Chapter One
1
From where he lay quietly on the brick-and-tamped-earth sleeping platform, his kang, Pastor Malory saw a bright red beam of light shining down on the Virgin Maryâs pink breast and on the pudgy face of the bare-bottomed Blessed Infant in her arms. Water from last summerâs rains had left yellow stains on the oil tableau, investing the Virgin Mary and Blessed Infant with a vacant look. A long-legged spider hung from a silvery thread in the bright window, swaying in a light breeze. âMorning spiders bring happiness, evening spiders promise wealth.â Thatâs what the pale yet beautiful woman had said one day when she saw one of the eight-legged creatures. But what happiness am I entitled to? All those heavenly breasts and buttocks in his dream flashed through his head. He heard the rumble of carts outside and the cries of red-crowned cranes from the distant marsh, plus the angry bleats of his milk goat. Sparrows banged noisily into the paper window covering. Magpies, the so-called happiness birds, chattered in poplar trees outside. By the look of things, happiness could well be in the air today. Then suddenly his head cleared, and the beautiful woman with the astonishingly big belly made a violent appearance, haloed in blinding light. Her nervous lips quivered, as if she were about to say something. She was in her eleventh month, so today must be the day. In a flash Pastor Malory understood the significance of the spider and magpies. He sat up and got down off the kang.
After picking up a black earthenware jug, he walked out to the street behind the church, where he saw Shangguan LĂź, wife of Shangguan Fulu, the blacksmith, bent over to sweep the street in front of the shop. His heart skipped a beat, his lips quivered. âDear Lord,â he muttered, âalmighty God âŚâ He crossed himself with a stiff finger and backed slowly into a corner to silently observe the tall, heavyset Shangguan LĂź as she silently and single-mindedly swept the dew-soaked dust into her dustpan, carefully picking out pieces of trash and tossing them aside. Her movements were clumsy but vigorous; her broom, woven from golden millet tassels, was like a toy in her hand. After filling the dustpan and tamping down the dust, she straightened up.
Just as Shangguan LĂź reached the head of her lane, she heard a commotion behind her and turned to see what it was. Some women came running through the black gate of Felicity Manor, home of the townâs leading gentry family. They were dressed in rags, their faces smeared with soot. Why are these women, who normally dress in silks and satins, and are never seen without rouge and lipstick, dressed like that? Just then, a wagon master known to all as âOld Titmouseâ emerged from the compound across the way on his new wagon, with its dark green canopy and rubber tires. The women clambered aboard even before it came to a complete stop. The wagon master jumped down and sat on one of the still damp stone lions to silently smoke his pipe. Sima Ting, steward of Felicity Manor, strode out from the compound with his fowling piece, his movements as quick and nimble as a young man. Jumping to his feet, the wagon master glanced at the steward, who snatched the pipe out of his hand, took several noisy puffs, then looked up at the early-morning rosy sky and yawned grandly. âTime to go,â he said. âWait for me at the Black Water River Bridge. Iâll be along shortly.â
With the reins in one hand and his whip in the other, the wagon master turned the wagon around. The women in the bed behind him shouted and chattered. The whip snapped in the air, and the horses trotted off. Brass bells around the horsesâ necks sang out crisply, the wagon wheels crunched on the dirt road, and clouds of dust rose in the wagonâs wake.
After taking a piss in the middle of the road, Sima Ting shouted out at the now distant wagon, then cradled his fowling piece and climbed the watchtower, a thirty-foot platform supported by ninety-nine thick logs and topped by a red flag that hung limply in the damp morning air. Shangguan LĂź watched him as he gazed off to the northwest. With his long neck and pointy mouth, he looked a little like a goose at a watering trough.
A cloud of feathery mist rolled through the sky and swallowed up Sima Ting, then spat him back out. Bloody hues of sunrise dyed his face red. To Shangguan LĂź, the face seemed covered by a dazzling layer of sticky syrup. By the time he raised the fowling piece over his head, his face was red as a cockscomb. She heard a faint metallic click. It was the trigger sending the firing pin forward. Resting the butt of the piece against his shoulder, he stood waiting solemnly. So did Shangguan LĂź, as the heavy dustpan numbed her hands, and her neck was sore from cocking it at such a rakish angle. Sima Ting lowered his fowling piece and puckered like a pouting little boy. She heard him curse the gun: âYou little bastard, how dare you not fire!â He raised it again and pulled the trigger. Crack! Flames followed the crisp sound out of the barrel, simultaneously darkening the sunâs rays and lighting up his red face. Then an explosion shattered the silence hanging over the village; sunlight filled the sky with brilliant colors as if a fairy standing on the tip of a cloud were showering the land below with radiant flower petals. Shangguan LĂźâs heart raced from excitement. Though only a blacksmithâs wife, she was much better with a hammer and anvil than her husband could ever hope to be. The mere sight of steel and fire sent blood running hot through her veins. The muscles of her arms rippled like knotted horsewhips. Black steel striking against red, sparks flying, a sweat-soaked shirt, rivulets of salty water flowing down the valley between pendulous breasts, the biting smell of steel and blood filling the space between heaven and earth. She watched Sima Ting jerk backward on his perch, the damp morning air around him soaked with the smell of gunpowder. As he circled the tiny platform, he broadcast a warning to all of Northeast Gaomi Township:
âAll you elders, fellow townsmen, the Japs are coming!â
2
Shangguan LĂź emptied her dustpan onto the exposed surface of the kang, whose grass mat and bedding had been rolled up and put to one side, then cast a worried look at her daughter-in-law, Shangguan Lu, who moaned as she gripped the edge of the kang. After tamping the dirt down with both hands, she said softly to her daughter-in-law, âYou can climb back up now.â
Shangguan Lu trembled under the gentle gaze of her mother-in-law. As she stared sadly at the older womanâs kind face, her ashen lips quivered, as if she wanted to say something.
âThe devilâs gotten back into that old bastard Sima, firing his gun so early in the morning!â Shangguan LĂź announced.
âMother âŚâ Shangguan Lu said.
Clapping her hands to loosen the dirt, Shangguan LĂź muttered softly, âMy good daughter-in-law, try your best! If this oneâs a girl, too, Iâd be a fool to keep defending you.â
Tears trickled from Shangguan Luâs eyes as she bit down on her lip; holding up her sagging belly, she climbed back onto the dirt-covered kang.
âYouâve been down this road before,â Shangguan LĂź said as she laid a roll of white cotton and a pair of scissors on the kang. âGo ahead and have your baby.â Then, with an impatient frown, she said, âYour father-in-law and Laidiâs daddy are in the barn tending to the black donkey. This will be her first foal, so I should be out there giving them a hand.â
Shangguan Lu nodded. Another explosion flew in on the wind, setting off a round of barking by frightened dogs. Sima Tingâs booming voice came in fits: âFellow townsmen, flee for your lives, donât wait another minute âŚâ She felt the baby inside her kick, as if in response to Sima Tingâs shouts, the stabbing pains forcing drops of rancid sweat out of every pore in her body. She clenched her teeth to keep the scream inside her from bursting out. Through the mist of tears she saw the lush black hair of her mother-in-law as she knelt at the altar and placed three sandalwood joss sticks in Guanyinâs burner. Fragrant smoke curled up and quickly filled the room.
âMerciful Bodhisattva Guanyin, who succors the downtrodden and the distressed, protect and take pity on me, deliver a son to this familyâŚâ Pressing down on her arched, swollen belly with both hands, cold to the touch, Shangguan Lu gazed up at the enigmatic, glossy face of the ceramic Guanyin in her altar, and said a silent prayer as fresh tears began to flow. Removing her wet trousers and rolling up the shirt to expose her belly and her breasts, she gripped the edge of the kang. In between contractions she ran her fingers through her matted hair and leaned against the rolled-up grass mat and millet stalks.
The chipped quicksilver surface of a mirror in the window lattice reflected her profile: sweat-soaked hair, long, slanted, lusterless eyes, a pale high-bridged nose, and full but chapped lips that never stopped quaking. Moisture-laden sunbeams streamed in through the window and fell on her belly. Its twisting, swollen blue veins and white, pitted skin looked hideous to her; mixed feelings, dark and light, like the clear blue of a summer sky in Northeast Gaomi with dark rain clouds rolling past, gripped her. She could hardly bear to look at that enormous, strangely taut belly.
She had once dreamed that her fetus was actually a chunk of cold steel. Another time sheâd dreamed that it was a large, warty toad. She could bear the thought of a chunk of steel, but the image of the toad made her shudder. âLord in Heaven, protect me ⌠Worthy Ancestors, protect me ⌠gods and demons everywhere, protect me, spare me, let me deliver a healthy baby boy ⌠my very own son, come to Mother ⌠Father of Heaven, Mother of Earth, yellow spirits and fox fairies, help me, please âŚâ And so she prayed and pleaded, assaulted by wrenching contractions. As she clung to the mat beneath her, her muscles twitched and jumped, her eyes bulged. Mixed in with the wash of red light were white-hot threads that twisted and curled and shrank in front of her like silver melting in a furnace. In the end, willpower alone could not keep the scream from bursting through her lips; it flew through the window lattice and bounced up and down the streets and byways, where it met Sima Tingâs shout and entwined with it, a braid of sound that snaked through the hairy ears of the tall, husky, stooped-over Swedish pastor Malory, with his large head and scraggly red hair. He stopped on his way up the rotting boards of the steeple stairs. His deep blue ovine eyes, always moist and teary, and capable of moving you to the depths of your soul, suddenly emitted dancing sparks of startled glee. Crossing himself with his pudgy red fingers, he uttered in a thick Gaomi accent: âAlmighty God âŚâ He began climbing again, and when he reached the top, he rang a rusty bronze bell. The desolate sound spread through the mist-enshrouded, rosy dawn.
At the precise moment when the first peal of the bell rang out, and the shouted warning of a Jap attack hung in the air, a flood of amniotic fluid gushed from between the legs of Shangguan Lu. The muttony smell of a milk goat rose in the air, as did the sometimes pungent, sometimes subtle aroma of locust blossoms. The scene of making love with Pastor Malory beneath the locust tree last year flashed before her eyes with remarkable clarity, but before she gained any pleasure from the recollection, her mother-in-law ran into the room with blood-spattered hands, throwing fear into her, as she saw green sparks dancing off those hands.
âHas the baby come yet?â her mother-in-law asked, nearly shouting.
She shook her head, feeling ashamed.
Her mother-in-lawâs head quaked brilliantly in the sunlight, and she noted with amazement that the older womanâs hair had turned gray.
âI thought youâd have had it by now.â Shangguan LĂź reached out to touch her belly. Those hands â large knuckles, hard nails, rough skin, covered with blood â made her cringe; but she lacked the strength to move away from them as they settled unceremoniously onto her swollen belly, making her heart skip a beat and sending an icy current racing through her guts. Screams emerged unchecked, from terror, not pain. The hands probed and pressed and, finally, thumped, like testing a melon for ripeness. At last, they fell away and hung in the sunâs rays, heavy, despondent, as if sheâd come away with an unripe melon. Her mother-in-law floated ethereally before her eyes, except for those hands, which were solid, awesome, autonomous, free to roam where they pleased. Her mother-in-lawâs voice seemed to come from far away, from the depths of a pond, carried on the stench of mud and the bubbles of a crab: â⌠a melon falls to the ground when itâs time, and nothing will stop it⌠you have to tough it out, za-za hu-hu ⌠want people to mock you? Doesnât it bother you that your seven precious daughters will laugh at you âŚâ She watched one of those hands descend weakly and, disgustingly, thump her belly again, producing soft hollow thuds, like a wet goatskin drum. âAll you young women are spoiled. When your husband came into this world, I was sewing shoe soles the whole time âŚâ
Finally, the thumping stopped and the hand pulled back into the shadows, where its hazy outline looked like the claws of a wild beast. Her mother-in-lawâs voice glimmered in the darkness, the redolence of locust flowers wafted over. âLook at that belly, itâs huge, and itâs covered with strange markings. It must be a boy. Thatâs your good fortune, and mine, and the whole Shangguan family, for that matter. Bodhisattva, be here with her, Lord in Heaven, come to her side. Without a son, youâll be no better than a slave as long as you live, but with one, youâll be the mistress. Believe me or not, itâs up to you. Actually, it isnâtâŚâ
âI believe, Mother, I believe you!â Shangguan Lu said reverently. Her gaze fell on the dark stains on the wall, grief filling her heart as memories of what had happened three years before surfaced. She had just delivered her seventh daughter, Shangguan Qiudi, driving her husband, Shangguan Shouxi, into such a blind rage that heâd flung a hammer at her, hitting her squarely in the head and staining the wall with her blood.
Her mother-in-law laid a basket upside down next to her. Her voice burned through the darkness like the flames of a wildfire: âSay this, âThe child in my belly is a princely little boyâ Say it!â The basket was filled with peanuts. The womanâs face was suffused with a somber kindness; she was part deity, part loving parent, and Shangguan Lu was moved to tears.
âThe child Iâm carrying is a princely little boy. Iâm carrying a prince ⌠my own son âŚâ
Her mother-in-law thrust some peanuts into her hand and told her to say, âPeanuts peanuts peanuts, boys and girls, the balance of yin and yang.â
Gratefully wrapping her hand around the peanuts, she repeated the mantra: âPeanuts peanuts peanuts, boys and girls, the balance of yin and yang.â
Shangguan LĂź bent down, her tears falling unchecked. âBodhi-sattva, be with her, Lord in Heaven, come to her side. Great joy will soon befall the Shangguan family! Laidiâs mother, lie here and shuck peanuts until itâs time. Our donkeyâs about to foal. Itâs her first, so I cannot stay with you.â
âYou go on, Mother,â Shangguan Lu said emotionally. âLord in Heaven, keep the Shangguan familyâs black donkey safe, let her foal without incidentâŚâ
With a sigh, Shangguan LĂź reeled out the door.
3
The dim light of a filthy bean-oil lamp on a millstone in the barn flickered uneasily, wisps of black smoke curling from the tip of its flame. The smell of lamp oil merged with the stink of donkey droppings and urine. The air was foul. The black animal lay on the ground between the millstone and a dark green stone trough. All Shangguan LĂź could see when she walked in was the flickering light of the lamp, but she heard the anxious voice of Shangguan Fulu: âWhat did she have?â
She turned toward the sound and curled her lip, then crossed the room, past the donkey and Shangguan Shouxi, who was massaging the animalâs belly; she walked over to the window and ripped away the paper covering. A dozen rays of golden sunlight lit up the far wall. She then went to the millstone and blew out the lamp, releasing the smell of burned oil to snuff out the other rank odors. Shangguan Shouxiâs dark oily face took on a golden sheen; his tiny black eyes sparkled like burning coals. âMother,â he said fearfully, âletâs leave. Everybody at Felicity Manor has fled, the Japanese will be here soon âŚâ
Shangguan LĂź stared at her son with a look that said, Why canât you be a man? Avoiding her eyes, he lowered his sweaty face.
âWho told you theyâre coming?â Shangguan LĂź demanded angrily.
âThe steward at Felicity Manor has been firing his gun and sounding the alarm,â Shangguan Shouxi muttered as he wiped his sweaty face with an arm covered with donkey hairs. It was puny alongside the muscular arm of his mother. His lips, which had been quivering like a baby at the tit, grew steady, as his head jerked up. Pricking up his tiny ears to listen for sounds, he said, âMother, Father, do you hear that?â
The hoarse voice of Sima Ting drifted lazily into the barn. âElders, mothers, uncles, aunts â brothers, sisters-in-law â brothers and sisters â run for your lives, flee while you can, hide in the fields till the danger passes â the Japanese are on their way â this is not a false alarm, itâs real. Fellow villagers, donât waste another minute, run, donât trade your lives for a few broken-down shacks. While you live, the mountains stay green, while you live, the world keeps turning â fellow villagers, run while you can, do not wait until itâs too late âŚâ
Shangguan Shouxi jumped to his feet. âDid you hear that, Mother? Letâs go!â
âGo? Go where?â Shangguan LĂź said unhappily. âOf course the people at Felicity Manor have run off. But why should we join them? We are blacksmiths and farmers. We owe no tariff to the emperor or taxes to the nation. We are loyal citizens, whoever is in charge. The Japanese are human, too, arenât they? Theyâve occupied the Northeast, but where would they be without common folk to till the fields and pay the rent? Youâre his father, the head of the family, tell me, am I right?â
Shangguan Fuluâs lips parted to reveal two rows of strong, yellow teeth. It was hard to tell if he was smiling or frowning.
âI asked you a question!â she shouted angrily. âWhat do you gain by showing me those yellow teeth? I canât get a fart out of you, even with a stone roller!â
With a long face, Shangguan Fulu said, âWhy ask me? If you say leave, we leave, if you say stay, we stay.â
Shangguan LĂź sighed. âIf the signs are good, weâll be all right. If not, thereâs nothing we can do about it. So get to work and push down on her belly!â
Opening and c...