if he can get down one. A person like that isn't a true meat-eater and definitely not a meat-lover. Meat-lovers have an ongoing relationship with meat, day after day. We never tire of eating it—’
‘That's enough! You're can't scare us off with bluster. All we're talking about here is stuffing meat into your mouth. So, whoever eats the most in the shortest time without puking wins, right?’
I nodded.
‘Then go talk to Lao Lan. We'll be waiting to begin. I'd like to start today,’ said one of them, patting his stomach. ‘This belly hasn't been greased in a long time.’
‘It's best to ask your un-patron to lay out plenty of meat,’ said one of his companions, ‘I can eat half a cow at one sitting.’
‘Half a cow? That's nothing!’ another retorted. ‘Half a cow will just get me started. I can finish off the whole thing.’
‘All right! Wait here. And try not to eat anything until the contest so you can start with an empty stomach.’
‘Don't worry,’ they laughed, patting their stomachs, ‘they're empty all right!’
‘And I think you'd better go home and make arrangements with your families. Too much meat can be fatal for some.’
Their eyes blazed with contempt for a moment and then they burst out laughing. ‘Not to worry, youngster,’ one of them said. ‘Our lives aren't worth anything.’
‘And even if it's fatal,’ said another, ‘at least we'll die happy!’
POW! 36
The enormous hulk that was Lan Laoda's son, surrounded by fresh-cut blooms, lies not so much on the bier as on a bed of flowers. Dozens of mourners—all in black—walk round it amid the soft sounds of funereal music. Lan Laoda stands, bent at the waist, looking down into the face of his son. Then he straightens up, raises his head and faces the mourners with a broad smile. ‘From the day he was born,’ he says, ‘my son lived in the lap of luxury. He knew neither suffering nor worry. His only wish in life was to eat meat, and that wish was never denied him.’ Looking down at the hillock that was his son's belly, then continues: ‘After consuming a tonne of meat, he slipped away painlessly in his sleep. His was a happy life, and I carried out all the responsibilities of a father. What I find most gratifying is that I was with him when he died and that I am now giving him the finest funeral possible. If a netherworld exists, my son will never know an unhappy moment, and now that he is gone I have no more concerns. I am hosting a banquet at the manor tonight, to which you are all invited. Please come in your finest clothes and bring lovely women with you to share the best food and drink money can buy.’ At the manor that evening, Lan Laoda raises an amber glass of VSOP brandy, immersed in the aromas of gourmet dishes, the liquor swirling in his glass, and announces grandly: ‘To my son, who knew the best that life has to offer and who then passed away peacefully!’ Grief seems not to have touched him, not at all.
An outdoor contest between the three workers and me commenced in front of the plant kitchen.
The episode occupied my reveries in the days and months that followed, and never failed to make my mind wander far from whatever I was doing or thinking at the moment. It would always be that day all over again.
The contest was set for six in the evening. It was the end of the day shift, and time for the night-shift workers to arrive. It was midsummer, the longest day of the year. The sun was still high in the sky, and the peasants had not yet come home from the fields. The wheat harvest was in and the smell lingered in the air. New wheat lay drying in the sun on the road in front of the plant gate and the occasional gust of wind carried the smell of farmland into the compound. Though we continued to live in the village and were listed as village residents, we were no longer a peasant household. We water-injected the animals in the day and slaughtered them in the night. The inspectors added their blue stamps to the meat and we sent the meat into town. Uncle Han's meat inspector showed up dutifully, ready to stamp the meat, a paragon of responsible public service. But not for long; after the first few nights he left his