Yan Lianke - Dream of Ding Village

A fresh scent drifted through the school, the faint perfume of grass and tiny plants that had begun to sprout from the crevices between the school walls. Translucent, pale yellow and green leaves shimmered in the sunlight like golden offerings. Spring had tiptoed in with hardly a whisper. Because of the stolen pleasures that had taken place in the schoolyard, the season had arrived there first, banishing the cold and wintry atmosphere and setting life in motion.

The residents of the school were still asleep, weary after a long night of excitement and drama. Most of the other villagers had risen with the sunrise, throwing open their pig pens and chicken coops to the promise of the first day of spring. But though the sun had been up for hours, the residents in the school were only just entering the land of dreams. The snorers had just begun their rumbling. The sleep-talkers had just begun their whisperings.

While all around them people slept, Jia Genzhu and Ding Yuejin got down to business. They slept in the same second-floor classroom on the east side of the schoolhouse. Jia Genzhu had risen first, awakened by the sunlight spilling through the window and on to his bed, warming his face. As soon as he opened his eyes, he went over to the window, saw that the day was already growing late, and hurried to the bed opposite to shake Ding Yuejin awake.

Ding Yuejin sat up groggily. After his head had cleared, he remembered the day’s important errand, dressed quickly and left the classroom with Jia Genzhu.

The two men went downstairs and crossed the schoolyard, heading for the little building next to the gate. When they reached Grandpa’s quarters, they peeked in through his window before knocking on the door. Almost as soon as they knocked, they heard a voice behind them, and turned to find Grandpa standing there.

Uncle was still fast asleep in bed, exhausted from his eventful evening. He had fallen asleep almost immediately after a brief fight with Grandpa, an argument they’d carried out in whispers.

‘I’m disappointed, son,’ Grandpa had told him. ‘I never thought you’d do something so shameful.’

Uncle hadn’t answered.

‘If you go on like this,’ Grandpa continued, ‘you’ll come to no good end.’

‘What does that mean, no good end? The fever is going to kill me anyway.’

‘What about your wife? Do you think you’re being fair to Tingting?’

‘You want to talk about fair? She wasn’t even a virgin when we got married, and she never even apologized for it.’

‘Well then, do you think you’re being fair to your son?’

‘I’m tired, Dad. I need to sleep.’

‘How can you sleep?’

Uncle stayed quiet and tried to concentrate on falling asleep.

‘What if Tingting or your in-laws find out?’ Grandpa asked.

‘How are they going to find out?’ Uncle rolled over and tried to fall asleep. Moments later, he was snoring quietly. His exertions of the previous evening — and, of course, being caught in the act — had sapped him of his strength. Like an exhausted runner who has just finished a marathon, Uncle needed his rest.

But Grandpa, torn between anger and worry, could find no rest. He sat up in bed, wide-awake, listening to his son’s irregular snoring and wishing he could strangle him in his bed. He would have strangled him, too, if only he had the strength.

Fully dressed, wrapped in his quilt, Grandpa allowed his mind to wander. He thought of many things yet found himself thinking about nothing at all. The idle droning in his head continued far into the night. By the time the sky grew light, his mind was a blank, a vast and desolate blank. He wanted to hate his son, but couldn’t; he wanted to pity him, but he couldn’t do that, either. He hadn’t enough of either emotion.

As the first rays of morning filtered through the window, Grandpa’s eyelids were heavy but he was no closer to sleep. He rose from his bed and moved towards the door. On his way out, he passed Uncle’s bed. It would be so easy to lean down and strangle him. Grandpa leaned down, but only to pick up a corner of the quilt that had fallen to the floor and place it over his son’s shoulders. As he did so, he noticed several new spots on Uncle’s shoulder, four or five swollen red lumps the size of large peas.

Grandpa ran his fingers over the lumps, examining them carefully.

Then he left the room, left the school and went out for a walk in the fields.

When Grandpa returned, he found Ding Yuejin and Jia Genzhu knocking on his door. Coming up behind them, he asked: ‘What’s the matter, boys?’

The matter turned out to be something unexpected, something Grandpa hadn’t foreseen. It was as unexpected as the sun rising in the west and setting in the east, or waking up one morning to find that a mountain had risen from the plain. As unforeseen as a field of ripe summer wheat in the dead of winter; or waters raging through an ancient riverbed that had lain dry for centuries.

When they heard Grandpa’s voice, the young men wheeled around to find him standing behind them, just a few feet away. Grandpa looked haggard and exhausted, the whites of his eyes covered with spidery red veins. Caught off guard, the two young men glanced at each other and tried to decide what to say.

Ding Yuejin spoke first. ‘Uncle, have you been up all night?’

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Grandpa answered with a rueful laugh.

Jia Genzhu gave Ding Yuejin a meaningful look, then cleared his throat. ‘Professor Ding, there is something we want to discuss with you.’

‘Sure. Go ahead.’

Genzhu tilted his head towards the gate. ‘Let’s talk over there.’

‘Anywhere is just the same to me.’

‘We wouldn’t want to wake Ding Liang,’ Yuejin explained.

They retreated to the school gate, taking up a position under the eaves of an adjacent building. The two young men stared at each other, as if trying to decide who should speak first. Finally, Genzhu nodded at Yuejin. ‘Go ahead.’

‘No, it’s better if you start.’

Genzhu allowed his eyes to rest on Grandpa’s face for a few moments. Then, setting his mouth in a straight line and licking his lips, he spoke. ‘Professor, Yuejin and I aren’t going to be alive much longer. We’ve been thinking it over, and there’s something we need to get off our chests.’

Grandpa waited.

‘We’re the ones who locked Ding Liang and Lingling in the storage room,’ Genzhu admitted with a smile.

Grandpa’s expression changed: he turned pale and looked confused, even a little frightened. Caught between anger and fear, he seemed like a man about to lose his grip and fall tumbling to the ground. He looked to Ding Yuejin, expecting that he, at least, would hang his head or look apologetic. But there was no hint of contrition in the young man’s face. Head held high, Yuejin wore the same smile as Genzhu, the same shameless grin that Grandpa had so often seen on the face of his own son, Ding Liang. The two young men said nothing, as if they were waiting to see how Grandpa would react.

Grandpa, astonished by their attitude, simply stared.

‘We might as well tell you the whole truth,’ Genzhu continued. ‘After we locked them in, we sent someone to give Lingling’s husband the key.’

Yuejin added, ‘Genzhu wanted to give your daughter-in-law a key, too, until I stopped him.’

Genzhu shot his friend a look. ‘I didn’t do it for your sake, Professor. I was thinking of you, not your son.’

‘Uncle, there’s something else we want to discuss with you. We know you don’t want your son’s wife to find out about his affair. So we’ve come to you with a proposition. Nothing bad will happen as long as you agree to it. Everything will be fine, once you agree.’

‘Agree to what?’ Grandpa asked.