The Four Books (13 page)

“Who was it that swept this area around the entranceway?”

A middle-aged professor came forward, and the Child awarded him three small blossoms.

“Who wrote this couplet and posted it in the entranceway?”

The sixty-eight-year-old Linguist stood up, his smile as innocent and unaffected as a child’s. When he reached the Child, the Linguist bowed his head, then turned around and looked back at his comrades. Unexpectedly, he discovered that everyone was watching him and smiling, and there was a warm sound of encouragement and applause. The Child didn’t give the Linguist two or three small blossoms, but rather directly gave him two palm-shaped medium-sized ones, or the equivalent of ten small blossoms. As the Linguist was accepting these blossoms, his hands trembled. He bit his lips and wanted to say something, but couldn’t get the words out. Behind him, the applause seemed to go on forever.

From that point on, the ninety-ninth began to boil over.

The Child’s and the Technician’s discovery of how to smelt steel from black sand would resolve the steel-smelting problems not only of the ninety-ninth, but also of the entire Yellow River Re-Ed region, the entire province, and even of the entire country, so that the whole world might observe this ingenious Oriental wisdom. In order to make this model as brilliant as possible, it was first necessary to get the higher-ups to send down a cartful of magnets. These could be round, bar, or horseshoe magnets, but once the ninety-ninth had the magnets in hand, they could relocate their steel-smelting furnaces, their canteens, and their bedding to this wasteland eighty
li
away. They would dig row after row of steel-smelting furnaces along the riverbank, using black sand and wood from nearby willow, poplar, elm, and vitex trees to commence the steel-smelting saga that would shock not only the nation but even the entire world.

While the residents of the ninety-ninth were waiting for the magnets to arrive, they all wrote the Child proposals and letters of commitment. Every day, they would hide their hatchets, brooms, saws, and cooking utensils in their chests and bedding, so that after they finished their sweeping they could earn a small red blossom for handing them over. They used tile basins to fetch water from the river, and after they sprinkled the water on the newly swept ground they could also earn a red blossom. The Theologian went to the restroom, and because he couldn’t find a shovel with which to dig out that overflowing latrine, he proceeded to roll up his pants and jump right in, using his bare hands to transfer the shit into jugs and haul it to the fields. After the latrine was cleaned up, he went to the river to wash his hands and feet, whereupon he would then extend his hand—now red from the cold—to the Child to accept a medium-sized blossom or two.

In just a few days, some people managed to increase their collection of red blossoms from only one or two to several dozen. There were even some people who, because they had run out of room above their beds or desks, had to exchange their small blossoms for medium-sized ones, or even for pentagonal stars.

Just as everyone’s collection of blossoms and stars was growing by leaps and bounds, a mule cart arrived with a sack full of magnets, as well as the Scholar and the Musician. The cart arrived in the evening, with the distant clopping sound of horse hoofs piercing the cold winter sky. Those in Re-Ed who were cleaning the courtyard shouted down the road,

“Are you coming to bring us magnets?”

The cart driver repeatedly shouted Ai, Ai! He brought down his whip with a snap, and the mule began galloping noisily toward the ninety-ninth. Everyone ran to the main entrance of the compound, and they noticed that the Scholar and the Musician were sitting in the back of the cart. The two of them were sitting across from one another, and they were each wearing a white dunce cap with the word
criminal
written on it. They were also wearing a cardboard placard over their chest, on which the word
adulterer
appeared in large, black characters. Next to the word
adulterer
, there was a picture of a man and a woman lying down in an embrace. If you looked closely, you would see that the man in the picture resembled the Scholar, while the woman resembled the Musician. With just a few strokes, the picture had successfully captured their likeness and spirit. The word
adulterer
, meanwhile, was written in a Yan Zhenqing–style wild grass script, like a tree full of leaves and branches being blown by the wind. There were many calligraphers in Re-Ed, and they all wrote their political slogans and drew their propagandistic images in an expert manner, like someone skilled in driving a cart or farming the land.

With the Scholar and Musician wearing their dunce caps and placards, which years later would become priceless collectibles, the cart stopped in the entranceway to the district. The Scholar and Musician raised their heads and looked at everyone crowded around. The Musician was holding a bottle of iodine, and her face was stained purple. Sweat was beginning to soak through that purplish layer, and strands of hair were sticking to her cheeks, making her appear as though she had just escaped from a mental asylum. Her red jacket, which she used to keep perfectly clean, was now covered in dust and mud, and cotton stuffing was falling out of the holes in the shoulder and the front. The Scholar’s clothes, meanwhile, were not torn, though his face was covered in cuts and bruises from where he had been beaten. His lips were tightly shut, as though his face were marked by a dark crease. He had two large lumps on his forehead, and given that it was bitter cold those bumps were therefore hard as ice. In addition, his left wrist was fractured and bound with rope, and he kept it hidden behind the adulterer sign.

As the Scholar and Musician were being paraded through the streets of every Re-Ed district, the spectators repeatedly demanded that they perform the spectacle of their adultery, and would beat them if they refused. Half a month earlier, they had been two normal people, but now they bore no resemblance to their former selves. The first one to dismount was the Musician, who proceeded to help the Scholar climb down off the cart. It was at this point that everyone realized the Scholar’s leg was broken, and he would kneel in agony each time he tried to take a step. His eyes, however, were still burning bright, and he gave no indication of wanting to atone for his crimes. He gazed defiantly at the crowd as though they were a group of students and codefendants who had betrayed him.

I retreated to the back of the crowd, careful not to let my eyes meet those of either the Scholar or the Musician.

After dismounting, the Scholar and the Musician stood next to the cart. The Musician bowed her head, but the Scholar kept his proudly raised, looking at everyone with disdain. Seeing that the Scholar had the same arrogant and disdainful expression as the Technician did when he left, everyone asked each other how he could look at them like that, given that he was the one who had committed adultery. Fortunately, when the Musician noticed, she tugged at his shirt, and he eventually lowered his gaze.

The Child waited for the cart to come to a complete stop before emerging from his building, then flew over like a sparrow. When he saw the cart driver point at the sack on the cart, the Child opened it, and found it full of bar and horseshoe magnets. The magnets were all brand-new and were painted red on one end and green on the other, with the letter
A
written on the red end, and the letter
B
written on the green end. When the Child saw the sack of magnets, his face lit up with delight. He tried to grab one to examine it more closely, but found that they were so tightly stuck together he almost couldn’t pull them apart. He anchored both feet on the bag and seized one of the horseshoe magnets with both hands. After he finally succeeded in separating some magnets from the general pile, he proceeded to distribute them to the people standing in front of the cart. Each time he handed out a magnet, he would always ask the same question:

“Are you ready to head out tomorrow?”

The people accepting the magnets would nod or shout, “Yeah.”

“Are you determined to smelt steel?”

They would respond with a laugh, “We just can’t wait.”

In the end, even after everyone had been issued a magnet, they continued standing in front of the cart, as though waiting for something. The Child knew what they were waiting for. He smiled and went back inside to retrieve his wooden box, then awarded everyone a small red blossom, like a rich parent giving his children money for New Year’s. After everyone had accepted the blossoms and returned to their dormitory, the Child noticed that the Scholar and the Musician were still standing on the side of the road, whereupon he handed the final magnet to the Musician.

2.
Old Course
, p. 198

Before dawn the next day, everyone in the ninety-ninth got out of bed and headed toward the river.

Carrying everyone’s luggage, backpacks, and other objects, several platform trucks were loaded full of pots and pans, together with basic condiments such as oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, rice, and flour. By the time the sun had begun to rise in the east, four brigades totaling more than a hundred and twenty people had gathered in the entranceway. But when they were ready to go, they noticed that although the Musician was there, the Scholar wasn’t. The Scholar’s bunkmate reported that after he returned from the headquarters the previous night, he didn’t eat any dinner or say a word to anyone, and instead he just sat on the edge of his bed the entire night, without even taking off his clothes—simply staring straight ahead, his lips pressed tightly together. Thinking that he was merely feeling sorrowful, everyone decided to go to sleep, but when they woke the next morning they discovered that he was still sitting there staring straight ahead, his lips still pressed tightly together.

A professor who shared the room with him asked, “Are you going to the river to smelt steel?”

The Scholar didn’t answer.

The professor asked, “Have they arranged for you to stay behind?”

The Scholar didn’t respond, and instead kept sitting at the head of the bed like a clay statue.

After hearing three whistles, the people in Re-Ed didn’t say a word, and instead quickly gathered together in the courtyard. When everyone was ready to leave, it was then that they discovered that the Scholar hadn’t arrived, and realized that something serious must have happened. It occurred to them that he might have committed suicide, and they hurriedly led the Child to the third dormitory of the second brigade.

3.
Heaven’s Child
, pp. 181–83 (excerpt)

The Scholar sat cross-legged at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. He was staring intently at the light entering through the doorway and the window.

The Child walked in and asked, “Aren’t you going to go smelt steel?”

The Scholar didn’t say a word.

“This is such a great opportunity to earn a blossom. It would be an enormous loss if you were to pass it up.”

The Scholar still didn’t say a word.

The Child asked, “Why would you want to stay behind? This region is desolate and virtually uninhabited. There is no need for anyone to stay behind.”

The Scholar still didn’t say a word.

“I know, you hate smelting steel from black sand.” The Child acted as though he suddenly had a realization. “I know—you’re thinking that you’ll wait until after we’ve left, and then kill yourself. But if you commit suicide, there will be a major incident in the ninety-ninth, and as a result I won’t be able to go to the district or the provincial seat to attend the meeting where I would have been awarded countless red blossoms and certificates of merit.”

The Scholar looked up at the Child with an expression of pity.

“But why are you doing this?” The Child simply couldn’t understand. He took another half step in the direction of the Scholar’s bed and said. “Go smelt, and I’ll keep awarding you red blossoms. After you’ve earned a hundred and twenty-five, you will be permitted to return home.”

The Scholar looked at the Child one final time, then shifted his gaze to the window. There was a hint of a cold smile on his lips.

“What if I were to award you five blossoms right here and now?”

The Scholar still didn’t say a word.

“How about if I award you one medium-sized blossom?”

The Scholar still didn’t answer.

“How about two medium-sized blossoms? Or three?”

The Scholar still didn’t answer, and didn’t even look at the Child. The Child turned around and stared through the door at the sky above, frustration etched on his face. Suddenly, he shouted, “How about four medium-sized blossoms? What if I were to give you a large pentagonal star? Then would you go? If you don’t, it will destroy our black sand steel-smelting initiative, and in the process it will destroy the ninety-ninth district’s model. If you are going to destroy this model, you might as well take my scythe and destroy me as well. Finish me, and allow me to be like that fearless little girl! I’ll get the scythe right now. If you don’t go down to the riverside to smelt steel with everyone else, I’ll bring the scythe over and demand that you finish me.”

After saying this, the Child walked away.

The crowd parted to let him pass. The Child left like a breeze—like a breeze blowing down streets and alleys. As he walked past the third dormitory of the second brigade, the sun was fully coming up in the east, melting the morning frost. The Child hurried to retrieve his scythe, so that the Scholar could complete him by slicing him in half.