Mo Yan - Radish

The old blacksmith’s song was pushed far into the distance, like the buzzing of a fly. Hei-hai floated past the bellows, a shadowy figure, and stood in front of the anvil. His hand, coated with coal dust, scarred and burned, trembled as he reached out…

The hand was but inches away from the radish when the young blacksmith raced up and kicked over a water bucket, spilling water on the ground and soaking the old blacksmith’s bedding. He snatched up the radish, his good eye bloodshot. ‘You fucker! Dumb dog! Lousy bitch! What makes you think you can eat a radish? I’ve got a fire in my belly and smoke in my throat, and this is just the thing to quench my thirst!’ He opened his mouth, exposing two rows of blackened teeth, and was about to take a bite when Hei-hai, with a rare burst of speed, stuck his rail-thin arms under the man’s elbows, lifted him off his feet, and then let him slide down. The radish fell to the ground. The blacksmith landed a kick on Hei-hai’s behind, sending the boy into the arms of the woman. The mason reached out to catch him.

The old blacksmith stopped his hoarse singing and slowly stood up. The woman and the mason stood as well. Three pairs of eyes were fixed on the young blacksmith. Hei-hai’s head was reeling, everything was spinning. He shook his head to clear it and saw the blacksmith pick up the radish and put it in his mouth. Hei-hai threw a lump of coal at him. It sailed past his cheek, hit the flashboard and landed on the old blacksmith’s bed.

‘I’ll beat the shit out of you, motherfucker!’ the blacksmith roared.

The mason stepped between them. ‘You’re not going to do anything to the boy,’ he said.

‘Give him back the radish,’ the woman said.

‘Give it back? Hell no!’ The blacksmith ran out from under the bridge and threw the radish as hard as he could. It flew with a whooshing sound; after a long moment came a sound as if a rip had been made in the river’s surface.

A golden rainbow arced in front of Hei-hai’s eyes. He crumpled to the ground between the mason and the woman.

The golden radish splashed into the river, floating on the surface for a moment before settling to the riverbed, where it rolled around until it was buried in golden sand. A heavy mist rose above the spot where it had torn the surface of the river.

In the early morning hours, the mist covered the valley; the river sobbed beneath it. Early rising ducks on the riverbank stared mournfully at the rolling mist. One of the bold ones waddled impatiently toward the water, but the curtain of mist over reeds at the water’s edge blocked its way. Craning its neck left, right and straight ahead, it retreated from the spongy mist, quacking its displeasure. Eventually the sun rose and carved lanes and tunnels in the mist, through which the ducks saw an old man carrying his bedding and heavy tools over his shoulder, following the river westward. His back was badly bent, the load weighing down his shoulders and forcing his neck out ahead, swan-like. Once he was out of sight, a dark, bare-chested and barefoot boy came into view. A drake passed a meaningful look to the female next to it: Remember? It was him that time. The bucket bounced into a willow tree and rolled down to the river. He sprawled like a dog on the ground, and then went down to the river to get the nearly empty bucket; it could have killed that no-good sheldrake…

The female replied, Right, right, that damned sheldrake is always following me around, saying filthy things. Too bad it didn’t kill him…

Hei-hai paced slowly along the riverbank, trying to see through the mist. He could hear ducks quack-quacking noisily on the opposite bank. He crouched down, rested his large head on his knees and wrapped his arms around chilled calves. The rising sun burned his back as if it were a forge.

He’d spent the night under the bridge instead of going home. When the cock crowed he heard the old blacksmith speaking loudly in the bridge opening. Then quiet had returned. Unable to go back to sleep, he’d gotten up and walked across the chilled sand to the river’s edge. Seeing the old blacksmith’s hunched back, he’d started walking toward him but slipped in the sand and fell on his rear. By the time he was back on his feet, the old man had disappeared in the mist.

Now he was on his haunches, watching the sun cleave the mist like a knife through bean curd. Across the river, ducks cast superior looks his way. The water came into view as a bright, silvery expanse, but to his disappointment, he could not see the bottom. There was a commotion at the worksite — Director Liu was fuming: ‘Shit, something crazy happened at the forge. The old bastard rolled up his bedding and took off without a word to anyone. The little bastard is gone too. What happened to organisational discipline?’

‘Hei-hai!’

‘Hei-hai!’

‘Isn’t that him crouching by the water?’

Juzi and the mason ran over and picked him up by the arms.

‘Why are you crouching here, you poor thing?’ she asked as she picked straw from his scalp. ‘It’s too cold to be doing that.’

‘There are sweet potatoes left over from last night. Get old one-eye to bake them for you.’

‘The old blacksmith’s gone,’ Juzi said sombrely.

‘He is gone.’

‘Now what? Should we let him stay with the other one? What if he mistreats him?’

‘Don’t worry about that, the boy can take anything. Besides, we’re here, so he won’t do anything stupid.’

They dragged Hei-hai over to the worksite. At each step he turned to look back.

‘Walk properly, you little dope,’ the mason said. ‘What’s there to see in the river?’ He squeezed Hei-hai’s arm.

‘I thought the old guy kidnapped you, you little shit,’ Liu Taiyang said before turning to the young blacksmith.

‘And you, since you squeezed the old guy out, make sure you keep up the work. If you don’t fix the chisels for us, I’ll gouge out your good eye.’

The young man smiled arrogantly. ‘Wait and see, old Liu,’ he said. ‘But I get his wages and grain rations, or you can look for someone else.’

‘We’ll wait and see. If you do good work, fine. If not, you can fuck off.’

‘Light a fire, son,’ the blacksmith ordered Hei-hai.

Hei-hai was like a zombie all morning. His actions were erratic, his work sloppy. Sometimes he shovelled in too much coal, filling the opening with black smoke, other times he laid the chisels back end first, heating the wrong end.

‘Where the fuck is your head?’ the blacksmith cursed angrily. He was working up a sweat, excitement over his own skills seeping out through his pores. Hei-hai watched as he stuck his hand into the water bucket before quenching the steel. A rag covered the burn on his upper arm, which gave off a rank fishy odour. A pale cloud seemed to obscure Hei-hai’s vision; he was downcast.

After nine o’clock the sunlight was beautiful; a single ray lit up the western wall of the dark bridge opening, filling the space with light. The blacksmith took the tempered chisels and personally delivered them to the masons for inspection. Hei-hai tossed away the tool in his hand and tiptoed out of the opening. The sudden brightness was just as dizzying as sudden darkness. He froze for a moment before breaking into a run, and was standing at the river’s edge within seconds. The ridged dog-turd grass eyed him curiously. Purple water lilies and the brown caps of nut grass greedily sniffed the smell of coal dust on his body. The subtle aroma of water plants and the light stink of silver carp floated over from the river. His nose twitched, his lungs expanded like a turtledove’s wings. The river was white, shot with black and purple. His eyes stung, but he kept staring, as if to penetrate the quicksilver sheen on the surface. Then he hiked up his shorts, tested the water and sort of danced in. At first the water came up only to his knees, but it quickly reached his thighs. He hiked his shorts all the way up, exposing his grape-coloured buttocks. He was now standing in the middle of the river. Sunlight from all directions rained down on him, painted his body, bored into his black eyes and turned them the colour of green bananas at the dam. The river flowed swiftly, each wave striking him in the legs. He was on hard sand, but soon the water washed it out from under his feet and he was standing in a hollow, his shorts soaked, half stuck to his legs and half floating behind him, dyeing the water around him black from coal dust. Sand churning at his feet caressed his calves. Two amber-coloured drops of water hung on his cheeks, and the corners of his mouth twitched. He walked around in the water, feeling the bottom with his feet, seeking, searching.