Yu Hua - Chronicle of a Blood Merchant

Erle’s brigade chief gestured toward Xu Sanguan, “Well, it’s all true.” He lifted his cup. “Bottoms up!”

Xu Sanguan, forced to follow his lead, downed his liquor in one gulp.

Erle’s brigade chief wiped his mouth. “I don’t mean to brag, but you won’t find a better brigade chief for at least a hundred miles around. I always apply the same principle in whatever I happen to be doing. My watchword is that if everything’s aboveboard, no one’s going to rock the boat.”

Xu Sanguan began to feel dizzy, and he remembered Genlong, and that Genlong was in the hospital. When he thought about how serious Genlong’s condition was, he began to feel that he would be in the hospital himself before too long. His head spun faster and faster, and his heart was racing and thudding inside his chest. His legs seemed to be trembling as well. And within a few seconds the trembling had spread to his shoulders.

Erle’s brigade chief said to Xu Sanguan, “Why are you shaking like that?”

Xu Sanguan said, “I’m cold. I feel cold.”

“You’ll warm up after a few more drinks.” He lifted up his cup. “Bottoms up!”

Xu Sanguan shook his head. “I really shouldn’t have any more.” As he spoke, he thought to himself, One more, and I’m a dead man.

Erle’s brigade chief lifted Xu Sanguan’s cup and forced it into his hands. “Come on now, all in one gulp!”

Xu Sanguan shook his head. “I really can’t drink any more. I’m in pretty bad shape. I’ll pass out. The blood vessels in my head will burst.”

Erle’s brigade chief pounded the tabletop. “So what? That’s what drinking is all about. You’ve got to drink, even if it kills you. You know why? Because it’s better to harm yourself than to hurt a friend’s feelings. If you really think of me as a friend, you’ll drink this cup.”

Xu Yulan said, “Go on, Xu Sanguan. The brigade chief is right. It’s better to harm yourself than to hurt a friend’s feelings.”

Xu Sanguan knew what Xu Yulan meant but could not say aloud. He had to do it for Erle’s sake. Xu Sanguan decided to drink. He would drink for Erle’s sake. He would drink so that Erle could be transferred back to town. He gulped down the liquor.

When this third cup of liquor slid down his throat, his stomach began to pitch like the high seas in the midst of a storm. He knew he was going to vomit. He rushed out the front door, let out a moan, and began to retch. His stomach quivered as he expelled the liquor, and the pain was so sharp that he couldn’t stand up straight. When he was finished vomiting, he knelt on the ground for a minute before slowly rising to his feet. He wiped his mouth and, with tears still streaming down his face, returned to his seat.

As soon as Xu Sanguan returned, the brigade chief poured him another glassful of liquor. “Drink! Better to overdo it than hurt a friend’s feelings. Have another drink.”

Xu Sanguan repeated to himself, Do it for Erle. Even if it kills you. Drink. He took the cup into his hands and drained it in a gulp.

Xu Yulan, seeing the state he was in, grew frightened. “Xu Sanguan, I think you’ve had enough. Something might happen to you.”

Erle’s brigade chief cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense! Nothing’s going to happen to him.” He poured another glass and handed it to Xu Sanguan. “The most I ever drank at one go was two quarts of liquor. I couldn’t drink any more after the first quart, so I stuck my finger down my throat and vomited it all up. Once I had cleared my stomach out, I was ready for another quart.”

Discovering that the first bottle of spirits was already empty, he said to Xu Yulan, “Go buy another bottle.”

That night the brigade chief drank until he too began to feel intoxicated. He stood and walked unsteadily to the front door. Then he turned to one side and began to pee into the street. When he had finished peeing, he swung slowly around, gazed blearily toward Xu Sanguan and Xu Yulan, and announced, “That’s all for tonight. We can drink some more next time I come by.”

After Erle’s brigade chief left, Xu Yulan helped Xu Sanguan to bed, removing his shoes and his shirt and covering him with the quilt. After she tucked him in, she went to clear the table.

Xu Sanguan lay with his eyes shut, disturbed only by the occasional hiccup. After a few minutes his hiccups slowly turned into snores.

He slept until late the next morning. When he awoke, his whole body ached. Xu Yulan had already gone to fry dough. Xu Sanguan slowly picked himself out of bed. His head ached so badly, he thought it might split. He sat by the table and drank a glass of water. Then he remembered Genlong. How was Genlong doing? He had to go to the hospital and find out.

When he arrived at the hospital, the bed Genlong had been lying in the day before was empty. Pleasantly surprised that Genlong had been discharged from the hospital so soon, he asked the other patients in the ward, “Where’s Genlong?”

“Who’s Genlong?” came the reply.

“The man who came in yesterday with a cerebral hemorrhage.”

“He died.”

Genlong dead? Xu Sanguan stood with his mouth hanging open, gazing at the empty bed. There weren’t even any sheets on the bed, just a burlap mattress cover. There was a bloodstain on the burlap that had been there for so long, it had begun to turn black.

Xu Sanguan emerged from the hospital and sat on a pile of bricks outside the door. The winter wind sent chills through his body. He stuffed his hands inside his sleeves and hunched his shoulders so that his collar would shield his neck. He sat and remembered Genlong. And Ah Fang. He remembered the first time the two men had taken him to sell blood. He remembered how they had taught him to drink water before selling blood, and how they had taken him to eat fried pork livers and drink yellow rice wine afterward. He remembered Genlong, and when he was finished remembering, he sat and cried.

After Yile returned to the countryside, he grew weaker and weaker by the day, until even the effort of lifting his own arm would leave him panting. At the same time his body began to feel colder and colder. He covered himself with whatever he could find, but he still couldn’t get warm, so he put on a cotton-padded jacket, got under his quilt, and went to sleep. And still when he woke up in the morning, his feet would be icy cold.

This went on for two months. Yile lay in bed, sleeping for whole days on end, eating cold rice and drinking cold water, until he grew so weak that he couldn’t even speak.

It was at this point that Erle came to visit. Erle had departed from his own production brigade that afternoon, traveling by foot for three hours before he arrived. It was almost dark by the time he got there. Erle stood outside Yile’s door, knocking and calling his name. Yile heard him arrive, and he wanted to get up to answer the door but simply did not have the strength. He wanted to say something, but he could not speak.

After Erle called his name, he pressed his face to the door frame and peeked inside. He saw Yile lying in the dark, gazing at the door. His lips were moving, but no sound emerged. Erle shouted to him, “Open the door! It’s snowing out here, and the northwest wind is howling, and the snow is coming down my neck. I’m just about frozen stiff. Let me in! You know I’m here, so why won’t you open the door? I can see you looking at me. I can see your mouth moving, and I saw your eyes. What? Are you laughing at me? This isn’t any time to joke around. I’m just about freezing to death out here. Goddamnit, stop fooling around! My feet are going numb. Don’t you hear me stamping my feet? Yile, open the goddamn door!”