Frog (39 page)

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Authors: Mo Yan

Tags: #Historical, #General, #Fiction

BOOK: Frog
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GAO MENGJIU:
Audacious Chen Mei, you falsely claimed that the baby was yours, yet you did not hesitate to wrest him out of my hands, something a real mother would not do. When Little Lion heard the baby cry, her motherly instincts would not let her do anything to harm her child, and she let go. Magistrate Bao settled a similar case centuries ago. The one who let go was the true mother. With this precedent, I award the child to Little Lion. For trying to take another’s child and lying in court, I ought to sentence Chen Mei to twenty lashes with a shoe sole. But in view of your disability, I mercifully withhold punishment. Leave this court!

Gao Mengjiu hands the baby to Little Lion.

Chen Mei shouts and struggles, but is stopped by the clerks.

CHEN BI:
Gao Mengjiu, you are a muddled judge.

LI SHOU:
(
nudges Chen
) Let it be, old friend. I have already talked with Tadpole and Yuan Sai, who have agreed to give Chen Mei a hundred thousand yuan.

Curtain

Act IX

Gugu’s yard, same scene as Acts II and IV.

Hao Dashou and Qin He are still making clay dolls.

Tadpole, manuscript in hand, stands to the side.

TADPOLE:
(intones loudly)
If someone were to ask me to name Northeast Gaomi Township’s predominant colour, without hesitation I would respond: Green!

HAO DASHOU:
(
grumbles
) What about red? Red sorghum, radishes, the red sun, red jackets, red peppers, apples . . .

QIN HE:
Yellow earth, droppings, teeth, yellow weasels, everything yellow but gold.

TADPOLE:
If someone were to ask me to name Northeast Gaomi Township’s predominant sound, I would proudly respond: the croak of frogs.

HAO DASHOU:
What’s there to be proud about?

QIN HE:
The cry of a baby is worth being proud about.

TADPOLE:
The croak of a frog, like the heavy lowing of a young cow, like the sad bleating of a young goat, like the crisp sound of a hen when she lays an egg, like the loud and mournful sound of a newborn infant . . .

HAO DASHOU:
How about a barking dog, a mewing cat, a braying donkey?

TADPOLE:
(
angrily
) Are you two messing with me?

QIN HE:
In my view, your play is messing with you.

GUGU:
(
coldly
) Did I really say the things you just read?

TADPOLE:
The Gugu in the play said them.

GUGU:
Is the Gugu in the play me? Or isn’t it?

TADPOLE:
It is and it isn’t.

GUGU:
What does that mean?

TADPOLE:
It’s a common principle in art. Like the dolls they make, modelled after real life but enhanced by their imagination and creativity.

GUGU:
Are you really planning to stage your play? Aren’t you afraid of the trouble it could cause, since you’ve used people’s real names?

TADPOLE:
This is just a draft, Gugu. In the final version I’ll use all foreigners’ names. Gugu will become Aunt Maria, Hao Dashou will be Henry, Qin He will be Allende, Chen Mei will be Tonia, Chen Bi will be Figaro . . . even Northeast Gaomi Township will become the town of Macondo.

HAO DASHOU:
Henry? Interesting name.

QIN HE:
I think I should be Rodin or Michelangelo, since their work resembles mine.

GUGU:
Tadpole, play-acting is play-acting, reality is reality. I think that you – no, I have to include myself – we all treated Chen Mei badly. My insomnia has returned in recent days. All those crippled frogs that damned little devil brought out come to disturb me at night. Not only can I feel their chilled, slimy skin, but I can even smell their cold stench . . .

HAO DASHOU:
Those are illusions brought on by your nervous condition, nothing but illusions.

TADPOLE:
I understand how you feel, Gugu, and the way we dealt with this has weighed heavily on me. But I don’t know how else to deal with it. No matter how you look at it, Chen Mei was insane, a madwoman with a hideous, disfigured face, and giving the baby to her would have violated our responsibility to the child. Not only that, I was the child’s biological father, albeit a reluctant one. If his mother had gone off the tracks emotionally and could not even care for herself, then the father would have had to assume child-raising duties. Even the People’s Supreme Court would have made that determination. Am I right or not?

GUGU:
Maybe she would have been fine if we’d given her the baby. Miracles can happen when you put a woman and child together.

TADPOLE:
We couldn’t take the chance, not with the child’s wellbeing in the balance. People with mental problems are capable of anything.

GUGU:
People with mental problems can still love children.

TADPOLE:
But her love could have harmed the child. Gugu, don’t beat yourself up this way. We’ve already done everything compassion and humanity dictate. We gave her twice her original fee and got her admitted into a hospital for treatment. Even Chen Bi was not short-changed. If one day her mental health is restored, and the child is old enough, when the time is right, we’ll reveal all this to him – even if that will be painful for him.

GUGU:
I want you all to know that I’ve been thinking about death a lot recently.

TADPOLE:
I don’t want to hear such crazy talk, Gugu. You’re barely seventy years old. Though it’s an exaggeration to say you are the noonday sun, it’s not flattery to say that you’re the sun at two or three in the afternoon, a long way from darkness. Besides, the people of Northeast Gaomi Township cannot live without you.

GUGU:
I didn’t say I wanted to die, not as long as I’m in good health, have a good appetite, and can sleep at night. Who would? But sleep has become a problem. Everyone else is sound asleep in the middle of the night, everyone but me and that owl in the tree. The owl stays awake to hunt mice. What about me?

TADPOLE:
You can take a sleeping pill. Lots of important people are troubled by insomnia, and that’s how they deal with it.

GUGU:
Sleeping pills don’t work with me any more.

TADPOLE:
Try Chinese herbs.

GUGU:
I’m a doctor, and I’m telling you, this isn’t physical. The day of reckoning has arrived. All those avenging ghosts have come to settle accounts. At night, when all around is quiet and the owl begins to hoot in the tree, they come. Coated in blood, they wail and moan, accompanied by those frogs with missing legs and claws. Cries and croaks swirl together and cannot be distinguished, one from the other. They chase me around the yard. I’m not afraid of being bitten, what frightens me is their slimy skin and the cold stench they produce. Tell me, what things have frightened me at any time in my life? Tigers? Panthers? Wolves? Foxes? I have never been afraid of animals that frighten others. But the ghosts of those frogs petrify me.

TADPOLE:
(
to Hao Dashou
) Should we invite a Daoist priest to do an exorcism?

HAO DASHOU:
She’s giving you an actor’s lines.

GUGU:
When I can’t sleep, I think back over my life, starting with the first child I delivered all the way to the last. They all play in my head, like a movie. I don’t think I’ve done an evil thing ever in my life . . . but those . . . was that evil?

TADPOLE:
That’s hard to say, Gugu, but even if they were, you were not responsible. Don’t blame yourself, Gugu, and don’t feel guilty. You’re a hero, not a sinner.

GUGU:
I’m not? Really?

TADPOLE:
If the township residents voted for the best person, you would get the most votes.

GUGU:
Are my hands clean?

TADPOLE:
Not just clean, but sacred.

GUGU:
When I can’t sleep, I think of how Zhang Quan’s wife died, and Wang Renmei, and Wang Dan . . .

TADPOLE:
You didn’t kill them, it wasn’t you.

GUGU:
Did you know that Zhang Quan’s wife uttered some last words?

TADPOLE:
I didn’t know that.

GUGU:
‘Wan Xin,’ she said, ‘you will die a terrible death.’

TADPOLE:
That bitch had no right to say that.

GUGU:
Did you know that Renmei uttered last words as well?

TADPOLE:
What did she say?

GUGU:
She said, ‘I’m cold, Gugu.’

TADPOLE:
(
agonisingly
) I’m cold, too, Renmei.

GUGU:
Did you know that Wang Dan said something to me before she died?

TADPOLE:
No.

GUGU:
Do you want to know?

TADPOLE:
Of course . . . but . . .

GUGU:
(
in high spirits
) She said, ‘Thank you for saving my baby’s life, Gugu.’ Did I really save her baby’s life?

TADPOLE:
Of course you did.

GUGU:
Then I can die in peace, right?

TADPOLE:
Don’t say that, Gugu. What you should say is you can sleep in peace and keep living well.

GUGU:
A sinner cannot and has no right to die. She must live on, to suffer torment, to be like a fish frying in a pan, like medicine boiling in a pot of water, all for the sake of atonement. Only when that is complete, is she free to die.

A large black noose drops from above the stage. Gugu goes up, stands on a stool, sticks her head through the noose, and kicks the stool over.

Hao Dashou and Qin He do not look up from their doll making.

Tadpole picks up a knife, rights the stool, jumps up onto it, and cuts the rope in two.

Gugu drops to the stage floor.

TADPOLE:
(
props up Gugu
) Gugu! Gugu!

GUGU:
Am I dead?

TADPOLE:
I guess you could say that. But people like you don’t really die.

GUGU:
Then I’ve been reborn.

TADPOLE:
Yes, you can say that.

GUGU:
Are you all okay?

TADPOLE:
We’re fine.

GUGU:
The baby too?

TADPOLE:
He’s doing beautifully.

GUGU:
Has Little Lion begun to lactate?

TADPOLE:
Yes.

GUGU:
Lots of milk?

TADPOLE:
Lots and lots of it.

GUGU:
What does it look like?

TADPOLE:
Like a fountain.

Curtain

(Finis)

HAMISH HAMILTON

Published by the Penguin Group

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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Originally published by Shanghai Art and Literature Publishing House, 2009

This edition published by Penguin Group (Australia) in association with Penguin (Beijing) Ltd, 2014

Text copyright © Mo Yan 2009

Translated from the original Chinese by Howard Goldblatt

Translation © Penguin (Beijing) Ltd

The moral right of the author has been asserted

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

Cover and text design by Laura Thomas © Penguin Group (Australia)

Cover photograph: water photo © Rainer Behrens/Gallery Stock; illustration by Laura Thomas © Penguin Group (Australia); paper scan by Mark Carrel/Shutterstock.com

penguin.com.au

ISBN: 9780857979322

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