The Dark Road A Novel - By Ma Jian Page 0,22

worker than I did as a teacher. Once I’ve saved enough money, we’ll buy ourselves a boat. Many local fishermen are planning to leave town before the valley is flooded. I met one who’s moving to Guangzhou. He owns a fishing boat that’s worth ten thousand yuan, but he said he’ll sell it to me for just three thousand. Once we have a boat of our own, we’ll be free. We won’t need residence permits. If the police try to arrest us, we’ll start the engine and escape. And if we don’t manage to find a hospital in time, you can have the baby on our boat.’

‘Yes, at least a boat would give us somewhere to hide. How much money have we got now? Last night I dreamed that little Happiness left my belly and flew into the sky. It was terrifying.’

As night falls, the infant spirit can see Mother and Father sitting at the cardboard box eating dinner. Nannan has come out from the meeting room. She’s walking along the deck, or skipping – it’s hard to tell.

‘You keep talking about the fetus having a spirit,’ Father says. ‘That’s why you had the dream. We have one thousand yuan now. In two more months, we’ll have enough to buy the boat.’

‘I know you don’t believe in ghosts, Kongzi, but I’m convinced the fetus has a spirit. I saw it the moment I became pregnant. It often speaks to me. Why do you think babies cry when they’re born? It’s because the infant spirits that have been assigned to their bodies don’t want to go through another incarnation. They want to break free and fly away.’

Nannan grips Mother’s hand. ‘I want nice food, Mum.’

‘What kind of food?’ says Mother, her belly jutting out as she sits up straight.

‘That!’ says Nannan, pointing to the deep-fried fish being eaten by the four bare-chested workers who, in the soft light cast from the lamp behind them, resemble four smooth eggs. At the bow, a few men are leaning against the railing having a smoke. Other figures are sitting or lying down in clusters on the still-warm metal deck.

‘Try this meatball,’ Mother says to Nannan. ‘I sprinkled some magic powder on it just for you. And here’s a tomato. You like tomatoes.’

‘Me want fish,’ says Nannan, stamping her feet. ‘Me want that fish!’

‘Don’t be so rude!’ Mother whispers, slapping her bottom. ‘It’s their fish, not yours.’

Nannan frowns and tries to hold back her sobs. ‘You bad mummy,’ she splutters. ‘You no wear glasses, so you bad mummy.’

‘Come and sit down here by the mosquito coil,’ Mother says, pulling Nannan close to her. ‘Remember what I told you? If anyone asks you how old you are, you must say you’re five years old. Don’t tell them you’re only two and a half. Do you hear? If you do, I’ll have to spank you again.’ She watches Nannan crawl onto Father’s lap. ‘You’re too soft on her, Kongzi,’ Mother says. ‘If she blabs out our secrets, the authorities will arrest me, and our family will be finished.’

‘Stop worrying,’ says Father, lighting a cigarette. ‘Nannan’s a good girl. She won’t blab.’

‘Oh, what are we going to do? This baby will never get a residence permit. It will be one of those “Black Children” who are born without permission and banned from getting free schooling and medical treatment. When it grows up, it won’t even be able to marry, and it’ll curse us for condemning it to a life as an outcast.’

‘Me not black children!’ says Nannan, punching Mother’s thigh. ‘You bad mummy.’ She kicks a leg in the air, sending her flip-flop flying across the deck.

‘I’m sure that in a couple of years Nuwa County will have calmed down,’ says Father, lifting a meatball with his chopsticks. ‘Then we can go home and do our best to get little Happiness registered.’

‘Stop kicking my bladder, little one!’ Mother says, glancing down at her belly. ‘I’m sick of having to go to the toilet every five minutes.’

‘Do me kick you when me inside you, Mum?’ asks Nannan, wiping a scrap of meatball from her hot face.

‘No, you didn’t have as much strength as this one,’ Mother says, then mutters to Father: ‘Nannan’s getting so naughty. She threw your lighter into the river this morning.’ A speedboat passes, churning up waves that tip the barge to the side. Mother puts her hands over the bowls on the cardboard box to stop them falling off.

‘Me no throw lighter away!’ Nannan protests,

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