Yu Hua - Chronicle of a Blood Merchant

Dripping wet, he clambered the last few steps out of the well and shouted through pale blue lips, “Dad, I found the bucket! Dad, I almost couldn’t hold my breath long enough! Dad, the bucket was caught under a ledge! Dad, how long was I down in the well?”

Sanle ran eagerly forward to announce the total but was quickly and dismissively waved away by Xu Sanguan, who was stroking the water from Yile’s forehead with his other hand.

“Sanle, didn’t I already tell you to get out of here?”

XU SANGUAN said things like that to “the little brat” all the time.

So did Xu Yulan.

Even Yile and Erle told him to go away sometimes.

And when they told him to go away, he really would go away, walking through the streets, salivating as he stood for what seemed like hours outside the candy shop, squatting alone by the river looking at the little fish and the little shrimps in the shallows, pasting himself against electrical poles to listen to the sound of the electricity rushing across the wires above, falling asleep in somebody else’s house with his arms wrapped around his knees. He would always walk and walk until he didn’t know where he was, then ask for directions until he found his way home.

Xu Sanguan always said to Xu Yulan, “Yile’s like me and Erle takes after you. But I have no idea who that little brat takes after.”

When Xu Sanguan said such things, what he really meant was that of the three children, he liked Yile best of all. But it was also Yile who had become someone else’s son. Sometimes Xu Sanguan would sit back in the rattan chair thinking about Yile and start to cry.

As Xu Sanguan cried, Sanle approached, and seeing his father cry, he too burst into tears without knowing why. His father’s sadness was catching, like a yawn.

When Xu Sanguan discovered that someone was crying even more brokenheartedly than himself, he turned his head to discover “the little brat” standing by his side. He would dismiss him with a wave of his hand. “Sanle, go away.”

Sanle could only turn and leave. By this time Sanle was already seven years old. He carried a little slingshot in one hand, and his pockets were stuffed full of little stones. He would pace back and forth, and when he caught sight of a magpie moving along the eaves of a house or stirring among some tree branches, he would aim the slingshot and fire. Even if he didn’t succeed in actually hitting the bird, he could usually send it packing, twittering as it flew into the distance. Then he would shout, “Come back, you! Come back!”

Sanle’s slingshot was often aimed at street lamps, at cats, chickens, and ducks. He would aim for clothes hanging from bamboo poles to dry, at bundles of dried fish hanging from the eaves of houses, at bottles, baskets, and vegetables floating in the river. One time he even hit another boy on the head with a rock.

The boy was about the same age as Sanle himself. He was walking down the street when the rock hit his head. At first his body rocked back and forth with the unexpectedness of the blow. Then he reached out his hand to rub the spot that had been hit. Finally, he burst into tears. Still crying, he turned to see Sanle holding the slingshot and grinning in his direction. He walked over toward Sanle and extended one arm to slap him. Rather than landing on Sanle’s face, the slap somehow landed on the back of his head. Sanle, in turn, reached out and slapped the other boy. Then they traded blows, the sound of their slaps ringing out like an ovation. But the sound of their crying was even louder, because by now Sanle too was sobbing with anger and pain.

The other boy said, “I’m gonna go get my brother. I have two big brothers. My brothers will beat you up.”

Sanle said, “So what? I have two big brothers too. My brothers’ll beat up your brothers.”

The two children stopped slapping each other and negotiated. They agreed that they would each fetch their brothers and meet at the same place an hour later.

When Sanle arrived home, he saw Erle sitting drowsily inside. “Erle, I had a fight with another kid. Come out and help me.”

Erle asked, “Who was it?”

Sanle said, “I don’t know his name.”

Erle asked, “How big is he?”

Sanle said, “The same as me.”

As soon as Erle learned that the kid was only as big as his little brother, he slapped the table and shouted, “Goddamn! Trying to bully my little brother, is he? I’ll show him a thing or two.”

By the time Sanle led Erle back to the street where the slapping match had taken place, the other boy had arrived with his own brother in tow. The other boy was taller than Erle by a head.

Chills ran down Erle’s spine, and he turned and said to Sanle, “Stand behind me, and don’t say a word.”

When the other boy’s big brother saw Erle and Sanle approach, he gestured at them with a dismissive air of nonchalance. “Is that them?” Then he approached, arms swinging expectantly back and forth, glaring balefully in Erle’s direction. “Which one of you hit my brother?”

Erle spread out his hands, palms up, and smiled placatingly. “It wasn’t me.” As he spoke, he lifted his index finger over his shoulder to point at Sanle standing behind him. “It was my little brother who did it.”

“Then I’ll beat up your little brother.”

“Let’s be reasonable and talk this thing out,” Erle said to the other boy’s brother. “If we can’t work things out, then I won’t stand in your way, even if you have to hit him.”

“So what if you did stand in the way?” He shoved Erle, sending him reeling several yards back. “I want you to stand in the way. I’m dying to beat the shit out of both of you.”

“I’m definitely not going to get involved.” Erle waved his hands for emphasis. “I’m the kind of person who likes to talk things out, to be reasonable.”

“Talk all you goddamn want.” He took a step forward and punched Erle in the nose. “First I’ll beat the shit out of you, and then I’ll beat the shit out of your little brother.”

Erle began to retreat, one step at a time, asking the smaller child as he went, “Who is this guy to you? What’s his problem? Why’s he so unreasonable?”

“He’s my oldest brother,” the child replied, not without a certain elation. “And I have another big brother too.”

As soon as Erle heard this, he shouted, “Hold everything.” He pointed at the two younger children. “This is no fair. My little brother called his second oldest brother, but your little brother went and got his oldest brother. That’s not fair. If you had any guts, you’d let my little brother go get our oldest brother too. You think you have the guts to take on our big brother?”

The other boy waved his hand through the air. “I’m not scared of anyone or anything. Go get your big brother then. I’ll beat the shit out of all three of you.”

Erle and Sanle ran home to fetch Yile. Yile came but was quick to realize as he arrived on the scene that the other boy was almost half a head taller than himself. He said to Erle and Sanle, “I want to take a piss first.”

As he spoke, he turned and walked down a lane. When he emerged, his hands were held behind his back. In his hands he held a sharp triangular rock. He approached the bigger boy with his eyes fixed firmly to the ground.

“ This is your big brother? Too scared to even look at me?”

Yile looked up long enough to determine just where the bigger boy’s head was located. Then he lifted the rock and brought it down on top of it. The bigger boy cried out once. Yile brought the rock down on his head three more times. The bigger boy tumbled to the ground, blood trickling onto the pavement around his head.

When Yile was sure the boy wouldn’t be able to get up again, he threw away the rock, wiped the dirt from his hands, and gestured toward his silent and frightened little brothers.