Mo Yan - Frog

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Before the Cultural Revolution, narrator Tadpole's feisty Aunt Gugu is revered as an obstetrician in her home township in rural China. Renowned for her sure hands and uncanny ability to calm anxious mothers, Gugu speeds around town on her bicycle to usher thousands of babies into life.
When famine lifts and the population booms, Gugu becomes the unlikely yet passionate enforcer of China's new family-planning policy. She is unrelenting in her mission, invoking hatred in her wake. In her dramatic fall from deity to demon, she becomes the living incarnation of a reviled social policy violently at odds with deep-rooted cultural values.
As China moves towards the millennium, a new breed of entrepreneur emerges with a perverse interpretation of the decades-old law. Tadpole finds himself again caught up in the one-child policy and its unpredictable repercussions on the human price of capital.
Frog is an extraordinary and riveting mix of the real and the absurd, the comic and the tragic. It presents a searing portrait of China's recent history, in Mo Yan's unique and luminous prose.

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You must be going to market to sell a pig.

That’s right, a pig.

I didn’t see a thing.

He let me go. Two morons were of one mind.

Please tell Little Lion that I rode my sister to Jiaozhou and put her on a highway bus to Yantai, where she was to buy a ticket for a boat to Dalian, and from there take a train to Harbin. I’m sure you know that Chen’s mother was from Harbin, and he has relatives there. She took plenty of money with her, and she’s very smart. You know how clever Chen Bi is. They had this all planned ahead of time. It’s been thirteen days, and Wang Dan has gotten to where she was going. Your aunt’s hand isn’t big enough to cover the heavens. She can have her way with things at the commune, but not in the rest of the world. My sister is seven months pregnant, so by the time your aunt finds her, the child will already have arrived. So your aunt can give up on this one.

Then why do you want me to tell them?

It’s the only way I can gain salvation, and the only thing I can ask of you.

All right, I said.

7

I really am a weak-willed person.

After marrying Little Lion, I should have lit a red candle and sat alone in front of it till daybreak as a means of expressing my remorse to Renmei and letting her know I missed her. But I only sat there till midnight before going to bed and embracing Little Lion.

It had rained heavily the day I married Renmei; a downpour also struck on the day I married Little Lion. Lightning crackled with blinding blue-white streaks, followed by deafening thunder and a cloudburst. The sound of sluicing water came from all directions; wet winds carrying the smell of mud and the stink of rotten fruit poured into the house through the windows. The candle sputtered briefly and then went out. That struck fear into me. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky for several seconds, time enough for me to see the bright lights in Little Lion’s eyes. It turned her face a golden yellow. The blast of thunder sounded as if it were out in our yard and carried a scorched odour into the house. Little Lion cried out in fear and I held her in my arms.

I’d thought that Little Lion was hard as wood, never imagining that she could be as soft as a papaya. A full, round papaya from which juice oozes at the lightest touch. She had the texture of papaya and the same rich aroma. It would have been unfair to compare the new with the old, so I forced myself to keep my thoughts from getting away from me. But failed. When Little Lion and my bodies came together, so did our hearts.

Little Lion, I said shamelessly, in my eyes you and I make a better couple than Renmei and I did.

She covered my mouth with her hand. Some things ought not to be said.

Wang Gan asked me to tell you that thirteen days ago he rode Wang Dan to Jiaozhou, where she took a highway bus to Yantai, and from there went to the northeast.

Little Lion sat up. Another bolt of lightning lit up her face, which had turned from a look of passion to one that was sombre, even cold. She wrapped her arms around me and lay back down. He lied to you, she whispered. Wang Dan could not have gotten away like that.

Then, I said, does that mean you’re letting her go?

That’s not for me to say. It’s up to Gugu.

Is that what she has in mind?

I doubt it, she said. If that’s what she had in mind, she wouldn’t be Gugu.

Then why haven’t you taken any action? Don’t you know she’s already more than seven months along?

Gugu didn’t pass on taking action. She has her people quietly making inquiries.

Have you found her?

Well… she hesitated briefly, then rested her head against my chest. I can’t hide anything from you. She’s in Yanyan’s maternal grandmother’s house, in the same hole Wang Renmei hid in.

What do you plan to do?

Whatever Gugu wants me to do.

What does she plan to do? The same as before?

She’s not that dumb.

So then what?

Gugu has already had someone inform Chen Bi that we know where Wang Dan is hiding and that he is to tell the Wangs that if they don’t send her out, the tractor will come tomorrow and pull down their house as well as those of her neighbours.

Yanyan’s grandfather is a stubborn man. Will you really do that if he stands his ground?

Gugu’s idea isn’t to get the Wangs to send her out, but for Chen Bi to go in and bring her out. She promised him that all his property will be returned if he brings her out so the pregnancy can be terminated. Thirty-eight thousand yuan is a good reason to do as she says.

I heaved a long sigh. Why are you people so ruthless? Isn’t killing Wang Renmei enough?

Wang Renmei had only herself to blame, Little Lion said coldly.

It seemed to me that her body suddenly went cold.

8

For days on end it was cloudy and drizzly; the roads were disrupted, keeping the buyers of our local peaches from getting through. Every family had picked fruit. Some went into baskets that piled up like a little mountain, keeping the rain off with plastic cloths, some were just stacked willy-nilly in the yard so the rain could do its damage. Peaches do not keep well; in previous years, the trucks had driven right into the groves, where the fruit was picked, weighed and loaded straight onto the trucks. The drivers didn’t mind working all night so they could get on the road at first light and make deliveries many miles away. This year the heavens seemed to have decided to punish people who had enjoyed a succession of fine harvests by putting an end to clear days when the fruit ripened. With a series of heavy rains, moderate rains and drizzles, if the people chose not to pick the fruit, it rotted on the trees. If they did pick it, there was a glimmer of hope in waiting for the skies to clear, so the trucks could drive in and load up. But there were no signs of clearing on this day.

Our family only had thirty trees. Because Father was getting old, the trees were not well tended, yet they produced a modest harvest of nearly six thousand jin. We only filled sixteen baskets, due to a shortage of baskets, which we stored in a side room. The rest we simply laid out in the yard and covered with plastic cloth. Father kept going out in the rain to lift a corner of the cloth and check the peaches. And each time the cloth was raised our noses were hit by the smell of rotting fruit.

As Little Lion and I were newly married, my daughter stayed with Father. She ran after him every time he went out into the rain, carrying a little umbrella with animals printed on it.

She treated us with cool courtesy. She held her hands behind her back when Little Lion offered her sweets, but said, Thank you, Gugu.

Call her Mama, I said.

She glared at me, shocked.

She doesn’t have to, she doesn’t have to call me anything like that. People call me Little Lion — she pointed to the lion on her umbrella — so you can call me Big Lion.

Do you eat children? my daughter asked.

No, I don’t eat children, Little Lion answered her. I protect them.

Father brought in some overripe peaches in his conical hat and peeled them with a rusty knife. He sighed.

Might as well eat the good ones, I said.

But these are money, Father said. The heavens don’t care about us common folk.

Dad — this was the first time Little Lion had called him that, and it felt awkward — the government won’t just stand by. They’ll come up with something.

All the government knows is family planning, Father said with obvious resentment. Nothing else interests them.

The village committee loudspeaker sounded just then. Worried that he might miss something, Father ran into the yard to listen carefully.

The voice over the loudspeaker announced that the commune had made contacts in cities like Qingdao and Yantai, and that trucks had been sent to meet up at the Wu Family Bridge, some fifty li distant, to buy our peaches. The commune appealed to the people to deliver their peaches to the bridge by land and by water. The price would be less than half that of previous years, but it was better than letting them rot.

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