Yan Lianke - The Four Books

“Do you want that half bag of soybeans the Musician left?”

I slowly stood up, and replied, “She left that for you.”

“Why don’t you take it and distribute it to everyone?” The Scholar glanced into the darkness beyond the main entrance, and added coldly, “There are fifty-two corpses in all, and not a single one of them has been left intact. You should return to your room — I want to go to the ninety-eighth to look for that man. He must know more than the Child. He must be able to tell us how big this disaster area really is, and how long it will last.”

After saying this, the Scholar headed toward the ninety-eighth, to look for that man with the jacket full of medals. He didn’t return until the middle of the night, and when he finally did he didn’t go to his own room, but rather went directly to knock on the Child’s door.

1. Heaven’s Child , pp. 416–19

The Child was sitting in the middle of the bed, as still as a wax statue. The bed’s legs and headboard were covered in red blossoms, red stars, red certificates, and red lanterns, together with a red ribbon cut into swallowtails hanging from the ceiling. The room was completely covered in red, like a world unto itself. In the center of the room there was a fire, together with a pile of intact books to be used for kindling. There was a copy of the British novel Jane Eyre , and a copy of the German work Faust . Heat poured out of the stove and rose up to the ceiling. In front of the bed, there was a child’s bowl full of water and a bowl of fried soybeans. The Child sat upright on the bed, his legs crossed and the sheet wrapped around him. His eyes were almost closed and his swollen face was gleaming, like a wax statue of a child deity in a temple.

The door was closed. The Scholar had gone to see the Child.

The Scholar urgently told the Child, “Of those eighteen blood ears of wheat, each of which was larger than an ear of corn, not one was missing. I didn’t eat a single grain. I’d be happy to hand them over to you. You can then take these eighteen ears of wheat to the capital, eating some of the grains along the way. You can then take those ears to Zhongnanhai, and when you see the highest of higher-ups, you can explain the situation to him. What I would like you to do for me, meanwhile, is when you hand the biggest ear to the higher-ups, please also give them my half-finished manuscript. When they see that ear of wheat and my manuscript, they will understand what has befallen the people of our nation.”

The Child stared for a moment. There was a bit more sparkle in his eyes than before.

“I’m going to bring you the wheat and the manuscript. The only thing I ask is that you never, ever tell anyone that I gave you those eighteen ears of wheat.”

The Scholar left, and after a long while he did in fact return with those eighteen ears of wheat, each of them wrapped in several layers of cloth and in water-resistant wax paper. By this point it was the middle of the night, and the sky was filled with stars. The sky was filled with cold light. When the Scholar entered the Child’s room again, the Child was dozing. Upon hearing the Scholar at the door, the Child opened his eyes. He drank some water, then washed his face. The Child had a gleam in his eye. The Scholar saw that the fried soybeans were no longer there, and instead the bowl was completely empty. The Scholar placed that bundle of wheat on the bed and carefully opened it. The room was immediately filled with the smell of blood.

The Child inhaled that strong scent of wheat, together with the dry aroma of wheat shells and wheat stems. Of the eighteen ears that the Scholar unwrapped, the largest was in fact as large as an ear of corn, and if you include the three-inch awn at the tip of the ear, it was actually even longer than an ear of corn. In all, it was more than a foot long. The smallest ear, meanwhile, was the size of millet. Who knew where the Scholar had stored those ears, such that each grain was still in its shell? The red and swollen grains seemed ready to burst open. One grain fell out, and when the Child leaned over to pick it up and examine it under the light, he saw that in the center of that red and yellow grain there were some ridges that looked as though they had been carved with a knife.

Each grain was about the size of a bean or peanut.

The Child’s face glowed. He smiled, with his smile resembling a shallow red flower.

“Is it true you really didn’t eat a single grain?”

The Scholar nodded.

“You can now eat one. I will award you one.”

The Scholar shook his head.

“Is there something else you want to tell me?” Beaming brightly, the Child put away those grains of wheat, and placed them at the head of the bed.

The Scholar handed the Child his half-finished manuscript, wrapped in cloth. As he did so, he said solemnly, “I composed this over the course of six years, and I want you to give it to the highest higher-up in the capital. As long as you give that largest ear of wheat to the highest higher-up, he will certainly receive you in Zhongnanhai. At that point you can give him this manuscript.”

The Child accepted the manuscript and asked, “Will he send someone to escort me around the capital?”

“He will personally pin a large red blossom on your chest. That blossom will have ribbons hanging from it, and each ribbon will be inscribed with a poem that he wrote specifically for you. With that blossom, you’ll be able to go anywhere in Beijing you want. You’ll be able to visit the Great Wall, the Palace Museum, the Summer Palace, Wangfujing, and even the Beijing Zoo. You’ll be able to go anywhere you want, and will never even need to buy entry tickets. You’ll even be able to visit the Forbidden City. Everyone who sees you will look at you with respect, and will applaud everything you say.”

The Child placed the manuscript at the head of the bed. His face was swollen, but was beaming even more brightly than before. So it came to pass. That night, the Child didn’t sleep at all, unable to tear his eyes from those eighteen ears of wheat. He thought about his forthcoming trip to Beijing, and about the size and shape of the blossom the higher-up would award him. When the sun came up the next morning, as everyone else was still buried deep in their covers, the Child went to each room to bid everyone farewell. “I’m going to the capital,” he told them. “When I arrive, I’ll see the highest higher-up, after which you will again have grain to eat. You will no longer have to go hungry.” Asleep in their beds, no one understood what the Child was saying. The Child went to the room where the Scholar and the Author were sleeping and repeated the same thing, then bowed in front of the Scholar’s bed. After handing the Author something, the Child left the room, and then the ninety-ninth.

He was indeed on his way.

The sun was shining brightly.

The colorful clouds resembled dancing angels. That day, the weather was as warm as springtime, and the air was so clear you could see for thousands of miles. Along the banks of the distant Yellow River, everything was silent, like ripples in a pond or silk fluttering in the wind. Closer by, dust and sand covered the ground, becoming part of the earth itself. The road leading out of the district was like a narrow ribbon. The Child walked vigorously while carrying his grain. in a packet wrapped in three layers of silk. The red silk bundle was like a fiery ball, swinging back and forth from the Child’s shoulder as he strode forward. A group of people came to see him off, with the Scholar and the Author standing at the front of the crowd. The Author was holding the peanut-sized grain of blood wheat that the Child had given him.