Yiyun Li - The Vagrants

“What's that for?” Bashi asked.

“So we don't have to see her eyes.”

“Why?”

“That's where her ghost looks out, to see anybody responsible for her death. Once the ghost sees you, she'll never let you go,” Kwen said. “Especially a young female ghost. It'll come and suck you dry.”

“Superstition,” Bashi said. “I would rather have someone to suck me dry.”

Kwen snorted a half laugh. “I've eaten more grains of salt than you've eaten rice. It's up to you whether you believe me, but don't cry for help when you need me.”

“What are you afraid of? We're only helping her,” Bashi said. He pointed to the middle part of the body. “What's that? Did she get another shot there?”

The two men came closer to examine the body's lower back, where the uniform had been soaked in blood that already was dry and dark brown. Unable to lift the clothes by layers, Kwen tore hard at the fabric and tried to separate the clothes from the body.

“Be careful,” Bashi said.

“Of what? She won't feel a thing now.”

Bashi did not reply. When Kwen ripped the clothes off the body, they both looked at the exposed middle part of the woman, the bloody and gaping flesh opening like a mouth with an eerie smile. Bashi felt warm liquid rise in his throat and threw up by a bush. He grabbed a handful of snow and wiped his face, its coldness refreshing, reassuring.

“Not pretty, huh?” Kwen muttered. He had already put the body into two burlap sacks, and was working to bind the two sacks together with ropes.

“What did they do to her?” Bashi said.

“They probably took something from her before they shot her.”

“Something?”

“Organs. Kidneys maybe. Or other parts maybe. Old stories.”

“What are they for?”

“Haven't you heard of transplants?” Kwen said.

“No.”

“I thought you had some education,” Kwen said. “Who knows who has her body parts now? Sometimes it's not even for a transplant, but the doctors need to practice so that their skills remain sharp.”

“How do you know?”

“If you live to my age, there's nothing you don't know,” Kwen said.

“How old are you?”

“Fifty-six.”

“But I bet there's one thing you don't know,” Bashi said. With the body secured in the sacks, he felt safe and in good humor again.

“That is?”

Bashi walked closer and whispered to Kwen: “Women.”

“How do you know I don't know women?” Kwen said, looking at Bashi with half a grin.

“You're an old bachelor, aren't you?”

“There are so many ways to know women,” Kwen said. “Marrying one is the worst among them.”

“Why?”

“Because you only get to know one woman.”

“Do you know a lot of women?”

“In a way, yes.”

“What way?”

Kwen smiled. “I heard people in town talking about you as a fool. You are too curious to be a fool.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are a man with a brain, and you have to use it.”

Bashi was confused. Other than his grandmother, he had never been close to a female. “Can you show me the way?” he asked.

“I can show you where the door is, but you have to get in and find the way by yourself,” Kwen said, and lit a cigarette. “Let me tell you a story. I heard it from older people when I was your age. Once upon a time, there was a woman whose husband liked to sleep with other women. The wife, of course, was not happy. ‘What makes you leave me and seek other women's bodies?’ she asked. Her husband said, ‘Look at your face—you're not a pretty one.’ The wife looked at her face in the mirror and then came up with a plan. Every evening, she cooked vegetable dishes and made them as fancy-looking as possible: radishes carved into peonies, peas linked into necklaces and bracelets as if they were made of pearls, bamboo shoots cut into the shape of curvy women.”

Bashi swallowed loudly without realizing it.

“At the beginning, the husband was impressed. ‘You've become a wonderful cook,’ he said to his wife, but after dinner he still went out to sleep with other women. After days of eating the vegetable dishes, the husband asked, ‘Where are the pork chops and beef stew you cook so well? Why are you not cooking them for me now?’ The wife smiled and said, ‘But, my master, they don't look pretty at all.’ The husband laughed and said, ‘Now I understand you.’ And from then on he never went out with another woman again.”

Bashi stared at Kwen when he stopped talking.

“The story is over,” Kwen said.

“What happened?”

“I just told you a story, and the story is over.”

“What happened to the man? Why did he stop going to the other women?”

“Because his wife taught him a lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“Use your head. Think about it.”

“I'm bad at riddles. You have to tell me the whole story,” Bashi said.

“Why do I have to?” Kwen said with a smile.

“Oh please,” Bashi said. “Do you want another pack of cigarettes? A bottle of rice liquor?”

“If you promise me one thing, I will tell you.”

“I promise.”

“Don't you want to know what the promise is?”

“As long as you don't want me to kill a person.”

“Why would I want you to kill a person?” Kwen asked. “If I want to, I can handle it much better than you.”

Bashi shivered, as Kwen looked at him and laughed. “Don't worry,” Kwen said. “Why would I want to kill someone? So this is what's going on: Her parents gave me the money for a coffin and for the burial. But what I think is a coffin won't make a difference to anyone, her or her parents or you or me, so I'm going to spare the trouble.”

“It's understandable.”

“But you have to promise me not to tell anyone. I don't want people to know this.”

“Of course not.”

Kwen looked at Bashi. “If I hear anything, I'll wring your neck, do you understand?”

“Hey, don't frighten me. I don't do well with bad jokes.”

Kwen picked up a branch thick as a man's arm and broke it in half with his hands. “I'm not joking with you,” he said, looking at Bashi severely.

“I swear—if I tell Kwen's secret to anyone, I will not have a good death,” Bashi said. “Now can you tell me the lesson?”

Kwen looked at Bashi for a long moment and said, “The lesson is this: A pretty face is nothing; for a real man, what matters is the meat part, and in that part all women are the same.”

“Which part is that?”

Kwen shook his head. “I thought you were a smart boy.”

“Then tell me,” Bashi said, slightly agitated.

“I've told you enough. The rest you have to figure out for yourself,” Kwen said, and went back to work on the sacks. When he had secured them together, he grabbed one end of the body and tested the weight.

“If you don't explain, I won't help you with the body anymore,” Bashi said.

“That suits me fine.”

“I'll die if you don't tell me.”

“Nobody dies from curiosity,” Kwen said with a smile.

“I'll stop being your friend then.”

“I had no idea we were friends,” Kwen said. “Now, why don't you go your way? I'll go mine.”

Bashi sighed, not ready to leave Kwen. “I was only kidding,” Bashi said, and when Kwen grabbed one end of the body, Bashi took the other end, and together they heaved the body onto their shoulders. It was heavier than Bashi thought, and a few steps later, he was panting and had to put the body down. Kwen let go of his end and the body hit the ground with a heavy thump. “What a straw boy,” Kwen said. “What would you do with a woman even if you had one?”

Bashi breathed hard and bent down to hurl the body onto his shoulder. Before Kwen caught up with him, he started to walk fast, and then stumbled across a tree stump and fell down with the body pressing on top of him.