Wolf Totem: A Novel (41 page)

Chen knew he’d really stepped over the line this time. No one had raised a wolf on the grassland for all these thousands of years. You can kill a warrior; you cannot humiliate him. You can kill a wolf; you cannot raise it. Now here was a young Chinese deep in the heart of the grassland, on Mongol ancestral land, where the inhabitants worshipped Tengger, a sacred place where they paid homage to their wild forebear, their master of wisdom, their war god, and the protector of the grassland, the wolf totem, and he was raising a wolf as he would a dog, a true outrage. If this had occurred in ancient times, he would be labeled a sinner, a pagan, and would surely have been drawn and quartered, his corpse thrown to the dogs. Even now, what he was doing ran counter to the national policy on ethnic minorities, an act that unavoidably incensed the grassland inhabitants. But what disturbed Chen the most was what this was doing to Bilgee, the elderly Mongol who had brought him into the mysterious realm of the wolf totem, and whose careful instructions had made it possible to steal the cub in the first place. He could hold out no longer, could not keep defending his actions. “Papa,” he said, his voice quaking.

The old man waved him off. “Don’t call me that!”

“I was wrong, Papa,” Chen said, pleading with the old man, “and you’re right, I don’t understand grassland customs, and I’ve offended you... Tell me, how do you want me to dispose of this poor little wolf?” Tears virtually gushed from Chen’s eyes, spilling onto the grassy ground where the cub had been playing happily only a short while before.

The old man, caught by surprise, could only stare at Chen, suddenly not sure what to do now. He knew that no matter what Chen said, the young man had been bewitched by grassland wolves. He was, after all, a sort of adopted half-Mongol son, and his fascination with the wolves far exceeded that of most Mongol youths. But now he’d done something the old man found intolerable. He’d never encountered anything like this before, and didn’t know what to do about it.

Bilgee looked up at Tengger and sighed. “I know you Chinese aren’t religious and that the soul means nothing to you. You’ve really taken to our wolves over the past couple of years, I know that, but you don’t know what’s in my heart. I’m old and getting frailer by the day. The grassland is a hard, cold place to live in, and we Mongols spend our whole lives here doing battle, like savages. Sickness takes its toll, and we don’t live long lives. I’ll be going to Tengger in a few years. How can you think of keeping a wolf that might one day take my soul up to Tengger and raise it with a bunch of dogs? That would mean that I’d committed a sin and Tengger might not accept my soul, but send it down to the dark, suffocating hell under the Gobi. If everyone out here treated wolves like slaves, the way you do, the souls of Mongols would be lost.”

“Papa,” Chen said quietly, defending himself, “I’m not treating this wolf cub like a slave. If anything, I’ve become its slave. I wait on it like I would a Mongol king or a prince. I milk a cow to feed it, I mix porridge for it, I cook meat. I worry about it being cold, or sick, or bitten by dogs or hit by people, or carried away by an eagle or by its mother. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and Gao Jianzhong has begun calling me the wolf’s slave. You know I revere wolves more than any of the other Chinese. Tengger sees everything, Tengger is fair, Tengger won’t blame you for anything.”

This stopped the old man. He knew that Chen was being earnest with him. If Chen waited on the little wolf the way he would a deity or a king, then was that offending the gods or revering them? Bilgee wasn’t sure. Even though Chen Zhen’s methods ran counter to traditional Mongol customs, he had a good heart, and there was nothing the grassland Mongols valued more. The old man’s gaze softened; he was no longer an angry wolf. Chen hoped that with his wisdom and farsightedness, the old man would be willing to break precedent for a young Chinese man who truly valued the wolf totem and would spare the life of the month-old wolf cub.

Chen saw a glimmer of hope. He dried his eyes and took a deep breath. Forcing himself not to panic and to stay calm, he said, “Papa, the only reason I want to raise this wolf is to understand what they’re really like and how they behave. I want to figure out why they’re so formidable, so smart, and why the people revere them. You can’t imagine how much the Chinese hate wolves. We call the most malicious people wolves; we call sex fiends wolves; we say the greediest people have the appetite of a wolf; the American imperialists are referred to as ambitious wolves; and anytime an adult wants to frighten a child, he cries out ’Wolf!’ ”

Chen could see that Bilgee’s attitude had softened, so he mustered up the courage to soldier on: “In the eyes of Chinese, wolves are the worst, the most vicious, the cruelest things alive, but you Mongols revere them as if they were gods. You learn from them in life and feed them in death. But still, watching and studying wolves from a distance doesn’t tell me what I need to know. I figured the best way to do that was to raise a cub on my own, to observe it close up, to be with it every day. I’ve only been at it a little more than a month so far, and already I’ve seen incredible things I never saw before. These animals are truly worthy of reverence. But most of the students out here still haven’t changed their opinion. If they don’t understand wolves, just think of all the millions of Chinese who’ve never been out here. More and more of them will be coming, and if they really do manage to wipe out the wolves, what will happen to the grassland? It’ll be disastrous for the Mongols, but in the long run even worse for the Chinese. I tell you, I’m worried. I couldn’t stand to see the destruction of this beautiful grassland.”

The old man sat on the rock over the cub’s burrow and took out his pipe. Chen hurriedly lit it for him. “It’s my fault,” Bilgee said after taking a puff. “I’ve been a bad influence on you . . . But now what? I know you weren’t thinking of me when you decided to raise that wolf, but you have to think of Uljii and of the brigade. He lost his official position, and demerits were recorded against four horse herders. You know why, don’t you? They say it was because he came down on the side of the wolves, that he held off organizing a wolf hunt for too long. They also said that I’m an old wolf, the head wolf in the brigade, and that our Second Brigade is a wolf’s den. And now, at a critical moment like this, the brigade has a student who’s raising a wolf cub. Why aren’t students in other brigades doing that? Doesn’t that prove that you’ve been badly taught by someone in the Second Brigade. Wouldn’t you say you’ve handed them the ‘weapon’ they need?”

The look of melancholy in the old man’s eyes came to Chen in waves; the dejection in his voice increased.

“The mother of your cub will come one day,” he said. “That’s for sure. And she won’t come alone. Olonbulag wolf mothers protect their young like no others. They have an amazing sense of smell, and I predict that this one will find her cub one day. When she does, she’ll take her revenge on this camp. There’s nothing Olonbulag wolves won’t do, however evil, and this brigade doesn’t need another incident. If something terrible happens, Uljii and the other brigade officials will be down for good. If a wolf pack came after your sheep and killed great numbers of them, the cost of raising this wolf cub would be a huge loss of communal property, and there’d be no excuse. You could count on jail time . . . ”

A chill gripped Chen’s heart, which had barely begun to warm up. Raising a wolf in minority territory violated ethnic policy; doing it around a flock of sheep was just inviting the wolves to come, and that would be an indication that he had intentionally sabotaged production. If that somehow was tied to his father’s problem as a “capitalist roader,” which would definitely be in accordance with policy, that would implicate lots of other people. Chen’s hands began to shake; it was looking more and more as if he’d be sending the wolf cub to Tengger that day.

The old man softened his tone even more: “Bao Shungui is in charge now. He’s a Mongol who forgot his roots a long time ago. He hates wolves more than you Chinese do, and he won’t keep his job if he doesn’t hunt them down. Do you think he’ll let you raise this cub?”

Chen felt he had little hope, but he had to try: “Can you talk to him, tell him I’m raising it to get a better handle on how to deal with wolves? A scientific experiment.”

“You talk to him. He’s staying with me tonight, so come over tomorrow. ” The old man stood up, turned for a last look at the rock, and said, “Aren’t you afraid that when the wolf grows to adulthood it’ll attack your sheep? Or you? Or somebody else? Wolf bites are toxic; a man can die from one. I’m not going to look at it today after all; that’d just upset me. Come on, let’s work on the wagon.”

The old man didn’t say a word while he was repairing the wagon. Chen Zhen still hadn’t prepared himself emotionally for the possibility of having to kill the wolf cub, but he knew he mustn’t make things any more difficult for Bilgee and Uljii.

Chen and the old man finished repairs on two wagons and were starting on the third when the dogs began barking. Bao Shungui and Uljii rode up, Bao leading the way. Chen quieted the dogs. “Your wife said I’d find you here,” Bao said, “and this gives me an opportunity to see Chen’s wolf cub. The pasture revolutionary committee has decided to let Uljii stay with you. At first they wanted to send him to perform manual labor with the Capital Construction Brigade.”

Chen’s heart was racing. Word traveled across the grassland faster than a horse.

“Yes,” the old man said. “You did well for him on that.”

“The league leadership was excited to learn that you were opening up new grazing land. They view it as extremely important, and want it to be as successful as previous years. With that much added grazing land we can double the number of livestock, and that’s good news. You two took the lead on this, so I made a point of letting Uljii stay with you. That will make it easier for you to discuss things.”

“Uljii’s the one who took the lead. His heart is never away from the grassland.”

“That goes without saying,” Bao said. “I’ve already reported that to the leadership, and they hope Comrade Uljii will find a way to make amends for his errors.”

Uljii smiled weakly. “Let’s forget amends,” he said, “and talk specifics. The new grazing land is a long way from here, and moving is going to present lots of problems. The pastureland truck and two tractors with rubber tires should be assigned to the Second Brigade to help out. And we’ll need extra hands to clear a road.”

“I sent someone to call a meeting of brigade officials tonight. We’ll see what happens.” Bao turned to Chen. “Those two wolf pelts you sent up, I gave them to the tanner and had them delivered to my old boss. He was impressed that a student from Beijing could bring down such big wolves. He sends his thanks.”

“How could you tell him I killed them? The dogs did it. I can’t take credit for what they did.”

Bao patted him on the shoulder. “If they were your dogs, then you killed them. Authorities always get credit for their subordinates’ contributions. That’s one of the great traditions in our armed forces. Well now, let’s have a look at that cub of yours.”

Chen glanced at Bilgee, who held his tongue. “I’ve decided not to raise it after all,” Chen replied quickly. “It’s against the customs of the herdsmen, and dangerous to boot. Being responsible for a wolf attack would be too much for me.” While he was talking, he removed the rock and slid the plank away.

Down below, the cub was trying to climb up the side, but when the dark human silhouettes loomed above, it huddled in the farthest corner, wrinkling its nose and baring its fangs, even though it was quaking. Light shone in Bao’s eyes. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “He’s big! It’s only been a month, but he’s twice the size of the pelts from the other pups. If I’d known they were going to grow like that, I’d have let you raise the whole litter. When they reached adulthood we could have killed them and supplied enough pelts to make a fine leather jacket. Would you look at the coat on this one! It’s much fuller than a cub that’s still suckling.”

Chen frowned. “I can’t keep feeding it; it eats too much. A huge bowl of meaty porridge every day, and a bowl of cow’s milk.”

“Swapping a little millet for a fine pelt is a bargain. Next year, when the brigades are out looking for newborn litters, we won’t kill any of them, not until they’ve doubled or tripled in size.”

The old man sneered. “It’s not as easy as you make it sound,” he said. “This one was fed by a bitch at first. Where are you going to find enough bitches to feed all the cubs you plan to raise?”

Bao pondered that for a moment. “Good point,” he said.

Chen picked the cub up by the scruff of his neck. He struggled, kicking and clawing the air. As he set him on the ground, Bao reached down and stroked his back. “I’ve never touched a live wolf before. Nice and plump. Very interesting.”

“Chen Zhen,” Uljii said, “you’ve devoted a lot of care to this cub over the past month or so, that’s obvious. Wolves don’t grow that fast in the wild. You’re a better mother than its real mother. I’ve known for some time about your fascination with wolves, how you ask everyone to tell you what they know about them, but I never thought you’d actually raise one in captivity. I wonder if you might be going a bit too far with this.”

Bilgee stared at the wolf cub. He put out his pipe and fanned the last of the smoke with his hand. “I’ve lived a long time,” he said, “and this is the first wolf in captivity I’ve seen. I have to admit it looks like it’s in good shape. Chen Zhen is devoted to what he’s doing. But raising a wolf around a flock of sheep doesn’t seem right. If you ask the herdsmen, they’ll be against it, down to the last man. Now that you two are here, let’s hear what you have to say about this youngster’s plan to perform a scientific experiment.”

Bao Shungui seemed taken by the idea. “It’d be a shame to kill it now,” he said. “Its pelt isn’t big enough to be of any use. It’s taken a lot to raise an unweaned cub this long, so here’s what I think. We let him continue for the time being, as a scientific experiment. Chairman Mao said, ‘We study the enemy in order to defeat the enemy.’ I’d like to learn more about wolves myself, so I’ll come by regularly to see how he’s doing. They say you’re planning on breeding a strain of wolfhounds.”