Ma Jian - The Dark Road

‘I can hear him shooing them on! Quick! That way!’ Meili hurries to the bow and points into the darkness.

Kongzi jumps ashore, grabs a sack and a wooden stick and sets off up the hill, following the man’s voice. Ten minutes later he returns dragging a large sack of ducks. He takes out the birds and counts them one by one. ‘We’re eight short,’ he says. ‘When the thief saw me, he grabbed two ducks by the neck and bolted off into the hills.’ They search the bushes, find another six ducks, then return the birds to the hutch, bolt the enclosure gate and go to check the bamboo hut. The two crates of ducklings and bags of birdfeed are still there, but the radio is gone. Kongzi runs outside and curses the village: ‘Evil bastards! The ancients were right: “Barren hills and untamed rivers spawn wicked men!”’

‘Be quiet,’ Meili says. ‘The villagers have let us “dwell beneath their hedge”. Don’t antagonise them… Oh God! It looks like he stole the cash we buried. What if he comes back to murder us? Who would bury our bodies?’

‘He can’t have found it. I’ll dig a little deeper.’ Since they set up home here, Kongzi has been stashing their cash in a hole he dug beside the hut. ‘Don’t be silly. No one will kill us. During his thirteen years in exile, Confucius toured the nine provinces and never once came to harm… You’re right, the cash has definitely gone.’ Kongzi rubs the mud from his hands, tramps back to the boat, sits down at the bow and lights a cigarette. ‘We must view this setback as a blessing,’ he says, watching Meili climb back onto the boat. ‘As the ancients said, “Today’s financial loss prevents tomorrow’s disaster.” Our cash has been stolen so that Waterborn can be granted a safe birth.’

‘Touring the country, you say? Hah! We’re not tourists, we’re fugitives, you idiot. I’m fed up of this vagabond life, Kongzi. You think of yourself as some great philosopher, roaming the country, contemplating the troubles of the world, with me tagging along as your humble disciple. Well, I’ve had enough, I’m telling you! What if that man was from the family planning team? What if he sends his colleagues down to arrest us?’

‘No, he was just a simple village thief. I’ve told you — the family planning officers here don’t care about illegal births. They’re happy for the villagers to have as many children as they want, so long as they pay the fines. The more maimed children are sold, the richer everyone gets. No one wants to kill the golden goose. So stop worrying.’

‘If we can’t return to your village, let’s go back to mine. I want to live in a house with a tiled roof. Nannan should be going to school now. This rootless life isn’t good for us. Let’s sell the boat and go home.’ Meili squashes two mosquitoes on her arm then wipes the blood on the cabin’s canopy.

‘Officers have told your parents to report us to the police if we turn up,’ Kongzi says. ‘So we’ve nowhere to return to now.’

‘But I’m tired of traipsing behind you,’ Meili says, folding an empty plastic bag and placing it under the bamboo mat to use later.

‘You’re tired of me? But I’m a model husband. I don’t play mahjong. The moment I wake up, I make breakfast for us. Didn’t you say you wanted to live in Heaven Township? Once the baby’s born, we’ll sell this batch of ducks and sail south.’

‘I still have another month to go. I heard that in Guangxi Province, family planning teams with metal helmets and shields have been storming into villages to carry out forced abortions. A village priest who tried to take away the aborted fetuses and give them a proper burial was beaten up and put in jail.’

‘This is Guangdong Province — it’s much more relaxed than Guangxi.’ Kongzi turns off the torch and lights another cigarette. ‘Do you remember, in Kong Village, how we’d hear frogs croak until dawn, just like that poem by Han Yu? But at night this filthy creek is as silent as death.’

‘What about the buzzing of the mosquitoes?’

‘Huh! Where’s the poetry in that? Just now, you used the phrase “dwell beneath their hedge”. Do you know which poem that comes from?’

‘Stop testing me. Let’s go back to sleep. You must go into the village in the morning and track the thief down. He’ll probably be roasting the ducks by then, so the smell should lead you to his house.’ Meili lies back down on the bamboo mat, turns onto her side and feels the taut skin of her large belly relax. ‘Oh God, Kongzi! I just realised we left our tricycle cart on the sand island! How could we have forgotten it?’

‘Didn’t I tell you? Someone stole it while we took Weiwei up to Yinluo. All I found when we got back was a single wheel chained to the tree…’

‘“Summer wildfires cannot destroy the grass, / For in spring, soft winds will restore it to life…”’ Father recites his favourite line of poetry and flicks his cigarette butt into the creek. Then he returns to the cabin, squeezes down next to Mother, drapes his leg over hers and unhooks her bra. ‘Bet the mosquitoes haven’t got to these two soft dumplings yet.’

‘Get your hands off me!’

‘What are they for, if not for me to fondle?’

‘It must be nearly four o’clock. You’ll wake the rooster.’

‘Until the baby’s born, these belong to me.’ Father leans over and moves his lips towards Mother’s nipple.

‘Those weighing scales take up too much space. Let’s throw them away.’

‘But I use them to prepare the feed.’

Mother pushes the scales out of the way, then folds her arms over her chest as Father coils around her and buries his face in her hair. ‘I warn you, I have nits! Don’t bite me… Get off! Stop pressing on my belly…’ Nannan opens her eyes. Mother quickly covers them with her hand and says, ‘Close your eyes, Nannan, and go back to sleep!’

Overlapping this scene, the infant spirit sees Father, a few days later, sitting in the cabin, listening to a man say, ‘We grew up together, Kongzi. You’re a brilliant strategist. Without your help, we’ll get nowhere.’

Father puts down his glass and says, ‘Kong Qing, you’re like a brother to me. I admire you for wanting to stand up for the Chinese people and protect the Kong family line. But the rebellion you’re planning is doomed to fail. This country has changed since the Tiananmen Massacre. The people have lost their fighting spirit. Where would you base your stronghold?’

‘In Wild Man Mountain. It’s easy to defend. Armies with heavy artillery wouldn’t be able to climb it.’ The two men are cross-legged on the cabin floor, smoking. The kerosene lamp illuminates the blue notebook, ashtray and carton of deep-fried broad beans on the cardboard box between them.

‘I admit, if you demanded the repeal of the One Child Policy, every peasant in China would support you. But what would you do next? Overthrow the Communist Party? Challenge the People’s Liberation Army? You say you want to take over every family planning office in the country, but you must understand that once you’ve occupied them, you’ll become an easy target. It’s a game of chess. You might take their knight, but if they nab your queen in the next move, you’re finished.’

‘All right, forget about the Fertility Freedom Party, then. Let’s form a suicide squad instead! Like those Muslim suicide bombers, we’ll storm government offices, detonate ourselves, and take the whole corrupt lot of them with us!’ Kong Qing punches his fist onto the bamboo mat. Although this scene took place years ago, his punch still judders down to the base of the boat and sends ripples through the moon’s pale reflection.

‘I’m not afraid of death,’ Father says. ‘I’m sure you and I would have the balls to storm every family planning office in China. But we’d just be letting off steam. We wouldn’t achieve anything.’