The Explosion Chronicles (11 page)

The light in the Zhu family courtyard was hot and bright, leaving everyone covered in sticky sweat. Kong Mingliang would have preferred to first wash his face with cold water and cool himself off before going to see Zhu Ying. After stepping through the gate, he looked around the courtyard and saw that, under the wall, Zhu Ying was washing her dishes with water from a faucet that had been placed there to irrigate the plants. “Why don’t you wash your dishes in the kitchen?” he asked. When Zhu Ying didn’t turn around, he suspected that maybe he had just thought this question to himself and hadn’t actually uttered it out loud. So he mustered the courage to ask in a louder voice, “Why don’t you wash your dishes in the kitchen?”

Zhu Ying still didn’t turn around, acting as though she hadn’t heard a thing.

In reality, of course, Zhu Ying knew perfectly well that he was standing there. When the gate opened, she knew he had arrived. But she ignored him, acting as if she were completely unaware that someone had come in. It was only after he had asked three times in a row that she finally finished washing her dishes and turned around and looked at him, as though looking at a mule that had gotten run over. She saw that he appeared pale and that his brow was covered in beads of sweat. The loudspeaker by the riverbank began blaring, announcing that the citizens of Explosion Village should finish eating and hurry back to the assembly site, because the vote-counting had almost concluded, and the officials would soon announce the first democratically elected village chief since the founding of the People’s
Republic of China. The sound from the loudspeaker was loud and coarse, and the voice stuttered, with every syllable spat out like a string of pebbles. After the announcement, Mingliang and Zhu Ying both took a moment to recover. They stood in the courtyard looking at each other for a long time, but in the end it was Zhu Ying who could no longer restrain her mockery, and as she pursed her lips traces of a smirk remained visible around the corners of her mouth.

“Have you come to ask me to withdraw?” she asked, still facing the interior of the courtyard.

He asked, “Why didn’t you dine with the town and county mayors?”

“I didn’t have time. I’ve decided to be the village chief.”

“Tell me the truth—Zhu Ying, did you sleep with the county and town mayors?”

“The kitchen faucet is broken.” She put the newly washed electric rice cooker and dishes in the kitchen. “You’ve already missed your chance.”

“I know you received more votes,” Kong Mingliang said, following behind. “I just want to know what your relationship is with the county and town mayors.”

“The loudspeaker is urging everyone to convene,” Zhu Ying said. “You and I should also return to the assembly site.”

He then stood in front of her and said, “Give me the position of village chief, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

She looked at him, and said, “What can you do for me?”

“You just need to tell me one thing.” His lips were trembling slightly. “Did you or did you not sleep with the county and the town mayors?”

She asked again, “What can you do for me?”

“I’ll marry you.”

“Will you kneel down and swear?”

He looked at her.

“Kneel down and swear!”

He finally knelt down and said, “If you let me be village chief, I’ll marry you immediately. After the marriage, I’ll take responsibility for everything outside the household and you can take responsibility for everything inside, and in this way all of Explosion will be ours. In the village, you’ll be able to do whatever you want.” When he finished speaking, he looked up at her. He felt that the tile floor of her house was as hard as iron, as though he were kneeling on a bed of nails. Outside, the loudspeaker continued to blare, calling out his and Zhu Ying’s names and urging them to quickly report to the assembly site. At forty-five minutes past the hour there would be an announcement of who had been elected the new village chief. Mingliang ignored the loudspeaker and continued to kneel there, gazing at Zhu Ying’s tantalizingly attractive appearance with a pleading expression. Zhu Ying, however, listened carefully to the loudspeakers, then looked down at him. Slowly pulling him to his feet, she said, “I knew that this day would come sooner or later… . Let’s go, or we’ll be late for the announcement.”

CHAPTER 6
Traditional Customs

1. WEEPING AT THE TOMB

I.

After the announcement that Kong Mingliang had been elected village chief, it occurred to him that it had been more than a year since the villagers last went to weep at their families’ grave sites in the mountain ridge cemetery. This custom of weeping at the family grave site had been almost forgotten. It wasn’t even necessary to really cry; rather, one would just go and kneel to one’s ancestors. Kong Mingliang, however, suddenly wanted to go to the grave site and weep. Initially, Zhu Ying had received 820 votes, while he had received only 410—which is to say, he received precisely half the number of votes that she did. Moreover, those who voted for Zhu Ying were all young people, most of them under forty, while those who voted for him were all older people in their fifties and sixties who wanted to spit in disgust whenever they heard about prostitution. Among
the village’s young people, there was not one who wasn’t entranced by Zhu Ying’s money, which flowed like water. Nearly everyone had daughters who claimed their money came from working in the south, but virtually all of them had in fact followed Zhu Ying and were earning their money doing sex work. This is something every family tacitly recognized but wasn’t willing to acknowledge out loud. As new houses sprouted everywhere like mushrooms, the village became increasingly wealthy, and even though the villagers were not willing to say nice things about Zhu Ying, they thought well of her. As a result, she received twice as many votes as Kong Mingliang.

The announcer, however, stated that Kong Mingliang had been elected village chief, with 820 votes, while Zhu Ying received only 410. Upon hearing this, the audience first reacted with a stunned silence but then broke into wild applause. Amid the applause, the county and town mayors came to congratulate Kong Mingliang on his election. Music began playing over the loudspeakers, and there were fireworks outside the assembly hall. Kong Mingliang walked to the front of the stage and took a bow, thanking everyone who had elected him and promising that within two or three years Explosion would become as prosperous as a major metropolis. Zhu Ying also congratulated him and shook his hand the way that city people do. While doing so, however, she whispered, “In a few days, we’ll get married!” He shook her hand as though accepting her congratulations and felt that her hand was light and soft, without a single callus. It felt as though he were shaking hands with a wad of cotton. Responding to that hand’s warmth and softness, he nodded in agreement.

At that moment, he suddenly remembered that for two years the village had not maintained its practice of weeping at the grave site. So, after Mingliang had taken the county and town mayors out to lunch and had let the reporters from the city take some photographs, the mayors both said that they needed to go take care of some business
and Mingliang escorted them to their cars. He watched as they drove out of the Balou Mountains, and the citizens who had gathered in the assembly site returned to their homes. The sun exhaustedly made its way west, as the entire world transitioned from tumult to quiet. As stillness unfolded, the riverbank was empty apart from a handful of people dismantling the stage. The broken stools had been simply tossed aside, and discarded shoes and ballots were scattered all over the ground. Kong Mingliang stood in the road seeing off the mayors, until their cars faded from sight, like horses galloping into the sunset. Only then did Zhu Ying turn around and repeat very solemnly,

“I want to get married right away.”

Mingling replied with a wan smile, “It appears that you and the mayors really didn’t have any kind of relationship.”

“Don’t you want to get married?” Zhu Ying asked. “Marriage is good.”

“What I want is to go to my ancestors’ grave and weep in their memory,” Mingliang said. “I haven’t wept for them in a long time, and I have to tell them what has happened in the village.”

Some people called out something from onstage, and they both headed toward the stage. Mingliang went first, and Zhu Ying followed behind. When Zhu Ying caught up to him she grabbed his arm like a city girl, at which point Mingliang felt so dizzy he almost collapsed. Her arm, however, held him up, like a rope, while also making it impossible for him to walk away.

Even more than before, he wanted to go to his ancestors’ grave site and weep.

II.

The Kong family grave site was located several
li
outside the village. It was oriented from south to north, so that the sun shone down on the graves all day long. The cemetery contained more than
ten generations of ancestors, including dozens of graves. Each one had a willow or a cypress growing over it, making the scene look as if a forest had suddenly sprouted in the middle of the mountains.

As the sun was setting in the west, there was a tiny sound of something moving. The field of wheat had turned green. Everything appeared very peaceful, but there was a sense of emptiness. For some reason, after Kong Mingliang was reappointed village chief, he wanted to cry. He proceeded alone to visit his family’s grave site, and before he even got there his face was covered in tears. When he arrived, a breeze blew over from the graves and caressed his face, and only then did he begin to wail like a small child. He collapsed in front of the grave of one of his ancestors, as though he had suffered an unfathomable indignity. Because the grain in front of the graves had already begun to transition from its winter state and to sprout new spring growth, each stalk straightened its back, then turned to watch him cry. No one could understand why he was crying like this. Even Mingliang himself didn’t know; he simply cried and cried. Some wild hares that had just come out of hibernation were watching him, and several crows landed on the grave. His hoarse sobbing was like a river of mud, covering the entire mountain ridge in yellow sludge. His shoulders shuddered as his tears poured out from between his fingers as he held his hands up to his face. As he wailed, however, he resembled a child performing in front of its parents. He continued until he didn’t feel like crying anymore. By this point the sun had almost set in the west, and he heard a voice in his head say,
Stop crying!
Therefore, he stopped. He wiped away his tears and the snot on his hands, and felt that the crying spell had left him refreshed, as though there were a bright light shining in his heart. He wanted to use that light to see something, and after resolving to do something, he got up, but then saw his brothers Mingguang and Minghui half-squatting and half-kneeling behind him. There were
tears behind Mingguang’s eyes, though in the end he did not cry them out. Minghui, meanwhile, did not appear particularly sorrowful but rather was very quiet. When the sun finally set, the last rays of light shone down onto Minghui’s face. He appeared simple and pure, as though he were artificial—as though he were a jade statue with a square face, broad shoulders, and thick red lips. He was quite tall, but had it not been for his clothing and short hair, he might have been mistaken for a girl.

Mingliang stared silently at Minghui.

Mingguang, however, wiped away his tears, then smiled as he walked forward. He said, “Today, you received twice as many votes as Zhu Ying.”

Shifting his gaze from his fourth brother to his eldest brother, Mingliang suddenly blurted out,

“Zhu Ying and I are going to get married.”

Kong Mingguang stared at Kong Mingliang in surprise, as though he no longer recognized his own brother.

“Has our father agreed?”


I
have agreed.”

There was another pause, whereupon Minghui, as though trying to break the silence, announced happily, “Today we received a letter from Third Brother that he has received a commendation in the army, and he’ll be promoted.”

Mingliang was pleasantly surprised. With a smile, he stared at Minghui for a while, then brushed off the dirt on his knees and his butt and began walking toward the grave. His two brothers followed behind. There was a long silence, as though a curtain had been draped over their heads. By this point the sunlight had completely disappeared, and the mountain path became dark and quiet, and their footsteps resonated as though they were drumsticks tapping on the earth’s crust. But in the blink of an eye, the moon emerged from
behind a cloud. You could see that in Explosion there were many villagers who had come out of their houses, and they were all going to weep at their families’ graves. They didn’t really want to weep, but rather they were merely following tradition. Every year, on one day in the month following the Qingming grave-sweeping festival, all families would return to their ancestors’ graves to weep and to tell their ancestors what was on their minds. In this way, their hearts could be at ease for the rest of the year. It was also said that on this day when the village chief went to his ancestors’ graves to weep and tell them what was on his mind, he also visited the graves of the ancestors of the other villagers as well. There were the sounds of countless footsteps, and there were many lights and voices emerging out of the stillness. He heard a family crying beside a grave and mumbling something. Lights appeared wherever there were graves—appearing in all directions, along the hillside and in the ravine. There was the sound of crying everywhere, as though each family had suffered a boundless injustice.

The three brothers proceeded through that cascade of tears back to the village.

They initially assumed that since the villagers had gone to weep at the grave sites, the village itself would therefore be empty and quiet; but when they arrived in the village square they discovered that there were some villagers who had not gone to the graves in the mountain but rather had come to these new graves in the square—to weep and burn incense and paper money, filling the village streets with dense clouds of smoke. As the brothers approached, they saw that one of the mourners was Zhu Ying. She was kneeling at her father’s grave and was burning three incense sticks, and she had laid out three bowls of offerings. In a loud, clear voice, she announced to her father,

“I’m about to get married. You can rest in peace. In the future, Explosion will continue to belong to our Zhu family.

“… I’m about to get married. In the future, Explosion will continue to belong to our Zhu family!”

The Kong brothers immediately stopped to listen to what she was saying, as though watching her perform a scene in a play. Next, Cheng Qing came out. She and her mother were carrying a basket full of funeral money and sacrificial offerings. They were also each carrying a flashlight, whose beam shone back and forth under the moonlight, like a big round piece of yellow silk fabric being dragged along the ground. As Cheng Qing and her mother passed in front of the Kong brothers, the mother stopped and exchanged some warm words with them, then stroked Minghui’s face and asked how could he have grown up so quickly? However, Cheng Qing, who as the village board secretary would have been expected to say something upon seeing the newly elected village chief, merely nodded her head. Since the announcement that Mingliang had been elected village chief, she had not appeared in his presence. Even now, she did not address him as Brother Mingliang—as village custom would have dictated—and neither did she address him more formally as Chief Kong. Instead, she tried to avoid his gaze as she walked toward her ancestors’ graves to weep.

Mingliang stared at her in surprise. She proceeded a few paces, then turned around, and their gazes met under the moonlight. Only then did she ask somewhat awkwardly,

“Will I still serve as the village board secretary?”

“Of course,” he said, coming up to her. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Are you definitely going to marry Sister Zhu Ying?” She looked over toward Zhu Ying and saw that Zhu Ying was looking over at her.

“We’ll get married right away,” Mingliang said. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Of course it’s a good thing … I just want to go weep at my ancestors’ graves.” As Cheng Qing was speaking, her eyes filled with
tears, and she urged her mother to hurry. The two of them disappeared into the moonlight, like a couple of yellow leaves on an autumn day. At that moment, Zhu Ying walked over from her father’s grave, held Minghui’s hand, then gazed at Mingguang and addressed him familiarly as Eldest Brother, as though she and Mingliang were already married and she were already a member of the Kong family.

2. WEDDING INVITATION

When Mingliang’s father Kong Dongde heard that Mingliang and Zhu Ying were going to get married, he immediately dropped the birdcage he was holding. The cage door opened and the container of birdseed spilled out. A pair of parrots, which had been pets their entire lives, squawked in surprise and flew away.

The parrots were never seen again.

Kong Dongde had been sitting under the house awning and using a piece of bamboo to clean up the bird droppings in the cage, as Mingliang stood next to him and told him about the marriage.

“Zhu Ying and I are now engaged.”

His father had frozen, and after a long pause he slowly turned and asked,

“Doesn’t Cheng Qing treat you well?”

“I promised Zhu Ying we would immediately get married.”

It was at that point that Kong Dongde had dropped the birdcage.

The swallows that had flown back for the spring were busy building nests under the awnings, and their cries seeped into the cracks of the silence between father and son. The old elm tree in the courtyard was full of pear blossoms, and a strong smell of Chinese toon wafted over. Watching his parrots fly away, Kong Dongde knew that they were going far away and would never return. He was heartbroken and regretted his reaction. He looked at his son,
who had appeared unusually somber ever since being elected village chief, and said,

“Did Zhu Ying give you the position of village chief?”

Mingliang replied, “We are ready to get the marriage certificate.”

“She will be the death of me,” his father said. “It is on account of her dead father that she wants to marry into our Kong family.”

“Send her a wedding invitation,” Mingliang said. “Can’t several hundred votes for village chief be exchanged for a wedding invitation?”

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