Mo Yan - Frog

Chen had a big laugh over that. Are you writing a novel, young man? he said when he finished laughing. Now I’ll tell you the real story. I’ve flown on aeroplanes many times, and I’ve bought my own ticket for every flight. I do have friends at the Jinan tobacco plant, and they sold me cigarettes at a slim discount, enough for me to make three fen per pack.

No matter what you say, you’re someone who knows how to get things done, my cousin said with heartfelt admiration. My dad wants me to become your apprentice.

The one who really knows how to get things done is right here, Chen Bi said, pointing to Yuan Sai. He’s conversant with heavenly principles and earthly truths. He knows everything that happened five hundred years ago and half of what will happen five hundred years from now. He’s the master you’re looking for.

Elder Brother Yuan is a great man too, my cousin said. He set up his fortune-telling stand back home in the Xia Village marketplace, where we know him as the Little Immortal. When an old hen in my aunt’s house went missing, Elder Brother Yuan curled his fingers and said, Ducks on the river, chickens in the grass. Go see if there’s a grassy nest. Well, that’s exactly where we found it.

He’s not just a diviner, Chen Bi said. He can do lots of things. If he taught you even one of them, you’d have enough to live on for the rest of your life.

Kowtow to the master, Wuguan said.

No, the things I do are appropriate only for someone in the lower walks of society who’s eking out a living. You need to follow your cousin by going into the army and becoming an officer. Or take the college exam and go to school. Those are the paths to a bright future as a leading member of society. Yuan Sai first pointed to himself and then to Chen Bi. We, including him, are not engaged in lines of work that are on the up and up. We do what we do because we have no choice. But you, you’re still young, so don’t follow in our footsteps.

No, my cousin insisted stubbornly, you’re the ones with real skills and abilities. That’s not the case with the army or college.

Good for you, young man. You think for yourself, that’s good. In the future, we can work together, Chen Bi said.

Where’s Wang Gan? I asked Wuguan.

I’ll bet you anything he’s posted himself at the health centre.

That guy’s possessed, Chen Bi said. A team of horses couldn’t pull him away from it.

The problem is his house, Yuan Sai said mysteriously. The front door is in the wrong place, so is the toilet. I told your father-in-law more than a decade ago that he had to make changes to his front door and to move the toilet; if not, someone in his family would go batty. He thought I was putting a curse on him and picked up a whip to use on me. So what happened? What I warned against came true. Every chance he gets he picks up a cane, bends at the waist, and goes to the health centre to put on a shameless act. If that isn’t batty, I’d like to know what is. Wang Gan’s no better, a farmer with petty bourgeois ideas who’s gone gaga over that pimply Little Lion. In other words, batty.

All right, everyone, forget Yuan Sai’s eyewash and come inside, I said. Come inside, all of you.

The feng shui of our commune is no good, either, Yuan Sai said. Since olden days, the yamen, the official residence, has always faced south. But the gate of our commune faces north, and is directly opposite the slaughterhouse, where knives go in clean and come out red all day long, with blood and guts everywhere, and a grisly atmosphere. When I went to complain they accused me of propagating feudal superstitions and barely fell short of locking me up. So what happened? The old Party Secretary Qin Shan suffered a paralytic stroke and his brother, Qin He, has been crazy for years. When Qin’s replacement, Secretary Qiu, took a dozen people down south on an inspection tour, there was a traffic accident that killed or injured every one of them. Feng shui is of vast importance. No matter how unyielding a fate you have, it’s never greater than that of the Emperor, and not even he is immune to the power of feng shui.

Take your seat, I said again as I gave Yuan Sai a tap on the shoulder. Feng shui is important, good master, but so are eating and drinking.

If they don’t do something about the commune main gate, more people will go batty, and more major incidents will occur. You can believe me or not, Yuan Sai said. It’s up to you.

Wang Gan’s one-sided infatuation with Little Lion led to many strange occurrences that were the talk of the village. He was a laughing-stock, but I never laughed at him, for he had both my sympathy and my respect. He was, in my view, a uniquely talented individual who had been born in the wrong time and place. A devoted lover, if chance had allowed, he could have composed a sentimental love poem that would be sung for millennia. During our childhood, when we were ignorant of what romantic love was all about, Wang Gan was in the first bloom of love for Little Lion. I recall how years before he had said: Little Lion is so pretty! By any standard, she was not a pretty girl, not even attractive. My aunt had once thought of introducing her to me, and I’d declined with the excuse that she was the girl of Wang Gan’s dreams. To be perfectly honest, her looks were a turn-off. But in his eyes, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. In elegant terms, it could be a case of a lover seeing in her the classical beauty Xi Shi; less elegantly, it could be seeing a green bean through the eyes of a turtle — the size and colour make a perfect match.

After posting his first love letter to Little Lion, Wang Gan was so excited he dragged me down to the riverbank to pour out his feelings. That was in the summer of 1970, soon after our graduation from the rural middle school. Grain stalks and dead critters were being swept along by raging waters over which a solitary gull flew quietly past. Wang Renmei’s father was sitting on the riverbank fishing in the calmer water close by. Li Shou, a schoolmate younger than us, was crouched down watching him.

Want to tell Li Shou?

He’s just a kid, he wouldn’t understand.

We climbed an old willow tree halfway down the riverbank and sat side by side on a branch that reached out over the water. The tip actually broke the surface, creating a series of ripples.

What do you want to tell me?

You have to promise not to tell anyone.

Okay, I promise. If I breathe a word of what Wang Gan tells me, let me fall into the river and drown.

Today I… I finally dropped a letter to her in the postbox…

Wang Gan had turned pale and his lips quivered as he spoke.

To who? The way you’re acting, it sounds like you wrote to Chairman Mao.

Why would you say that? What does Chairman Mao have to do with me? No, I wrote to her. Her.

Who is ‘her’? I started to tense up.

You promised to never tell anyone.

I promised.

She’s as far as the ends of the earth, yet right in front of your eyes.

The suspense is killing me!

Her, she… A strange look came into Wang Gan’s eyes. With a tone of longing, he said, She’s my Little Lion.

Why write to her? Want to marry her or something?

You and your practical view of things! Wang Gan said emotionally. Little Lion, my dearest Little Lion, the one I want to love with all my youth, with my very life… my love, my true love, please forgive me, for I have already kissed your name a hundred times…

Cold chills and goose bumps were my only reaction. Wang Gan was obviously reciting his letter as he wrapped his arms around the trunk, face pressed tightly against the bark of the tree, tears in his eyes.

… I fell under your spell the first day I saw you at Xiaopao’s house. From that moment till this very day, till the end of time, this heart of mine belongs to you only, and if you wished to eat it, I would unhesitatingly dig it out for you… I’ve fallen in love with your bright pink face, your lively nose, your soft lips, your fluffy hair, and your sparkling eyes; I’ve fallen in love with your voice, your smell, and your smile. Your laughter makes me dizzy, makes me want to fall to my knees, wrap my arms around your legs, and gaze up at your smiling face…