Ha Jin - Under the Red Flag

Up on the ground a large-scale search for the bride was under way. Lilian had gone to Feng Ping’s office and cursed him in front of his subordinates. At first Feng wanted to have her dragged out, but on hearing that she had told his mother on him—the old woman was waiting at home to scold him—and that Hong had disappeared, Feng restrained his temper and began to worry, sweat breaking out on his narrow forehead. Obviously the whole thing had gotten out of hand. If Hong killed herself he would feel guilty all his life. Such a nice girl, she shouldn’t end up this way, in the hands of that rascal Pang Hai. With his squint eyes glittering, Feng told Lilian, “Stop blaming, all right? We must hurry and find Hong. It’s terrible. I hope nothing will happen to her.” Then he picked up the telephone and ordered the militia to search every dangerous cliff, ditch, pit, and hole in Dismount Fort and its vicinity, and report to him the minute they found her.

The militia in the Pangs’ yard changed their attitude at once and joined the family looking for the bride. They went to the railroad station and the six bridges in town. They combed several bushes and a few cornfields. Every reservoir in nearby villages was checked too. Nobody had seen a shadow of Hong, and group by group the men returned empty-handed. Hai never stopped cursing Feng Ping, declaring he would level the graves of Feng’s ancestors and annihilate the entire Feng clan if anything happened to his young wife.

It was almost dark. The half-moon cast a bluish curtain of mist on the tiled roofs, the treetops, the streets. Light bulbs flashed on one after another, and children were playing hide-and-seek on the streets. The militia had gone home for dinner, while the Pangs, Mrs. Chen, and Lilian were still searching. The well keeping Hong had been looked and shouted into several times, but Hong, clinging to the jagged wall, wouldn’t respond to the calling. She was uncertain who was up there and didn’t want to be surrounded by a crowd when she got out, though she was trembling all over and her stomach was twinging with hunger and fear. Finally came a familiar voice. “Hong, are you down there?”

“Yes, I’m here, Lilian!”

“My goodness, you are in there. Did you hurt yourself? Oh!” Lilian broke into tears.

“No, I’m all right.”

“Wait, we’ll pull you out.”

“Come back, Lilian. Come back.” It was too late to stop Lilian, who had left for help.

A few minutes later Hai and Mrs. Chen arrived with a rope and a large bucket. Hai shouted into the well while sobbing and lowering the bucket, “Hong, are you all right? Why do this to yourself? It’s not your fault …” Words just gushed out of his throat. Never had he been so talkative.

Hong climbed into the bucket. “I’m in it now. Pull,” she cried.

The second her feet touched the cement terrace, Hai embraced her and burst out wailing. “Even heaven collapsed, you shouldn’t do this. How could I live without you!” Despite her dripping clothes, he held her tight as though afraid of losing her again. She felt his arms and chest so warm and so powerful that she let herself go, leaning against him as if nesting in a comfortable bed. Lilian was wiping her cheeks with a white handkerchief.

“My little devil, how could you abandon your old mother!” Mrs. Chen said while wrapping her daughter with a blanket. She was also unable to control her tears.

Hong was too overwhelmed to say a word. The street was shimmering in the moonlight. A smell of baked sweet potato was lingering in the air and aroused a pang in Hong’s stomach. Together they walked back to the bridechamber, which would be safe and quiet for the first night.

At her husband’s funeral in the afternoon Lanlan cried so hard that she fainted and was unconscious for almost twenty minutes. The leaders of the production brigade assigned an oxcart to carry her back from the graveyard. Once home, she placed her one-year-old boy Kai on the brick bed and lay down beside him. Soon her sobbing subsided. She thought of returning to her mother’s in Quarry Village the next morning.

She wasn’t sure why she was so heartbroken. Certainly she missed her husband, but she couldn’t tell whether she loved him so much as to cry her heart out for him. Since their marriage, they had fought almost every week. Now it was over. Two days ago, her husband had fallen from their house while repairing the roof. He broke his neck on the edge of a large water vat and died instantly without leaving her a word.

Outside, a hen began clucking. That’s the black one, Lanlan told herself. Forty-six eggs now. Remember to boil ten for tomorrow’s trip.

Eggs reminded her that her husband had died without food in his stomach. This again brought tears to her eyes. Though he had often beaten her, they had managed to live together; as the old saying attests: “One night’s husband and wife guarantees a hundred days’ affection.” They had shared the same bed for twenty-two months and had been somewhat attached to each other. Besides, he had left her a son who was healthy and almost an exact copy of him.

Why am I so unlucky? she asked herself. I’m still young, just twenty-seven, a young widow. From now on, I’ll have to take care of everything inside and outside the house, and have to be both mom and dad to Kai.

As if something tore at her heart, she sobbed again, mumbling to the pillows, “A young widow, a young widow.”

It was getting dark. The smell of fresh corn cakes and fried soy paste began to fill Sea Nest Village. Sheep’s bleating and pigs’ squealing could be heard now and then. Lanlan didn’t cook, but she knew she had to eat so as to nurse the baby. Lying in the dim room, she remembered Ailian, who had been a young widow for only a year and then married another man. But Ailian is a beauty in the village, she said to herself. I can’t compare myself with her.

She heard a creak at the door. “Who is it?” she asked loudly. No sound. It must have been a dog, she thought. Since no food had been left in the outer room, she didn’t bother to get up.

Suddenly the door curtain burst open and a man jumped in. “Keep quiet,” he hissed, waving a long knife.

By instinct she turned to reach for the sleeping baby. “Don’t move!” rasped the man.

She froze, staring at him. He was a small man, bony and pallid. His hair was long and unkempt, and his round eyes were glowing luridly. Though scared, she managed to ask, “What do you want?”

“I want your thighs.” He grinned, revealing two broken teeth. He moved close and ordered, “Take off your pants, and don’t make any noise or I’ll stab you and the little bastard.” He pointed the knife at the baby.

A cramp stiffened her right leg, and she obeyed him, slowly untying her waistband.

“Quick, you bitch!” He stuck the knife into the waist of her pants and ripped it open. His left hand grasped a thick layer of flesh on her belly as his other hand stood the knife on the wooden edge of the bed. Then with both hands he pulled off her pants and briefs and threw them to the earth floor.

She was about to cry, but stopped at the sight of the knife. She was lying on the bed helplessly.

The man unbuckled his pants. “If you make a noise, I’ll stab you through. Got it?”

She nodded, unable to say a word. He smelled of grass and mud; his belly was flat and hairy.

“Look at these thick thighs,” he said, pinching her hip. “I thought I had luck today. Such an ugly thing. What lousy luck! These swollen udders.” He fingered his long mustache. “Well, I guess I have to make do.” He yanked at her breast and pressed his other hand on her shoulder.

With her nipple in his mouth, he began to enter her, moaning lustfully. Anger surged up in her. Slowly her hand moved to the knife, held it, pulled it off, raised it and thrust it into his rib cage. “Oh!” he gasped, and jumped up, tearing the cut open. The knife bounced off and hit the wall with a clang as her hand suddenly felt the warmth of his blood. He staggered away to the door. Then she heard a thump in the outer room.