The Four Books (7 page)

The Child said hesitantly, “I want to report grain production of ten thousand
jin
per
mu
.”

The higher-up stared in surprise.

The Child said, “If I can’t report ten thousand, you may take a scythe and slice off my head.”

The higher-up opened his mouth and stared in astonishment.

“In fact.” The Child paused, then continued. “It would be best if I could report a number even higher than ten thousand.”

The higher-up lifted his pants and retied his belt. He stopped staring at the new cement floor under his feet, and instead accepted the blossom from the Child and looked at it. After a moment, he took out a pen and wrote a
1
in front of the
500
, and added a
0
at the end—so that it now read
15,000
jin
. With a smile, the higher-up stroked the Child’s head as though he were holding a ball. He said, “Take this to the county chief, whose office is in the second building behind the assembly hall.”

The Child went to look for the county chief.

He found the county chief.

The county chief’s office was in an old-fashioned building. The Child had never seen this sort of building, which was completely unlike anything they had back in Re-Ed. It had wooden floors that were painted bright red. In the places where people walked, the paint had worn off, revealing the grain of the wood. The hallway and the stairwells were filled with the smell of wood, like summer wheat. As the Child entered the building, he stroked the steps, and learned that sandalwood was, indeed, very good wood. The Child stood in front of the door to the county chief’s office, and saw that the county chief appeared benevolent and approachable.

The county chief was in the process of reading his reports, like a doctor taking a patient’s temperature. These were the per-
mu
production reports from all of the villages and communes under his jurisdiction. As the county chief was reading these reports, sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his face in a bright, almost divine, light.

The Child walked into the room and handed the county chief his red blossom, then said hesitantly, “My blossom says fifteen thousand.”

The county chief took the blossom and reflected for a while. Eventually, he smiled and patted the Child’s shoulder.

He caressed the Child’s head, as though holding a ball.

2.
Heaven’s Child
, pp. 91–97

Upon returning to the district, the Child used the red blossom as a model to cut up many more small five-petal blossoms shaped like winter plum blossoms. He stored them in a cardboard box. The box was then locked in a cabinet, which in turn was placed beneath the Child’s desk.

Over the winter, when the ninety-ninth was idle, some people would take books to the Child and ask, “Can we read this?” The Child would compare the book to his list, and if it was there, he’d say, “Go ahead,” but if it wasn’t, he’d keep it himself.

Everyone was reading in an area of the courtyard that was shielded from the wind. They were reading the reports from the previous month, which had just arrived. They were a big group, all sitting around reading.

The Child saw them idle, and decided to convene a meeting.

“Everyone gather around, everyone gather around!” he shouted.

So everyone gathered.

They proceeded to convene right there in the courtyard.

Everyone was idle, so they held a meeting.

The Child stood on a stool in front of them.

The Child said, “Beginning today, we will implement a Red Blossom and Pentagonal Star system. If you are obedient, we will issue you a small red blossom. If you earn an award, we will also issue you a little red blossom. If you receive a blossom, you should post it over your bed, and every month you will be evaluated. Once you have five small blossoms, we will award you a medium-sized one, and once you have five medium-sized blossoms, we will award you a large pentagonal star. Once you have five stars, you will be permitted to return home to your family, your work unit, and your lectern. You’ll return to your laboratory and your library, and won’t ever have to come back here to be re-educated with the other criminals.”

The Child said, “If you receive five stars, that will mean that you have been successfully re-educated and become a new man or woman. Once you have been recognized as new, you will be free.”

“The sun is nice today,” the Child said loudly. “The sun is nice and we are holding a meeting to implement the Red Blossom and Pentagonal Star system. Everyone will post the red blossoms they receive above their bed. Roommates will inspect each other. Anyone who dares to steal someone else’s blossoms and post them above their own bed will have all of their blossoms torn down. And whoever reports someone else for stealing blossoms will be awarded one or two medium-sized blossoms.”

The professors and scholars all gazed up at the Child standing solemnly on the stool. As the sun shone down on him, his face glowed bright red. It seemed as though the light emitted a crackling sound as it radiated outward. “Back in the county seat, I reported grain production of fifteen thousand
jin
per
mu
,” the Child said. “Our ninety-ninth’s rate of production is not only by far the highest in the region, it is even the highest in the entire county. We are in first place. There had been someone who reported grain production of ten thousand
jin
per
mu
, and he was first, but after he left we took his place.”

The Child proudly lifted his arm into the air. “Everyone sees that our district has a large red blossom made from red slick paper issued by the county chief.” He made a fist and said, “These small blossoms are also made from slick paper, and even if you wanted to make some for yourselves, you wouldn’t be able to obtain the same shiny paper.”

“The final thing,” the Child said, gazing down at everyone in attendance, “is that we can’t lie idle all winter. Instead, we must watch the soil, look for fertilizer, and work on irrigation. If water can’t reach the fields, we will need to carry it ourselves. When the wheat is ripe, and the grains are thicker than a man’s finger, our per-
mu
production will definitely exceed fifteen thousand
jin
.”

The Child shouted, “Are you firmly resolved to produce fifteen thousand
jin
per
mu
?”

The Child’s question echoed throughout the entire region, through the mountains and rivers.

The crowd stared up at him in surprise.

“Are you or are you not resolved to accomplish this?” the Child asked again in a loud voice.

A silence permeated the courtyard.

The Child shook his fist and shouted once more, “Are you resolved, or not?”

Everyone turned away from the Child, and instead looked at one another. It seemed as though they hadn’t understood what the Child had said, and were waiting for someone to explain it to them. The sun’s warm yellow light shrouded their faces, each becoming startlingly yellow, sparkling in the sunlight. Sparrows flew over the walls of the district’s courtyards. Everything was surprisingly quiet. The sky was extremely still, and the courtyard was as silent as a dark lake, capable of drowning someone. The Child couldn’t bear this silence any longer, so he jumped down from the stool and went into his room to retrieve the key to the cabinet. He took out that cardboard box and grabbed a handful of small red blossoms, then held one up and said,

“Tell me, are you resolved to produce fifteen thousand
jin
per
mu
?”

When no one answered, the Child held up another blossom. When still no one answered, he added two more. After the Child had eight blossoms in the air, he stopped and his face turned frosty. He shouted,

“I’ll give these eight blossoms to whoever answers first!”

One person suddenly stood up and said, “We can—we can definitely produce fifteen thousand
jin
!”

That was the young Technician who kept trying to catch adulterous couples. He was awarded the eight red blossoms.

The Child grabbed five more red blossoms and asked, “Has anyone else made up their mind?”

“I will!” This was another young person. He shouted and raised his hand, then went to solemnly accept his five blossoms.

The Child asked again. A group of people waved their hands in response, “We can! We can definitely produce fifteen thousand
jin
of grain per
mu
!” They each accepted two or three blossoms awarded to them. The Child asked yet again, and another group of people responded. Their cheers resonated not only throughout the courtyard, but also across the fields, and even down to the river dozens of
li
away. The big river. The mother river.

Those who received a blossom immediately retired to their room. It was winter, and cold and windy outside. Those who didn’t receive a blossom didn’t say a word, and instead just sat in the middle of the courtyard watching the Child and each other. These included the Theologian, the Scholar, and the Musician, among others. The Author followed everyone in claiming he could produce fifteen thousand
jin
of grain per
mu
, whereupon he accepted his blossom and retired to his room. By this point there were only a dozen or so people still sitting in the courtyard in the cold, watching one another and stubbornly refusing to utter the words “I can.” The Child glared at them, appearing as tense as a drawn bow with arrow cocked. He returned to his room, then reemerged to see if any of them would utter those critical words.

How would the Child resolve this situation?

As the wind blew, the grass rolled over the ground. The earth supported both the people and the grass, just as it supported the courtyard and the entire region. The Child stood in front of those remaining, and with an icy gaze he asked,

“So, can you or can’t you?”

No one said a word.

“If you can’t speak, just nod.”

No one responded, and the Child shouted,

“For the last time, is anyone else willing to commit to producing fifteen thousand
jin
per
mu
?”

The Scholar, the Theologian, and the Musician remained frozen in place, refusing to speak, or even nod. Everyone else crowded around, as though watching a performance. By this point it was almost noon, but the sun was behind a cloud, casting a gray light. In the courtyard, everyone’s face appeared ashen. The Child didn’t say a word. With that icy gaze and pursed lips, he stood there motionless. Suddenly he spun around and headed back to his room. Everyone followed him with their eyes, watching that door that was like all the others. No one realized that he had gone to fetch a scythe. The Child then reemerged, looking very angry. This scythe was brand-new. It didn’t have a trace of rust, and the jujube-wood handle ended in a fork. No one knew why the Child had gone to fetch it. The expression of determination on the faces of the Scholar, Theologian, and the Musician changed to one of confusion. For them, the Child’s gesture was like a gust of wind when all one needs is a piece of wood, or like an eagle flying overhead when what one needs is a gulp of water.

Completely incommensurate things.

But that was how the Child responded.

This is how things came to pass. This is how things were confirmed.

The Child emerged with the scythe. With a bang, he placed it on the ground. His lips pursed, he picked it up again, letting the blade flicker in the light. He suddenly lay down, placing his neck under the blade. With his head lifted, and the blade directly above him, he stared into the sky.

Then he shouted,

“Okay, then . . . if you won’t agree to produce fifteen thousand
jin
of grain, then come here and slice my head off!”

Gazing at the sky, he shouted,

“Before the nation was founded, there was a girl. When a Japanese man asked her something, she refused to respond, and so the Japanese decapitated her. After the nation was founded, she became a national hero.” The Child shouted, “Ever since I was little, I’ve dreamed of doing this! From morning to evening, I would imagine how I would take inspiration from that girl and have someone cut off my own head. I beg you, chop off my head! Chop off my head!”

The Child shouted again and again,

“Chop off my head!”

“Chop off my head!”

“Theologian, Scholar, I beg you. Come chop off my head!”

The Musician turned pale.

Everyone turned pale.

3.
Old Course
, pp. 43–51