The Dark Road A Novel - By Ma Jian Page 0,42

pole, frowning disgruntledly. ‘What took you so long?’ he barks.

Nannan’s dress is sopping wet. She sticks her leg out, points her bare toes and says, ‘Dad said I can’t dance, Mummy!’

‘I was in the market, learning how to gut fish,’ Meili tells Kongzi. Sensing his disapproval of her independent attitude, she quickly changes the subject. ‘So, did that man jump in the end?’

‘I thought that’s what you went to see. No, no. He didn’t jump. The police dragged him away an hour ago. I withdrew a hundred yuan from the bank. There was no problem. It’s not connected to our branch in Hubei Province. We still have a thousand yuan left in our account.’

Nannan hugs Meili’s thigh. ‘Mum, our rooster called Red. His long chin called Little Worm. Dad called Snake in Glasses. You called Big Eyes. You like my names?’

‘We need a stable income, Kongzi. I want a job. I want to work, even if it’s just on a market stall.’ Meili sits at the bow, her damp forehead and shoulders glistening in the sun.

‘Mum, this pee or sweat?’ Nannan asks, stroking Meili’s perspiring thigh.

‘So what do you plan to do?’ Kongzi sneers. ‘Sell fish?’

‘I’m a capable woman. You said yourself: I can do anything I put my mind to.’

‘Mum, my pee look like orange juice, but I no eat orange today.’

KEYWORDS: shelter, happy birthday, wanton activities, Empress Yang Guifei, condom, red-fried lion heads.

AS SOON AS the rooster crows at dawn, Meili gets dressed, crawls out of the shelter and checks that their boat is still anchored by the shore. A boat was stolen from the island a few days ago, so she and Kongzi have taken turns to sleep in theirs, but last night they both forgot. They’ve lived on the sand island for a year now, and although they haven’t made much money, life has taken a turn for the better. Kongzi has bought himself a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, a gas stove, an electric fan and a tricycle cart which he uses to make local deliveries. He’s attached an extension lead from the mini generator on the boat, so the shelter has electricity as well. Meili’s bought a watch, a small black-and-white television and a singing cloth doll for Nannan. Although their shelter is a humble affair cobbled together from old doors and decking, it has a chipboard bed Kongzi made which is covered with foam cushions, so at least their nights are comfortable.

Through the bamboo trees and willows on the opposite bank, Meili can see the outline of the town. The illuminated signs of the Eastern Sauna House, still shining at dawn, suggest the wanton activities of the previous night. A junk-laden truck is driving towards the rubbish dump. Once the dump has encroached ten more metres into the river, the Xijiang authorities will cover it with cement and erect a statue of the Tang Dynasty beauty, Empress Yang Guifei, who they claim was born in this town. The central government has urged authorities around the country to develop tourism by erecting monuments and statues honouring local icons. Here in Xijiang, the authorities have already built a mock Tang Dynasty temple on a mound where they claim Empress Yang Guifei was buried, dug a Yang Guifei Well from which they say the beautiful empress once drank, and at the summit of a nearby hill have built a Yang Guifei Pavilion with a dressing table where they claim she sat and combed her long hair. They’ve also granted protection to the house of a hitherto unknown revolutionary martyr, and charge admission fees priced at ten yuan. Within three years, they hope the county will become Guangxi Province’s main tourist destination.

Meili no longer works at the fish stall. She took over a spice stall from a woman who left to have a baby, then, once she’d saved enough money, she bribed the market manager into letting her open a stall of her own. She’s also wheedled the job of cleaning the market at night, and is able to scavenge from the discarded produce enough food to feed her family and sell to the islanders as well. Kongzi likes to clean the fish heads, tripe, pig skin and giblets she brings back, then stew them for hours with eight-spice powder to eat as a snack with his beer. Meili has persuaded him to grow vegetables which other stalls don’t stock. Discovering that Time Square, a large paved area built hurriedly to impress visiting leaders, is deserted both day

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