The Four Books (18 page)

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Authors: Yan Lianke

Tags: #Fiction, #Political, #Satire, #Literary, #General

BOOK: The Four Books
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2.
Old Course
, pp. 317–27

On the morning of the first day of the twelfth lunar month, the banks of the Yellow River were still covered in snow that enveloped the land in whiteness. On this day, the Child led the procession of carts back from the headquarters. Everyone assumed that this time they had hauled at least three tons of newly smelted steel into town, which was certainly enough to bring them up to the one hundred tons that the higher-ups had specified. If they reached a hundred tons, the Child would be able to go to the provincial seat; and if he went to the provincial seat, at least twenty or thirty, or perhaps even forty, people like the Technician would be permitted to return home to celebrate the New Year. They had not expected, however, that when the Child went to deliver the steel, he would not proceed from the town to the county seat, from the county seat to the district seat, and then from the district seat to the provincial seat.

Instead, the Child traveled through the night, arriving home just before sunrise the next day.

The wind whistled through the open fields, and the snow was already knee-high. Nothing was visible except for a blanket of white. The comrades of the ninety-ninth crowded into thatched huts to warm themselves by the fire. The steel-smelting furnaces were all extinguished, and people took the leftover kindling and used it for their own stoves, then huddled together to keep warm. They anticipated that after the Child returned from the provincial seat, between thirty and fifty residents would be permitted to return home for New Year’s. They discussed who might be included if thirty were allowed to go, and who else might be added if the number were to be increased to fifty. As they were happily entertaining these conjectures, someone noticed a line of shadows approaching unsteadily through the snow, accompanied by the sound of footsteps and cart wheels. The person who noticed their approach immediately turned and shouted in the direction of the row of thatched huts, “The Child and the others have returned! . . . The Child and the others have returned! . . .”

His excited and hoarse voice wandered down to the white riverbank and along the embankment. Several people rushed out of their huts, one after another, and soon everyone was standing in front watching the Child and his procession of carts. Like a line of sand dragons, the procession came up to the ninety-ninth. In the procession, everyone’s heads and bodies were completely covered in snow, and their eyebrows and hair were coated in a layer of ice. But they all smiled with delight, because the Child had agreed to award each of them ten small red blossoms. With these additional ten blossoms, their names would be positioned ahead of the others, potentially allowing them to return home first. Their comrades didn’t know why they had spent a full day and night hauling carts with bright smiles on their faces. They watched the Child walking ahead of the procession, with the line of seven carts beside him.

The Child shook the snow off his body and brushed the snowflakes out of his hair. He then looked at the crowd of people in front of him, and announced loudly, “Good news! Good news! Our ninety-ninth was the first to smelt one hundred tons of steel from black sand, while the other districts have only smelted, at most, seventy-something tons. The higher-ups have already said that our ninety-ninth will represent the headquarters, the county, and the entire district, to attend a meeting at the provincial seat. They also said that among you there will be several who, like the Technician, will be permitted to return home in time for New Year’s.” As he was saying this, he saw the Theologian push a cart alongside him, and the Child leapt up so that he was standing on top of the cart. He continued what he had been saying: “Yesterday, the higher-ups gave me five certificates and ten large red blossoms, which increased my total number of certificates to one hundred and four, while my number of large red blossoms increased to two hundred and eight. In order to thank you for smelting the steel that permitted me to earn these blossoms and certificates, I decided . . . that regardless of how many slots the higher-ups assign us to permit people to return home for New Year’s, I will personally double that number. If the higher-ups authorize us to send five people home, I will allow ten. And if the higher-ups authorize us to send twenty people, I will double that to forty. And if they are generous and choose to authorize forty, I will let all of you return home, while I myself stay behind alone to look after the buildings and the furnaces.”

The Theologian stood there holding the cart handle, to keep it steady, as reliable as though he were performing onstage. The Child, meanwhile, continued standing on top of the cart and shouting all sorts of things. No one had ever seen the Child babbling on and on like this. He not only promised to double the number of people permitted to go home for New Year’s; he also promised to double the number of people permitted to go home permanently. He said that during the days preceding and following the trip to the provincial seat, he would award everyone else a large number of small red blossoms, just as the higher-ups had awarded him a large number of certificates and red blossoms. In this way, he would permit those who had already received a hundred blossoms, as well as those who were on the verge of doing so, to quickly reach their quota of one hundred and twenty-five blossoms. As soon as he returned from the provincial seat, he would exchange these small blossoms for pentagonal stars, and then allow everyone with a star to be declared a new person and to leave Re-Ed, never again to return to the banks of the Yellow River.

The Child’s voice was growing hoarse, and he sounded as though he had a cold. He gesticulated wildly as he was speaking, reminding people of some political leader at the highest levels of government, although they couldn’t figure out who precisely he was trying to imitate. He was, after all, still a child, who had only recently gone to the district seat, and therefore he had seen much less of the world than the criminals who were listening to him. But everyone listened to him with delight, and didn’t dare question him too rigorously. They couldn’t help watching him and feeling full of hope. “Before you leave here, there is something you must do.” The Child’s voice got even louder, as though he were giving a lecture that was about to reach its emotional climax. “And what is it that you must do? Everyone must smelt at least eighty
jin
of high-quality steel . . . steel that resounds solidly when you strike it . . . steel as good as the steel rail and the cart wheels that people would hang from trees as bells at the entrance to the town before the country developed steel-smelting technology . . . steel as good as that which people use for their cleavers and axe-heads . . . and not the kind of steel ingot that we smelt from black sand, which, if you strike it, sounds as though you are striking a wooden board.”

As the Child was saying this he cleared his throat, as though he were an important personage standing up onstage and facing an army, while those below him were chatting and making quite a ruckus. “If I had asked you a few months ago to smelt a chunk of good steel, this would not have been a very difficult task. But now, apart from the black sand that can be found everywhere, there are no iron resources available. If we had any good iron resources we would be able to smelt the very, very best steel in the world. We would then be able to take that pure steel to the provincial seat, and even the nation’s capital. . . . But who has such high-quality iron resources?!”

The Child gazed down at the people. “Along this desolate riverbank, where would we go to find high-quality iron, such as that used in axe-heads, cleavers, rail tracks, and oxcart wheels?” He looked at the people standing in front of him, then up to the snow-filled sky. “I’ll award a red blossom to whoever is able to find this sort of high-quality steel. I’ll award one blossom for each
jin
of iron, ten blossoms for every ten
jin
, and if you bring fifty
jin
, I’ll award you fifty blossoms, which is equivalent to ten medium-sized blossoms, or two pentagonal stars. If you add these to the blossoms and stars you have already received, you should be able to immediately start packing your bags to return home. But who among you is able to deliver such high-quality pig iron?”

The Child stared at the crowd and asked, “Do any of you have it?”

“If you do, then quickly hand it over . . . because if you don’t do it now, you won’t have another chance.”

By this point it was already light enough that it was possible to see a bright halo over the snow along the riverbank. Because it was early morning, it was possible to make out a mysterious pale blue light flickering amid slowly falling snow. Everyone stood silently in front of the Child, gazing first at each other and then up at him. The Child laughed, like a teacher who is unable to solve a problem but then finds a child able to easily figure it out. “Bring over that iron!” the Child shouted. “I’ll prepare this pure iron . . . and all I have to do is light a fire with the highest-quality wood, and smelt the highest-quality steel.”

At this point, people brought five large scythes from one of the carts. Each of the scythes had a gleaming virgin blade without a trace of rust. The front and back of each blade was as black as tempered steel. The Child had the scythes arranged in a neat row in front of everyone. He looked at them, then jumped down from the cart and proceeded to remove a pin from a sheath holding one of the blades. He held up the pin, which was about six inches long and as thick as a finger, and used it to strike the blade. Then he laughed brightly and said, “You simply can’t find steel that is of higher quality than this.”

He announced in a loud voice, “According to custom, winners will be rewarded and losers will be penalized. In less than twenty-four hours, you must smelt these five scythe blades into a round pie, just like the iron cakes you smelted out of black sand, so that the higher-ups will think it has been smelted from black sand.” As the Child was saying this, he slowly walked in the direction of his tent. “I’m tired, and am going to take a nap. You should quickly light the furnace.”

The Child walked the short distance to his tent.

Everyone stared in surprise. Then, someone brought over those five scythe blades, while someone else went out into the snow to fetch some kindling for the small furnace. In this way, they started the process of smelting fine steel. Because they no longer needed the large furnace, they instead all crowded around the small one, competing with one another to perform the requisite tasks. They knew that in order to smelt these five scythe blades into high-quality steel they would need to do it as quickly as possible, meaning that it wouldn’t do to use soft wood for the fire, and instead they would need to use the hardest date wood, chestnut, and elm available. They started searching everywhere for this wood. Someone brought out elm wood stools from inside a tent, and someone else brought out the date wood tables from the canteen. Someone else brought their own chestnut chest. Someone even discovered that their tent poles were made of different kinds of hard wood, and therefore they took down the poles and replaced them with ones made from soft willow and paulownia wood.

Just as they were searching for firewood and preparing to light the furnace, the Scholar went up to the Child’s tent and carefully knocked on the screen door. Hearing a sound from inside, he pulled open the screen and went in. The Child’s tent was still full of certificates and red blossoms—so red that you immediately had to shut your eyes. It was very cold outside, but inside this tent it was scalding hot. The Scholar stood in the doorway for a while with his eyes closed, and when he opened them he saw the Child lying facedown on the floor, while the Theologian and two others who had been helping pull the carts were in the process of massaging his legs and back. Someone else was kneeling by the Child’s head and rubbing his shoulders. After the Theologian finished massaging the Child’s thighs and calves, he began removing the Child’s socks. He was just about to start massaging the Child’s feet when he noticed the Scholar had entered. The room had lit up for a moment, then went dark again. The Scholar stood in front of this unexpected scene. The Theologian and the other two men looked at him and nodded, and without saying a word they went back to what they were doing.

The Child now turned away from the Theologian, and peered inquisitively at the Scholar to see what he wanted. The Scholar kneeled down beside the Child, apparently so that the Child could see more clearly the blisters that covered his face.

“Are we, from the ninety-ninth, the only ones representing Re-Ed in delivering steel to the provincial seat?” the Scholar asked, and when he saw the Child hesitate, the Scholar proceeded. “Even if we are the only ones in the entire district, there are still more than a dozen districts in the province, so presumably more than a dozen will be going to the provincial seat. If we use scythe blades to smelt high-quality steel, how can we be sure that none of these other groups haven’t used steel rail tracks, axe-heads, and cleavers, to smelt similarly high-quality steel? We didn’t have many high-quality steel implements available out on the riverbank, but the other delegations will be coming from cities, towns, and factories, and won’t they easily be able to find higher-quality iron resources than ours? For instance, if someone uses sections of iron railroad track and doesn’t burn wood but instead uses coal from their factories to smelt their steel, how can we hope to compete with them?”

As the Scholar was squatting there offering his analysis, the blisters on his face that had frozen began to melt in the warm room, and pus began oozing out, leaving him in unbearable agony. As he spoke, he sucked in air while wiping away the pus that was running down his face.

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