Yan Lianke - The Four Books

But now, the ninety-ninth also had to overturn heaven and earth and start smelting steel.

When the Child returned, he didn’t make a public announcement, and instead merely said, “The higher-ups have a request — which is that on a certain day of a certain month we all go to the ninety-first, which is thirty li away. They want us to watch a performance. When that day arrives, we must go.” “Can we not go?” someone asked. “Yes,” the Child replied. “But everyone who goes will be awarded two blossoms, and everyone who doesn’t will have to forfeit two blossoms.” So, everyone went. They ate breakfast early, and were issued grain for lunch. Then, they headed west. The earth was supporting their feet as they trudged westward. After they had walked about thirty li , the sun was directly overhead and that Re-Ed district appeared in the shadows. It also had buildings and a courtyard wall. What was different, however, was that between the field and the dry riverbed, there was an earthen stage, and next to that there were two mud and clay furnaces for smelting steel. The furnaces looked like typical rural limestone or brick furnaces.

On the earthen stage, there was a row of characters that read, “Overturn heaven and earth, catch up with England and surpass America!” That solemn and striking language appeared on a red placard hanging on a railing in front of the stage. The railing was sitting in the sun, and sunlight was blindingly bright, shrouding the ninety-first in a golden glow. Everyone was gathered there — several hundred people in all. People from neighboring Re-Ed districts had come as well, including the ninety-fourth, the ninety-fifth, the ninety-seventh, the ninety-eighth, together with those from the ninety-first. There were more than a thousand people, all extremely agitated. There were also peasants from neighboring villages. Children and old people were up onstage. Several loudspeakers were mounted in nearby trees. Then the meeting began, and the first matter of business was the ceremonial lighting of the furnace, for which they invited a higher-up to do the honors. Fireworks went off, and amid the sound they piled kindling and oil into the furnace. The higher-up went to light it. The furnace immediately started burning bright, as flames shot into the air. Everyone gasped and applauded, astonished at the sight. Next, the higher-up offered a speech. For the third event, there was a performance, a play that had been arranged by the headquarters. The central plotline followed a professor who despised his country and had betrayed the national development project. One day, the district reported that it could produce eight hundred jin of grain per mu , but the professor said that at most they could only produce a hundred and eighty jin . The district reported a per- mu production of five thousand jin , but the professor said they could only produce two hundred, for which they would need new irrigation. The district reported a per- mu production of eight thousand jin , but the professor replied that he had studied agriculture his entire life, and not even technologically advanced countries like America, England, France, or Germany could produce that much. As a result, the people of the district seat proceeded to struggle against him — attempting to reform his thought and get him to admit that five thousand jin per mu was in fact possible.

During this reform process, the great steel smelting began. The professor faced the furnace and began sobbing for no apparent reason. Everyone thought he was simply exhausted, so they told him to rest, but then he took advantage of this opportunity to escape. He was caught and returned by newly awakened and almost remade comrades. After they brought him back, they realized that not only was he an inveterate reactionary himself, but he even had brothers working as professors in the United States and was carrying letters they had sent him. It turned out that this play was based on a true story, and it ended with the professor appearing to repent for his wrongs, but he nevertheless continued secretly writing to his brothers in America and making false charges against the nation. As for the others, those who had been successfully re-educated, they were aware of his deceitfulness and swore never to forgive him, and instead escorted him to the execution site onstage.

This was the story.

This was the plot.

In the play’s final scene, accompanied by the cheers of the progressive comrades in the audience, the actors dragged the professor up to the execution site and told him to kneel at the front of the stage. The actors pointed guns at the back of his head, and then shouted to the crowd,

“How do you think we should deal with him?”

The crowd shouted back, “Shoot him! Shoot him!”

The actors onstage asked even louder, “Should we really shoot him?!”

The crowd laughed, and waved their fists. “Yes, just shoot him! Just shoot him!”

“Bang!” White smoke emerged from the guns pointed at the back of the professor’s head, and he collapsed like a rag doll. Everyone initially assumed this was merely a performance, but then they saw a pool of blood on the stage. The professor who had attempted to escape had fallen to the stage with a thud.

As the crowd stood there motionless, the play ended.

The area below the stage was so quiet, it seemed as if no one were there.

During the trip back from the performance, not one person from the ninety-ninth uttered a single word throughout the entire thirty- li walk. There was smoke coming from a distant building, and they could hear it in the light of the setting sun. There was also the sound of footsteps, as if someone were striking the frozen ground with their hand. The earth was barren. Barren and distant, it sucked all sound into its belly.

The Child said, “They performed very well. When they shot that man, it looked extremely realistic.”

The setting sun was behind them, and they went back and began smelting steel. Those who smelted were awarded a red blossom, and those who didn’t were fined a blossom.

1. Criminal Records , p. 53

After the criminals returned from the ninety-first, the revolutionary situation in the district underwent a series of rapid transformations. Beneath a calm veneer, there was a hint of unease. Virtually no one said another word after witnessing the execution of the professor. At dinner, no one chatted while bringing their food to the table, as they had in the past. They seemed to sense that this event heralded something much larger. Why did they all become so silent? It was precisely because the ninety-first’s revolutionary performance stunned them into realizing that they still needed to reform their hearts and souls, which proved they still needed to be re-educated. This was particularly true of the Scholar. After the Scholar agreed to start smelting steel, the Child had awarded him a blossom, but the Scholar’s expression upon accepting it was one not of delight but rather of inscrutable mockery. The Scholar’s strange smile did not escape my gaze. I saw him hold the blossom with his thumb and forefinger, as though holding a worthless piece of paper, and after he had walked a short distance he crumpled it into a ball and threw it to the ground, then crushed it with his foot. He assumed he had done this without anyone noticing, but I had actually seen everything. His action reflected his feelings of unease and dissatisfaction. From the time he threw away the blossom until dinner, he kept his head bowed and didn’t utter a word, appearing to be deep in thought. But could his silence prove that he didn’t feel any sense of rebellion against the revolutionary situation? Consider the following dialogue he had with an old linguist: