Life and Death are Wearing Me Out (9 page)

With a loud cry, I burst into the compound, but several people clumsily managed to close the gate before I could get to it. My heart had suddenly outgrown the compound; it was too small to hold me, and I ran around madly, sending people scurrying. I heard Yang Guixiang scream,

“The donkey bit Ximen Bai’s head, it’s bleeding, and he broke the village chief’s arm!”

“Shoot it, kill it!” someone else shouted. I heard the militiamen cock their rifles, and I saw Lan Lian and Yingchun running toward me. Moving at the fastest speed I could manage and summoning up all the strength I had, I headed for a breach in the wall caused by heavy summer rains. I leaped, reached into the air with all four hooves, stretched to my fullest length, and sailed over the wall.

The legend of Lan Lian’s flying donkey is still told by old-time residents of Ximen Village. Naturally, it’s told most vividly in stories written by Mo Yan.

I headed south at top speed after flying over a toppled wall. I nearly broke a leg when my front hooves landed in mud, and I was seized with terror. I tried to free my legs from the mud, but only succeeded in sinking in deeper. So I stopped, settled down, and planted my rear legs on solid ground. Then I lay down and rolled to the side, managing to pull my front legs free. After that I climbed out of the ditch, giving proof to the words that Mo Yan once wrote: A goat can scale a tree, a donkey is a good climber.

I followed the road southwest at a gallop.

You probably recall my mention of the female donkey belonging to the stonemason, the one carrying Han Huahua’s son and the piglet on her way home to her in-laws. Well, she — the donkey — ought to have been out of her halter and on her way back by this time. When we parted to go our own ways, we agreed that tonight would be ours to enjoy. Words once spoken by humans cannot be taken back, not even by a team of horses; for donkeys, it’s a matter of a promise is a promise, and we would wait for one another, no longer how long it took.

Chasing the emotional message she left in the air around her at dusk, I raced down the road she’d taken, raising a clatter with my hooves that traveled far on the night air; it was almost as though I was following the sound of my own hoofbeats, or that the sound was chasing me. Roadside reeds were withered and yellow on that late autumn evening, dew had become frost, and fireflies flitting amid the grass created a spotty illumination of the ground with their blinking green lights. My nose was assailed by a stench hanging in the air, which I knew came from an old corpse whose flesh had long since rotted away, but whose bones continued to reek.

Han Huahua’s in-laws lived in Old Man Zheng Village, whose richest resident, Zheng Zhongliang, had been one of Ximen Nao’s friends, though they were of different generations. I thought back to the time when we were chatting over fine spirits and he had patted me on the shoulder and said, My young friend, amassing wealth creates enemies, dispensing it brings good fortune. Enjoy life while you can, take your pleasure where you can, and when your wealth is gone, fortune will smile on you. Do not take the wrong path. . . . Ximen Nao, you goddamned Ximen Nao, stay out of my business. I am now a donkey with the fires of lust burning inside me. When Ximen Nao enters the picture, even if it’s only his recollections, the result is a recapitulation of a bloody, corrupt history. A river ran across the open fields between the Ximen and Old Man Zheng villages. A dozen sandy ridges meandered along both sides of the stream like writhing dragons, all covered with tamarisk bushes in such profusion I couldn’t see beyond them. A major battle had been fought there, with airplanes and tanks, and the victims of that battle still lay where they died. Stretchers had filled the streets of Old Man Zheng Village, loaded with wounded soldiers, their moans and groans accompanying the chilling caws of crows in the air. But enough talk about wartime, since that is when donkeys are used to transport machine guns and ammunition in the thick of battle, and a handsome black donkey like me would not have been able to avoid conscription.

Long live peace! In peacetime, a donkey can freely tryst with the female of his choice. We’d agreed to meet on the river’s edge; light from the moon and stars was reflected off the shallow water, like slithering silver snakes. Accompanied by the low chirping of autumn insects and cooled by night breezes, I left the road, climbed over the sandy bank, and stepped into the river, which swallowed up my feet. The smell of the water reminded me how dry my throat was and gave rise to a desire to drink. Which is what I did, though I made sure not to drink too much of the sweet, cold river water, since I needed to run a bit more and didn’t want a lot of water sloshing around in my stomach. My thirst slaked, I climbed the opposite bank and began walking down a twisting path, moving in and out of the tamarisk bushes until I was standing atop a high sandy ridge, where her smell swept over me, thick and powerful. My heart was beating wildly against my ribs, my blood heated up, my excitement was so great I lost the ability to bray and was reduced to emitting choppy whinnies. My darling donkey, my treasure, my most adorable, my dearest, my sweetheart! Oh, how I want to embrace you, to wrap my legs around you, to nibble your ears, to kiss your eyes and lashes and pink nose and lips like flower petals. My darling, my cherished, I fear only that my breath will melt you, that by mounting you I’ll break you. My tiny-footed little donkey, I know you are near. My tiny-footed little donkey, you do not know how much I love you.

I raced toward the smell, but halfway down the ridge, I saw a sight that tested my courage. My donkey was running wild amid the tamarisk, spinning around and kicking out with her hooves, braying loudly, as she tried to sound intimidating. In front and in back, to one side or the other, she was the intended victim of a pair of gray wolves; unhurriedly, biding their time, sometimes moving as a team, sometimes as individuals, they probed, they moved in and out, they feigned an attack. A treacherous, lethal pair of predators, they were patiently wearing her down; when, her strength and will gone, she lay down on the ground, they would go straight for the throat. Then, after they’d drunk their fill of her blood, they would tear open her abdomen and eat her now useless vital organs. Only death awaited any donkey meeting up with a pair of wolves working in tandem at night on a sandy ridge. My little donkey, if I hadn’t shown up, your unhappy fate would have been sealed. Love has saved you. Is there anything else that could erase the innate fears of a donkey and send him to rescue you from certain death? No. That is the only one. With a call to arms, I, Ximen Donkey, charged down the ridge and headed straight for the wolf that was tailing my beloved. My hooves kicked up sand and dust as I raced down from my commanding position; no wolf, not even a tiger, could have avoided the spearhead aimed at it. It saw me too late to move out of the way, and I thudded into it, sending it head over heels. Then I turned and said to my donkey, Do not fear, my dear, I am here! She moved close to me; I sensed the violence with which her chest was rising and falling and could feel the sweat covering her body. I nibbled her neck to comfort and encourage her. Don’t be afraid, I’m here. There’s nothing to fear from these wolves. Stay here while I smash their heads with my hooves of steel!

The wolves’ eyes were green as, shoulder to shoulder, they held their ground, boiling with anger at my sudden appearance, as if I’d fallen out of the sky. If not for me, they’d already be feasting on donkey meat. I knew they would not take defeat lying down, that having come down from the mountains, they would not and could not pass up this opportunity. Their strategy had been to drive the poor donkey onto the sandy ridge, with its tamarisk bushes, expecting her to get bogged down in the loose sand. For us to win the fight, we had to get away from the sandy soil, and fast. After starting her down the ridge, I turned and followed, walking backward. The wolves matched our progress, at first following behind me, but then splitting up and running ahead to launch a frontal attack. My dear, I said, see that river at the foot of this ridge? The ground is rocky there, good and hard, and the shallow water is clear enough to see the bottom. All we have to do is make a mad dash for the river. Once we’re in the water, the wolves will have lost their advantage, and victory will be ours. Call up all the courage you have, my dear, to run down this slope. We have size and inertia going for us. We’ll also be kicking sand in their eyes. So let’s make that mad dash, and we’re safe. Ready to do as I said, she moved up next to me, and we took off, leaping across tamarisk bushes, the pliant branches scraping our bellies on the way. It was like riding a wave, and we were soon like two tidal waves racing toward the shore. Through my peripheral vision, I saw the wolves stumbling and tumbling and looking pathetic in the chase. They did not reach the river-bank, coats covered with sand, until we were safely in the water and catching our breath. I told her to drink. Drink it slowly, my dear, don’t choke and don’t drink too much or you’ll be cold. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she nipped me on the rump. I love you, my good little brother, she said. If you hadn’t shown up to rescue me, I’d be in the wolves’ stomachs by now. By saving you, my darling, I saved myself. I’ve been in a deep depression ever since I was reborn as a donkey. But since meeting you, I’ve come to realize that even something as lowly as a donkey can know supreme happiness when love exists. I was a man in my former life, a man with a wife and two concubines, but for me there was only sex, no love. I mistakenly thought I was a happy man, but now I see how pitiable I was. A donkey seared by the flames of love is happier than any man. And a male that has the good fortune to rescue his beloved from the mouths of wolves, who can demonstrate his courage and wisdom in front of his beloved, is given a chance to satisfy his masculine vanity. Because of you, my dearest, I’ve become an honorable donkey and the happiest animal on the face of the earth. We nibbled away each other’s itches, we rubbed each other’s hides, we were a perfect couple, our shared emotions deepening with words of tenderness, to the point where I nearly forgot the wolves on the riverbank.

They were hungry wolves, salivating at the thought of our tasty flesh. There was no quit in that pair, and much as I longed to consummate our relationship, I knew that would only put us both in our graves. They were just waiting for something like that to occur. At first, they stood on rocks and lapped up water like dogs. Then they sat on their haunches, raised their heads to the sky, and howled at the forbiddingly cold half moon.

Several times I lost sight of reason and reared up on my hind legs to mount my beloved. The wolves moved toward us before my front legs touched her body. My abrupt stop sent them scurrying back to the bank. They clearly had an abundance of patience, and I knew I needed to go into attack mode, but only with my donkey love’s co-operation. Together we rushed the wolves’ position on the riverbank. They leaped to safety and then made their way slowly up the sandy ridge. We weren’t going to fall into that trap. Instead we crossed the river and galloped off in the direction of Ximen Village. The wolves charged into the water, which came up to their bellies and slowed them down. Let’s go after them, my beloved, I said, let’s put these savages out of their misery. Having already mapped out a strategy, we virtually flew back to the river, where we jumped and splashed water into their eyes to confuse them before attacking with our hooves. The wolves struggled to get away, but their coats were weighted down by the water. I reared up and aimed my hooves at one of them, but it darted out of the way, so I spun around and landed on the back of the second wolf, driving it under the water, where I held it as bubbles rose to the surface. Meanwhile, the first wolf leaped onto the neck of my beloved. Seeing the danger she was in, I abandoned the drowning wolf and kicked out with my rear hooves, hitting the attacker square in the head. I felt the crack of bone and watched as it crumpled and lay flat in the water; movements in its tail showed it was still alive. Meanwhile its half-drowned partner had crawled up onto the bank, its fur sticking to its body, now revealed as gaunt, bony, and very ugly. My beloved rushed up onto the bank, cut off its escape route, and began pounding it with her hooves. Spinning and twisting to avoid the deluge of falling hooves, it slid and rolled back into the water, where I reared up again and came down hard on its head. The green lights in their eyes slowly dimmed. To make sure they were both dead, we took turns smashing our hooves into their bodies until they were pinned among the rocks in the riverbed; mud and wolf blood dirtied the water all around.

Together we walked upriver, not stopping until the water was clear again and we could no longer smell wolf blood. She turned to look at me and nibbled my hide affectionately with a twittering sound. Then she spun around and offered me the ideal position. I want you, my dear, mount up. Me, a pure and innocent donkey with a beautiful body and superior genes, in order to continue a superior lineage, I will give them to you, along with my virginity, my lovely Huahua donkey, only to you. I then rose up like a mountain, held her body with my front legs, and thrust forward. Feelings of great joy erupted, surging over me, and over her. My god!

We coupled six times that night, seemingly a physiological impossibility for donkeys. But I swear to the Jade Emperor in Heaven that I am not lying, I take a vow before the moon’s reflection in the river that I am telling the truth. I was no ordinary donkey, nor was she. In a former life she’d been a woman who died for love; when she released passion that had been pent up for decades, she could not stop. Exhaustion finally set in when the red morning sun first appeared on the horizon. It was an empty, transparent exhaustion. Our spirits seemed raised to a state of sublimation by our profoundly soulful love, made beautiful beyond imagining. We combed one another’s manes, thrown into disarray, and cleaned each other’s mud-streaked tails, all with our lips and teeth. The tender light of devotion flowed unchecked from her eyes. Humans are overweening creatures, believing themselves to have raised amorous feelings to the greatest heights, while in fact, nothing can stir up a man’s passions like a female donkey. Here, of course, I refer to my donkey, Han Donkey, the one belonging to Han Huahua. After standing in the middle of the river to drink the clear water, we sauntered up to the bank to dine on reeds that had already turned yellow, but retained enough moisture for us, and juicy red berries. We frightened birds away as we ate, and spotted a fat snake slithering out from a clump of grass. It must have been looking for a place to sleep through the winter, so it didn’t pester us. After we had told one another everything there was to tell, it was time to choose pet names. She called me Naonao, I called her Huahua.