Yan Lianke - The Four Books

“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

The women’s fourth brigade lived in a building belonging to the fourth brigade. There were only a few of them, and they all lived in four rooms, with the remaining four rooms serving as the district’s canteen. Those of us in the first brigade also stayed in buildings belonging to the fourth brigade, while the second and third brigades lived in buildings belonging to their respective brigades. Each building contained eight rooms, and each room contained four bunk beds, meaning that each room could hold up to eight people. The first brigade’s empty room was used as storage, to keep farming equipment and other items.

Not everyone was able to post their red blossoms at the head of their bed. Instead, given that every pair of bunkmates shared a simple willow desk, the person sleeping in the upper bunk would post his blossoms on the wall above the desk, while the person in the lower bunk would post them above the head of his bed. This way, it was easier to inspect how many blossoms they had each received. The rooms were several square meters in size, with four bunk beds and four willow desks. They were quite crowded, to the point that everyone would stumble over each other when they tried to walk around. Everyone folded their bedding into neat squares, as they do in the army. The sheets had to be pulled up every day, and when people weren’t using their stools they were placed under the beds. Everyone kept their washbasins next to their stools, and their teeth-brushing cups on the ledges above their bed. Their toothpaste and toothbrushes were all pointed east, with the bristles of their toothbrushes and their toothpaste caps facing upward. The walls had no decorations, other than a portrait of some higher-up, and the coat of whitewash had begun to turn yellow.