The Explosion Chronicles (21 page)

“Our entire family should be more considerate of your brother Mingliang, and we should be careful not to give him any additional trouble.”

He said, “You should cook your own food, or else move back in with us.”

He said, “You should say something, be it good or bad. You can’t just sit here without speaking, as though you were dead.”

He asked, “So, are you alive or are you dead—sitting here without speaking?”

He said, “If you are alive, good. But if you really have died, I’ll go ask someone to build you a coffin. Then I’ll ask someone to go to the cemetery to dig you a grave.”

Kong Mingguang still sat there without speaking.

Dusk fell. The sound of the setting sun pierced through the noise of the nearby factories and mines, producing a sound like that of flowing blood. But afterward, this was drowned out by loud thunder, pushed aside by the sound of voices and footsteps moving between the town and the village. The birds in the courtyard were all watching the father and son while they sat on the house, the wall, and the tree. Their feathers fell to the ground and cracked open the cement floor, and even shattered one of the stones supporting the courtyard wall. There was a chill in the early autumn air. The son still refused to speak, and the most he would do was raise his cold, white eyes and stare up at his father, or else he would look at the closed door, and then would lie on that reed mat as though he were dead. His father became increasingly anxious and abruptly stood up, angrily kicked his stool, and spat on the ground. “Let me put it this way,” he said firmly. “If you are going to die, you should go ahead and do so. But if you plan to live, then you should return home with me, and tomorrow you should go fetch your wife, Qinfang, from her mother’s house.” Then he stared at his son, as if he wanted to extract a word from his mouth, but Mingguang continued sitting silently on the reed mat, looking at the bare bowls and dishes that were scattered everywhere, as though Little Cui were still lying naked there. His cold white fish eyes stared blankly ahead, as though he had not seen his father at all, as though he had not heard his father at all.

His father became even more anxious and asked, “Do you want to die? If so, then I’ll happily accommodate you.”

Kong Dongde went back into the house and walked around. When he reemerged, he was carrying a thin but strong rope. He took the stool on which he had been sitting and placed it under the pear tree with a trunk as large as a plate. He stood on the stool, tied the rope onto the highest and strongest branch of the tree, then tied the other end into a noose that was just the right size for a person’s head. Next, he put his own head inside the noose to try it out and discovered that in the sunlight on the other side of the noose, all of the clouds were either square, rectangular, or circular, resembling gold bars, gold pieces, and silver dollars. He also saw some clouds that were as white as a young woman’s face. He looked in surprise, then pulled his head out of the noose, whereupon all of the clouds reverted back to their former appearance. He put his head back into the noose, and once again the clouds resembled gold bars and gold ingots, and there were treelike clouds and shoe-shaped ingots and the faces of women and children. He said very solemnly to his son,

“You should go ahead and die. If you do, then you can have anything you want.”

He got down off the stool, then proceeded to repeat that phrase. He walked over to Mingguang and said, “I’ve tied the noose for you and placed the stool beneath the tree. The fragrant smell of the pear tree is strong and fresh as the aroma of the cilantro-flavored fish soup Little Cui used to cook. All you have to do is stand on the stool, place your head inside the noose, then kick the stool away. You will then enjoy an existence of silver and gold, and every day you’ll be able to enjoy the company of girls like Little Cui.”

When Kong Dongde finished saying this, he headed toward the courtyard gate, as though he had already said what he needed to say and done what he needed to do. When he reached the entranceway, he looked back at the noose, then looked at his son, whose complexion
was now the color of the eyes of a dead fish. Finally, he softly made a portentous statement:

“Do you know? Little Cui doesn’t even like you. Do you know who she likes? Having been without a mother or father or grandparents since she was young, she has come to view me as her parents and grandparents. Did you know that?”

Mingguang’s neck vertebrae produced a sound like stones grinding against each other, as he slowly turned to look at his father, who continued talking as he walked out. There appeared a flicker of light in his dull eyes.

“Before she left, she came to see me,” his father continued. “She said you were suffocating her, which is why she had to leave. She said that once you and Qinfang were reconciled, she would return to Explosion.”

After having said this, Kong Dongde sighed. His body suddenly felt much lighter, as though he were walking on air, and in this way he proceeded to walk out of the courtyard. After he left, he heard Mingguang crying behind him. When he turned around, he saw that his son was crying so hard that his body trembled like an animal on the verge of death.

5. BEETLES

The next day, as Kong Dongde was eating lunch, he smashed his bowl, as well as the pot he used to cook rice. He took down the clock hanging on the wall and threw it to the ground as well. His wife had told him that their son Mingguang, after a good night’s sleep, had figured out what he needed to do. He decided that he would not go find Little Cui, but neither would he bring back Qinfang. Instead, he wanted to move out of Second Dog’s house and return home to live by himself—to eat, teach, and be a good
teacher. Kong Dongde stared at his wife for a long time, then asked her, “He didn’t hang himself?”

His wife laughed and said, “Today, I should cook him a good meal.”

Kong Dongde began to throw things, hitting and kicking the walls, and cursing. When he noticed the calendar with a picture of beauties, he ripped it off the wall and began stomping on it until each of the twelve calendar beauties was stomped into a ball of crumpled paper. Finally, exhausted, he sat down, and said,

“You know? I’m going to die soon.”

His wife said, “Go see a doctor then.”

“Go summon Zhu Ying and have her come see me.”

His wife went out to find their daughter-in-law Zhu Ying and summon her back. The one place where Zhu Ying often went was a supermarket a short distance from Otherworldly Delights. She had opened that supermarket based on ones she had seen in the city, and it sold daily necessities, clothes, and food, as well as staples such as oil, salt, and soy sauce. Customers didn’t need to go up to the counter to buy things but instead could go directly to the shelves and pick out what they needed. Customers were as numerous as grains of sand or piles of leaves. Kong Dongde’s wife made her way through this crowd of people until she found Zhu Ying, who was in her office with the fan on, looking over some ledgers the store’s accountant had sent her. When Zhu Ying saw her mother-in-law wiping sweat from her brow as she stood in front of her, she knew that things had come to a head.

This day had finally arrived.

Zhu Ying’s mother-in-law said, “Return home quickly. Your father-in-law doesn’t have long to live.”

Zhu Ying pulled her mother-in-law over to the electric fan and poured her a glass of water.

“If he really does die, that actually wouldn’t be a bad thing.” Her mother-in-law drank some water, then added slowly, “If he were to die, I could then lead a real life.”

Zhu Ying calmly prepared a washbasin for her mother-in-law so that she could wash her face, then the two of them returned home together. As they were crossing the streets of Explosion, Zhu Ying noticed that the clouds in the western portion of the sky suddenly resembled a funeral procession surrounded by onlookers. She noticed that all of the shoppers walking up and down the street were talking and shouting as though they were in an open-air performance. She also saw some people fighting and others crowded around watching, shouting, “Fight! Fight! You’re not even bleeding yet!” Then, she led her mother-in-law into a calmer area, as they proceeded from the town streets into the old village alleys. In this way, they quickly returned home. When they arrived, they found that Kong Dongde’s room was full of shattered dishes and shredded paper, as well as fruits and vegetables that had been stomped to a pulp.

Zhu Ying stood in the doorway and peered in, and saw her father-in-law sitting in the room like a marble statue. She then fixed her gaze on the back wall. There was a small yellow butterfly the size of a copper coin flying through the doorway, and it landed on the wall to rest. The sunlight streaming in shone down on the butterfly, so that its entire body appeared to be enveloped in a golden glow.

“What was so dire that got you this upset?” Zhu Ying asked with a laugh. She began picking up the shattered porcelain on the ground and sweeping it into a pile at the base of the wall. Then, she picked up the clock that had fallen from the wall and adjusted its batteries, so that it began running again. She said, “A clock is life, and if a clock stops working, a person will stop living.” As she said this, she hung the clock back in its original position, then turned
and saw that the butterfly had flown over and landed on her father-in-law’s face, where it was now sitting motionless.

Zhu Ying said, “Father, look at your face.”

Kong Dongde removed the butterfly from his face.

Zhu Ying said, “I hear that someone ran into Little Cui at the market.”

Kong Dongde crushed the butterfly in his hand.

Zhu Ying said, “I simply can’t see anything good about her. She can’t even make dumplings.”

Tears began running down Kong Dongde’s face, like a small rivulet meandering through a dried-up field. At this point, Zhu Ying turned to her mother-in-law, who was still standing by the door, and said, “Don’t worry. Father will improve. You should go to the market. Mingliang is about to become county mayor, and the people at the market will want to give you the best and freshest fish, meat, shrimp, and crabs they have. After you’ve selected what you want, you can bring it back and I’ll cook Father a delicious meal.” After her mother-in-law took a basket and left, only Zhu Ying and her father-in-law, Kong Dongde, were still in the house, together with the flowers growing out of the dry bark of the elm tree and the grass growing out of the cracks in the courtyard’s cement floor, as well as the flock of sparrows and crows perched in the doorway to watch the commotion. The remains of the butterfly that had just been crushed were also lying on the ground, quietly weeping. At this point, the tears streaming down Kong Dongde’s face finally flowed past its ridge-like creases, as his lips and entire body trembled so badly, they seemed about to fall apart. He looked at his daughter-in-law Zhu Ying standing in the doorway and said,

“Ying’er, I’ve let the Zhu family down!”

Zhu Ying stood there silently.

He suddenly slid off the stool and knelt down in front of her, saying,

“You should bring back Little Cui.”

Zhu Ying stood there silently.

“… I’m not a person, I’m just an animal!”

He knelt there, then hobbled over on his knees. Hugging her with both arms, he said, “I’m old, I’m old! Every night I miss Little Cui so much I can’t even sleep. I miss her so much I grip my bed and the walls with both hands, and grip my own body so tightly that I’m soon covered in blood and bruises. I even want to get up in the middle of the night and hang myself.” He wiped the tears from his face, rolled up his sleeve, then showed Zhu Ying the bruises from where he had gripped himself at night when unable to sleep. Then he rolled his sleeve down again and proceeded to kowtow to his daughter-in-law seven or eight times, saying in a hoarse voice, “Please return Little Cui to me! Please find Little Cui and return her to me!”

At this point, Zhu Ying, who was still standing there motionless, smiled darkly as tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked disdainfully at Kong Dongde but said very gently,

“Father, don’t worry. I’ll find Little Cui and bring her back. Otherwise, I’ll find you a girl who is even better.”

Around noon, as smoke was beginning to emerge from everyone’s kitchen chimney, Zhu Ying had her father-in-law lie down on the bed, while she went into the kitchen and cooked him some steamed fish and turtle soup; made a casserole with mule meat, dog meat, and deer meat; and also brought him several glasses of Chinese liquor. She let him eat and drink leisurely, and afterward—when the village streets and alleys were virtually empty, and a flock of magpies had landed on the trees in the courtyard and were chirping noisily—Zhu Ying walked over to her father-in-law’s bed, collected his dishes, then said very softly,
“Let’s go. Let’s go find Little Cui.”

Kong Dongde gazed at her gratefully. He got down off the bed and changed his clothes, even standing in front of the mirror for a while looking at his reflection. Then, he followed Zhu Ying out of the room.

Kong Dongde’s wife was outside and, when she saw that man with whom she had shared a life and raised four sons, she couldn’t believe he was really her husband. He suddenly looked ten or twenty years younger, and his complexion was indistinguishable from that of someone in his prime. His face was flushed, and his cheeks glowed like those of a much younger man. His gaze appeared kind and cordial. His expression didn’t seem at all hard or sluggish, and even his hair, which had been old and faded, now appeared jet-black. As he walked into the courtyard, Kong Dongde gazed at his wife, who was standing in the doorway. He then pulled out a bankbook he had been carrying around in his pocket all these years and stuffed it into his wife’s hands. The bankbook had an astronomically large sum written on it, but he didn’t utter the number out loud and instead said softly to his wife,

“I’m going with Zhu Ying to see the doctor.”

In the courtyard, the magpies stopped producing their high-pitched cries like peacocks, and the sparrows on the ground stopped squawking and hopping around. The flowers blooming out of the elm tree bark had also disappeared. Everything had returned to the way it had been, and even the air grew still and no longer had that familiar late summer scent of dirt and sweat. They walked through the main gate, one after the other, and down the silent village street toward the tumultuous town. Kong Dongde’s wife followed them out, and watched as her husband and daughter-in-law solemnly walked farther and farther away. She yelled out to them,