The Four Books (42 page)

The Child inhaled that strong scent of wheat, together with the dry aroma of wheat shells and wheat stems. Of the eighteen ears that the Scholar unwrapped, the largest was in fact as large as an ear of corn, and if you include the three-inch awn at the tip of the ear, it was actually even longer than an ear of corn. In all, it was more than a foot long. The smallest ear, meanwhile, was the size of millet. Who knew where the Scholar had stored those ears, such that each grain was still in its shell? The red and swollen grains seemed ready to burst open. One grain fell out, and when the Child leaned over to pick it up and examine it under the light, he saw that in the center of that red and yellow grain there were some ridges that looked as though they had been carved with a knife.

Each grain was about the size of a bean or peanut.

The Child’s face glowed. He smiled, with his smile resembling a shallow red flower.

“Is it true you really didn’t eat a single grain?”

The Scholar nodded.

“You can now eat one. I will award you one.”

The Scholar shook his head.

“Is there something else you want to tell me?” Beaming brightly, the Child put away those grains of wheat, and placed them at the head of the bed.

The Scholar handed the Child his half-finished manuscript, wrapped in cloth. As he did so, he said solemnly, “I composed this over the course of six years, and I want you to give it to the highest higher-up in the capital. . . . As long as you give that largest ear of wheat to the highest higher-up, he will certainly receive you in Zhongnanhai. At that point you can give him this manuscript.”

The Child accepted the manuscript and asked, “Will he send someone to escort me around the capital?”

“He will personally pin a large red blossom on your chest. That blossom will have ribbons hanging from it, and each ribbon will be inscribed with a poem that he wrote specifically for you. With that blossom, you’ll be able to go anywhere in Beijing you want. You’ll be able to visit the Great Wall, the Palace Museum, the Summer Palace, Wangfujing, and even the Beijing Zoo. You’ll be able to go anywhere you want, and will never even need to buy entry tickets. You’ll even be able to visit the Forbidden City. Everyone who sees you will look at you with respect, and will applaud everything you say.”

The Child placed the manuscript at the head of the bed. His face was swollen, but was beaming even more brightly than before. So it came to pass. That night, the Child didn’t sleep at all, unable to tear his eyes from those eighteen ears of wheat. He thought about his forthcoming trip to Beijing, and about the size and shape of the blossom the higher-up would award him. When the sun came up the next morning, as everyone else was still buried deep in their covers, the Child went to each room to bid everyone farewell. “I’m going to the capital,” he told them. “When I arrive, I’ll see the highest higher-up, after which you will again have grain to eat. You will no longer have to go hungry.” Asleep in their beds, no one understood what the Child was saying. The Child went to the room where the Scholar and the Author were sleeping and repeated the same thing, then bowed in front of the Scholar’s bed. After handing the Author something, the Child left the room, and then the ninety-ninth.

He was indeed on his way.

The sun was shining brightly.

The colorful clouds resembled dancing angels. That day, the weather was as warm as springtime, and the air was so clear you could see for thousands of miles. Along the banks of the distant Yellow River, everything was silent, like ripples in a pond or silk fluttering in the wind. Closer by, dust and sand covered the ground, becoming part of the earth itself. The road leading out of the district was like a narrow ribbon. The Child walked vigorously while carrying his grain . . . in a packet wrapped in three layers of silk. The red silk bundle was like a fiery ball, swinging back and forth from the Child’s shoulder as he strode forward. A group of people came to see him off, with the Scholar and the Author standing at the front of the crowd. The Author was holding the peanut-sized grain of blood wheat that the Child had given him.

The Scholar waved to the Child.

The Child turned and waved back. Then he disappeared into the misty light.

2.
Heaven’s Child
, pp. 423–27

Several days after the Child left, the earth began to grow warmer, and we noticed that new grass was sprouting in the area under the wall that was protected from the wind and exposed to the sun. A woman went outside to take a piss, and when her urine flowed into a hole in the ground, tiny yellowish green blades of grass began growing. She picked one of those new blades of grass and held it against the sun, and noticed there was liquid flowing inside the grass’s veins. The woman stared in shock, but quickly recovered and, holding the blade of grass in her hand, ran to the courtyard shouting,

“Spring has arrived . . . we are saved!”

“Spring has arrived . . . there is food to eat!”

The person shouting this was a woman—the Physician, who abruptly fell over while running and didn’t get back up. Everyone who rushed to help her realized that she was dead. Because the Physician understood that life flourishes when flowers bloom, she therefore died shouting. Because she was overcome by excitement, she became exhausted and perished. Everyone emerged from their rooms and proceeded to that area under the wall that was protected from the wind and exposed to the sun. They found that there was in fact newly sprouted grass, and the roots were soft and moist, with a tart, sweet taste. Everyone dropped to the ground and began digging up and eating these roots. Some who ate too much had diarrhea, becoming so dehydrated that they died.

It occurred to someone that it had already been half a month since the Child left for the capital, but there had been no news from him. They said that you could take a car or a train into the capital, and that a round-trip only required three to five days. His actual meeting with the higher-up would take only ten or twenty minutes, and the remainder of the time he would walk over every foot of soil in the capital. When he was finished, the Child would have to return. But he had not yet come back, and therefore everyone stood at the road every day waiting for him.

When the Child failed to appear, some people began to suspect he might have died, since when he left, his face, his legs, and even his entire body were swollen from hunger.

Someone remarked, “If the Child is no longer with us, then we are free to return home.”

Someone else responded that they should all leave. The Scholar appeared, and announced that as long as the Child had handed over his half-written manuscript to the capital’s highest higher-up, everything would revert back to normal. Peasants would once again farm the land, workers would start working again, professors would return to their lecterns, and scholars could again write and ruminate.

Everyone continued waiting, but the Child still didn’t return. When spring arrived, the earth became warmer. Throughout the land, plants grew and flowers bloomed. Birds flew back, singing as they soared through the sky. Perhaps the famine was over, as there were now wild vegetables to eat. Along the banks of the Yellow River there were countless plants, including sabertooth sprouts and red spinach, and you could pick an entire armful in no time at all. With these wild vegetables, people began to regain their strength, and once they did they again began to reflect that they could take advantage of the Child’s absence in order to leave Re-Ed.

“If the Child hasn’t returned in another three days, then at that point you are free to leave. Okay?” The Scholar went from door to door, urging everyone. “After all, there is only one road out of here, and do you think you will be permitted to leave so easily?”

Three more days passed, and the Child still did not return.

One person fled, and was not seen again. He was carrying a full hundred and twenty-five red blossoms, many of which had been taken from his comrades who had starved to death. With a hundred and twenty-five blossoms, and energy from eating wild vegetables, he had disappeared. After that, everyone stopped listening to the Scholar. The Child had already been gone for twenty-eight days, and even if he had gone to the capital twice, he still should have been back by now.

One afternoon, someone went to the middle of the courtyard and announced, “Anyone who wants to leave should pack their bags and come with me!”

Everyone began bustling about, then came out and stood together. There were fifty-two of them in all. Of the original residents of the ninety-ninth, more than seventy had died from either starvation or disease. Now that spring had arrived and everyone regained some of their strength, it was a good time for them to escape.

“What should we do?” the Scholar asked the Author.

“I’m also leaving,” the Author replied. “I was the one who encouraged everyone to go. I recorded many things about them in my
Criminal Records
, and in order to atone for my actions I should lead them away.” As he was saying this, he proceeded to pack his bags. The Scholar stared at the Author in astonishment. The Author looked back at him, hoping that he would leave with them. The Scholar watched the group of excited comrades waiting in the courtyard, then shook his head. Looking at the Author, he asked, “Along the road into town, there are many inspection stations. How will you proceed?”

The Author replied firmly, “If we don’t leave, we will die.”

So it came to pass.

The Author bid the Scholar farewell, then left his room. As the sun was beginning to set, someone suggested, “We should open the Child’s door and go inside, to see if there is anything worth taking.”

“That would be stealing!” the Author shouted. “Have you forgotten that we are all intellectuals?”

Therefore, they proceeded past the Child’s door. Some of them were carrying their possessions with both hands, some were carrying them with one hand, and others were carrying them on their shoulders. They followed the Author down the road toward the river. The Scholar hesitated at the main entrance, watching them depart. But in the end he didn’t follow them, and instead was convinced that the Child would deliver his manuscript to the higher-ups and return. The Scholar watched his comrades until they were out of sight.

3.
Heaven’s Child
, pp. 427–33

The criminals didn’t dare walk along the main road, and instead followed a path through the fields. They headed toward the outer world. By afternoon, as the sun was heading toward the west, they were all covered in sweat. Some people threw their extra luggage to the side of the road, including their shoes, hats, and clothing, and some even tossed aside their extra pants. But no one threw out the pots they needed for cooking vegetables.

By evening, they had walked more than ten
li
. Some people fell behind, like sheep separated from the herd. When they reached an empty field, the Author asked everyone to stop and pick some wild vegetables, collect some kindling, and wait for the stragglers to catch up. Even though the trip was arduous, everyone was nevertheless very excited. This was, after all, a mass exodus. They lit a fire in the field, found some water, and boiled wild grass to eat. After dinner, everyone found a spot that was shielded from the wind and went to sleep.

Gazing up at the starry sky, someone began to sing a revolutionary song that was both uplifting and idealistic. The song was called “Following the Road Forward” and contained the lyrics, “That road leads forward, to freedom and light. As long as you can display your bravery, your life will be light and bright.” Initially, there was just one person singing, but others quickly joined in. Soon everyone was singing, and those who didn’t know the words followed the others’ lead. In the open field, there was endless silence, and the sky was full of stars. Their song was like a wave, pushing away the silence. When they tired of singing, they began preparing their bedding for the night. But as the sun came up the next day, someone discovered that their things had been stolen. They looked everywhere, and counted the people who remained, whereupon they discovered that two young people were missing—a university lecturer and an associate professor. The two of them had been teacher and student, and had been based in the same technological institute in the capital.

The Author asked, “What did you lose?”

Several people looked up and said, “Our red stars.”

The Author was silent. Everyone cursed the thieves, then proceeded on their way. They traveled by day and rested at night, leaning on crutches, boiling wild vegetables when they were hungry, and sleeping in a sheltered area in the middle of a field when they were tired. Now when they stopped for the night, no one sang, and instead they immediately fell asleep as soon as they lay down. Traveling by day and resting at night—this is not only how things came to pass, but also how they fell apart, like flowers blooming and wilting. After five days, the group wove their way through five Re-Ed districts, four villages, and seven inspection stations, but the town still seemed to be several
li
ahead of them. That road in the distance was like a rope tied to the entrance to the town. The Author and the rest of the group all knew that as long as they could make it past this town, they would have made it out of the jurisdiction of the Re-Ed headquarters. Once they arrived at the county seat, they would be able to board a bus to the district seat, where they could then catch a train home, where they could finally be reunited with their families.