5
GRANDDAD ARRIVED IN Saltwater Gap the following morning. He had set out before dawn on oneof our two black mules¹, and arrived just as the sun was climbing above the mountains. Dejectionaccompanied him on his trip, because of an argument he’d had with Grandma as he was leaving.
He ignored the kaleidoscope of gorgeous light on the black Gaomi soil as the sun rose above themountains, and the crows as they soared into the sky on green wings. The mule², whippedmercilessly by the twisted end of the hempen³ reins⁴, turned to glare at the man on its back,convinced that it was already moving about as fast as it could go. Puddles⁵ of water from theautumn rains stood in the deep ruts left by passing wagons⁶. Granddad, his face livid, passivelyabsorbed the bumps and jolts⁸ of the mule beneath him. Field voles hunting for breakfast scurriedto safety.
Granddad was toasting the ageing Uncle Arhat in the distillery reception hall when he heard rifleand artillery⁹ fire from the northwest, and his heart nearly stopped. He rushed outside and lookedup and down the street, but when he saw that things seemed normal he went back inside tocontinue drinking with Uncle Arhat, who was still the distillery foreman. In 1929, the yearGranddad was reported murdered and Grandma ran off, the hired hands rolled up their beddingand set out to find work; but Uncle Arhat stayed behind, like a loyal watchdog, to guard thefamily property, convinced that the dark night was nearly over and that a new dawn would soonbe breaking. He maintained his vigil until Granddad cheated death, escaped from prison, and wasreconciled with Grandma. With Father in her arms, she followed him from Saltwater Gap backhome, where they knocked at the cheerless front gate and roused Uncle Arhat, who, like a livingghost, rushed out of the shed where he’d set up housekeeping. The moment he

分享到：