on this boat?’ Meili says, kicking off her sandals and brushing the flies from her face.
‘Yes, you felt so seasick that night, you vomited all over yourself, and Nannan vomited in her sleep.’
‘The first time I stepped aboard, I fell flat on my back.’ Meili rubs the rotting plank beneath her and remembers Nannan kneeling down in the cabin and using the stern deck as a table on which to draw pictures or write stories. ‘That night, you said that now that we had our own boat, I could give birth to a whole brood of little Kongs. Well, it’s time for this one to be born. I drank two bottles of castor oil yesterday to induce labour, so whether Heaven wants to or not, it’s coming out today. Look, my belly’s contracting again.’
‘I didn’t ask for a brood. All I wanted was for you to be able to give birth safely to little Happiness.’ Kongzi tramples over broken memory cards to remove some rotten planks from the stern. The floating detritus covering the river is perfectly still. Only a few small patches of water are visible.
‘The contractions are getting stronger. Can you find something to wedge under my back?’ Meili turns onto her side and moves her legs about, trying to find a comfortable position. The two metal rings of the scissor handles poke out from the plastic bag beside her. ‘I can feel the head pressing against my cervix. I must start pushing.’ Remembering the yoga she learned in the prenatal classes, she breathes deeply into the base of her lungs and exhales softly through pursed lips. Sweat seeps from her skin. She unbuttons her white shirt, gets onto her hands and knees and lets out a strange gravelly moan: ‘Oh, Mother, Mother . . .’ Kongzi has never heard such a noise before. It sounds like a funeral lament flowing out from the depths of her womb. ‘Oh, Mother, Mother . . . Silkworms that produce silk in spring die before summer arrives. A candle’s flame extinguishes when the wick shrivels to ash. Pear blossoms are washed to the ground by rain, and form rivers of tears. Oh, Mother, you have moved into the darkness and left me in the light. Death lies between us. You stand on the Bridge of Helplessness and stare out into the emptiness beyond . . .’
‘Why are you singing a funeral song? Aren’t there any birth songs you could sing?’ Kongzi says. He sits down on a dusty patch of grass further up the bank and takes out his phone to check the time.
‘The songs give me strength,’ Meili shouts, panting loudly. ‘Oh, Mother . . . !’ Her rippling howl makes the wreck, the water and the riverbed shake. ‘You toiled so hard, caring for your children, with never a thought for yourself . . . Happiness, Waterborn, Heaven: you can come out now! Don’t be afraid. I will protect you, and make sure none of you go missing. Once you’re born, we can all sail home. Help me push, Kongzi. Let’s get all these little Kongs out of me. Oh, Mother, you have vanished now, never to return. How I wish I could follow you into the Dark Realm, and care for you as a dutiful daughter should . . .’
Kongzi crouches outside the cabin and stares at the black hole between Meili’s legs. Flies crawling over her pale thighs kick their hind legs and take flight.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Kongzi says, ‘someone might hear you.’ He has left his glasses in the shack, so his vision is blurred. He turns and squints at the mounds of rubbish behind him, unwilling to return his gaze to the black hole that for ten years gave him so much pleasure.
‘Don’t worry, Kongzi. All the discarded machines around here are foreign. They can’t understand what I’m saying.’ Meili’s sweat has soaked her hair and her shirt. A faint scent of diesel moves through the air, reminding her of their years on the boat, and of the rape and fire she never dared tell Kongzi about . . . ‘Mother, you tread the path towards the Yellow Springs. Whose shoulder can I cry on now? . . . How could you leave me alone? Hold my hand again, I beg you . . .’ Tears stream down Meili’s face. As another wave of pain comes over her, she tugs at her hair with her right hand and shoves her maimed left hand into