”
Chapter One 7
7
Shangguan Laidi hadn’t led her sisters more than a few dozen paces when she heard a seriesof sharp noises that sounded like strange bird cries. She looked into the sky to see what it was,just in time to hear an explosion in the middle of the river. Her ears rang, her brain clouded. Ashattered catfish came on the air and landed at her feet. Threads of blood seeped from its splitorange head; its feelers twitched, and its guts were spread all over its back. When it landed, aspray of muddy hot river water drenched Laidi and her sisters. Numbed and sort of dreamy,she turned to look at her sisters, who returned the look. She saw a gob of sticky stuff inNiandi’s hair, like a wad of chewed grass; seven or eight silvery fish scales were stuck toXiangdi’s cheek. Dark waves churned in the river no more than a few dozen paces fromwhere they stood, forming a whirlpool; heated water rose into the air, then fell back down intothe whirlpool. A thin layer of mist hovered above the surface, and she could smell thepleasant odor of gunpowder. She struggled to figure out what had just happened, gripped by aforeboding that something was very wrong. Wanting to scream, all she could manage was ashower of tears that fell noisily to the ground. What am I crying for? No, I’m not reallycrying, she was thinking, and why should I? Maybe they were drops of river water, not tearsat all. Chaos reigned inside her head. The scene arrayed before her — the sun glinting off thebridge beams, the churning, muddy river, densely packed shrubbery, all the startled swallows,and her stunned sisters — enveloped her in a chaotic mix of images, like a tangled skein ofstring. Her eyes fell on her baby sister, Qiudi, whose mouth hung slack and whose eyes weresqueezed shut; tears ran down her cheeks. A sizzle filled the air around them, like beanspopping in the sun. Secrets hidden amid the riverbank bushes produced a rustling sound likeskittering little critters, but no sound from the men in green she’d seen in the bushes a fewminutes before. The shrub branches pointed silently upward and their gold-coin-like leavesshimmied slightly. Were they still there? If so, what were they doing? Then she heard a flat,distant shout: “Little sisters, hit the ground … little sisters … down on your bellies …”
She searched the landscape to locate the source of the shouts. Deep down in her brain acrab crawled around, and it hurt terribly. She saw something black and shiny fall from thesky. A pillar of water as thick as an ox rose slowly out of river just east of the stone bridge,and spread out once it reached the height of the dike, like the branches of a weeping willow.
Within seconds the smells of gunpowder, river mud, and shattered fish and shrimp rushed intoher nostrils. Her ears stung so badly she couldn’t hear a thing, but she thought she saw soundwaves spreading through the air.
Another black object fell into the river, sending a second pillar of water skyward.
Something blue slammed into the riverbank, its edges curled outward like a dog’s tooth.
When she bent down to pick it up, a wisp of yellow smoke rose from the tip of her finger, anda sharp pain shot through her body. In a flash, the crashing noises of the world rushed at heragain, as if the now searing pain in her finger came from her ear, breaking up the blockage.
The water was lapping noisily, smoke was rolling upwards. Explosions rumbled in the air.
Three of her sisters were howling, the other three were lying on the ground with their handsover their ears, their fannies sticking up, like those stupid, awkward birds that bury their headsin the sand when they’re pursued, forgetting all about their hindquarters.
“Little sisters!” Again she heard a voice in the bushes. “Down on your bellies, hit theground and crawl over here …”
She lay on her belly and searched for the man in the bushes. Finally, she spotted him amidthe lithe branches of a red willow. The dark-faced stranger with the white teeth was wavingher over. “Hurry!” he shouted. “Crawl over here.”
A crack opened up in her confused mind and let in rays of light. Hearing the whinny of ahorse, she turned to look behind her and saw a gold-colored colt, its fiery mane flying as itgalloped onto the stone bridge from the southern end. The lovely, halterless colt was unruly,lively, reveling in its youth. The son of Third Master Fan’s Japanese stud horse, it belonged toFelicity Manor; in other words, the golden colt was another of his grandsons. She knew thatlovable colt, and she liked it. She often saw it galloping up and down the lane, throwingAunty Sun’s dogs into a frenzy. When it reached the middle of the bridge, it stopped as ifbrought up short by the wall of straw, or made woozy by the liquor it was soaked in. It cockedits head and scrutinized the straw. What could it be thinking? she wondered. Another shriektore through the air as a lump of blinding molten metal crashed into the bridge with athunderous roar, seemingly having traveled a great distance. The colt disintegrated before hereyes; one of its charred legs landed in the bushes nearby. A wave of nausea drove a sour,bitter liquid up from her stomach into her throat, and at that moment, she understoodeverything. The colt’s severed leg showed her what death was all about, and a sense of horrormade her quake, made her teeth chatter. Jumping to her feet, she dragged her sisters into thebushes.
All six younger sisters huddled around her, holding on to each other like stalks of garlicwrapped around the stem. Laidi heard that now familiar hoarse voice shouting at her, but theseething waters of the river swallowed up the sound.
Folding her baby sister into her arms, she felt the searing heat of the little girl’s face. Acalmness returned to the river for the moment, giving the layer of smoke a chance to dissipate.
More of those hissing black objects flew over the Flood Dragon River, dragging long tailsbehind them before landing in the village with muffled explosions, followed by faint screamsfrom women and the thud of collapsing structures. Not a soul in sight on the opposite dike,nothing but a solitary locust tree. On the riverbank below stood a line of weeping willowswhose branches touched the surface of the water. Where were these strange, scary flyingobjects coming from? she wondered stubbornly. A shout — Ai ya ya — broke herconcentration. The sight of the Felicity Manor assistant steward, Sima Ku, riding his bicycleup onto the bridge appeared through the branches. What’s he doing? she wondered. It must bebecause of the horse. But he was holding a lit torch, so it wasn’t the horse, whose corpse wassplattered all over the bridge and whose blood stained the water below.
Sima Ku slammed on the brakes and flung the torch into the liquor-soaked straw, sendingblue flames into the sky. Jerking his bicycle around, but too rushed to climb onto it, he ran itdown the bridge, the blue flames licking at his heels. The eerie Ai ya ya shouts kept spillingfrom his mouth. When a sudden loud crack sent his wide-brimmed straw hat flying into theriver, he let go of his bicycle, bent low at the waist, stumbled, and fell face-first onto thebridge flooring. Crack, crack, crack, a string of noises like firecrackers. Sima Ku hugged thebridge flooring and crawled like a lizard. Suddenly he was gone, and the cracking noisesstopped. The bridge all but disappeared in blue, smokeless flames, those in the center risinghigher than the others and turning the water below blue. Laidi’s chest constricted in thestifling air and waves of heat; her nostrils were hot and dry. The waves of heat changed intogusting, whistling winds. The bushes were wet, sort of sweaty; the leaves of trees curled upand withered. Then she heard the high-pitched voice of Sima Ku emerge from behind thedike:
“Fuck your sisters, you little Nips. You may have crossed Marco Polo Bridge, but you’llnever cross Fiery Dragon Bridge!”
Then he laughed:
“Ah ha ha ha, ah ha ha ha, ah ha ha ha …”
Sima Ku’s laughter seemed endless. On the opposite bank, a line of yellow caps popped upover the top of the dike, followed by the heads of horses and the yellow uniforms of theirriders. Dozens of horse soldiers were now perched atop the dike, and though they were stillhundreds of meters away, Laidi saw that the horses looked exactly like Third Master Fan’sstud horse. The Japs! The Japs are here! The Japs have come …Avoiding the stone bridge, which was engulfed in blue flames, the Japanese soldiers easedtheir horses down the dike sideways, dozens of them bumping clumsily into each other all theway down to the riverbed. She could hear the men’s grunts and shouts and the horses’ snortsas they entered the river. The water quickly swallowed up the horses’ legs, until their belliesrested on the surface. The riders sat their mounts comfortably, sitting straight, heads high,their faces white in the bright sunlight, which blurred their features. With their heads up, thehorses appeared to be galloping, which in fact was impossible. The water, like thick syrup,had a sticky, sweet smell. Struggling to move ahead, the massive horses raised blue ripples onthe surface; to Laidi, they looked like little tongues of fire singeing the animals’ hides, whichwas why they were holding their large heads so high, and why they kept moving forward,their tails floating behind them. The Japanese riders, holding the reins with both hands,bobbed up and down, their legs in a rigid inverted V. She watched a chestnut-colored horsestop in the middle of the river, lift its tail, and release a string of droppings. Its anxious riderdug his heels into the horse’s flanks to get it going again. But the horse, refusing to move,shook its head and chewed noisily on the bit.
“Attack, comrades!” came a yell from the bushes to her left, followed by a muted soundlike tearing silk. Then the rattle of gunfire — crisp and dull, thick and thin. A black object,trailing white smoke, hit the water with a loud thunk and sent a pillar of water into the air. TheJapanese soldier on the chestnut horse was thrown forward at a bizarre angle, then sprangback, his arms flailing wildly in the air. Fresh black blood gushing from his chest soaked thehead of his horse and stained the water. The horse reared, exposing its muddy forelegs and itsbroad, shiny chest. By the time its front hooves crashed through the surface of the wateragain, the Japanese soldier was draped face-up across the animal’s rump. A second Japanesesoldier, this one on a black mount, flew headfirst into the river. Another, riding a blue horse,was thrown forward out of his saddle, but wrapped his arms around the animal’s neck andhung there, capless, a trickle of blood dripping from his ear into the river.
Chaos reigned on the river, where riderless horses whinnied and spun around to struggleback to the far bank. All the other Japanese soldiers lay forward in their saddles, clampingdown with their legs as they aimed their shiny rifles at the bushes and opened fire. Dozens ofsnorting horses made their way to the shoals the best they could. With beads of water drippingfrom their bellies and mud covering their purple hooves, they dragged long glistening threadsall the way out to the middle of the river.
A sorrel with a white forehead, a pale-faced Japanese soldier on its back, jumped andleaped toward the dike, its hooves thudding clumsily and noisily into the shoals. Thesquinting, tight-lipped soldier on its back smacked its rump with his left hand and brandisheda silvery sword in his right, as he charged the bushes. Laidi saw beads of sweat on the tip ofhis nose and the thick lashes of his mount, and she could hear the air forced out through thehorse’s nostrils; she could also smell the sour stench of horse sweat. All of a sudden, redsmoke emerged from the sorrel’s forehead, and all four of its churning legs stiffened. Its hidewas creased with more wrinkles than she could count, its legs turned to rubber, and before itsrider knew what was happening, both he and the horse fell crashing into the bushes.
The Japanese cavalry unit headed south along the riverbank all the way up to where Laidiand her sisters had left their shoes. There they reined in their horses and cut through thebushes up to the dike. Laidi kept looking, but they were gone. She then turned to look down atthe dead sorrel, its head bloody, its big, lifeless blue eyes staring sadly into the deep blue sky.
The Japanese rider lay facedown in the mud, pinned beneath the horse, his head cocked at anawkward angle, one bloodless hand stretched out to the riverbank, as if fishing for something.
The horses’ hooves had chewed up the smooth, sundrenched mud of the shoals. The body of awhite horse lay on its side in the river, rolling slowly in the shifting water, until it flipped overand its legs, tipped by hooves the size of clay jugs, rose terrifyingly into the air. A momentlater, the water churned and the legs slipped back into the water to wait for the nextopportunity to point to the sky. The chestnut horse that had made such an impression on Laidiwas already far downriver, dragging its dead rider with it, and she wondered if it might be offlooking for its mate, imagining it to be the long-separated wife of Third Master Fan’s studhorse.
Fires were continued to burn on the bridge, the now yellow flames sending thick whitesmoke out of the piles of straw. The green bridge flooring arched high in the air as it groanedand gasped and moaned. In her mind, the burning bridge was transformed into a giant snakewrithing in agony, trying desperately to fly up into the sky with both its head and tail naileddown. The poor bridge, she thought sadly. And that poor German bicycle, the only modernmachine in Gaomi, was now nothing but charred, twisted metal. Her nose was assailed by thesmells of gunpowder, rubber, blood, and mud that turned the heated air sticky and thick, andher breast was suffused with a foul miasma that seemed about to explode. Worse yet, a layerof grease had formed on the roasted bushes in front of them, and a wave of sparking heatrushed toward her, igniting crackling fires in the bushes. Scooping Qiudi up in her arms, shescreamed for her sisters to leave the bushes. Then, standing on the dike, she counted until theywere all there with her, grimy-faced and barefoot, their eyes staring blankly, their earlobesroasted red. They scampered down the dike and ran toward an abandoned patch of groundthat everyone said was once the foundation and crumbled walls of a Muslim woman’s housethat had since been reclaimed by wild hemp and cocklebur. As she ran into the tangle ofundergrowth, her legs felt as if they were made of dough, and the nettles pricked her feetpainfully. Her sisters, crying and complaining, stumbled along behind her. So they all satdown amid the hemp and wrapped their arms around each other, the younger girls buryingtheir faces in Laidi’s clothing; only she kept her head up, gazing fearfully at the fire ragingover the dike.
The men in green uniforms she’d seen before trouble arrived came running out of the sea offlames, shrieking like demons. Their clothes were on fire. She heard the now familiar voiceshout, “Roll on the ground!” He was the first to hit the ground and roll down the dike, like afireball. A dozen or more fireballs followed him. The flames were extinguished, but greensmoke rose from the men’s clothes and hair. Their uniforms, which only moments earlier hadbeen the same eye-catching green as the shrubbery in which they were hiding, were now littlemore than black rags that clung to their bodies.
One of the men, not heeding the order to roll on the ground, screamed in agony as he ranlike the wind, carrying the flames with him all the way up to the wild hemp where the girlswere hiding, heading straight for a big puddle of filthy water; it was covered by a profusion ofwild grasses and water plants, with thick red stems and fat, tender leaves the color of goosedown, and pink, cottony flower buds. The flaming man threw himself into the puddle, sendingwater splashing in all directions and a host of baby frogs leaping out of their hiding places.
White egg- laying butterflies fluttered into the air and disappeared into the sunlight as ifconsumed by the heat. Now that the flames had sputtered out, the man lay there, black as coal,gobs of mud stuck to his head and face, a tiny worm wriggling on his cheek. She could notsee his nose or his eyes, only his mouth, which spread open to release tortured screams:
“Mother, dear Mother, I’m going to die …” A golden loach accompanied the screams out ofhis mouth. His pitiful writhing stirred up mud that had accumulated over the years and sent anawful stench into the air.
His comrades lay on the ground, moaning and cursing, their rifles and clubs scattered about— except for the thin man with the dark face, who still held his pistol. “Comrades,” he said,“let’s get out of here. The Japanese will be back!”
As if they hadn’t heard him, the charred soldiers stayed where they were on the ground. Acouple of them climbed shakily to their feet and took a few wobbly steps before their legsgave out. “Comrades, let’s get out of here!” he bellowed, kicking the man nearest him.
The man crawled forward and struggled into a kneeling position. “Commander,” he criedout pitifully, “my eyes, I can’t see anything …”
Now she knew that the dark- faced man was called Commander. “Comrades,” he saidanxiously, “the Japs are coming. We must be ready for them …”
Off to the east, she saw twenty or more Japanese horse soldiers in two columns on the topof the dike, riding down like a tide in tight formation in spite of the flames around them, thehorses trotting across the ridge, heads thrust out, one close on the heels of the other. Whenthey reached Chen Family Lane, the lead horse turned and negotiated the slope, the othersquickly falling in behind it. They skirted a broad expanse of open land (the land, which servedas a grain-drying ground for the Sima family, was flat and smooth, covered by golden sand),then picked up speed, galloping in a straight line. All the Japanese horsemen brandished long,narrow swords that glinted in the sun as they bore down on the enemy like the wind, their warwhoops shattering the silence.
The commander raised his pistol and fired at the onrushing cavalry troops, a single puff ofwhite smoke emerging from the mouth of the barrel. Then he threw down the pistol andlimped as fast he could toward where Laidi and her sisters were hiding. A speeding apricot-colored horse brushed past him, its rider leaning over in the saddle as he slashed the air withhis sword. The commander hit the ground in time to keep his head from being struck by thesword, but not quickly enough to avoid having a chunk of his right shoulder sliced off; itsailed through the air and landed nearby. Laidi saw the palm-sized piece of flesh twitch like askinned frog. With a scream of pain, the commander rolled on the ground, then crawled upagainst a large cocklebur and lay there without moving. The Japanese soldier spun his mountaround and headed straight for a big man who was standing up holding a sword. With fearwritten on his face, the man swung his sword weakly, as if aiming for the horse’s head, but hewas knocked to the ground by the animal’s hooves, and before he knew it, the rider leanedover and split his head open with his sword, splattering the Japanese soldier’s pants with hisbrains. In no time at all, a dozen or more men who had escaped from the burning bushes layon the ground in eternal rest. The Japanese riders, still in the grip of frenzied excitement,trampled the bodies beneath their horses’ hooves.
Just then, another cavalry unit, followed by a huge contingent of khaki-clad foot soldiers,emerged from the pine grove west of the village and joined up with the first unit; thereinforced cavalry forces then turned and headed toward the village along the north-southhighway. The helmeted foot soldiers, rifles in hand, fell in behind their mounted comradesand stormed the village like locusts.
On the dike the fires had died out; thick black smoke rose into the sky. Laidi could see onlyblackness where the dike was, while the ruined bushes gave off a pleasant charred odor.
Swarms of flies, seemingly dropping out of the sky, fell upon the battered corpses and thepuddles of blood near them, and on the scarred branches and leaves of the shrubs, and on thecommander’s body. The flies seemed to blot out everything within sight.
Her eyes felt dull and heavy, her lids sticky, in the presence of a world of strange sightsshe’d never seen before: there were the severed legs of horses, horses with knives stuck intheir heads, naked men with huge members hanging between their legs, human heads rollingaround on the ground clucking like mother hens, and little fish with skinny legs hopping onhemp plants in front of her. But what frightened her most was the commander, whom shethought was long dead; climbing slowly to his knees, he crawled over to the chunk of fleshfrom his shoulder, flattened it out, and stuck it onto the spot where it had been cut off. But itimmediately hopped back off and burrowed into a patch of weeds. So he snatched it up andsmashed it on the ground, over and over, until it was dead. Then he plucked a tattered piece ofcloth from his body and wrapped the flesh in it.
第一章 第七节
第七节
上官来弟拖拉着一串妹妹，刚刚跑出几十步远，就听到空中响起啾啾的尖叫声。她仰脸寻找那发出如此怪声的鸟儿，身后的河水中，震天动地一声巨响。她的耳朵嗡嗡地响着，脑子里迷迷糊糊。一条破烂的大头鲇鱼，掉在了她的眼前。鲇鱼橘黄色的头颅上，流着几丝殷红的血，两条长长的触须微微颤抖着，肠子沾在了背上。随着鲇鱼的降落，一大片浑浊的、热乎乎的河水，淋在了她们身上。她麻木地、做梦般地回头看看妹妹们，妹妹们同样麻木地看着她。她看到念弟的头发上，挂着一团黏糊糊、仿佛被牛马咀嚼过又吐出来的水草；想弟的腮上，沾着七八片新鲜的银灰色鱼鳞。距她们十几步远的河中央，河水翻卷着黑色的浪花，形成一个巨大的漩涡，被气浪掀到空中的热水，哗啦啦响着落在漩涡中。河水上飘荡着一股薄薄的白烟。她闻到了一股香喷喷的硝烟味道。她费劲儿地思想着眼前的情景，虽然想不明白，但却感觉到一种兴奋不安的情绪在心中涌动。她想喊叫，眼睛里却突然迸出了几大滴泪水，啪哒啪哒地落在了地上。我为什么要哭呢？她想，我没有哭，那为什么要流泪呢？
也许不是眼泪，是溅到脸上的河水。她感到脑子完全混乱了，眼前的一切：闪闪发光的桥梁、浊水翻滚的河流、密密麻麻的灌木、惊慌失措的燕子、呆若木鸡的妹妹们……杂乱的印象，纠缠在一起，像一团理不出头绪的乱麻。她看到最小的妹妹求弟咧开嘴，紧闭着眼，两行泪水挂在腮上。周围的空中，噼噼啪啪一片细响，宛若无数干透了的豆荚在阳光里爆裂。
河堤的灌木丛中，隐藏着秘密，窸窸窣窣，好像有成群的小兽在里边潜行。适才在灌木丛中看到的那些绿衣男人无声无息，灌木枝条肃然上指，金币般的叶片微微颤抖。他们果真藏在里边吗？他们藏在里边干什么呢？她困难地想着，突然，她听到，一个扁扁的声音，在非常遥远的地方呼唤着：
“……小妹妹，快趴下……小妹妹们……趴下……”
她寻找着那声音的出处，目光飘摇。脑袋深处好像有一只螃蟹在爬行，疼痛难挨。她看到，一个黑得耀眼的东西，从半空中飞落下来。石桥东边的河水中，缓缓地升起一根水柱，那水柱有牛腰那么粗，升到河堤那么高时，顶端骤然散开，好像一棵披头散发的银柳树。紧接着，硝烟的气味、淤泥的气味、臭鱼烂虾的气味，扑进她的鼻腔。她的耳朵里热辣辣的，什么也听不到，但她似乎看到那巨大的声音像水一样涌向四面八方。
又一个黑得耀眼的东西落在河水中，水柱照样升起。一块蓝色的东西扎在河滩上，边沿翘起，状若狗牙。她弯下腰，伸手去捡那蓝东西，指尖冒起一股细小的黄烟，尖刻的疼痛，飞速地流遍全身。猛然间，她重新听到了喧闹的世界，好像那灼手的疼痛从耳朵里钻出，顶开了堵住耳朵的塞子一样。河水吱吱啦啦响着，水面上蒸气滚滚。爆炸声在空中隆隆滚动。
六个妹妹中，有三个咧着大嘴号哭，另外三个，捂着耳朵趴在地上，屁股高高地翘着，好像荒草甸子里那种傻笨傻笨、被人追急了便顾头不顾腚的秃尾巴鸟儿。
“小妹妹！”她听到有人在灌木丛中大声喊叫，“快趴下，趴下，爬过来……”
她趴在地上，寻找着灌木丛中的人。她终于看到，在一丛枝条柔软的红柳里，那个黑脸白牙的陌生男人对着自己招手，喊叫：
“快，爬过来！”
她的混沌的脑袋里裂开了一条缝隙，透进一缕白色的光明。她听到一声马嘶，扭头看到一匹金黄色的小马，竖着火焰般的鬃毛，从石桥的南头跑上石桥。这匹美丽的小马没拴笼头，处在青年与少年之间，调皮、活泼，洋溢着青春气息。这是福生堂的马，是樊三爷家东洋大种马的儿子，樊三爷爱种马如儿子，这金黄小马，便是他嫡亲的孙子啦。她认识这匹小马，喜欢这匹小马。这匹小马经常从胡同里跑过，引逗得孙大姑家的黑狗疯狂。它跑到桥中央，突然立住，好像被那一道谷草的墙挡住了去路，又好像被谷草上的酒气熏昏了头。它歪着头，专注地看着谷草。它在想什么呢？她想。空中又啾啾地尖叫起来，一团比熔化了的铁还要刺眼的亮光在桥上炸开，惊雷般的声音，似乎在很高很远的地方滚动着。她看到那匹小马突然间四分五裂，一条半熟的、皮毛焦煳的马腿抡在灌木枝条上。她感到恶心，一股又酸又苦的液体从胃底涌上来，冲到喉咙。她的脑子一下子清楚了，明白了。通过马的腿，她看到了死亡。恐惧袭来，使她手脚抖动，牙齿碰撞。她跳起来，拖着妹妹们，钻进了灌木丛。
六个妹妹，紧紧地围着她，互相搂抱着，像六个蒜瓣儿围绕着一根蒜莛。她听到左边不远处那个熟悉的声音在嘶哑地喊叫着什么，但很快就被沸腾的河水淹没了。
她紧紧地搂着最小的妹妹，感到小家伙的脸烫得像火炭一样。河面上暂时平静了，白色的烟在慢慢地消散。那些啾啾鸣叫着的黑玩意儿，拖曳着长长的尾巴，飞越过蛟龙河大堤，落到村子里，隆隆的雷声此起彼伏，连成一片。村子里隐隐约约传来女人的尖叫声和大物倾倒的哗啷声。河对面的大堤上，没有一个人影，只有一株老槐树，孤零零地立着。槐树下边，是一排沿河排开的垂柳，柔长的枝条一直垂到水面。这些奇怪的、可怕的东西，究竟是从哪里飞出来的呢？她执拗地想着。“啊呀呀呀——”一个男人的嘶哑的喊叫声打断她的思路。透过枝条缝隙，她看到福生堂二掌柜司马库骑着丽人牌自行车蹿上桥。他为什么上桥呢？一定是为了马，她想。但是，司马库一手扶着车把，一手举着个熊熊燃烧的火把，分明不是为马来的。他家的那匹美丽的小马肢体粉碎，血肉模糊，一塌糊涂在桥上，马血染红了河水。司马库急刹车，把手中的火把扔在桥中央浸透了酒浆的谷草上，蓝色的火苗轰然而起，并飞快地蔓延。司马库调转车头，来不及上车，推着车子往回跑。蓝色的火苗追逐着他。他嘴里继续发出“啊呀呀呀”的怪叫。“叭勾——”一声脆响，他头上的卷边草帽鸟一样飞起来，旋转着栽到桥下去。他扔下车子，弓着腰，踉跄了一下，狗趴在桥上。叭勾叭勾叭勾……一连串的响，像放爆竹一样。司马库身体紧贴着桥面，哧溜溜往前爬，好像一条大蜥蜴。转眼间他就消逝了。叭勾声也停止了。整座桥都在冒蓝火，中间的火苗子最高，没有烟。桥下的水变成蓝色。热浪扑过来，喘气不流畅，胸口闷，鼻孔干燥。热浪变成风，波波地响。灌木枝条湿漉漉的，好像出了汗，树叶子卷了起来，蔫了。这时，她听到司马库在河堤后高声骂着：
“小日本，操你姐姐，你过得了卢沟桥，过不了我的火龙桥！”骂完了便笑：
“啊哈哈哈，啊哈哈哈，啊哈哈哈……”
司马库的笑声没完，对面河堤上，齐刷刷地冒出了一片顶着黄帽子的人。然后便是穿黄衣服的上身和马头。几十个骑着高头大马的人站在河堤上。虽然隔着几百米，但她看到，那些马和樊三爷家的大种马一模一样。日本鬼子！日本鬼子来了，日本鬼子到底来了……日本马兵没有走升腾着蓝色火焰的石桥，而是斜刺里冲下了对面河堤。几十匹高头大马笨拙地碰撞着，一转眼便到了河底。他们叽里咕噜地吆喝着，马儿咴咴地嘶鸣着，冲入了河水。河水刚刚淹没马腿，马的肚皮贴着水面。马上的日本人都坐得端正，腰挺直，头微仰。
一张张脸都被阳光照得白花花的，分不清鼻子眼睛。马昂着头，摆出一副快跑的样子，但它们跑不起来。河水好像化开的糖浆，散发着腥甜气息。高头大马们艰难地跋涉着，激起一簇簇蓝色的浪花。她感到那些浪花像小火苗一样燎着马的肚皮，所以它们把沉重的大头不断地扬起来，身体不停地耸动，尾巴的下半截在水面上漂着。马上的日本人忽高忽低。他们都用双手拉着马缰，踩着马镫的腿伸得笔直，八字形劈开。她看到一匹枣红色的大马在河心停住，翘起尾巴根子，屙出了一团团粪蛋子。马上那个日本人，焦急地用脚后跟磕着马肚子。
马站着不动，马头晃动着，抖动得嚼环哗啦啦响。
“打呀，弟兄们！”左侧灌木丛中有人吼了一声，随即便是一声裂帛般的闷响。然后是一阵粗细不一、厚薄不等的响声。一颗嗤嗤地冒着白烟的黑东西滚落到河水里，轰隆一声，掀起一根水柱子。枣红马上那个日本人身体奇怪地往上蹿了一下，随即便往后仰去。后仰的过程中，他的两只粗短的胳膊胡乱挥舞着，胸前一股黑血呼喇喇地喷出来。喷到马头上。喷到河水中。那匹大马轰然而起，亮出了沾满黑泥的前蹄和涂了油一样的又宽又厚的胸脯。待大马前蹄下落砸起一片水花时，日本兵已经仰面朝天挂在马腚上。一个骑在黑马上的日本兵一头扎到水里。蓝马上的日本兵前扑，两只胳膊垂挂在马脖子两侧，悠悠荡荡，掉了帽子的脑袋歪在马脖子上，一股血沿着他的耳朵流到河水中。河里一片混乱，失主的马嘶鸣着，回转身，往对岸挣扎。其余的日本兵都在马上弯了腰，双腿夹紧马肚，端起悬挂在胸前的油亮的马枪，对着灌木丛开火。几十匹马呼呼隆隆、拖泥带水地冲上了滩涂。马肚皮下滴着成串的水珠，马蹄上全是紫色的淤泥，马尾巴拖着一束束亮晶晶的丝线，拖得很长很长，一直连绵到河中心。
一匹额头上生着白毛的花马驮着一个脸色苍白的日本兵，跳跃着冲向河堤。笨重的马蹄刨着滩涂，发出扑哧扑哧的声音。马上的日本兵眯着眼，紧绷着月牙状的嘴，左手拍打着马腚，右手高举着一把银光闪闪的长刀，对着灌木丛冲上来。上官来弟清清楚楚地看到了日本兵鼻尖的汗水、花马粗壮的睫毛，听到了从花马鼻孔里喷出的喘息声，闻到了酸溜溜的马汗的味道。突然，花马的额头上冒起一股红烟，它剧烈运动着的四肢僵住了，光滑的马皮上出现了无数条粗大的皱纹。它的四条腿猛然软下去，马背上的日本兵没来得及下来，就与他的马一起跌倒在灌木丛边。
日本人的马队沿着河滩往东跑下去，跑到上官来弟她们放鞋子的地方，齐齐地勒住马头，穿过灌木丛爬上了大堤。她看不到日本马队了。她看到河滩上躺着那匹死去的大花马，硕大的头颅上沾满黑血和污泥，一只蓝色的大眼珠子，悲凉地瞪着湛蓝的天空。那个白脸的日本兵半截身子压在马腹下，趴在淤泥上，脑袋歪在一侧，一只白得没有一点血色的手伸到水边，好像要从水里捞什么东西。清晨光滑平坦的滩涂，被马蹄践踏得一塌糊涂。河水中央，倒着一匹白马，河水冲击着马尸缓缓移动、翻滚，当马尸肚皮朝上时，四条高挑着瓦罐般胖大马蹄的马腿，便吓人地直竖起来，转眼间，水声混浊，马腿便抡在水里，等待着下一次直指天空的机会。那匹给上官来弟留下深刻印象的枣红大马，拖着它的骑手的尸体，顺流而下，已经走到很远的下游，她突然想到，这匹马很可能要到樊三爷家去找那匹大种马。她坚决地认为，枣红大马是匹母马，与樊三爷家的公马是失散多年的夫妻。石桥上的火还在燃烧，桥中央的谷草堆上，蹿起了黄色的火苗和白色的浓烟。青色的桥梁高高地弓起腰，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声，发出哼哼唧唧的呻吟声。她感到桥梁在烈火中变成一条大蛇，扭曲着身体，痛苦不堪，渴望着飞升，但头尾却被牢牢地钉住了。可怜的石桥，她难过地想着。可怜的德国造丽人牌自行车，高密东北乡的唯一的现代化机械，已被烧成一堆歪歪扭扭的烂铁。
呛鼻的火药味、胶皮味、血腥味、淤泥味使灼热的空气又黏又稠，她感到胸膛里充满了恶浊的气体，随时都要爆炸。更加严重的是，她们面前的灌木枝条被烤出了一层油，一股夹杂着火星的热浪扑来，那些枝条噼噼啪啪地燃烧起来。她抱着求弟，尖声呼叫着妹妹们，从灌木丛中跑出来。站在河堤上，她清点了一下人数，妹妹们全在，脸上都挂着灰，脚上都没穿鞋，眼睛都发直，白耳朵都被烤红了。她拉着妹妹们滚下河堤，向前跑，前边是一块废弃的空地，据说是回族女人家的旧房基，断壁残垣，被野生的高大胡麻和苍耳子掩映着。跑进胡麻棵子里，她感到脚脖子软得仿佛用面团捏成，脚痛得如同锥刺。妹妹们跌跌撞撞，哭叫不迭。于是，她们便瘫坐在胡麻棵子里，再次搂抱在一起。妹妹们都把脸藏在姐姐的衣襟里，只有上官来弟，竖着头，惊恐不安地看着漫上河堤的黄褐色的大火。
先前她看到过的那几十个穿绿衣裳的人，鬼一样号叫着从火海里钻出来。他们身上都冒着火苗子。她听到那个熟悉的声音在喊叫：“躺下打滚呀！躺下打滚！”
那个喊叫的人带头，轱辘似的沿着河堤滚下来，好像一个火球儿。十几个火球随后滚下来。火灭了，他们身上、头发上冒着青烟。原先那碧绿的与灌木叶子同样颜色的漂亮衣服，失去了本来面目，贴在他们身上的，是一些乌黑的破布片儿。有一个身上蹿火的人，没有就地打滚，而是嗷嗷地叫着，风风火火往前跑。跑到她们栖身的胡麻地前，那里有一个蓄着脏水的大坑，坑里茂盛地生长着一些杂草和几棵像小树一样粗壮的水荇，通红的茎秆，肥大的叶片是鲜嫩的鹅黄色，梢头高挑着一束束柔软的粉红色花序。那浑身着火的人一头扎到水坑里，砸得坑中水花四溅，一群半大的、尾巴刚刚褪掉的小青蛙从坑边的水草中扑扑棱棱地跳出来，几只洁白的、正在水荇叶背产卵的粉蝶轻飘飘地飞起来，消逝在阳光里，好像被灼热的光线熔化了。那人身上的火熄了，全身乌黑，头上脸上沾着一层厚厚的烂泥，腮上弯曲着一条细小的蚯蚓。分不清哪是他的鼻子哪是他的眼，只能看到他的嘴。他痛苦地哭叫着：“娘啊，亲娘，痛死我啦……”一条金黄的泥鳅从他嘴里钻出来。他在泥塘里蠕动着，把水底沉淀多年的腐臭气味搅动起来。
那些扑灭了身上火的人，都趴在地上呻吟、咒骂，他们的长枪短棒都扔在地上，只有那个黑脸瘦汉，攥着那柄小枪，焦急地说：
“弟兄们，快撤，日本人过来了！”
被烧伤的人好像没听到他的话，照旧趴在地上。有两个抖抖颤颤地站起来，晃晃荡荡走了几步，随即又摔倒了。“弟兄们，快撤！”他大叫着，用脚踢着趴在他身边那个人的屁股。
那个人往前爬了几步，挣扎着跪起来，哭着喊：“司令，我的眼，我的眼啥也看不见了……”
她终于知道黑脸人名叫司令，她听到司令焦灼地喊：“弟兄们，鬼子上来了，拼了吧……”
她看到，东边高高的河堤上，二十几匹日本大马驮着日本兵，摆成两路纵队，水一样漫过来，尽管堤上烟火弥漫，但日本马队队形整齐，大马探着头，迈着小碎步子，一匹追着一匹跑。跑到陈家胡同那儿，前边的马带头冲下河堤，后边的马紧跟着，沿着河堤外的开阔地（这片开阔地是司马家晾晒庄稼的打谷场，铺着金黄色的沙土，平展坚硬）突然加了速度。
马塌下腰，迈开大步，跑成一条线。日本兵齐刷刷地举起了耀眼的、窄窄的长刀，嗷嗷地叫着，旋风般卷过来。
司令举起枪，对着日本马队的方向，胡乱开了一枪，枪口冒出一朵小小的白烟。然后，他扔掉枪，瘸着一条腿，歪歪斜斜地对着上官姐妹们藏身的地方跑过来。一匹杏黄大马紧擦着他的身体跑过去，马上的日本人迅速地侧过身体，马刀直冲着他的脑袋劈下来。他的身体前扑，脑袋完整无缺，但右肩上一块肉被削掉，飞起来，落在了地上。她看到那块巴掌大的皮肉，像一只剥了皮的青蛙在地上跳跃。司令哀鸣一声，歪在地上，往前打了几个滚，趴在一棵苍耳子旁边，一动也不动了。骑杏黄大马的日本兵掉转马头冲回来，对着一个拄着大刀立起来的大个子男人冲过去。那男人满脸惊恐，无力地举起大刀，好像要戳向马头，但那马的前蹄跃起，一下子把他踩翻了。日本兵从马上探下身去，一刀把他的脑袋劈成了两半。白色的脑浆子溅在了日本兵的裤子上。转眼的时间，十几个从灌木丛中逃出来的男人，便永远地安息了。日本人纵着马，余兴未消地践踏着他们的尸体。
这时，从村子西边那一片稀疏的松树林子里，又有一群骑兵跑过来。骑兵后边，是一大片黄色的人群。两队骑兵会合后，沿着南北大路，向村子里扑去。那群扛着乌溜溜铁筒子、戴着圆顶铁帽子的步兵，跟着骑兵，一窝蜂般涌进了村子。
河堤上的火熄灭了，一团团黑烟直冲天空。她看到河堤上一片漆黑，残缺不全的灌木枝条散发出好闻的焦香味儿。无数的苍蝇仿佛从天而降，落在被马蹄踩得稀烂的尸体上，落在地面的污血上，落在植物的茎叶上，也落在司令的身体上。她眼前的一切都被苍蝇覆盖了。
她的眼睛枯涩，眼皮发黏，眼前模模糊糊地出现了许多稀奇古怪的、从来都没看到过的景象：有脱离了马身蹦跳着的马腿；有头上插着刀子的马驹；有赤身裸体、两腿间垂着巨大的阳物的男人；有遍地滚动、像生蛋母鸡一样咯咯叫着的人头；还有几条生着纤细的小腿在她面前的胡麻秆上跳来跳去的小鱼儿。最让她吃惊的是：她认为早已死去的司令竟慢慢地爬起来，用膝盖行走着，找到那块从他肩膀上削下来的皮肉，抻展开，贴到伤口上。但那皮肉很快地从伤口上跳下来，往草丛里钻。他逮住它，往地上摔了几下，把它摔死，然后，从身上撕下一块破布，紧紧地裹住了它。
Chapter One 8
8
An uproar in the yard startled Shangguan Lu awake. She was crestfallen when she saw thather belly was as swollen as ever, even now that half the kang was stained with her blood. Thefresh dirt her mother-in-law had spread over the kang had turned into sticky, blood-soakedmud, and what had been only a vague feeling suddenly turned crystal-clear. She watched as abat with pink wing membranes flew down from the rafters, and a purple face materialized onthe black wall across from her; it was the face of a dead baby boy. A gut- wrenching,heartrending pain became a dull ache. Then her curiosity was piqued by the sight of a tinyfoot with bright toenails poking out from between her legs. It’s all over, she thought, my lifeis all over. The thought of death brought feelings of deep sadness, and she saw herself beingplaced in a cheap coffin, with her mother-in-law looking on with an angry frown and herhusband standing nearby, gloomy but silent. The only ones wailing were her seven daughters,who stood in a circle around the coffin …
Her mother-in-law’s stentorian voice overwhelmed the girl’s wails. She opened her eyes,and the hallucination vanished. The window was suffused with daylight; the heavy fragranceof locust blossoms gusted in. A bee banged into the paper window covering. “Fan Three,don’t worry about washing your hands,” she heard her mother-in-law say. “That preciousdaughter-in-law of mine still hasn’t had her baby. The best she can do is one leg. Can youcome help out?”
“Elder sister-in-law, don’t be foolish. Just think what you’re saying. I’m a horse doctor, Ican’t deliver a human baby.”
“People and animals aren’t that different.”
“That’s nonsense, elder sister-in-law. Now get me some water so I can wash up. I sayforget the expense and go get Aunty Sun.”
Her mother-in-law’s voice exploded like a clap of thunder: “Stop pretending you don’tknow I can’t stand that old witch! Last year she stole one of my little hens.”
“That’s up to you,” Fan Three said. “It’s your daughter-in-law who’s in labor, after all, notmy wife. All right, I’ll do it, but don’t forget the liquor and the pig’s head, because I’ll besaving two lives for your family!”
Her mother-in-law changed her tone of voice from anger to melancholy: “Fan Three, showsome kindness. Besides, with all that fighting out there, if you went out and ran into Japanese…”
“That’s enough!” Fan said. “In all the years we’ve been friends and neighbors, this is thefirst time I’ve done anything like this. But let’s get something straight first. People andanimals may not be that different, but a human life matters more …”
The clatter of footsteps, mixed with the sound of someone blowing his nose, came towardher. Don’t tell me that my father-in-law and husband and that slick character Fan Three arecoming in while I’m lying here naked. The thought of it angered and shamed her. Puffy whiteclouds floated before her eyes. When she strained to sit up and find something to cover hernakedness, the pool of blood she lay in made that impossible. The intermittent rumble ofexplosions from the edge of the village came on the air, punctuated by a mysterious yetsomehow familiar clamor, like the magnified noise made by a horde of tiny crawling critters,or the gnashing of countless teeth … I’ve heard that sound before, but what is it? She thoughtand she thought. Then a flash of recognition quickly transformed itself into a bright light thatbrought into focus the plague of locusts she’d witnessed a decade or more earlier. The redswarms had blocked out the sun; it was a raging flood of insects that stripped every tree bare,even the bark of willows. The sickening gnawing sound ate its way into the marrow of herbones. The locusts have returned! she thought to her horror, as she sank into the mire ofdespair. “Heavenly Master, just let me die, I can’t take it anymore … God in Heaven, BlessedVirgin! Send down your grace and bounty to save my soul…” she prayed hopefully even inthe throes of despair, sending prayers both to China’s supreme deity and to the paramount godof the West. When she had finished, her mental anguish and physical agonies had lessened abit, and she thought back to that late spring day when she and the redheaded, blue-eyed PastorMalory had lain in the grass, and he had told her that China’s Heavenly Master and the West’sGod were one and the same, like the two sides of your hand, or just as the lianhua and hehuaare both lotus flowers. Or, she thought bashfully, like a cock and a dick are the same thing. Hestood amid the locust trees, as spring was giving way to summer, that thing of his standing upproudly … the surrounding trees in full bloom with white flowers, and red flowers, andyellow flowers, a rainbow of colors dancing in the air, their rich fragrance thoroughlyintoxicating her. She felt herself rise in the air, like a cloud, like a feather. With gratitudefilling her breast, she gazed at the somber and sacred, friendly and kindly smile on PastorMalory’s face, and her eyes filled with tears.
When she closed her eyes, the tears spilled into the creases all the way to her ears. The doorwas pushed open, and her mother-in-law said meekly, “Laidi’s mother, what’s wrong? Youmust hold out, child. Our donkey’s had a lively little mule. Now, if you have this baby, theShangguan family can be content at last. You might be able to hide the truth from yourparents, but not from a doctor. Since it doesn’t matter whether a midwife is male or female,I’ve asked Third Master Fan to come over…”
The rare note of tenderness moved her. Opening her eyes, she looked up into the goldenaura of the older woman’s face and nodded weakly. Her mother-in-law turned and summonedFan Three. “You can come in now.”
He entered with a long face, trying hard to look dignified. But he averted his eyes, as ifhe’d seen something so terrifying it drained the blood from his cheeks. “Elder sister-in-law,”
he said softly as he backed to the door, his gaze resting fearfully on the body of ShangguanLu, “raise your merciful hand and spare me. Threaten to kill me if you want, but I cannot dowhat you ask.” He turned and ran out the door, only to bump into Shangguan Shouxi, whowas craning his neck to see what was going on inside. With disgust, Shangguan Lu noted herhusband’s gaunt, pointy face, looking more like a rat than ever, as her mother-in-law ran outon the heels of Fan Three.
“Fan Three, you fucking dog!”
When her husband stuck his head in the door a second time, she mustered the strength toraise an arm to signal him and say icily — she couldn’t be sure if the words actually emergedfrom her mouth: “Come over here, you son of a bitch!” By this time, she’d forgotten herhatred and enmity toward her husband. Why take it out on him? He may be a son of a bitch,but it’s my mother-in-law who’s the bitch, an old bitch …“Are you talking to me?” Shangguan Shouxi asked from where he stood beside the kang,looking out the window in embarrassment. “What do you want?” She gazed upsympathetically at this man with whom she’d lived for twenty-one years, and felt pangs ofremorse. A sea of locust blossoms rippled in the wind … in a voice as thin as a single hair,she said:
“This child … it’s not yours …”
In tears, Shangguan Shouxi said, “Mother of my children … don’t die on me … I’ll go getAunty Sun …”
“No …” She looked into her husband’s eyes and implored him, “Go beg Pastor Malory tocome …”
Out in the yard, Shangguan Lü, sensing a pain worse than having her skin flayed, took anoilpaper bundle from her pocket and peeled it back to reveal a shiny silver dollar; she clutchedit tightly as the corners of her mouth curled in a grimace and her eyes glowed red. The sunshone down on her gray head; black smoke drifted over in the hot air. She heard a louddisturbance to the north, near the Flood Dragon River; bullets whistled through the air. “FanThree,” she sobbed, “can you just stand by and watch someone die? ‘There is nothing morepoisonous than a hornet’s sting and nothing more ruthless than a physician’s heart.’ They say‘money can make the devil turn a millstone.’ Well, this silver dollar has rested against myskin for twenty years, but it’s yours in return for my daughter-in-law’s life.”
She laid the silver dollar in Fan Three’s hand, but he flung it to the ground, as if it were apiece of hot metal. A film of sweat covered his oily face, and his cheeks twitched so violentlythey distorted his features. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he shouted, “Elder sister-in-law, please let me go … I’ll get down on my knees and bang my head against the ground foryou …”
He had nearly reached the gate when Shangguan Fulu, stripped to the waist, came bargingthrough. He was wearing only one shoe, and his bare, scrawny chest was smeared withsomething green, like axle grease, like a gaping, festering wound. “Where have you been, youwalking corpse?” Shangguan Lü cursed angrily.
“Elder brother, what’s going on out there?” Fan Three asked anxiously. Ignoring both thecurse and the question, Shangguan Fulu stood there with an idiotic smile on his face, a stringof duh- duh- duhs streaming from his mouth, like chickens pecking the bottom of anearthenware dish.
Shangguan Lü grabbed her husband by the chin and shook him hard, wrenched his mouthup one minute and down the next, stretching it horizontally and then vertically. A dribble ofsaliva emerged from one corner. He coughed, then spat up, and finally settled down. “What’sgoing on out there” He looked at his wife with deep sorrow.
As his mouth twisted, he sobbed. “The Japanese horse soldiers have reached the river …”
The dull thuds of approaching horse hooves froze them in their tracks. A flock of magpieswith white tail feathers flew overhead, their cries settling over the compound. Then thestained glass in the church steeple shattered noiselessly, splintered glass glinting in thesunlight. But immediately after the glass began flying, the crisp sound of an explosionengulfed the steeple, sending dull sound waves like the rumble of iron wheels spreading in alldirections. A powerful wave of heat toppled Fan Three and Shangguan Fulu like harvestedwheat. It sent Shangguan Lü reeling backward into the wall. A black earthenware chimneywith ornamental carvings rolled off the roof and landed on the brick path in front of her,where, with a loud crash, it crumbled into pieces.
Shangguan Shouxi ran out of the house. “Mother,” he sobbed, “she’s dying, she’s going todie. Go get Aunty Sun …”
She glared at her son. “If it’s your time to die, then you die. If it isn’t, you don’t. Nothingcan change that.”
Listening but not quite grasping her meaning, the three men looked at her with tears in theireyes. “Fan Three,” she said, “do you have any more of that secret potion that speeds thedelivery process? If you do, give a bottle to my daughter-in-law. If not, then to hell with it,and with you.” Without waiting for his answer, she tottered in the direction of the gate, headhigh, chest thrown out, not looking at any of them.
第一章 第八节
第八节
院子里的吵嚷声把昏死过去的上官鲁氏惊醒。她绝望地看着依旧隆起的肚皮和把半边炕都洇湿的鲜血。婆婆扫来的尘土已经变成了黏稠的血泥，朦胧的感觉猛然间变得清晰了，她看到一只生着粉红翅膀的蝙蝠在房梁间轻快地飞翔，乌黑的墙壁上渐渐洇出一张青紫的脸，那是一个死去的男孩的脸。撕肝裂肺般的疼痛已经变得迟钝，她好奇地看到，在自己双腿间，伸出一只生着明亮指甲的小脚。完了，她想，这辈子就这样完结了。想到死亡，心里涌上一阵悲苦，她恍惚看到自己被塞进一口薄木板钉成的棺材里，婆婆皱着眉头，满脸怒气，丈夫阴沉着脸一声不吭，只有七个女儿，围在棺材周围，大声地号哭着……婆婆的大嗓门把女儿们的号哭声压了下去。她睁开眼，幻觉消失，看到窗户一片光明。
槐花的浓香阵阵袭来。一只蜜蜂碰撞着窗纸啪啪作响。
“樊三，你先别忙着洗手，”她听到婆婆说，“俺那个宝贝儿媳还没生下孩子，也是先出了一条腿，你是不是也帮她弄出来……”
“老嫂子，你简直是胡说八道，满嘴放炮，俺樊三是驴马大夫，怎么能给女人接生？”
“人畜是一理嘛。”
“你少给我啰嗦，弄点水我洗手。大嫂子，别怕破费，去把孙大姑请来吧。”
婆婆的声音像打雷一样响：“你难道不知道我跟那老妖婆子不睦？去年，她偷走了我一只小母鸡。”
“随你便吧，是你家儿媳妇生孩子，也不是我老婆生孩子！”樊三自我解嘲地说，“奶奶的，我老婆还在我丈母娘肚子里转筋哩，老嫂子，别忘了烧酒和猪头，我可是救了你家两条性命！”
婆婆换了一副悲凉的腔调道：“樊三，行行好吧，古人说：‘行好不得好，早晚脱不了。’再说，街上枪响炮轰，你出去万一碰上日本人……”
“别说了，”樊三道，“多年的乡亲一家人，我今日就破一次例。丑话说在前头，虽说人畜是一理，但毕竟人命关天……”
她听到一阵杂沓的脚步声移近了，脚步声里夹杂着响亮的擤鼻涕的声音。难道公公、丈夫和油头滑脑的樊三都要进产房，来观看自己赤裸的身体？她感到愤怒、耻辱，眼前飘荡着一簇簇云絮状的东西。她想坐起来，找件衣服遮掩，但身体陷在血泥里，丝毫不能动弹。村子外传来隆隆的巨响。巨响的间隙里，是一种神秘而熟悉的嘈杂声，好像无数只小兽在爬行，好像无数只牙齿在咀嚼……是什么声音这样耳熟呢？她苦苦地思索着，脑袋里有一个亮点倏忽一闪，迅速变成一片亮光，照耀着十几年前那场特大蝗灾的情景：暗红色的蝗虫遮天蔽日、洪水一般涌来，它们啃光了一切植物的枝叶，连柳树的皮都啃光了；蝗虫啮咬万物的可怕声音，渗透到人的骨髓里。蝗虫又来了，她恐怖地想着，沉入了绝望的深潭。老天爷啊，让我死吧，我受够了……天主啊，圣母啊，布下你们的雨露阳光，拯救我的灵魂吧……她在绝望中满怀希望地祈念着，祈求着中国至高无上的神和西方至高无上的神，心灵和肉体的痛苦似乎减缓了许多。她想到红头发蓝眼睛、慈父仁兄般的马洛亚牧师，在春天的草地上，他说中国的天老爷和西方的天主是同一个神，就像手与巴掌、莲花与荷花一样。就像——她羞愧地想——鸡巴和簈一样。他站在初夏的槐树林里，高挺着雄赳赳的那东西……团团簇簇，繁重的槐花五彩缤纷地飞舞着，浓郁的花香像酒一样迷人神魂。她感到自己在飘，像一团云，像一根毛。她无限感激地望着马洛亚庄重又神圣、亲善又和蔼的笑脸，泪水盈满了她的眼窝。
她闭上眼睛，眼泪沿着眼角的皱纹，一直流到两边的耳朵里。房门被推开，婆婆低声下气地说：
“来弟她娘，你这是怎么啦？我的孩子，你可要挺住，咱家的黑驴，生了一匹活蹦乱跳的骡驹子，你要是把这孩子生下来，咱上官家就知足了。孩子，接生婆不分男女，我把你樊三大爷请来了……”
婆婆一番难得的温存话语，感动着她的心。她睁开眼睛，对着婆婆金黄色的大脸，轻轻地点了点头。婆婆对外屋招招手，说：
“老三，进来吧。”
油头滑脑的樊三，板着脸，似乎是装出来一脸庄重神情。他的目光躲躲闪闪，好像看到了什么可怕情景似的，脸上突然失去了血色。“大嫂子……”樊三低着头说，“您高抬贵手饶了我吧，杀了樊三樊三也干不了这差事。”他一边说着，一边倒退，惊恐不安的目光一落到上官鲁氏的身上便急遽跳开。退出房门时，他与正在门外对着室内伸头探脑的上官寿喜撞在一起。她厌恶地瞥见了丈夫那尖削的脸和老鼠一样的表情。婆婆急忙出去追赶樊三，她听到婆婆喊着：
“樊三，你个狗日的！”
趁着丈夫又一次探头进来的瞬间，她拼着全身的力气抬起一只胳膊，对他挥了挥手，一句冷冰冰的话从嘴里钻出来——她怀疑这句话是不是自己说的——狗娘养的，你过来！——她对丈夫早已到了无恨无怨的程度，我为什么要骂他呢？骂他“狗娘养的”，实际上是在骂婆婆，婆婆是条狗，老狗……老狗老狗慢龇牙，龇牙给你一掏灰筢……二十多年前在大姑姑家寄生时听到过的那个古老的关于傻女婿和丈母娘的故事油然浮上脑海：那是多雨又酷热的年代，高密东北乡刚刚开发，人烟稀少，大姑姑家是最早的移民，大姑父身躯高大，人送外号“于大巴掌”，他的大巴掌攥起来，就是两只马蹄般的大拳头，一拳能打倒一匹大骡子。他是赌徒，手上沾满一层绿色的铜锈……在司马库家打谷场上召开的反缠足大会上，我被上官吕氏看中了……
你叫我？她看到上官寿喜站在炕前，双眼望着窗户，满脸尴尬表情，你叫我有啥事……她不无怜悯地看看这个与自己生活了二十一年的男人，心里突然充满了歉疚。槐花的海洋里风浪澎湃……她用一种细微得像头发丝儿一样的声音说：
“这孩子……不是你的……”
上官寿喜哭咧咧地说：“孩她娘啊……你可别死啊……我这就去叫孙大姑……”
“不……”她乞求地望着丈夫，说，“求你把马牧师叫来……”
院子里，上官吕氏忍着割肉般的痛楚，从怀里摸出一个油纸包儿，一层层剥去纸，现出一块大洋钱。她捏着大洋，两个嘴角可怕地耷拉着，两颗眼珠子通红，阳光照耀着她已经花白的头发。一股股黑烟不知从何处飘过来，空气热得发烫，北边的蛟龙河里，一片嘈杂喧闹声，枪子儿从半空中嗖嗖地飞过去。她几乎是哭着说：
“樊三啊，难道你能见死不救？真真是‘毒不过黄蜂针，狠不过郎中心’，常言道‘有钱能使鬼推磨’，樊三，这块大洋贴着我的皮肉放了二十年啦，送给你，买我儿媳一条命！”
她把大洋拍到樊三手里。樊三猛地把那块大洋扔掉，好像上官吕氏拍到他手里的是一块烧红的铁。他滑溜溜的脸上，渗出一层油汗，两个腮帮子搐动着，拉得五官挪位。他背起背囊，喊道：
“大嫂子，放我走吧……我给您跪下磕头了……”
樊三还没跑到上官家大门，就看到光着膀子的上官福禄跑了进来。他脚上只剩下一只鞋子，瘦骨嶙峋的胸脯上，涂着一些绿色的、车轴油一样的脏东西，好像一个巨大的腐烂伤口。你到哪里去了？老不死的，上官吕氏恼怒地咒骂着。大哥，外面出啥事了？樊三焦急地询问着他。他不理吕氏的咒骂，不答樊三的问话，神情痴迷地傻笑着，嘴巴里发出嘚嘚哒哒的声响，宛若一群鸡在紧急地啄着瓦盆。
上官吕氏捏住丈夫的下巴，上下推拉着，使他的嘴忽而横长忽而竖长。有一些白色的痰涎从他的嘴里流出来。他吭吭地咳着，吐着，终于平静下来。他爹，外边怎么样了？他悲哀地看着老婆，嘴巴一歪，哭着说：
“日本人的马队，上了后河堤……”
沉闷的马蹄声传来，院子里的人都僵住了。一群拖着白色尾翎的灰喜鹊喳喳惊叫着从院子上方飞过去。教堂钟楼上的花玻璃无声地破裂了，玻璃碎片闪闪发光。在花玻璃四分五裂之后，一声清脆的爆炸声才在钟楼上响起，爆炸的声波像沉重的、嘎嘎作响的铁轮子向四面八方碾轧过去。一股很大的气浪扑过来，樊三和上官福禄像谷个子一样倒伏在地。吕氏连连倒退，背靠在墙上。一根镂花的黑陶烟囱从房檐上滚下，落在她眼前的青砖甬路上，啪喳一声，成了一堆瓦砾。
上官寿喜从屋里跑出来，哭叫着：“娘啊！她要死了，她要死了，去请孙大姑吧……”
吕氏严肃地盯着儿子，说：“人要该死，怎么着也得死；人要不该死，怎么着也死不了！”
院子里的男人们似懂非懂地听着她说教，都用泪汪汪的眼睛盯着她的脸。她说：“樊三，还有那种家传的催生药吗？有就给我的儿媳灌上一瓶，没有就拉倒。”说完话，也不等候樊三的回答，她谁也不看，昂着头，挺着胸，颤颤巍巍地朝大门口走去。
Chapter One 9
9
On the morning of the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, 1939, in the largest village ofNortheast Gaomi Township, Shangguan Lü led her mortal enemy, Aunty Sun, into her house,ignoring the bullets whizzing overhead, to help deliver her daughter-in-law’s baby. At thevery moment they walked through the door, out on the open field near the bridgehead,Japanese horse soldiers were trampling the corpses of guerrilla fighters.
Shangguan Fulu and his son were milling in the yard with the horse doctor, Fan Three, whoproudly held up a bottle filled with a viscous green liquid. The three men had been in thesame spot when Shangguan Lü left to find Aunty Sun, but were now joined by the redheadedPastor Malory. Wearing a loose Chinese robe, with a heavy brass crucifix around his neck, hewas standing beneath Shangguan Lu’s window, head up, facing the morning sun, as heintoned a prayer in the local dialect: “Dear Jesus, Lord in Heaven. Merciful God, reach out totouch the heads of me, Your devoted servant, and the friends gathered here, give us thestrength and the courage to face this challenge. Let the woman inside safely deliver her infant,give the goat plenty of milk and the laying hens plenty of eggs, throw a sheet of black beforethe eyes of the evil invaders, let their bullets jam in their weapons, and let their horses losetheir way and perish in bogs and marshes. Dear Lord, send all Your punishments down on myhead, let me take unto myself the suffering of all living creatures.” The other men stoodsilently listening to his prayer. The looks on their faces showed the depths to which they weremoved.
With a sneer, Aunty Sun pushed Pastor Malory aside and walked in the door. His “Amen”
came as he stumbled wide-eyed to keep his balance, hurriedly crossing himself to bring hisprayer to an end.
Aunty Sun’s silvery hair was combed into a bun held in place by a shiny silver ornament;her sideburns were pinned with mugwort spikes. She was wearing a starched white cottonjacket with a slanted lapel that buttoned down the side; a white handkerchief was tucked inbetween two of the buttons. Her black cotton trousers were tied around the ankles above apair of green cotton slippers with black embroidery and white soles. The fresh smell of soapclung to her body. She had prominent cheekbones, a high nose, and lips that formed a tightline above her chin. Bright, piercing eyes were set deeply in lovely sockets. Her poise andconfident bearing stood in stark contrast to the prosperous, well-fed Shangguan Lü. Takingthe bottle of green liquid from Fan Three, Shangguan Lü walked up to Aunty Sun and saidsoftly, “Aunty, this is Fan Three’s potion to hasten childbirth. Will you use it?”
“My dear lady Shangguan,” Aunty Sun said with obvious displeasure, her gaze coveringShangguan Lü with icy beauty, then shifting to the men in the yard, “who have you asked tohelp with the delivery, me or Fan Three?”
“Don’t be angry, Aunty. As they say, ‘When a patient is dying, find doctors where youcan,’ and ‘Anyone with breasts is a mother.’” Forcing herself to be congenial, she kept hervoice low and controlled. “I’m asking you, of course. I wouldn’t have disturbed such aneminent personage if I hadn’t reached the end of my rope.”
“Didn’t you once accuse me of stealing your chickens?” Aunty Sun remarked. “If you wantme as the midwife, tell everyone else to stand clear!”
“If that’s how you want it, that’s how you shall have it,” Shangguan Lü said.
Aunty Sun removed a thin piece of red cloth from around her waist and tied it to thewindow lattice. She then strode purposefully into the house, and when she reached the door ofthe inside room, she stopped, turned, and said to Shangguan Lü, “Lady Shangguan, come withme.”
Fan Three ran up to the window to retrieve the bottle of green liquid Shangguan Lü had leftthere. He stuffed it into his bag and headed quickly toward the gate, without so much as abackward glance at the Shangguan father and son.
“Amen!” Pastor Malory repeated, making another sign of the cross. Then he nodded to theShangguan father and son in a show of friendship.
A shriek from Aunty Sun tore from inside the room, followed by horrible wails fromShangguan Lu.
Shangguan Shouxi hunkered down on the ground and covered his ears with his hands. Hisfather began pacing the yard, hands clasped behind his back, head down, as if he were lookingfor something he’d lost.
Pastor Malory repeated his prayer in a muted voice, eyes cast to the misty blue sky.
Just then the newborn mule emerged from the barn on shaky legs. Its damp hide shone likesatin. Its weary mother followed it outside to the accompaniment of Shangguan Lu’sagonizing wails. With its ears standing straight up and its tail tucked between its legs, thedonkey wobbled over to the water trough under a pomegranate tree, casting a fearful glance atthe men in the yard. They ignored it. Shangguan Shouxi, his ears covered, was weepingloudly. Shangguan Fulu was still pacing the yard. Pastor Malory was praying with his eyesclosed. The donkey buried its mouth in the water and drank noisily. When it had drunk its fill,it walked slowly over to the peanut vines held up by stalks of sorghum and began nibbling atthe stalks.
Meanwhile, inside the house, Aunty Sun stuck her hand up the birth canal to extract thebaby’s other leg. The pregnant mother screeched once before passing out. Then, afterinserting some yellow powder into Shangguan Lu’s nostrils, Aunty Sun grabbed the baby’slegs and waited calmly. Shangguan Lu moaned as she regained consciousness, then sneezed,causing a series of violent spasms. Her back arched, then settled back down heavily. That waswhat Aunty Sun had been waiting for: she pulled the baby out of the birth canal, and as itslong, flat head cleared the mother’s body, it made a loud popping sound, as if shot from acannon. Aunty Sun’s white jacket was spattered with blood.
Hanging upside down in Aunty Sun’s hand was a purplish baby girl.
Shangguan Lü began beating her chest and wailing. “Stop crying! There’s another one inthere!” Aunty Sun demanded angrily.
Shangguan Lu’s belly was jerking and twitching horribly; blood gushing from between herlegs washed out another down-covered infant.
When she spotted the little wormlike object between the baby’s legs, Shangguan Lü fell toher knees beside the kang.
“What a shame,” Aunty Sun said pensively, “another stillborn.”
Suddenly dizzy, Shangguan Lü fell forward and banged her head on the kang. She stoodwith difficulty, propping herself up by the kang, and gazed at her daughter-in-law, whose facewas stone gray. Then, with a moan of despair, she shuffled out of the room.
A pall of death hung over the yard. Her son was on his knees, the bloody stump of his neckresting on the ground, a stream of fresh blood snaking along the ground; his head, a look offear frozen on the face, sat perfectly upright in front of his torso. Her husband was gnawing abrick on the path; one of his arms was tucked under his abdomen, the other stretched out infront of him. A mixture of gray matter and bright red blood from a gaping wound in the backof his head stained the path around him. Pastor Malory was on his knees, making the sign ofthe cross and mumbling something in a foreign tongue. Two massive horses, reins drapedacross their backs, were eating the sorghum stalks supporting the peanut vines, while thedonkey and her newborn mule huddled in a corner of the wall, the young animal’s headtucked under one of its mother’s legs, its tail writhing like a snake. Two Japanese men inkhaki stood there, one cleaning his sword with a handkerchief, the other hacking downsorghum stalks with his sword, sending peanuts to the ground, where they were eaten by thetwo horses, whose tails swished happily.
Suddenly feeling the earth wheel on its axis, Shangguan Lü had a single thought: to rescueher son and her husband. Instead, she crumpled heavily to the ground like a toppled wall.
Aunty Sun quickly skirted Shangguan Lü’s body and strode steadily out of the yard. Butone of the Japanese soldiers, who had remarkably wide-set eyes and short eyebrows, threwdown his handkerchief and moved to block her way, standing rigidly between her and thegate. Pointing the tip of his sword at her heart, he said something that was only gibberish toher, a loutish expression on his face. She looked at him calmly, the hint of a sneer on her lips.
She took a step backward; the Japanese soldier took a step forward. She retreated two moresteps, he took two steps forward, the tip of the sword still pressed up against her breast. As hebore relentlessly down on her, Aunty Sun reached up and brushed his sword to the side. Thenone of her feet flashed through the air and landed precisely on his wrist, knocking the swordout of his hand. She rushed up and slapped him across the face. With a yelp of pain, hecovered his face. His comrade ran up, sword in hand, and aimed it at Aunty Sun’s head. Shespun out of the way and grabbed his wrist, shaking it until he too dropped his sword. Then sheboxed his ear, and although it didn’t seem to be much of a slap, his face began to swellimmediately.
Without so much as looking back, Aunty Sun strode out of the yard, as one of the soldiersraised his rifle and fired. Her body stiffened for a moment, then sprawled forward in thegateway of the Shangguan house.
At that moment, the two youngest mute grandsons, who had come looking for her, werefelled by the same bullet on the steps leading up to the Shangguan gate. The three oldergrandsons were, at the time, occupied with cutting up the rump of a dead horse on theriverbank, where the smell of gunpowder thickened the air.
At around noon, a swarm of Japanese soldiers filled the Shangguan compound. The horsesoldiers found a basket in the barn, into which they scooped the loose peanuts and carriedthem out into the lane to feed their weary horses. Two of the soldiers took Pastor Malorycaptive. Then a military doctor, eyeglasses perched on the pale bridge of his nose, followedhis commander into the room where Shangguan Lu lay. With a frown, he opened his medicalkit, donned a pair of surgical gloves, and cut the babies’ umbilical cords with a stainless steelknife. Picking up the infant boy by the feet, he slapped it on the backside until a hoarse cryemerged from the other end. He then picked up the baby girl and repeated the procedure untilthere were signs of life. After cleaning the cuts on the umbilical cords with iodine, hewrapped the babies in white gauzy cotton and gave Shangguan Lu injections to stop thebleeding. All the while the doctor was performing his lifesaving procedures on mother andchildren, a journalist was taking photographs from various angles. A month later, thesephotographs would appear in a Japanese newspaper back home to bear witness to thefriendship between China and Japan.
第一章 第九节
第九节
一九三九年古历五月初五上午，在高密东北乡最大的村庄大栏镇上，上官吕氏领着她的仇敌孙大姑，全然不顾空中啾啾鸣叫的枪子儿和远处炮弹爆炸的震耳声响，走进了自家大门，为难产的儿媳上官鲁氏接生。她们迈进大门那一刻，日本人的马队正在桥头附近的空地上践踏着游击队员的尸体。
院子里站着她的丈夫上官福禄和她的儿子上官寿喜，还有滞留她家的兽医樊三——他表功似的举着一个装着绿油油液体的玻璃瓶子——这三个人，她出门去请孙大姑时即在，新添的人是红头发的马洛亚牧师。他穿着一件宽大的黑布袍子，胸前挂着一个沉重的铜十字架，站在上官鲁氏窗前，下巴翘起，面向太阳，用一口地地道道的高密东北乡腔调，大声地背诵着神圣的话语：
“……至高无上的我们的主耶稣基督。主啊主，请赐福保佑，在您的忠实奴仆面临痛苦和灾难的时候，请您伸出神圣的手抚摸我们的头顶，给我们力量、给我们勇气，让女人产下她的婴儿，让奶羊多产奶，让母鸡多产蛋，让坏人的眼前一片黑暗，让他们的子弹卡壳，让他们的马迷失方向，陷进沼泽。主啊，把所有的惩罚都施加到我的头上吧，让我代替天下的生灵受苦受难吧……”
院子里的男人默默地肃立着，听着他的祈祷。从他们脸上的表情可以看出，他们深深地受了感动。
孙大姑冷笑一声，走上前去，把马洛亚搡到一边去，牧师身体趔趄着，睁开眼睛，口吐一个“阿门”，手指在胸前画个十字，结束了他的祝祷。
孙大姑满头银发梳得溜光，脑后的发髻系得结实平整，髻上银钗闪烁，髻边斜插一根艾蒿尖儿。她上身穿着浆洗得板板正正的白布斜襟褂子，腋下的纽扣上拴着一块白手绢，下穿黑布裤，脚脖子上扎着小带，足穿青帮白底黑绒花绣鞋。她全身上下透着清爽，散发着皂角味儿。她颧骨高，鼻梁挺，嘴唇绷成一条线，深陷的美丽大眼窝里，是两只精光四射的眼睛。她一身仙风道骨，与富态臃肿的上官吕氏形成鲜明对比。
上官吕氏从樊三手里接过盛着绿油的瓶子，走到孙大姑身边，轻声说：“他大姑，这是樊三的催产油，要不要给她灌上？”
“我说上官家的，”孙大姑用美丽的冰冷目光扫了吕氏一眼，又横扫了院中的男人们，不满地说，“你是请我来接生呢，还是请樊三来接生？”
“他大姑，别生气，俗话说‘病笃乱投医，有奶便是娘’，”上官吕氏表现出难得的好脾性，低声下气地说，“当然是请您来，不是万不得已，我怎么敢搬动您这尊神？”
“你不说我偷了你的小母鸡了？”孙大姑道，“要让我接生，旁人就别插手！”
“听您的，您说咋办就咋办。”上官吕氏说。
孙大姑从腰里抽出一根红布条，拴在窗棂上。然后，她气昂昂地进了屋，临进房门时，她回头对上官吕氏说：“上官家的，你跟我进来。”
樊三跑到窗前，拿起那瓶被上官吕氏搁在窗台上的绿油，塞进牛皮囊，也不跟上官父子打招呼，便飞快地朝大门跑去。
“阿门！”马洛亚念一声，又在胸前画了个十字，然后，对着上官父子友好地点点头。
室内传出孙大姑凌厉的喊叫声，接着又传出上官鲁氏嘶哑的哭号声。
上官寿喜双手堵着耳朵蹲在了地上。他的爹上官福禄背着手在院子里转圈。他的脚步匆匆，脑袋低垂，好像在寻找失物。
马洛亚牧师低声念叨着他刚才背诵过的祷词，双眼望着烟雾弥漫的蓝天。
那匹刚刚出生的小骡驹哆哆嗦嗦地从西厢房里走出来，它的湿漉漉的皮毛光滑如绸缎。
在上官鲁氏一阵急似一阵的号叫声里，那匹虚弱的母驴也从厢房里走出来。它耷拉着耳朵，夹着尾巴，艰难地走到安在石榴树下的水缸前，胆怯地望着院子里的人。没有人理它。上官寿喜捂着耳朵哭泣。上官福禄匆忙转圈。马洛亚闭眼祝祷。黑驴将嘴巴伸到水缸里，嗞嗞地吸水。吸足了水，它慢吞吞地走到那一大囤用秫秸箔子拦起来的花生前，尖着牙齿，啃咬着秫秸的表皮。
孙大姑把一只手伸进上官鲁氏的产道，拖出了婴儿的另一条腿。产妇号叫着晕过去了。
孙大姑把一撮黄色粉末吹进上官鲁氏的鼻孔。她双手攥住婴儿的两条小腿，平静地等待着。
上官鲁氏呻吟着醒过来。她连声打着喷嚏，身体猛烈地抽搐。她的上身弓起来，又沉重地跌下去。趁着这机会，孙大姑把婴儿拖出了产道。婴儿又扁又长的头颅脱离母体时，发出了响亮的爆炸声，犹如炮弹出膛。鲜血溅满了孙大姑的白布褂子。
倒提在孙大姑手里的是一个全身青紫的女婴。
上官吕氏捶打着胸脯失声痛哭。
“别哭，肚子里还有一个！”孙大姑恼怒地吼叫着。
上官鲁氏的肚皮可怕地痉挛着，鲜血从双腿间一股股冒出来，伴随着鲜血，一个满头柔软黄毛的婴儿鱼儿一样游出来。
上官吕氏一眼便看见了婴儿双腿之间那个蚕蛹般的小东西，她扑通一声便跪在了炕前。
“可惜，又是一个死胎。”孙大姑悠悠地说。
上官吕氏一阵头晕目眩，脑袋撞在了炕沿上。她手扶着炕沿，困难地站起来。看一眼脸色像石灰一样的儿媳妇，她痛苦地呻吟着，走出了产房。
院子里一片死亡。儿子双膝跪地，长长的血脖子戳在地上，鲜血像弯弯曲曲的小溪在地上流淌，那颗保留着惊恐表情的头颅端端正正地立在他的身体前边。丈夫嘴啃着砖甬路，一只胳膊压在腹下，另一只胳膊向前平伸着，后脑勺上裂开了一条又长又宽的大口子，一些白白红红的东西，溅在甬路上。马洛亚牧师跪在地上，手指画着胸脯，吐出一串一串的洋人话语。两匹高头大马驮着鞍子，正在撕咬着圈花生的秫秸箔子。那头母驴带着它的骡驹，瑟缩在墙角。小骡子的脑袋，藏在母驴的胯下，秃秃的小尾巴，蛇一样扭动着。两个穿酱黄衣服的日本人，一个用手绢擦拭着军刀，一个挥刀劈断秫秸箔子。上官家去年囤积、准备着今年夏天大发利市的一千斤花生，哗哗啦啦地淌了满地。两匹高头大马垂下头，嘎嘎嘣嘣地咀嚼着花生，愉快地摇摆着它们华美的大尾巴。
上官吕氏突然感到天旋地转，她想往前跑，去救护自己的儿子和丈夫，但她胖大的身体却像墙壁一样沉重地向后倒去。
孙大姑绕过上官吕氏的身体，迈着沉稳的步伐走向上官家的大门。那个眼睛分得很开、眉毛粗短的日本兵扔掉擦刀的手绢，身体僵硬地跳到她的面前，举起雪亮的马刀，直指她的心窝。日本人嘴里叽里咕噜，一脸粗野的神情。她静静地看着这个日本兵，脸上甚至挂着一丝嘲弄的笑容。孙大姑退一步，日本兵逼一步。孙大姑后退两步，日本兵进逼两步。他的雪亮的刀尖始终抵在孙大姑的胸脯上。日本兵得寸进尺，孙大姑不耐烦地抬手把他的刀拨到一边，然后一个优美得近乎荒唐的小飞脚，踢中了日本兵的手腕。马刀落地。孙大姑纵身上前，扇了日本兵一个耳光。日本兵捂着脸哇哇地怪叫。另一个日本兵持刀扑上来，一道刀光，直取孙大姑的脑袋。孙大姑轻盈地一转身，便捏住了日本兵的手脖子。她抖抖他的手，那柄刀也落在地上。她抬手又批了这位日本兵一个耳刮子，看起来她打得并不用力，但日本兵的半边脸顿时肿胀起来。
孙大姑头也不回地走向大门。日本兵端起马枪搂了火。她身子往上挺了挺，然后栽倒在上官家的穿堂里。
中午时分，成群的日本兵拥进上官家的院子。骑兵们从厢房里找了一个笸箩，把花生端到胡同里，喂他们疲惫不堪的马匹。两个日本兵押走了马洛亚牧师。一个白鼻梁上架着金边眼镜的日本军医跟随着他的长官，走进上官鲁氏的房间。军医皱着眉头打开药包，戴上乳胶手套，用寒光闪闪的刀子，切断了婴儿的脐带。他倒提着男婴，拍打着他的后心，一直打得他发出病猫般的沙哑哭声，才把他放下。然后他又提起女婴，呱唧呱唧地拍打着，一直把她打活。军医用碘酒涂抹了他们的脐带，并用洁白的纱布把他们拦腰捆扎起来。最后，他给上官鲁氏打了两针止血药。在日本军医救治产妇和婴儿的过程中，一位日军战地记者从不同的角度进行了拍照。一个月后，这些照片作为中日亲善的证明，刊登在日本国的报纸上。