quietly, but when there were people about we stood up and began to shout. Passers-by came up to ask what we were doing. ‘Lao Lan, oh, Lao Lan,’ we'd respond, shouting even louder, ‘come kill us—we beg you—’
We knew it wouldn't take long for news to reach half way round the county, and it didn't. Actually, it was more like half way round the province, or even the country, because Huachang's customers came from far and wide.
One day Lao Lan disguised himself as an old man and tried to leave the plant in an old Jeep. Jiaojiao and I detected his peculiar odour long before he reached the gate. We blocked the Jeep, then dragged him out and crammed our dagger and scissors into his hand. ‘An unlanced boil,’ he said, scowling at us, ‘will cause trouble sooner or later.’
He placed his right foot on the Jeep's running board, rolled up his trouser leg, took aim with the dagger and embedded it in his calf. Then he placed his left foot on the running board, rolled up his trouser leg, took aim with the rusty scissors and embedded them in his other calf. Then he stepped down, held up both trouser legs above the wounds and their embedded weapons and circled the gate area twice, leaving a trail of blood on the ground. Then he stepped onto the running board with his right foot, plucked out the dagger—releasing a spurt of dark-red blood—and threw it at my feet. Next he stepped up with his left foot, plucked out the scissors—releasing a spurt of blue blood—and threw it at Jiaojiao's feet. ‘Let's see what you're made of, you little punk,’ he said with a look of contempt in my direction. ‘Do what I just did if you've got the guts.’
I knew at once that we'd suffered another crushing defeat. The bastard had backed us into a corner once again. I understood that all Jiaojiao and I had to do was stab ourselves in the same way to defeat Lao Lan so resoundingly he'd have to kill himself to salvage his shredded dignity. But stabbing myself in the calf would have hurt like hell! Confucius said: ‘Your body is a gift from your parents, and keeping it from harm is the first rule of filiality.’ Stabbing ourselves would be an affront to Confucius and an admission that we were unfilial. All I could think to say was: ‘What the hell was that for, Lao Lan? Do you think you can scare us off with some hooligan trick? We're not afraid of dying. But we're not going to stab ourselves—that's what we're asking you to do. You can pare off all the meat on your calf but it won't change a thing. If it's peace of mind you're looking for, the only way to get that is to kill us.’
We picked up the bloodstained dagger and scissors and handed them back to him. He snatched the dagger out of my hand and flung it as far as he could. It flew across the street and landed who knows where. Then he snatched the scissors out of Jiaojiao's hand and did the same.
‘Luo Xiaotong, Luo Jiaojiao,’ he howled, almost in tears, ‘Enough of this preposterous nonsense. What do you want of me?’
‘That's simple,’ Jiaojiao and I said together. ‘We've lived long enough and we want you to kill us.’
He climbed into the Jeep, bloody legs and all, and drove off.
There's a well-known phrase that goes: Give the man a taste of his own medicine. Do you know who said that, Wise Monk? Neither do I. But Lao Lan knew, because he drew on that wisdom to find a way out of his dilemma. After he drove off, we scoured the area with a horseshoe-shaped magnet borrowed from Li Guangtong at the township TV repair shop and managed to retrieve the knife and scissors, so we could continue trying to get him to kill us. At noon, three days after that incdent, we were sitting outside the plant gate shouting at a wedding procession when a short fellow with a bulbous nose and a prominent beer belly hobbled up to us with a butcher knife. A mean-looking bully of a man.
‘Recognize me?’ he asked grinning deviously.
‘You're…’
‘Wan Xiaojiang, the guy you beat in the meat-eating contest.’
‘You've gotten fat!’
‘Luo Xiaotong, Luo Jiaojiao, like you, I've lived long enough, more than enough. Another minute will be too long, so I'm asking the two of you to kill me.