Yan Lianke - The Four Books

The person didn’t say anything.

The Child was left with no alternative. He kicked apart the pile of stalks, knocking down the opening to the hollow. Then he turned away from the crowd, so that he was now facing the painting. He untied his pants, as if he were going to pee on it. At that moment, the person panicked. He knelt down before the Child, saying, “I beg you, please don’t do this.”

“Say, ‘I am a pervert.’ Once is enough.”

The person didn’t say anything.

The Child turned again toward the painting, as though he were about to pee on it.

The person turned pale and his lips started to tremble. He then said repeatedly, “I am a pervert, I am a pervert. ”

Even as he said this, there were tears in his eyes.

“That’s better,” the Child replied. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” He seemed to have no intention of further punishing the person. The man fell to the ground, his face as white as a cloud in a clear sky, and the Child stormed away. The Child watched the workers from the four brigades, the people plowing the fields in the distance. There he saw a woman, who was young, quiet, and had a dignified beauty, and who looked just like the woman in the painting hanging from the tree branch. He wanted to call her Sister . He moved closer, but discovered that she didn’t resemble the image at all. When he looked again, however, he decided that in fact she did. Confused, he approached her. She was turning the soil, repeatedly bending over and straightening up again, and gradually moving away from him. When he approached, he realized that she had only recently been sent to the ninety-ninth. She was a new teacher from the provincial seat — a pianist who taught music. Blood and pus were oozing from a blister on her hand. He took out a handkerchief and handed it to her to wipe the blood. The handkerchief was made from coarse white cloth. It had frayed edges, but otherwise appeared clean.

She gazed at him with a look of gratitude.

3. Heaven’s Child , pp. 39–43

They plowed and sowed the fields, and every district prepared to report its production targets.

The Child’s demands were not very steep. Other districts had to donate five, six, or even seven hundred jin of grain per mu of land. And there were even several districts that had to donate eight hundred jin . All the Child asked was that the ninety-ninth divide into brigades, and that each brigade donate five hundred jin . That is to say, each mu of land had to produce an average of five hundred jin of grain.

After dawn, the ninety-ninth was so quiet that you could even hear the sun’s rays striking the ground. Representatives from each brigade were summoned into a room for a meeting. They silently sat down, and the Child asked each brigade to report on its production targets. The representatives remained deathly silent.

“I know,” said the Child, “that you think the most you can get from a single mu of land is two hundred jin of grain, but that is actually not true. To increase production to five hundred jin , all you need to do is open your mouths and report that sum, then return to the fields and produce it.”

The meeting was held in the Child’s house, which was next to the main entrance to the district. The house had three rooms, with the sitting room in the center and the living area and his bedroom on either side. The visitors were seated in the center room, where there were several long benches, and everyone was sitting across from each other, their heads bowed. There was the Author and the Scholar, together with the man from the cornfield, who was a professor of religion, as well as the music teacher from the provincial seat, who was a pianist. Each had been designated as the representative of his respective brigade. The meeting opened in silence.

“If you don’t report your production targets,” the Child said softly, “I won’t allow you to go back and wash up.

“If you don’t report your production targets,” the Child said loudly, “I won’t allow you. to go back and eat.

“If you don’t report your production targets, I will strip you of your responsibilities. I guarantee you won’t return home for at least five years, and neither will your relatives be permitted to visit.” The Child roared this final threat.

The four representatives proceeded to play the game, and each reported high production targets.

So it came to pass.

They each reported an average of six hundred jin of grain per mu . The Child was kindhearted, and didn’t curse or strike them. Instead, he just kicked the bench with his foot, and the production targets magically increased. The Scholar, the Theologian, and the Musician would all return in time to eat.

They would wash their faces and eat their food. This is how things came to pass.

The Child didn’t permit the Author to leave. The Child said, “Of the four, you reported the lowest production target. So, you must stay behind. I want to speak to you.” With a terrified expression, the Author stayed behind and watched as the Theologian, the Scholar, and the Musician left. The Author turned green with envy, like freshly turned soil. After waiting for them to leave, the Child closed the door. In the darkened room, he took out the picture of Mary and placed it on the table. He asked, “Who is this?” The Theologian had secretly hung the portrait at the edge of the field — from the tree surrounded by cornstalks.

The Child took out a book consisting of seven volumes bound together with rough thread. He asked, “What is this? After I assigned the Musician as the representative of the fourth brigade, she gave me this — her composition.”

The Child then took out that certificate with the image of the bullet. In the empty space below the bullet, there were two lines of verse: “Even if there is a thousand-year-old iron gate, in the end there will still be a need for an earthen mound.” This poem was written in bright red. The Child pointed to it and said, “This is something the Scholar had under his pillow. What does it mean?”

The Child took out many more things and handed them to the Author, asking him to inspect each of them carefully. For instance, there was a picture of a half-naked woman, a densely written diary, the kind of ballpoint pen used by foreigners, together with a cigarette lighter of a sort that not even the Author had ever seen before. The lighter reeked of kerosene, as though a car had just driven by. Both of them inspected each item one after another, commenting extensively on each. Finally, the Child brought out a bottle of blue ink, a fountain pen, and some paper, then handed them to the Author, saying, “If you write a book, your dreams will come true. The higher-ups have agreed that you should write a book about the district.” The Child said, “You can write a really extraordinary book. The higher-ups have proposed a title, which is Criminal Records . They say that each chapter should be fifty pages long, and ask that whenever you finish fifty pages you turn them in and they will give you another fifty blank sheets of paper. They say that as long as you finish this book, not only will they allow you to return to the provincial seat to be reunited with your family, but they will have the book printed and distributed throughout the country. They will reassign you to the capital, to be the leader of the country’s writers.”

The Child said, “Now you can go. Of all the people in the ninety-ninth, you are the one in whom the higher-ups have the most confidence.”

As the Author was about to leave, he turned and said, “The production targets we originally reported were too low. I now wish to report that we will produce eight hundred jin !”