Pow! - By Mo Yan Page 0,129

assume a stern look. ‘That's enough,’ she said to the girls. ‘No more giggles. Let's go.’ Jiaojiao and I watched as Mother, dressed in a blue blouse and skirt, with an apple-green scarf round her neck, threw out her chest and held her head high. She looked the part. ‘Not so fast,’ Chai called out, ‘slow down! Pretend you're talking. Good, that's it, now keep walking. Lao Lan, Lao Luo, get ready. OK, now! Go on, walk, Lao Lan in front, a little more natural, speed it up, shorter steps, don't run. Raise your head, Lao Luo, don't look down like you've lost something. OK, good, now keep walking.’ Taking their cues from Secretary Chai, Lao Lan and Father were all smiles as they met Mother's contingent at the chalk mark. Lao Lan shook hands with Mother. ‘Welcome,’ he said, ‘a hearty welcome.’ Secretary Chai said: ‘Now one of the staff will make the introductions. Lao Lan, you have to let go of the official's hand. Once you've shaken his hand, move to the side to let Lao Luo shake hands with Lao Yang, no, not Lao Yang, I mean the VIP. Let them shake hands.’ Lao Lan let go of Mother's hand and, laughing, moved to the side, leaving Father and Mother standing face to face, both looking quite uncomfortable. ‘Lao Luo,’ Chai said, ‘offer her your hand. She's a VIP, not your wife.’ Grumbling under his breath, Father reached out, shook Mother's hand and shouted angrily: ‘Welcome, a hearty welcome! That'll never do, Lao Luo,’ scolded Chai. ‘What kind of a welcome is that? You sound like you want to start a fight!’ ‘I won't do it like that with a real official,’ Father responded, his temper rising. ‘What the hell is this, a circus?’ Secretary Chai smiled understandingly: ‘Lao Luo, you're going to have to get used to this. Who knows, before long your wife might become an official and your boss.’ Father's response was a snort of disdain. ‘OK,’ Chai said, ‘that wasn't bad. Let's try it again.’ ‘That's all for me,’ Father complained. ‘We could do it ten more times and nothing would change.’ ‘Me, too,’ Mother said, ‘I'm done. Being an official is hard work.’ She wiped her face with her hand. ‘Look at my sweaty face,’ she said exaggeratedly. ‘We can stop here, Secretary Chai,’ Lao Lan said, ‘we know our parts. Don't worry, we'll get it right.’ ‘All right, then,’ Chai said. ‘Just be as natural as you can, and outgoing. You need to treat the VIPs with respect, but don't come across as a lackey.’

Despite the rehearsal, Father was stiff and unnatural; when the time came he was, if anything, worse. I felt deeply embarrassed. Just look at Lao Lan—standing straight, chest out, a broad smile on his face, making a wonderful impression. One look told you that he was a man of the world yet one who remained simple, honest and trustworthy. But then my father followed him, head down, shifty-eyed, evasive, like a man harbouring sinister thoughts. He stepped on Lao Lan's heel at least once as he stumbled along, and it looked as if an invisible brick in the road had tripped him. His arms were like clubs hanging from his shoulders, incapable of bending or moving. It was almost as if he was wearing a suit of armour. His expression was something between a laugh and a sob, a sorry sight to behold, and all I could think was how much better a job Mother would have done, or, me, for that matter. I'd have done better, perhaps even outdone Lao Lan.

Lao Lan grabbed the leading official's hand with both of his and shook it hard. ‘Welcome, a hearty welcome!’

A minor official introduced Lao Lan to his superior: ‘This is Lan Youli, Chairman of the Board and General Manager, Huachang Corporation.’

‘A peasant-turned-entrepreneur!’ said the man with a smile.

‘A peasant, yes,’ Lao Lan said modestly, ‘but hardly an entrepreneur.’

‘Just do a good job,’ said the official. ‘I don't see a Great Wall separating peasant and entrepreneur these days.’

‘Our leader is very wise,’ Lao Lan said. ‘We will, as you say, do a good job.’

Lao Lan shook the official's hand a second time before relinquishing his spot to Father.

‘This is Luo Tong,’ introduced the minor official, ‘the plant manager, an expert on meat. He has an unerring eye, like the legendary chef Pao Ding.’

‘Really?’ the official remarked as he shook Father's hand. ‘I guess in your eyes there's no

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