The Explosion Chronicles (8 page)

“When it comes time to vote for village chief, I hope your family will vote for me.

“At the end of the day, we are all Kongs, and it is ultimately better for a Kong to serve as village chief than for an outsider.

“The plot of land on which your home rests is somewhat smaller than everyone else’s. Once I’m elected, the first thing I’ll do will be to grant you a larger plot.”

The brothers went to visit another family, and similarly offered them gifts and exchanged a few pleasantries, then asked, “Are your parents still bedridden? Why don’t we send them to the hospital!” Irrespective of what the illness happened to be, they carefully propped
up the invalid and assigned someone to take him to the hospital for an exam, while also providing the family with money to cover the medical expenses.

After visiting all of the households in Explosion, the Kong family split up to visit the families in Liu Gully and Zhang Peak. In order to convince everyone to vote for Mingliang, Kong Dongde and three of his sons rode to battle. Kong Dongde unloaded the tractor-full of gifts on the mountain ridge road. He told his eldest son, Mingguang, to go pay a visit to all of the families with school-age children and told Mingliang to visit the families whose daughters had followed Zhu Ying into the city. Meanwhile, Kong Dongde himself went to visit those families with sick elders, and he told Minghui to stay on the mountain ridge to keep an eye on the remaining gifts and wait for them to return.

Kong Mingliang went to visit a family whose daughter had followed Zhu Ying into the city. As soon as he entered the courtyard, he saw the newly constructed residence and exclaimed, “Great house! Great house!” He proceeded inside and looked around both upstairs and downstairs, then suggested to the family where they could install a water faucet and put in a couch. Finally, he sat down in the living room and sipped tea from a large teacup the home’s owner brought him. Smiling, Mingliang made small talk, and once his hosts were in good spirits, he went in for the kill, saying,

“Do you know what your daughter is doing in the provincial seat?”

Neither of the parents responded.

Kong Mingliang said sternly, “She is working as a whore! For her to have to work as a prostitute is worse than our going to the train tracks behind the mountain to unload goods. Please vote for me for village chief. Once I’m elected, the first thing I’ll do is bring your daughter back from the city and help her find a good job—a
job that will be easy, respectable, and well-paying. Then I’ll help her find a husband from a good family, so that she’ll live out her days in comfort!”

The parents were both embarrassed and deeply moved. The look of anguish on their faces gradually softened and they agreed to vote for Kong Mingliang, explaining that although their family had become wealthier and they were able to live in a new house, their feeling of resentment toward the daughter of the Zhu family could never be erased. Upon leaving this family’s home, Kong Mingliang offered the couple some additional suggestions and promises, then went back up to the ridge to fetch gifts for the next family. Because the next family was more cultured and dignified, Kong Mingliang didn’t go in for the kill as he had done with the first family, and instead looked over the house and the yard, and repeatedly complimented his hosts. Finally, he sat down to chat and told them that they mustn’t believe others who claimed that their daughter was in the city following Zhu Ying’s example and engaging in dissolute activities. He said he had recently been in the city and had seen their daughter, and that she was working in a factory and had relied on her skills and labor to earn enough money for her parents to build a new house. The parents maintained a dignified expression and said that they never believed their daughter could engage in those sorts of activities either, given that she had, after all, received a good upbringing.

“But it is true that Zhu Ying has engaged in these sorts of dissolute activities,” Mingliang asserted. “It is definitely the case that Zhu Ying is a whore, though for some reason the higher-ups still permit her to be a candidate for village chief.”

“No one will vote for her,” the family said emphatically. “We, at any rate, wouldn’t vote for her even if our lives depended on it.”

In this way, this family was accounted for, and it was certain that the members would vote for Mingliang. He therefore left them
and approached the gate of another new home, grasped the owner’s hand, and pleaded for her help, then headed back to the mountain ridge. In the truck, the Kongs originally had one gift for each family, and there were still some gifts left. It was another two or three days until the election and, taking advantage of the fact that Zhu Ying had not yet returned, Mingliang rushed to distribute the remaining gifts. He ended up visiting every family that had originally been planning to vote for Zhu Ying, and in this way Explosion would become the Kong family’s, and Kong Mingliang would be able to realize his life’s dream.

IV.

On a mountain path between Liu Gully and Zhang Peak, Kong Minghui waited as his father and brothers repeatedly returned to the tractor to fetch more gifts—as though waiting for the sun to rise and set. He felt that the colorful gifts in the trunk of the tractor, which were still in their original bags, resembled a flock of sparrows locked in a cage. He wanted to set these sparrows free so they could fly home and so that he, too, could return home to finish his homework. He actually wasn’t interested in passing the college entrance exams, but when he did well on his homework and his teacher held up his assignment and praised him to the rest of the class, he felt as though this were a form of bribery. Although he would usually bow his head in embarrassment, afterward his classmates would gaze at him enviously. Their envy made him feel reassured, and even joyful. He was still young and had not yet begun worrying about practical matters like establishing a family, and a career. He didn’t yet have a trace of facial hair, and his classmates who had already hit puberty all said that he looked like a girl, as white and pure as a girl’s untouched breasts.

He was this sort of a child, a typical middle-school student.

When Kong Minghui returned home on the weekend to get some more grain money, he found his father and elder brothers busy
preparing for the election. His eldest brother, who was twelve years older, was a teacher. Minghui felt he could talk most easily with his eldest brother, since they were both in a school. But when Minghui asked, “Does Second Brother really need to be village chief?,” Mingguang merely stared at him in surprise and asked in return, “If Second Brother doesn’t keep his position as village chief, how will Explosion end up belonging to the Kong family?”

Kong Minghui didn’t understand what relation there was between Second Brother’s becoming village chief and Minghui’s own studies or Eldest Brother’s teaching, but he nevertheless recognized that this was what their father most desired and what Second Brother was most excited about. Minghui therefore agreed to accompany his father and brothers and take a carful of gifts to a mountain path between Liu Gully and Zhang Peak. He looked at those two villages separated by a ridge and saw that virtually every house was a brand-new building with a tile roof. By this point, spring had arrived but green growth had not yet begun to appear along this mountain ridge, and those new buildings resembled splotches of paint on a blank canvas. Minghui simply couldn’t understand how those villages had grown wealthy so fast, and that now everyone had money and was strolling around in the latest fashions.

Indeed, everyone in Explosion was so interested in earning more money that no one seemed willing to slow down, and instead the villagers ran around frantically all day long. Everything was done in a mad rush, and only the mountain range and the sky itself remained peaceful and unchanging. Kong Minghui rested quietly in the mountains, either sitting by the side of the road watching the beetles and sparrows in the fields, or climbing into the driver’s seat of the tractor and gazing at the instrument panel, the clutch, and the hand brake. He continued fiddling with those instruments until he saw his father and brothers returning from Liu Gully and Zhang
Peak with broad smiles on their faces. Only then did he notice that the trunk was now completely empty and all of the gifts had been given away. He then hopped down from the cab.

It appeared he had fallen asleep there.

Seeing the delighted expressions on his family’s faces, Minghui exclaimed happily, “Are you done? If so, we can go and get a good meal.” It was unusual for them to be in such high spirits, and they were confident their family would retain control over Explosion—to the point that if Mingliang didn’t give the word, the wind wouldn’t blow and the grass wouldn’t sway. So, they went to a restaurant called Xiangcui Pavilion, which was located in front of the village board headquarters. There were other villagers at the restaurant, including many young people, and the room was filled with the white aroma of alcohol and the bright red scent of fresh meat. When the other villagers saw Mingliang, they remarked angrily that they would burn down the house of anyone who dared vote for Zhu Ying. Mingliang then glared at them and asked, “How dare you? Don’t you know what democracy is?” The villagers didn’t utter a word, and instead they just stared at him. Kong Dongde then called his sons over to eat, whereupon they all gratefully sat down. They let Minghui order the food, saying that since he was doing well in his studies he could order whatever he wanted. Minghui ordered many dishes and said they could pack up what they didn’t finish and take it home. Kong Mingliang, meanwhile, looked over the menu, then went to the counter and examined the restaurant’s collection of wine and beverages. The restaurant owner was the wife of one of the villagers who had fallen to his death unloading goods from the train, which is why she had been granted permission to open a restaurant directly across from the village board headquarters. Business at the restaurant was good—as though it had wedding banquets every day—and the profits rolled in. The owner had been devastated by her husband’s death,
and Mingliang had arranged for her to open this restaurant. When Mingliang and his family came to eat, the owner acted as though the emperor himself had arrived—and seeing Mingliang at the counter looking over the restaurant’s wines, she came over and said,

“Chief Kong, you can have whatever you want. And if we don’t have it here, I’ll go somewhere else to buy it for you.”

Mingliang said, “Have you ever considered expanding the restaurant?”

The woman laughed, and replied, “This is already more than enough to feed my own family.”

Mingliang appeared displeased and said, “If it has never occurred to you, then no matter. However, someday you may want to expand this restaurant into a banquet hall, and then make the banquet hall a major hotel for the entire metropolitan area, with rooms, restaurants, a swimming pool, elevators, security guards, and a shopping mall, and even an amusement park and a theater—just like the hotels you see on TV.”

The women stared at him, speechless.

Mingliang was again displeased and asked, “What are you staring at? Don’t you recognize me?”

The woman quickly smiled and nodded, saying, “Brother, how could I not recognize you? My children even address you as Uncle.”

Mingliang then asked, “Did you hear what I just said?”

The woman quickly replied, “I did, I did … you said that someday I should expand the restaurant into a major hotel.”

Pleased, Mingliang was silent, then went to the cabinet and selected ten bottles of alcohol. He returned to the woman and asked, “How many dishes did my brother just order?”

“Twelve,” she replied. “Four cold ones and eight hot ones.”

“Then bring us twenty-four dishes,” Mingliang said. “Let’s have your cook show us what he’s got.”

The restaurant owner was startled but quickly recovered her composure and hurried to the kitchen. By this point it was almost dusk, and the setting sun appeared pale red. When Mingliang turned around, a sheet of red sunlight was streaming in through the door, making his face glitter like an auspicious cloud—like the gold plating on a statue of a deity in the village temple. When the diners looked at him, they all stood up in surprise, unable to believe that this village chief was in fact the same Kong Mingliang that they knew, or that the Kong Mingliang they knew was now this village chief. Even Mingliang’s elder brother, Mingguang, and his fourth brother, Minghui, almost didn’t recognize him, and instead they just stood there speechless.

Only Mingliang’s father, Kong Dongde, continued sitting, looking at his son as though nothing were out of the ordinary. His delighted expression seemed pasted onto his face, the way red couplets are traditionally posted on door frames for New Year’s.

Kong Mingliang carried over the bottles of high-percentage alcohol and slammed them down on the table. He said in a low voice, “Explosion is currently still a village, and in front of the village there is only this one market street. But next year or the year after that, I intend to make Explosion a town. I will also remove the administrative town board from Cypress Town, so that Cypress Town will then fall under our jurisdiction and the new town board will be located here, where we are now eating. Within three or five years, Explosion will be no longer a town but rather a city. Then, the county seat will be relocated here as well, since we will be as developed as the city. Most of our streets, however, lack traffic lights, so the buses and cars will continually run into each other, and the police will be kept busy from morning to night.”

Everyone gazed at Kong Mingliang, eager to find a clue in his expression. But Mingliang, who was of average height and stocky
build, maintained a very serious and solemn expression, as strict as a mountain range blocking an underground river. No one could predict what he was going to say next, so they each simply watched him, as he stood there like someone who had stepped out of their dream and was standing in front of their bed. Mingguang, looking as though he wanted to check on something, walked over and grasped his brother Mingliang’s hand, but Mingliang, as though feeling he were the object of suspicion and ridicule, immediately pushed his brother’s hand away. Kong Minghui, meanwhile, stood up with a start and took half a step back. He covered his mouth with his hand, as though afraid he might say something that his brothers could take the wrong way.