Mo Yan - Pow!

With Father (actually, with me) in command, the United Meatpacking Plant began production as scheduled.

I was enjoying a meal in the kitchen.

‘Your father's the plant manager,’ Huang Biao said, ‘but you run the show.’

‘I'd be careful with what I say, Huang Biao,’ I replied sternly although I was secretly pleased with his words. ‘My father won't be pleased that thought.’

‘It's not just what I think, my young friend. It's what everyone thinks. I can't help repeating what I hear. It's my nature. I just thought you'd like to know.’

‘What else do they think?’ I said, trying to sound casual.

‘That sooner or later Lao Lan will fire your father and hire you in his place. If you ask me, there's no need to be humble when that day comes. Having officials for parents is never as good as being one yourself.’

I turned my attention back to the meat in front of me and ignored him but I didn't ask him to stop. His flattering remarks—half true, half false—were like spice for the meat, stimulating my appetite and giving me a sense of true comfort. When I finished the meat, I felt replenished and sated. It now lay in my stomach, waiting to be digested, as I drifted off into a state of suspended animation, as if afloat in the ether. Thinking back now, those were among the happiest days of my life. When I first went to the plant kitchen to feast on meat during working hours, I did so on the sly so as not to be seen. But the day came when I could openly enjoy my meals. When we were gearing up for production in the workshop, I'd say: ‘Yao Qi, take over while I go to the kitchen to think.’

‘Go ahead, Director, leave everything to me,’ he'd reply deferentially. ‘I'll let you know if there are problems.’

I gave such heavy responsibilities to Yao Qi not to patch up relations between him and my parents but because he'd become such a good worker—it was the right thing to do. I had no authority to give him an official title or status but he was the de facto director when I was away. I'd also planned to repay the kindnesses of Cheng Tianle, but he had changed and not for the better. He walked about with a frown and never said a word, as if people owed him money and refused to pay it back. My good opinion of him was pretty much a thing of the past.

It was clear that many of the men, including Yao Qi, resented the fact that I ate in the plant kitchen during working hours. I had no way of knowing what truly lay behind the the sweet words and smiles with which he greeted me. But I had no time to waste worrying about that. Why should I? Meat was my life, my love; the meat that went into my stomach, and only that meat, was mine. Meat in my stomach made me carefree and happy, and if the men were unhappy, if they were envious, if they drooled at the thought of it, even if they were downright angry, that was no concern of mine. They could drop dead for all I cared.

I told Lao Lan and my parents that the way to ensure that United flourished was to see that I remained strong and vigorous and that my creative juices kept flowing. An endless supply of meat guaranteed both. The only thing that kept my brain functioning was a bellyful of meat. Without it, my brain was like rusty machinery. My parents withheld their response to my request but Lao Lan roared with laughter.

‘Luo Xiaotong,’ he said, ‘Director Luo, is there even a remote chance that this plant could not supply you with the meat you desire? No, I want you to eat. Eat as much as you can, set a new standard of eating, create a model of eating and, in the process, establish the prestige of our plant.’ He turned to my parents. ‘Lao Luo, Yang Yuzhen, meat-eaters are fated to enjoy prosperity and power. Paupers are not blessed with a well-developed digestive system. Do you believe that? Well, I do. The quantity of meat any individual is slated to eat is predetermined at birth. For you, Luo Xiaotong, the quantity is probably twenty tonnes, and the King of Hell will see that you eat every bit of it.’ Another hearty laugh, this time joined in by my parents.

‘We're lucky United Meatpacking is in financial good shape,’ Mother said. ‘Any other plant would have gone bankrupt!’

‘Why don't we organize a meat-eating competition?’ said Lao Lan in a burst of inspiration. ‘We can hold it in the city, even show it on TV. Then, when Xiaotong takes first place, United gets free advertising.’ Waving his fist excitedly, he carried on. ‘It's great idea! Think about it—a mere boy finishes off a platter of meat! But that's not all—he can hear meat talk, he can see its face. He can't lose, and the image of him destroying the competition is beamed into thousands and tens of thousands of living rooms. The impact will be mind-boggling! Xiaotong, you'll be famous! And as you, director of a workshop at United Meatpacking, will be feasting on our meat products, we'll be famous too. Huachang meats will be the best brand of all, and all the consumers will trust only our meat. Xiaotong, eating meat will be your finest contribution, and the more you eat the greater the contribution.’

‘First place in meat-eating?’ Father shook his head. ‘He'll be seen as nothing but an empty vessel for food and drink.’

‘Lao Luo, your backsliding has become serious,’ commented Lao Lan. ‘Don't you watch TV? Contests like this are all the rage—beer-drinking, meat-pie-eating, even leaf-eating. In fact, everything but meat-eating. No, we're going to do it. The effect will be felt not only in China but worldwide. Our meat products will show up in shops all over the world. Everywhere, people will be able to enjoy Huachang meats—meats you can trust. And when that happens, Luo Xiaotong, you'll have achieved international fame.’

‘Lao Lan,’ Mother said with a smile, ‘have you got drunk on meat, like Xiaotong?’

‘Not having your son's talent or luck, I don't know what it feels like to be drunk on meat. But I can, unlike you two, appreciate his vivid imagination. Your biggest problem is that you see your son through the eyes of parents. That's a mistake. First, forget he's a child, and second, forget he's your son. If you can't do that, you'll never be able to discover his value, his unique gift.’ Lao Lan turned to me: ‘Worthy Nephew, let's settle this here and now. We'll organize a meat-eating contest, if not in the next six months then some time later in the year, and if that fails then next year. Your sister is a talented meat-eater, too, isn't she? She can be a part of what will be a true sensation…’ There were tears in his eyes as he continued: ‘Worthy Nephew Xiaotong, all sorts of feelings rise up in me when I'm in the presence of a boy who knows how to eat meat. There are two meat-eating virtuosos in this world, you and the son of my third uncle, who sadly died way before his time…’

A while later, Huang Biao was ordered to set up a new stove in the kitchen, one that could accommodate a larger pot; it was to be reserved for Luo Xiaotong's exclusive use. Huang Biao was then ordered that stock be constantly boiling in the pot and the meat cooking at all times. A ready supply of meat for Luo Xiaotong was the key to United's prosperity.

Word soon got out of my daily supply of free meat, as well as of Lao Lan's plan of sponsoring a meat-eating contest. One day, three unhappy workers confronted me at the entrance to the meat-cleansing building. ‘Xiaotong,’ they said, ‘just because your father is the manager and your mother is the bookkeeper, and just because you're the director of this workshop and Lao Lan's protégé, does not mean that we have to kowtow to you! What makes you so special anyway? You can't read—a blind man can open his eyes but he still can't see—which makes filling that big belly of yours with meat your only talent.’

‘First of all, I'm not Lao Lan's protégé,’ I interrupted. ‘Next, I know enough characters to read what's important. As for my talent, I'm good at eating meat but I don't have a big belly. Tell me, would you call this a big belly? Eating lots of meat with a big belly is nothing to boast of. Eating the same quantity with a small belly is. If you don't want to kowtow to me, go tell Lao Lan. We can have a contest. If I lose, I'll step down as workshop director and leave the plant for good. I'll go out into the world or back to school. Of course, if I lose, someone else will have to enter the contest, maybe one of you.’