Yan Lianke - The Four Books

Half a month later, the main headquarters sent over a mule cart to collect the iron, and in return awarded the district fifty jin of pork and thirty jin of beef and mutton. In this way, life in the district turned a page and between smelting steel and eating meat the cold winter became very lively, as every day felt like New Year’s. The men were divided into three groups, with one being responsible for keeping the furnaces lit, the second scouring the district for metal tools, and the third cutting down trees for fuel. The women, meanwhile, were divided into two groups, one of which stayed behind in the canteen to cook food while the other accompanied the men to search for wood and metal. When they didn’t have anything else to do, the criminals wouldn’t return to their dormitories, but rather hung around the furnaces to chat, and play cards or chess.

It was then that the Technician pulled me aside behind one of the furnaces and whispered, “Author, look at this. The Musician is about to give the Scholar the sweet potato she is holding.”

I couldn’t believe it.

He said, “Just watch.”

Through the opening between the two furnaces, we saw the light of the setting sun splash onto the ground like red water. The alkaline soil was originally white, but had been walked over by countless people. The ground, which was flooded in summer but dry in the autumn and winter, appeared black after having been trampled on by countless feet, and under the glow of the setting sun it had a grayish brown tint. Combined with the orange light from the six furnaces, the ground and people’s faces assumed a yellowish purple hue. Only the Musician’s face appeared different. She was wearing an immaculately clean waist-length coat with a gray scarf. When she first arrived at the ninety-ninth her hair was still jet black, and she wore it in the sort of ear-length bob that was fashionable in the city, though now she wore it in a braid. She was watching the Scholar, who was playing cards and, because he was losing, had pieces of paper stuck to his face as a penalty. She stood there, the red light of the fire failing to taint the soft whiteness of her face, which looked as if the sun and wind from the banks of the Yellow River rarely touched her. Then, sure enough, she walked over and squatted down directly behind the Scholar, discreetly placing the sweet potato she was holding into his pocket. The Scholar said something I couldn’t quite make out, then handed someone his cards and retreated to the far end of the area. After making sure no one was around, he hid between a furnace and a wood pile, and began eating.

“Did you see?” asked the Technician.

I nodded.

“I’ve been observing them for several months. They were the couple I discovered in the bushes when we were planting the wheat.” As the Technician spoke, he led me away and urged me to hop into a ditch with him. “Tonight, it’s the Scholar’s turn to watch the fire of the second furnace. You should get up at midnight, and if we don’t succeed in catching this pair of adulterers, you’re welcome to twist my head off.”

I looked at the Technician’s animated expression.

“You know, I’ve already checked — catching a pair of adulterers will earn us at least twenty small blossoms, which can be converted into four medium-sized ones.” As the Technician said this, he held his hand in front of him and began counting on his fingers, so excited that his hand was trembling. “I’ll tell you now that if we catch them this time I don’t want to split the reward with you forty/sixty, but rather thirty/seventy. Or even twenty-five/seventy-five. Meaning that I would receive fifteen blossoms, while you receive one-fourth of that, which is to say five blossoms.”

He stared at me. “I’m not asking you to do anything extraordinary — simply come be my witness.”

I stood there without moving.

The Technician added, “Just say whether or not you’ll do it. If you won’t, I can easily find someone else. All I’m asking is that you come take a walk with me tonight.”

I didn’t say anything, and instead merely gazed at the Musician’s braid.

“Will you do it, or not?” The Technician abruptly stood up. “Are you really not going to do it?”

I also stood up. I looked at the Technician’s face, then out at the fields, and finally at the Scholar, who was returning to the group after having finished the sweet potato. I nodded vigorously and announced, “I’ll do it!”

It was decided. As the sun was setting, the dinner whistle was blown in the district courtyard, and everyone jumped like well-fed sparrows flying out of a ditch. The Re-Ed residents began heading back, while those assigned to watch the furnaces stayed where they were and waited for others to bring them their food. Of the six in the latter group, one was the Scholar, who had stayed behind to watch the second furnace. After bidding everyone goodbye, he waved to the people heading back and asked them to bring him his food on the early side. Not only did one of the criminals nod to him, but I noticed that the Musician, who was leaving as well, also turned around and nodded.

Then everyone left.

The area around the furnaces suddenly became as quiet as a lake after a flood. Under the last rays from the setting sun, there appeared a speck of light, like fine rain. From the top of the furnaces there emerged flames and clouds of white smoke, which peeled off in the air. As the people went behind the courtyard wall, the sound of their footsteps gradually faded, leaving the furnaces surrounded by a silence that seemed even more desolate on account of the preceding tumult. I walked back with the others until I reached a corner of the wall, and then I deliberately slowed down, doubled back, and quickly returned to the furnace. As I approached, I greeted the Scholar.

The Scholar looked at me.

“Tonight, you must not let the Musician come meet you.” I stood urgently in front of him, my voice as sharp as a thornbush struggling to grow through a stone crack. “Someone has noticed the two of you, and if you’re caught you’ll never leave here as long as you live.”

The Scholar turned as white as a sheet.

After saying this, I turned and walked away, disappearing into the light of the setting sun.

2. Criminal Records , pp. 129–30 (excerpt)

Beloved organization, this is my most significant discovery and report. For me, the ambiguous relationship between the Scholar and the Musician was actually as clear as day, and regardless of how secretive the codes they used in arranging all rendezvous, they couldn’t escape my gaze. Previously the two of them would arrange their meetings by whispering to each other at mealtimes; now they would communicate in code. The Scholar, for instance, would shift his chopsticks from his right hand to his left, whereupon the Musician would do the same. While working in the fields, they would then find an opportunity to retreat to the bushes, where they remained for a while. If only one of them shifted their chopsticks, that would mean their rendezvous had to be postponed until later that night. As for where they would meet, that would be determined by how the Scholar left his chopsticks on his bowl when he finished eating. If he left them crossed over one another, that meant that early in the the evening they would retreat to the thornbushes behind the district courtyard, and if he left them parallel to one another that meant they would retreat later that night to the ditch on the eastern side of the steel-smelting furnace.

3. Heaven’s Child , pp. 111–15

In the end, the Technician didn’t succeed in catching the two adulterers, and consequently he didn’t receive those fifteen bright and alluring blossoms. On several occasions he snuck out of bed in the middle of the night, but invariably returned empty-handed, as a light breeze blew emptily across the land.