Ha Jin - Under the Red Flag

That very night a jeep was going to Sand County to bring back the police chief, so they put Lu into the jeep, gave the driver a Russian 1951 pistol, and told him to drop Lu at Ox Village on the way. “If he escapes, shoot him,” the policeman said loudly to the driver.

Lu had never been in an automobile; though he felt rather excited seeing houses, lights, trees, and wire poles flitting past, he was too anxious to enjoy the ride. He dared not move his body in the jeep, and kept wondering what was waiting for him in the village.

It was past midnight when he was back in his house again. After lighting the lamp, he was surprised to find nothing seemed to have changed. Even the note was still under the lamp. He picked it up and saw, beneath his own writing, four big characters: “Nets Above, Snares Below.” It was Secretary Zhao’s handwriting.

Oh, Lu thought with a moan, it’s impossible to go anywhere. I can’t escape. They’ll never leave me alone until I write out what they want. All the officials are of one family; I can never jump out of their palms.

After burning the note over the lamp, he lit a joss stick to keep mosquitoes away. Tired of worrying, he remembered an old saying: “If the enemy come, we have troops to stop them; if a flood comes, we have earth to dam it.” Worrying is useless, he told himself; the cart will find its way around the hill when it gets there. He took off his clothes and went to bed, allowing himself not to think of anything. Soon he fell asleep.

He snored for seven hours without a stop. When he woke up, the sun already covered half the bed. He stretched his legs in the sunlight and began worrying about the confession and thinking how to avoid the trial in the evening. Unable to come up with a plausible excuse and unable to stop missing the slant-eyed waitress, he resumed cursing himself. All the trouble came from his inability to control his penis. Strange to say, that little fellow, ignoring its master’s disgust and hatred, went erect again, bulging the front of the underwear like a torpedo. Lu hated it. If only he could have plucked it out! It had no shame and fear, and wanted to go into action even in the face of danger and annihilation. He got up and put on his clothes. Still the erection wouldn’t go away. He gave it two slaps with the sole of his rubber shoe. The beating somehow scared the little devil down.

Lu went out, washed his face, took a corn cake, and hurried to the field with a hoe on his shoulder and a large straw hat on his head. Whatever had happened, he must not be slack in his work. He should pretend that everything was normal.

Evening came. With only five pages of writing and with the vision of the leaders furious at his attempted escape, Lu dared not go to the brigade’s office. He thought it better to stay home and wait until the leaders’ anger waned a little. If they asked him the next day, he would say he had a stomachache and couldn’t walk, and would beg them for a few more days. He cooked himself a pot of noodles with string beans, but he was too worried to enjoy the food; he forced himself to think how to make a few more passages of the confession.

The clock with a long pendulum ticked away on the red chest. In the room two ducks perched in a corner while a few chickens strutted and pecked about. On the broad brick bed were scattered his son’s clothes and toys and his wife’s sewing bowl, filled with scraps of cloth, threads, partly stitched soles, scissors, awls. It was stuffy, so after supper Lu took off his undershirt and pants, wearing only the shorts. He sat by the scrawled sheets of paper absentmindedly.

He didn’t expect the leaders would come to his home to look for him. The second he saw them in the yard, he lay down and held his stomach with both hands. They burst in, and Wang yelled at him, “Sit up, you son of a tortoise!”

“Oh, I’m sick.”

“Don’t play tricks with your grandpas. We can see through you. Get up. I saw you hoeing turnips two hours ago. No illness can be so quick. Get your damn ass up!”

Without a word Lu climbed up and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Why do you try to trick us?” Secretary Zhao questioned.

“I’m sick. I really can’t walk.”

“Cut it out,” Wang bellowed. “We know how you feel.” Then he lowered his voice. “All right, we’re going to take care of our patient tonight. Come with us. We’ll cure you of your illness in a couple of days.”

Lu was terrified, his scalp numb. He knew they would apply the tactics called “cartwheeling”—they would take turns questioning him day and night, not allowing him to sleep until he collapsed, confessed everything, even invented things to please them. He could not possibly resist so many of them. If necessary, the leaders could send for a platoon of militiamen. He was so scared that he broke into tears. “Oh, I’ve cracked my brains, but can’t write more. I really don’t know how to write. I’ve used a bottle of ink already. Please let me go just this once. I’m going to kowtow to you.”

“Hold it,” Wang ordered. “You can’t deceive us any longer.”

Scribe Hsiao stepped forward and restrained Lu from going to his knees.

“Oh, heaven,” Lu cried out, “how can I convince you of my sincerity? Do you want me to die? All right—my family’s already broken, and I don’t want to live anymore.” He pulled a pair of large scissors out of the sewing bowl and put them against his throat. “No more! If you want my life, say it. I’ll die here to show you my remorse.”

“Stop bluffing,” Wang said, smiling with contempt. “I know what stuff’U come out the moment you raise your buttocks. Do it, kill yourself. Then we’ll believe you’re a good, progressive comrade.”

“Lu Han, don’t take us to be beardless idiots,” Zhao said. “Who’s ever heard that a man killed himself with scissors. That’s woman stuff.”

“Do it,” Wang ordered. “Let’s have an eye-opener. We’ll name you a Revolutionary Martyr and give your family provisions.”

Lu was wailing, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Yes, do it,” Zhao demanded with his arms open. “We’re waiting. If you don’t, you’re not a Chinese.”

Lu moved down the scissors as if to prove his inability to kill himself. He turned around and bent down.

“What are you doing?” Wang said.

Lu ripped open his shorts, pulled out his scrotum, and cut it off together with the testicles. He dropped the cutting and fell to the ground, screaming and groaning. Immediately the chickens rushed over and carried away those meaty parts.

“Stop the chickens and get his balls back!” Wang yelled, kicking at a duck that was on its way to the bloody spot.

Both the secretary and the scribe ran out, but it was too late—the chickens had disappeared into the dark yard. Inside, Wang was busy stanching the bleeding with a towel. The sleeves of his white shirt were covered with bloodstains. Still Wang never stopped cursing. “Damn your ancestors. Who told you to do this? I hope you’re bleeding to death.”

“I hate it, hate it!” Lu said through his teeth, clenched to choke his moaning. One of his legs was twitching, the toe drawing small circles on the ground.

Finally Wang managed to tie up Lu’s crotch with three towels, and the blood was almost stopped. Then Hsiao returned with several men and with Chu’s horse cart. They wrapped Lu up with a flowery quilt and carried him out. The moment they placed him in the cart, the horses set out galloping to the Commune Clinic in Dismount Fort. Both the leaders went with the cart. They even gave Lu sweet-potato liquor on the way to stop him from moaning and shaking.

Lu’s self-castration earned him freedom. Nobody thought of pressing him for the confession again, since his act had indeed proved his remorse and sincerity. Naturally, a lot of men shook hands with him when he was back from town. The leaders even went to his father-in-law’s house the day after the castration and tried to persuade Lu’s wife to forgive him and come back home. On hearing of the sad news, Fulan burst into tears, saying she was guilty and shouldn’t have mistreated her husband that way. Her father, a well-respected old man, scolded her in front of the leaders and ordered her to go back at once. That very day she returned with Baby Leopard in Chu’s horse cart. Now she wanted to take good care of Lu and was determined to be a model wife.