you? Someone stole it while we took Weiwei up to Yinluo. All I found when we got back was a single wheel chained to the tree . . .’
‘“Summer wildfires cannot destroy the grass, / For in spring, soft winds will restore it to life . . .”’ Father recites his favourite line of poetry and flicks his cigarette butt into the creek. Then he returns to the cabin, squeezes down next to Mother, drapes his leg over hers and unhooks her bra. ‘Bet the mosquitoes haven’t got to these two soft dumplings yet.’
‘Get your hands off me!’
‘What are they for, if not for me to fondle?’
‘It must be nearly four o’clock. You’ll wake the rooster.’
‘Until the baby’s born, these belong to me.’ Father leans over and moves his lips towards Mother’s nipple.
‘Those weighing scales take up too much space. Let’s throw them away.’
‘But I use them to prepare the feed.’
Mother pushes the scales out of the way, then folds her arms over her chest as Father coils around her and buries his face in her hair. ‘I warn you, I have nits! Don’t bite me . . . Get off! Stop pressing on my belly . . .’ Nannan opens her eyes. Mother quickly covers them with her hand and says, ‘Close your eyes, Nannan, and go back to sleep!’
Overlapping this scene, the infant spirit sees Father, a few days later, sitting in the cabin, listening to a man say, ‘We grew up together, Kongzi. You’re a brilliant strategist. Without your help, we’ll get nowhere.’
Father puts down his glass and says, ‘Kong Qing, you’re like a brother to me. I admire you for wanting to stand up for the Chinese people and protect the Kong family line. But the rebellion you’re planning is doomed to fail. This country has changed since the Tiananmen Massacre. The people have lost their fighting spirit. Where would you base your stronghold?’
‘In Wild Man Mountain. It’s easy to defend. Armies with heavy artillery wouldn’t be able to climb it.’ The two men are cross-legged on the cabin floor, smoking. The kerosene lamp illuminates the blue notebook, ashtray and carton of deep-fried broad beans on the cardboard box between them.
‘I admit, if you demanded the repeal of the One Child Policy, every peasant in China would support you. But what would you do next? Overthrow the Communist Party? Challenge the People’s Liberation Army? You say you want to take over every family planning office in the country, but you must understand that once you’ve occupied them, you’ll become an easy target. It’s a game of chess. You might take their knight, but if they nab your queen in the next move, you’re finished.’
‘All right, forget about the Fertility Freedom Party, then. Let’s form a suicide squad instead! Like those Muslim suicide bombers, we’ll storm government offices, detonate ourselves, and take the whole corrupt lot of them with us!’ Kong Qing punches his fist onto the bamboo mat. Although this scene took place years ago, his punch still judders down to the base of the boat and sends ripples through the moon’s pale reflection.
‘I’m not afraid of death,’ Father says. ‘I’m sure you and I would have the balls to storm every family planning office in China. But we’d just be letting off steam. We wouldn’t achieve anything.’
‘I want to fight, Kongzi, not only to avenge the abortion of my son, but to ensure the survival of the Kong clan and Chinese family traditions. These are causes for which I’m willing to sacrifice my life. Did you know that in the Cultural Revolution, after the Red Guards smashed the Tomb of Confucius, they dug up the corpses of a seventy-sixth generation descendant, Kong Lingyi, and his wife, and thrashed them with spades? It was a declaration of war against the Chinese nation.’
‘I know. They dug up and destroyed two thousand ancestral graves. Corpses were pulled out, stripped and hung from trees. I agree we must avenge our family honour, but not by launching a rebellion. The time isn’t right. Historically, popular revolts have erupted in times of hardship. But the Party has allowed people to get rich. Who would want to join the revolution now?’
‘What destruction Mao unleashed . . .’
‘Yes, but Mao’s dead, and faith in Communism is dead. The Party has no ideology to legitimise itself now, so it’s bringing back capitalism and Confucianism to fill the void. Go into any bookshop, and you’ll see that in official publications Confucius is no longer referred