The Garlic Ballads (44 page)

All hell broke loose then, with the long-browed girl and Wild Mule clawing and scratching each other, the shrew cursing up a storm, and Fourth Aunt shrieking tearfully. The other prisoners joined in by banging on the bars, howling, or getting in a few cheap shots of their own.

Two jailers armed with nightsticks burst into the cell and quickly subdued the combatants without worrying about sorting things out first.

“The next person who makes a sound,” one of them threatened, “goes hungry for three days!”

The other said, “Numbers Twenty-nine and Forty, outside! You’re coming with us.”

“I didn’t do anything,” the long-browed girl whined.

“Shut up,” said the jailer, underscoring her command with a well-placed thump with her nightstick.

Wild Mule smiled shyly. “Officers, I admit I was wrong, but I promise I won’t do it again. I just want to get some sleep.”

“Don’t give me that! Now get dressed and come with me.”

Fourth Aunt, bent at the waist, pleaded for her cellmates. “Don’t blame them, Officers, it’s all my fault. I’m just an old woman who can’t stop wheezing and coughing. The other girls couldn’t take it.”

“That’s enough,” the jailer said. “Don’t pull that saintly mother act on us!”

As the jailers led the long-browed girl and Wild Mule out of the cell, Fourth Aunt had to cover her mouth to keep from crying out loud.

That night she had a succession of nightmares. First she dreamt that Jinju came to see her, but when Fourth Aunt stepped forward, her pregnant daughter’s tongue shot out and her eyes bulged. Fourth Aunt woke with a scream, her skin cold and clammy. Telephone wires strung outside the prison wall sang in the autumn winds. Moonbeams slanting in through the window landed on the face of the thief in bed four. Hardly a grown woman yet, the girl slept with her nose scrunched up and ground her teeth to one of her many dreams.

Fourth Aunt had barely closed her eyes again when Fourth Uncle stood at the foot of her bed, his head bloodied, and said, “Mother of my children, why are you still here? I want you with me.” He reached out to Fourth Aunt, who once again was startled out of her sleep. Her heart was thumping wildly. Out beyond the camp’s kitchen a rooster crowed. One more time and it would be daybreak.

Reveille was sounded. Fourth Aunt scrambled out of bed, reeled briefly, and collapsed like a rag doll. The shouts of her cellmates, who were making their beds, brought a jailer running. Fourth Aunt was sprawled facedown when she opened the door.

“Pick her up off the floor!” the jailer commanded.

Fourth Aunt’s cellmates did as they were told, quickly if not very efficiently. Then the jailer called for the camp doctor, who gave Fourth Aunt an injection. Her mouth twitched, and murky tears spilled out of her eyes as the doctor bandaged a cut on her head. Right after breakfast, the jailer said, “You can take the day off, Number Thirty-eight.”

Fourth Aunt was speechless with gratitude.

After the other inmates had formed ranks in the compound and marched into the fields to begin the day’s labors, a hush fell over the cellblock, amplifying the sound of huge rats scurrying about the prison yard and chasing hungry sparrows away from food crumbs in the dirt. Some of the birds took refuge on the window ledge, where they cocked their heads and fixed their black, beady eyes on Fourth Aunt. All alone, and overcome by sadness, she wept; then, once the need to cry had passed, she murmured, “It’s time to join you, Husband.

She removed her trousers, slipped the waistband around the metal frame of the bunk above her and rehooked the top button. Another sob, a final thought—Husband, I cant take any more of this—before slipping the loop of trouser cloth over her head and falling forward….

But Fourth Aunt did not die, not then. She was saved by a passing jailer, who, with a resounding slap across the face, cursed, “What the hell were you thinking, you old skunk?”

With a loud wail, Fourth Aunt fell to her knees. “Be a good girl and let me die, please.

The jailer hesitated for a moment, her face transformed by a gende femininity, and as she helped Fourth Aunt to her feet she said softly, “Old Mother, don’t tell a soul what happened here today. It’ll be our secret. If you’ll stop carrying on all the time and work at being a model prisoner, I’ll try to get you released early.”

This time, as Fourth Aunt fell to her knees again, the jailer stopped her. “You’re a good girl,” Fourth Aunt said. “But someone has to pay for the death of my husband.”

“Now stop saying things like that,” the jailer counseled. “Leading a mob to destroy government offices is a serious crime.”

“I lost my head. I promise I will never do it again….”

A month later, Fourth Aunt was released for medical treatment, and not long afterwards she was back in her own home.

New Year’s Day, 1988, was a holiday for the several hundred inmates in the labor-reform camp. Some observed it by sleeping in, others wrote letters home, and still others packed the yard outside the dayroom window to watch a variety show on a black-and-white TV set.

Gao Ma and Gao Yang sat on a large marble slab in the yard, stripped to the waist as they deloused their jackets. Sunbeams warming the dirt around them fell on their tanned skin. Here and there other small groups of prisoners sat in the sun conversing in hushed voices. Armed guards manned the towers beyond the inner gate, keeping a wary eye on the men below. The main gate, covered with steel mesh, was securely locked. Some camp officers were giving the inmates haircuts, bantering lightheartedly.

Gigantic rats scurried in and out of the open-air latrine. In the area between the two gates, a large black cat had been treed by a swarm of rodents.

“When the rats get this big, even cats stay out of their way,’* Gao Yang remarked.

Gao Ma smiled.

“I told my wife to bring you a pair of shoes after the first of the year,” Gao Yang said.

“Dont go to all that trouble on my account,” Gao Ma said, obviously touched. “She has her hands full with the two children. A bachelor like me doesnt need much.”

“Bear up, Cousin, and make it through the coming year the best you can. Then when you get out, find yourself a wife and settle down.”

Gao Ma smiled wanly but said nothing.

“You re a veteran, after all,” Gao Yang went on. “The camp leaders have their eye on you. I know you can get an early release if you do what you’re told. You could be out of here before me.”

“Early or late, what difference does it make?” Gao Ma replied. “What I’d rather do is serve your time for you, so you could go home and provide for your family again.”

“Cousin,” Gao Yang said, “we were fated to have bad luck. For men to suffer like this is no big deal, but think of poor Fourth Aunt….”

Anxiously, Gao Ma asked, “Didn’t they release her for medical reasons?”

Suddenly hesitant, Gao Yang said, “My wife said not to tell you…”

“Tell me what?” Gao Ma demanded anxiously, grabbing Gao Yang’s hand.

Gao Yang sighed. “She was your mother-in-law, after all, so it wouldn’t be right to keep it from you.”

“Tell me, Cousin. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Remember when my wife visited me?” Gao Yang said. “That’s when she told me.”

“Told you what?”

“The Fang brothers are no-good bastards. They don’t deserve to be called human!”

Gao Ma’s patience was wearing thin. “Cousin Gao Yang, it’s time to pour the beans out of the basket. Get it ail out. You’re driving me crazy the way you ramble.”

Gao Yang sighed again. Okay, here it is. Deputy Yang is no good either. Remember his nephew Cao Wen? Well, he jumped down a well, and his family decided to arrange an underworld marriage.”

“A what?”

“You don’t even know what an underworld marriage is?”

Gao Ma shook his head.

“It’s where two dead people are united in marriage. So after Cao Wen died, his family thought first of Jinju.”

Gao Ma jumped to his feet.

“Let me finish, Cousin,” Gao Yang said. “The Caos wanted Jinju’s ghost to be the wife of their dead son, so they asked Deputy Yang to act as matchmaker.”

Gao Ma gnashed his teeth and cursed, “Fuck his lousy ancestors! Jinju belongs to me!”

“That’s what makes me so angry,” Gao Yang said. “Everybody in the village knows that Jinju belonged to you. She was carrying your child. But the Fang boys jumped at Deputy Yang’s proposal and sold Jinju’s remains to the Cao family for eight hundred yuan, which they split between them. Then the Caos sent people to open Jinju’s grave and deliver her remains to diem.”

Gao Ma, his face the color of cold iron, didn’t make a sound.

Gao Yang continued: “My wife said that the ceremony outdid any regular wedding she’d ever seen. They hired musicians from somewhere outside the county, who played while the guests enjoyed a huge spread. Then Jinju’s and Cao Wens remains were placed in a bright red coffin and buried together. Villagers who came to watch the festivities cursed the Cao family, and Deputy Yang, and the Fang brothers. Everyone agreed that the whole affair was an insult to heaven and a crime against reason!”

Gao Ma remained absolutely silent.

Gao Yang looked at Gao Ma. “Cousin,” he quickly went on, “it won’t help to brood over this. They committed this crime against heaven, and the old man up there will punish them.… It’s all my fault. My wife told me to keep quiet, but this stinking mouth of mine can’t keep a secret.”

A chilling smile spread across Gao Ma’s face.

“Cousin,” Gao Yang blurted out fearfully, “dont get any wild ideas. You re a veteran, so you can’t believe in ghosts and things like that.”

“What about Fourth Aunt?” Gao Ma asked softly.

Gao Yang hemmed and hawed for a moment, then reluctantly said, “The day the Caos came for Jinju’s remains she … hanged herself.”

An anguished roar tore from Gao Mas throat, followed by a mouthful of bright red blood.

A major snowstorm fell shortly after New Year’s Day.

Prisoners shoveled the snow into piles and loaded it onto handcarts to be deposited in a nearby millet field.

Gao Ma, the first to volunteer, pulled a snow-laden handcart out the main gate. Extra guards had not been posted, since only a few prisoners were let out the gate. Instead, one of the camp officers stood watch at the gate, his arms folded as he chatted with a tower guard.

Old Li,” the guard said, “has your wife had the baby yet?”

The officer, worry written all over his face, replied, “Not yet. She’s a month overdue.”

“Don’t worry,” the guard comforted him. “As the saying goes, ? melon drops when it’s ripe.’ “

“Don’t worry? How would you like it if your old lady was a month overdue? Talk’s cheap.”

Gao Ma, sweat-soaked, returned with an empty cart.

The officer looked at him sympathetically. “Take a break, Number Eighty-eight. Somebody else can wresde with the cart for a while.”

“I’m not tired,” Gao Ma said as he passed through the gate.

“That Number Eight-eight’s a pretty good guy,” the guard remarked.

“A veteran,” the officer said. “A little too high-spirited is all. Well, nothing surprises me these days.”

“Those shitty Paradise County officials went too far, if you want my opinion,” the guard said. “The common folk don’t deserve all the blame for what happened.”

“That’s why I recommended that this one’s sentence be trimmed. They came down too hard on him, if you ask me.”

“But that’s how things go these days.”

Gao Ma approached the gate with another load of snow.

“Didn’t I tell you to take a break?” the officer asked him.

“After this load.” He headed toward the millet field.

“I hear Deputy Commissar Yu is being reassigned,” the guard said.

“I’d like to be reassigned,” the officer said wistfully. “This job stinks. No holidays, not even New Year’s, and miserable wages. I’d get out in a minute if I had someplace else to go.”

“You can always quit, if it’s that bad,” the guard noted. “Me, I’ve decided to become an entrepreneur.”

“In times like these, if you’re smart you’re an official. But if you can’t manage that, make some money any way you can.”

“Hey, where’s Number Eight-eight?” the guard asked with alarm.

The officer turned toward the field, where the sunshine made the snow sparkle with extraordinary beauty.

The watchtower siren wailed loudly.

“Number Eight-eight,” the guard shouted, “halt or I’ll shoot!”

Gao Ma was running straight into the sun, nearly blinded by its brightness. The fresh air of freedom rolled like waves over the snowy fields. He ran like a man possessed, oblivious to his surroundings, hellbent on revenge. He rose into the air as if riding the clouds and soaring through the mist, until he realized with wonder that he was sprawled in the icy snow, facedown. He sensed something hot and sticky spurting out of his back. With a soft “Jinju …” on his lips, he buried his face in the wet snow.

The translator is grateful to William Tay for bringing this novel to his attention soon after its appearance in a Chinese magazine; to Joseph Lau and Xiaobing Tang for ideas and encouragements;- and to Courtney Hodell for her editorial insights and unflagging enthusiasm. The Taiwan Hung-fan 1989 edition was used, while other versions were consulted. Parts of Chapter Nineteen and all of Chapter Twenty have been revised, in conjunction with the author.

Surnames (family names) always precede given names and titles (our author is Mr. Mo, not Mr. Yan). It is common in rural villages for a single surname to predominate; it is also common for rural and urban Chinese alike to address one another not by name but by family hierarchical title—Elder Brother, Aunt, Cousin—even in the absence of blood relationships. The major characters in the novel are: