Pow! - By Mo Yan Page 0,86

those splendid performances. As for the dancing beasts, I would not be surprised to see a performance with real and man-made beasts together. The twin cities are home to every animal imaginable, all but unicorns, just as it is home to all birds imaginable, except phoenixes. I know that Lao Lan's Huachang Camel Dancing Troupe will distinguish itself during this stage of the Festival. What a shame that his Ostrich Dancing Troupe has been put out of commission.

Lao Lan's words of praise filled me with pride and I was, quite literally, bursting with joy. In that brief moment I had been given the rare privilege of sitting at a table with adults. So when they raised their glasses in a toast, I picked up the bowl in front of me, poured out the water in it. ‘May I have some of that, please?’ I asked as I held it out to Mother.

‘What?’ she blurted out in surprise. ‘You want what they're drinking?’

‘It's not good for children,’ Father said.

‘Why not? It's been such a long time since I've been happy, and I can see you're happy too. It's worth celebrating—with a drink!’

‘You're right, Xiaotong,’ said Lao Lan, his eyes flashing, ‘a drink is exactly what's called for! Anyone who can reason like that—adult or child—deserves a drink. Here, I'll pour.’

‘No, no, Elder Brother Lan,’ Mother objected. ‘He'll get a big head.’

‘Hand me the bottle,’ Lao Lan said. ‘I know from experience that there are two types of people in this world you mustn't offend. One is punks and hoodlums, the so-called lumpenproletariat. They're straight when they're standing and flat when they're lying down: if one eats, none goes hungry, so folks with a family and a job, with progeny to carry on the line, anyone who enjoys prestige and authority will stay clear of this type. Ugly, snot-nosed, grime-covered children, who are kicked about like mangy dogs, comprise the other. The likelihood that they will grow up to be thugs, armed robbers, high officials or senior military officers is greater than for well-behaved, nicely dressed, clean-scrubbed good boys.’ He filled my bowl. ‘Come on, Luo Xiaotong, Mr Luo, have a drink with Lao Lan!’

Boldly I held out my bowl and clinked it against his glass, which, when it produced the unusual sound of porcelain on glass, filled me with joy. He drained his glass at one go. ‘That's how I show my respect!’ he said as he banged his glass upside down on the table to show it was empty. ‘I drained mine,’ he said. ‘You can sip yours.’

The moment my lips touched the rim of the bowl I could smell the pungent aroma of strong liquor and I didn't much like it. Still, in the grip of excitement, I swallowed a big mouthful. First, my mouth was on fire, then the flames burnt their way down my throat, singeing everything they touched and then into my stomach.

‘That's enough!’ said Mother, snatching the bowl out of my hands. ‘A taste is all you need. You can have more when you grow up.’

‘No, I want more now.’ I reached out to get back my bowl.

Father gave me a worried look but offered no opinion.

Lao Lan took the bowl and poured most of the contents into his glass: ‘Esteemed nephew, any man worthy of his name knows when to give and when to take. We'll share this glass—you finish what I leave.’

For the second time, porcelain on glass rang out, and, only seconds later, bowl and glass were empty.

‘I feel great,’ I said. I really did, greater than ever. Like I was floating, and not lightly like a feather on the wind but like a melon on the water, carried along by river currents…All of a sudden my eyes were drawn to the greasy little paws of Jiaojiao—busy drinking, we'd forgotten all about my bewitching little sister. But she was a smart one, just like her brother, like me, Luo Xiaotong. While we were otherwise engaged, and loudly so, she took the ancient adage ‘Help yourself and you'll never be cold or hungry’ to heart, but without resorting to those odd instruments, chopsticks. Who needs them when you have hands? Jiaojiao had been launching sneak raids on the meat and the fish and the other delicacies in front of her, until not only her hands but her cheeks too were coated with grease. She smiled when I looked her way—so adorable, so innocent—and it nearly melted my heart. Even my feet, which suffered

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