Big Breasts and Wide Hips (35 page)

A ray of sunlight lit up her thighs, her belly, and her breasts, like a sow's teats.

“Come here.” I saw a smile on her face at the far end of the trough. “Come here and suckle on me. Mother let my daughter suckle on her, so I'll let you suckle on me, and that way no one owes anyone anything.”

I nervously walked up to the trough, where she was now arched like a leaping carp. She reached out and grabbed my shoulders and covered my head with the lower half of her black coat. My world turned dark. And in that darkness I began to grope, curious and tense, mysterious and enthralling. “Here, over here.” Her voice sounded far away. “Little idiot.” She stuffed one of her nipples into my mouth. “Start sucking, you little whelp. You're not a true Shangguan. You're a little hybrid bastard.” The bitter-tasting dirt on her nipple melted in my mouth. Her underarm sweat nearly smothered me. I felt I was suffocating, but she held my head in her hands and pushed her body up against mine, as if trying to cram every last bit of her large, hard breast into my mouth. When I reached the point where I could no longer stand it, I bit down on her nipple. Jumping to her feet, she sent me sliding down her body and out from under the coat, to lie huddled at her feet, waiting for the kick I knew was coming. Tears coursed down her dark, gaunt cheeks. Her breasts heaved beneath the black coat, and brought forth gorgeous feathers, until they looked like a pair of birds that had just mated.

Regretting what I'd done, I reached out to touch the back of her hand with my finger. She lifted her hand and rubbed it against my neck. “Good little brother,” she said softly, “don't tell anybody what happened today.”

I nodded, and meant it.

“I'm going to share a secret with you,” she said. “My husband came to me in a dream and said he's not dead. His soul has attached itself to the body of a blond, light-skinned man.”

My imagination ran wild over my secret encounter with Laidi as I walked down the lane, where a squad of five demolition soldiers had run out like madmen. A veil of ecstasy covered their faces. One of them, a fat man, shoved me. “Hey, little fellow, the Jap devils have surrendered! Run on home and tell your mother that Japan has surrendered. The War of Resistance is over!”

Out on the street I saw crowds of soldiers whooping and hollering and jumping around, a group of puzzled civilians among them. It was 1945; the Jap devils had surrendered, and I had been denied the breast. Laidi had given me hers, but she'd had no milk, and her nipple had been covered by a layer of cold, odorific grime; just thinking about that brought feelings of despair. My third brother-in-law, the mute, ran out from the northern entrance to the lane carrying the Bird Fairy. Mother had kicked him and the other soldiers in his unit out of our house after the death of Sha Yueliang. So he put them up in his own house, and the Bird Fairy had gone with him. But though they moved away, the Bird Fairy's shameless cries often emerged late at night from the mute's house and meandered all the way to our ears. Now he was carrying her toward us. She lay in his arms with her swollen belly, dressed in a white coat that looked to have been tailored from the same pattern as Laidi's black coat; only the color was different. Seeing the Bird Fairy's coat reminded me of Laidi's coat, which in turn reminded me of Laidi's breasts, and they reminded me of the Bird Fairy's breasts. Among Shangguan women, the Bird Fairy's breasts had to be considered top of the line. They were delicate, lovely, perky, with slightly upturned nipples as nimble as the mouth of a hedgehog. Does saying that the Bird Fairy's breasts were top of the line mean that Laidi's were not? I can only give a vague response. Since the moment I was conscious of what was going on around me, I'd discovered that the range of beauty in breasts is wide; while one should never lightly say that a particular pair is ugly, one can easily say that a pair of breasts is beautiful. Hedgehogs are beautiful sometimes; so are baby pigs.

The mute put the Bird Fairy down in front of me. “Ah-ao, ah-ao!” He waved his massive fist, which was the size of a horse hoof, under my nose, but in a friendly way. I understood him: his “Ah-ao, ah-ao!” grunts meant the same as “The Jap devils have surrendered!” He took off down the street like a bull.

The Bird Fairy cocked her head and looked at me. Her belly was terrifyingly big, like that of a gigantic spider. “What are you, a turtledove or a wild goose?” she chirped. Maybe she was asking me, and maybe she wasn't. “My bird flew away. My bird, it flew away!” There was a look of panic on her face. I pointed to the street. She stuck her arms out straight, pawed at the ground with her bare feet, and, with a chirp, took off running toward the street. She was moving fast. How could such a huge belly not slow her down? If not for that belly, she probably could have taken wing. She ran into the crowd on the street like a powerful ostrich.

Fifth Sister came running home; she too was pregnant, and her bulging breasts had leaked into her gray uniform. In contrast to the Bird Fairy, she was a clumsy runner. The Bird Fairy flapped her arms when she ran; Fifth Sister supported her belly when she ran. Fifth Sister was gasping for breath, like a mare that's pulled a wagon up a hill. Pandi had the fullest figure of all the Shangguan daughters, and she was also the tallest. Her breasts were fierce and intimidating; as if filled with gas, they went
peng-peng
when thumped. First Sister's face was covered by a black veil; she was wearing her black coat. In the dark of night, she climbed into the Sima compound from a nearby ditch and followed the smell of sweat to a brightly lit room. The flagstones in the yard were slippery, covered by green moss. Her heart was in her throat and about to beat its way out through her mouth. The hand in which she carried the knife cramped up, and she had a fishy taste in her mouth. She peered through the crack in a latticed door, and what she saw nearly made her soul take flight and her heart stop: a large white candle, wax dripping down its sides, shone brightly and sent fleshy shadows dancing on the walls. Scattered on the stone floor were Shangguan Pandi and Commissar Jiang's clothes; a coarse wool sock was lying alongside the apricot yellow toilet. Pandi, naked as the day she was born, was sprawled atop the dark, gaunt body of Jiang Liren. First Sister burst into the room. But she hesitated as she looked down at her sister's raised buttocks and the indentation at the base of her backbone, glistening with sweat. Her enemy, the man she wanted to kill, was protected. Raising her knife, she screamed, “I'm going to kill you two, I'm going to kill you!” Pandi rolled over and off the bed, while Jiang Liren grabbed the blanket and rushed First Sister, knocking her to the ground. Ripping the veil off her face, he laughed. “I thought it might be you!”

Fifth Sister stood in the doorway shouting, “The Japanese have surrendered!”

She dragged me way back out to the street. Her hand was sweaty — sour, salty sweat. I detected along with the smell of sour sweat the odor of tobacco. That smell came from her husband, Lu Liren. In order to commemorate the victory over the Sha Band, in which Commander Lu had heroically sacrificed his life, Jiang Liren had changed his name to Lu Liren. The smell of Lu Liren was scattered across the street via Fifth Sister's hand.

Out on the street, the demolition battalion was celebrating noisily, many of the soldiers crying openly and banging into one another. One of them climbed to the top of the shaky bell tower, as the crowd down below swelled. People came with gongs, or with milking goats, even chunks of meat bouncing around on large lotus leaves. A woman with bells tied to her breasts really caught my attention. She was performing a strange dance that made her breasts jiggle, causing the bells to ring and ring and ring. The people kicked up a cloud of dust; they shouted themselves hoarse. The Bird Fairy, who was in the middle of the crowd, darted glances back and forth; the mute raised his fist and pounded a man beside him. Eventually, a group of soldiers went into the Sima compound and reemerged carrying Lu Liren over their heads. They tossed him into the air, as high as the tips of nearby trees, and when he came down, they caught him and tossed him back into the air…
Hai-ya! Hai-ya! Hai-yal!
Fifth Sister, holding her belly and crying, shouted, “Liren! Liren!” She tried to squeeze in among the soldiers, but was driven back.

The sun raced across the sky, seemingly frightened by the din below, and sat on the ground, resting against the trees on the sandy ridge. More relaxed now, it was bright red, blistery, and sweaty; it steamed and panted like an old man, as it observed the crowd on the street.

At first, one man fell in the dust. Then a whole string of them fell. Slowly, the dust settled back to earth and covered the men's faces and hands and sweat-stained uniforms. A whole string of men lay stiffly in the dust under the red rays of the sun. As dusk fell, cool breezes blew over from the marshes and reed ponds; the crisp whistle of a train crossing the bridge was carried on the wind. People cocked their ears to listen. Or maybe I was the only one who did that. The War of Resistance had been won, but Shangguan Jintong had been cast off by his beloved breasts. I thought about death. I felt like jumping down a well, or into the river.

One person in the crowd, wearing a khaki jacket, rose slowly out of the dust. She was up on all fours as she began clawing at the dirt in front of her, digging out something the same color as her jacket, the same color as everything else out there on the street. She dug out one, and then another. They made sounds like giant salamanders. In the midst of the celebration over victory in the War of Resistance, Third Sister, the Bird Fairy, had brought a pair of twin boys into the world.

The Bird Fairy and her babies made me momentarily forget my own troubles. Slowly I moved up closer to her to get a look at my new nephews. I had to step over the legs of men lying in the road, and the heads of others; finally, I was close enough to see the wrinkled skin — face and body — of the two dirt-colored little guys: they were bald, like a pair of lush green gourds. Crying with their mouths wide open made for a frightening sight, and for some unfathomable reason, I imagined their bodies covered with a thick layer of fishy scales. I backed off, carelessly stepping on a soldier's hand as I did. But instead of hitting me, or yelling at me, he just grunted softly and slowly raised himself into a sitting position; from there he slowly got to his feet, and when he wiped the dust from his face, I saw it was Lu Liren, Fifth Sister's husband. He was looking for his wife, who was struggling to sit up in the grass by the wall; she rushed into his arms, wrapped her arms around his head, and rubbed it frantically. “We won, we won, victory is ours! We'll call our child Shengli — Victory,” Fifth Sister said.

By this time, the sun was exhausted, like an old man about to call it a day and get some sleep. The moon spat out rays of clear light, giving it the look of an anemic yet beautiful widow. With his arm around Fifth Sister, Lu Liren started to walk off just as Sima Ku entered the village at the head of his anti-Japanese commando battalion.

The battalion included three companies. First came the cavalry company, comprised of sixty-six horses of mixed Xinjiang and Mongol breed and their riders, all armed with American submachine guns. Next came the bicycle company, comprised of sixty-six Camel brand bicycles, the riders armed with German weapons. Third in line was the mule company, comprised of sixty-six powerful, fast-moving mules and their riders, all armed with Japanese M-38 carbines. There was also a small special unit, comprised of thirteen camels carrying bicycle repair equipment and spare parts, plus weapon repair tools, spare parts, and ammunition. They also carried Sima Ku and Shangguan Zhaodi, plus their daughters, Sima Feng and Sima Huang. Riding on the back of yet another camel was an American by the name of Babbitt. Perched atop the last camel was dark-skinned Sima Ting; he was wearing army trousers, a lavender satin shirt, and a frown.

Babbitt, who had gentle blue eyes, soft blond hair, and red lips, wore a red leather jacket over heavy cotton, multipocketed trousers, and deerskin boots. Uniquely attired, he sat high up on the back of his camel, rocking back and forth as he entered the village with Sima Ku and Sima Ting.

Sima Ku's battalion swept into the village like a whirlwind. The six horses in the front rank were black, and were ridden by handsome young soldiers in woolen khakis; their brass buttons had been polished to a glittering sheen, as had their riding boots, the submachine guns in their hands, and the helmets on their heads; even their horses' black flanks shone. The horses slowed down as they approached the spot where soldiers lay sprawled in the dirt; they held their heads high and began to prance as their riders fired their weapons into the darkening sky, a sparkling, eardrum-pounding chain of tracer bullets that sent leaves fluttering to the ground. Lu Liren and Shangguan Pandi, spooked by the burst of gunfire, stepped away from one another. “Which unit are you?” Lu Liren asked, raising his voice. “Your granddad's unit,” one of the riders fired back. His words still hung in the air when a fusillade of bullets nearly grazed Lu Liren's head. He sprawled inelegantly on the ground, but quickly got back to his feet and shouted, “I'm commander and political commissar of the demolition battalion, and I demand to see your commanding officer!” His shout was swallowed up by another fusillade of bullets that swept the open space around them. Soldiers of the demolition battalion staggered to their feet. The horsemen spurred their horses forward, breaking ranks to avoid the confusion in the street ahead. The horses were short and extremely nimble; as they stepped over and around the men lying on the ground and those who had barely stood up, only to be knocked down again, they looked like a pack of lithe tomcats on the prowl. As soon as the first rank passed, the others followed close on their heels, sending the standing soldiers spinning and banging into each other, accompanied by a chorus of panicky screams; they looked like trees, rooted in the ground and forced to stand and take a pounding. Even after all the horses had passed, people in the street weren't fully aware of what had just happened. Then came the mule company. Marching in orderly ranks, they too shone, their riders sitting proudly, weapons at the ready. Meanwhile, the horse company had closed up ranks and was prancing back, squeezing the raggedy ranks of people on the street between the two companies. Some of the more quick-witted soldiers tried to dart down lanes intersecting the street, but their escape routes were blocked by members of the bicycle company, men in purple civilian clothes riding Camel brand bicycles. They fired their German weapons at the feet of the thwarted escapees, throwing dust up into their faces and sending them scurrying back into the middle of the street. Before long, all the officers and men of the demolition battalion had been herded into the area in front of the Felicity Manor gate.