striking a dignified pose with each puff.
‘Back in those days…’ Father stammered in his attempts to stay in the conversation, ‘…that's the way things were…’
‘So, you see, Lao Luo,’ Lao Lan said sombrely, ‘it's important to go out and make money. In times like these, a man with money is the patriarch—a man without it is a grandchild. With it, you stand straight and tall—without it, you have no backbone. Being the head of this little village doesn't mean a thing to me. Have you checked out the Lan clan lineage? With those who got official titles, even the lowest was at least a circuit intendant. I'm not content with what we once were. I want to lead people onto a path to riches. Not only that, I want to make this a rich village. We already have paved roads and streetlights and we've repaired the bridge. Next, we need to build a school, a pre-school and a retirement home. Of course, I have personal reasons for wanting a school, but it's more than that. I'm committed to restoring the Lan manor to its original grandeur and then opening it to the public as a tourist attraction, the proceeds all going to the village, of course. Lao Luo, a long friendship has existed between our families. Your grandfather, a beggar who stood outside our gate cursing all day long, became one of my grandfather's best friends. When my third uncle and his family fled to the Nationalist area during the Civil War, it was your grandfather who took them in his wagon. That's an act of friendship we Lans will not dare forget. So, my good brother, there's no reason for you and me not to join forces and do important things. I have big plans and the confidence to see them through!’ Lao Lan paused for another puff: ‘Lao Luo, I know you disapprove of how the butchers inject water into animal carcasses. But you need to look beyond our village. Where will you find another village in the county, in the province, in the whole country, where water isn't injected into the meat? If everyone else does it but we don't, we'll not only fail to earn a living but also wind up in the red. If no one else did it, we wouldn't either, of course. We live in an age that scholars characterize as that of the primitive accumulation of capital. Just what does that mean? Simply that people will make money by any means necessary, and that everyone's money is tainted by the blood of others. Once this phase has passed, moral behaviour will again be in fashion. But during times of immoral behaviour, if we persist in being moral we might as well starve to death. Lao Luo, there's much more to discuss, so you and I will sit down one day and have a good long talk. Oh, what's wrong with me! I forgot to pour tea. You'll have some, won't you?’
‘No tea for us,’ Mother said. ‘We've already taken up too much of your time. We'll just sit a moment longer and then be on our way.’
‘You're already here, so what's the hurry? Lao Luo, seeing you here is a rare treat. Of all the men in the village, you're the only one who never dropped by, until today.’ He stood up, went across to the cabinet and selected five long-stemmed glasses. ‘Instead of pouring tea, let's have a drink. That's how the Westerners do it.’
He took out a bottle of imported liquor—Remy Martin XO, brandy that sold in the mall for at least a thousand yuan. Mother and I once bought some for three hundred yuan a bottle in the city's infamous Corruption Lane, then resold it to a little store near the train station for four-fifty apiece. We knew that the people who sold them to us were relatives of officials who'd received them as gifts.
Lao Lan poured brandy into all five glasses.
‘Not for the children,’ Mother said.
‘A little taste won't hurt.’
The amber liquid created a strange light show in the glasses. Lao Lan held out his glass; we did the same. ‘Happy New Year!’
Our glasses clinked, a crisp, pleasant sound.
‘Happy New Year!’ we echoed.
‘Well, how do you like it?’ he asked as he swirled the liquid in his glass, watching it closely. ‘You can add ice, you can even add tea.’
‘It has an interesting aroma,’ Mother said.
‘How's a farmer supposed to tell good from bad?’ asked Father. ‘It's wasted